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delphinidin4 · 3 years

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“Abominable neglect and unkindness”: Fanny Price and Trauma

I have C-PTSD, and it’s really been on my mind as I’ve been rereading Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: her heroine of Fanny Price is so OBVIOUSLY traumatized that I started making notes upon notes upon notes in my kindle copy on her symptoms and their causes. A couple of my followers said they’d be interested to read my analysis if I wrote it up, and it doesn’t take much to encourage me to put a few thousand words on the page screen! So below is my (probably WAY too long) analysis of Fanny Price’s emotional trauma and complex PTSD (a form of PTSD often caused by long-term emotional abuse/neglect). It’s hella long. sorrynotsorry lol

*unleashes inner academic*

Part 1: How Fanny Price Was Traumatized

Trauma 1: She is taken from family and home.

Okay, imagine this: You’re ten years old. You grew up in a noisy, lower-middle-class family with multiple little siblings and both your parents. You are the oldest girl, and are important to all the members of your family because you act as “playfellow, instructress, and nurse” to your younger siblings. You are also “exceedingly timid and shy”. And suddenly you find out that your mother is SENDING YOU AWAY--far, far away--to aunts and uncle and cousins you’ve never met before, to be raised by THEM instead of your parents. Leaving everything else out of the equation for a second, that by itself would be ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING. You would feel like your parents didn’t love you and didn’t want you. You weren’t important to them. You might wonder what you did wrong to be sent away. And THEN it turns out you’re NEVER COMING BACK. EVER. Fanny doesn’t see her family again until she is, I think nineteen years old. At first, she doesn’t even have the means to write to her brother William, which was to be her ONLY connection to her family: it seems her parents don’t write to her at all over the course of the novel.

All of this would be bad enough. But to come to a place that was entirely alien to everything you had known... I mean, think about it. This is Mansfield Park, an ENORMOUS house with MANY servants, a completely different way of doing things. There’s MONEY. Even the items around you are of a totally different quality than you’re used to: Austen says of Fanny’s initial impression of Mansfield, “The grandeur of the house astonished, but could not console her. The rooms were too large for her to move in with ease: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror of something or other; often retreating towards her own chamber to cry.” The accent people speak with is probably different. The vocabulary is probably different. And everybody DEFINITELY thought she was under-educated (more about this in a bit) because she didn’t have the education of a gentleman’s daughter--because she ISN’T a gentleman’s daughter. It must have caused her intense culture shock.

Trauma 2: William’s absence

It’s clear that in her childhood in Portsmouth, William is the dearest member of Fanny’s family (see below for a discussion of her parents). When Fanny first arrives at Mansfield, Edmund discovers that,

dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest. It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see. William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress. ‘William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed.’

Fanny’s one really warm and loving connection seems to be with William, and she is parted from him, first by her move to Mansfield, and then by his going to sea:

Once, and once only, in the course of many years, had she the happiness of being with William. Of the rest [of her Portsmouth family] she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at home seemed to want her; but William determining, soon after her removal, to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister in Northamptonshire before he went to sea. Their eager affection in meeting, their exquisite delight in being together, their hours of happy mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as ...the misery of the girl when he left her. Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort to her cousin Edmund.

Fanny continues a correspondence with William when he is at sea, but it’s clear that his long absence from her life is very difficult for her.

One final note on her being parted from her family for long intervals: I think we might actually see a sign of this trauma in an emotional flashback later in the book.

For those unfamiliar with complex PTSD, flashbacks don’t always mean that you have a sort of hallucination of a traumatic experience. In the case of complex PTSD and PTSD from early childhood trauma, flashbacks often occur in the form of “emotional flashbacks”: instead of re-experiencing the sensory input of the traumatic experience (seeing and hearing the experience all over again when triggered), emotional flashbacks consist ONLY of the emotional content of the trauma. They result in sudden rushes of negative emotions such as fear, shame, sorrow, despair, embarrassment, anger, etc. This may be partly because the trigger is acting on so many different traumatic memories at once (the brain can’t just pick out one to show to you) and partly because the traumatic memory being triggered is from so early in your childhood that you don’t have a direct memory of it anymore, just the trauma memory. Emotional flashbacks can be identified by comparing the emotional response to the stimulus: If the emotion is inappropriate for the situation or inappropriately intense, it may well be a flashback.

In this scene, Miss Crawford--whom Fanny does not care for at all--is taking her leave of Fanny: I find it to be illuminating.

And embracing her very affectionately, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you.”

Fanny was affected. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford more than she possibly could.

It sounds to me as if Fanny is having a negative reaction that is out of proportion for and inappropriate to the situation. Miss Crawford is leaving, and Fanny is GLAD that she is leaving. Nonetheless, she is involuntarily emotionally “affected” by Miss Crawford’s goodbye, and cries far more than is actually in keeping with her feelings. It seems like Fanny is triggered by the leave-taking and “the melancholy influence of the word ‘last’.” Fanny has had traumatic leave-takings from her family and her beloved William; and things like “This is the last time I’ll see you for who knows how long” must have been said to her before in intensely traumatic situations. So it’s no wonder she gets triggered by this situation’s similarity to those and has an out-sized emotional response. Separations from her family and from William were definitely traumatic to her and reminders of them now trigger trauma responses.

Trauma 3: Emotional neglect by parental figures

Fanny might not have been so badly traumatized by leaving her family and being separated from William if she had had emotional support from adult caregivers. Research has shown that if a child has even ONE adult to whom they can talk openly about their feelings, that can insulate them against the effects of trauma.

Fanny doesn’t have this. Both Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are emotionally neglectful and distant.* Lady Bertram is pleasant, but is entirely self-centered and doesn’t really GAF about anybody or anything that doesn’t directly affect her. While she never abuses or hurts Fanny with unkindness, she also never comforts her, listens to her, or seems to do anything but get Fanny to fetch and carry for her and do half her sewing for her. There is a total lack of emotional connection between them until considerably later in the story.

[*Footnote: Miss Lee is surprisingly absent from the narrative and seems to be of no emotional support to Fanny whatsoever.]

Sir Thomas is worse. While he intends to take good care of Fanny--and to his credit, he does make sure she has her material needs met, is well educated, gets exercise, etc--he cannot be said to be NICE to her. Even when she first arrives, when he is trying his hardest to be kind, Austen says, “Sir Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of deportment.” He’s not good with kids, and he seems to be highly critical of Fanny, especially before his return from Antigua. Apparently he used to terrify her in childhood by catechizing her on her lessons in French in English, which implies he constantly found her wanting. His parting words to her on the beginning of his voyage to Antigua are downright scalding: “If William does come to Mansfield, I hope you may be able to convince him that the many years which have passed since you parted have not been spent on your side entirely without improvement; though, I fear, he must find his sister at sixteen in some respects too much like his sister at ten.”

JFC, Tommy-boy. Throttle back a little, can’t you?

He’s not popular even with his own daughters: Austen says of Maria and Julia, “Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint”. Sir Thomas comes across as a bit of a martinet, always finding fault and always saying no. At best, he doesn’t seem to be at all warm and encouraging, and appears to be almost entirely ignorant, not only of what Fanny’s character is like, but also about his own daughters’ characters.

There’s also the problem of his lack of understanding and compassion for Fanny. She describes him as “all that was clever and good,” but both his cleverness and goodness frequently seem to be lacking. He doesn’t understand Fanny’s feelings any more than he understands those of Maria, sending Edmund to sound Fanny out on the subject of Mr. Crawford because he CANNOT understand how a woman might not love a man that was clever, pleasant and rich. While he provided the money to raise Fanny, his disregard of her is clear when he sends her on a long visit to Portsmouth, where her health suffers. Even Crawford recognizes Sir Thomas’s likeliness to neglect her:

I know Mansfield, I know its way, I know its faults towards you. I know the danger of your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle everything ... without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he may have laid down for the next quarter of a year.

Sir Thomas, while priding himself (and being praised by others) as being so kind and clever, has low emotional intelligence and too little care for Fanny. Despite his occasional kindnesses, and her claim on his care as his direct dependent, she is not one of his priorities.

Of course, Fanny’s own parents would have had the strongest effects on her earliest years (especially considering the Prices didn’t seem to have a nanny or governess, so Mrs. Price would have been responsible for all her education, as well). It’s clear that Fanny’s mother didn��t show her much love in her early childhood: Mrs. Price is described as

“the ‘mama’ who had certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this [Fanny] could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share than any one among so many could deserve.”

We can see Fanny here doing what so many emotionally neglected children do, making excuses for their parents and assuming that the emotional neglect and abuse they suffer are somehow THEIR fault. Many emotionally abused or neglected children believe that they’re too loud, too needy, too much, and even ugly, blaming themselves for their parents’ rejecting and disgusted behavior toward them.

It’s proven, however, when Fanny goes home, that her parents are just as neglectful of her as she felt them to be formerly. Her father is “negligent of his family”, and her mother clearly does not really love her:

Mrs. Price was not unkind; but, instead of gaining on her affection and confidence, and becoming more and more dear, her daughter never met with greater kindness from her than on the first day of her arrival. The instinct of nature was soon satisfied, and Mrs. Price’s attachment had no other source. Her heart and her time were already quite full; she had neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny. Her daughters never had been much to her.* She was fond of her sons, especially of William, but Betsey was the first of her girls whom she had ever much regarded. To her she was most injudiciously indulgent. William was her pride; Betsey her darling; and John, Richard, Sam, Tom, and Charles occupied all the rest of her maternal solicitude, alternately her worries and her comforts. These shared her heart: her time was given chiefly to her house and her servants.

[*Footnote: I have to stop here for a moment and mention poor Susan, whom I like better at every reading. With Mrs. Price only loving her sons and Betsy, with Mary dead and Fanny gone, Susan was for years THE ONLY completely unloved child in the house, which must have been pretty awful. It’s clear that Fanny and Susan have suffered rather similar fates in being raised without love, and Susan only responds more with irritation and Fanny more with tears: “Susan was only acting on the same truths, and pursuing the same system, which [Fanny’s] own judgment acknowledged, but which her more supine and yielding temper would have shrunk from asserting. Susan tried to be useful, where she could only have gone away and cried”. Please tell me somebody’s written a sequel about Susan?]

Again, while Mr. and Mrs. Price are not CRUEL, they’re not KIND, either. They are deeply emotionally neglectful toward Susan and Fanny, and Mrs. Price shows favoritism for the rest of her children, thus hurting her daughters further. Fanny’s probable surmise when she was sent away that she was not loved or wanted by her parents unfortunately appears to be very true. While an adult like Fanny can rationalize such behavior by her parents (even if it pains her), a child cannot do so, and the Prices’ lack of love for their own daughter must have been traumatizing and contributed to her belief that she can never matter to anybody (more on this in a bit).

Trauma 4: Lack of Companionship: Maria and Julia (and Miss Lee)

Fanny’s education when she arrives at Mansfield is not that of a gentlewoman--hardly surprising, given both her family’s socioeconomic position and her mother’s busy-ness with her family and general indolence. Maria and Julia’s education on scholarly subjects is clearly much stronger (they’re also 2-3 years older than her), and we know that their moral education was neglected, so that they only care about whether Fanny is rich and well-educated like themselves:

They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.

They’re generous enough to give her presents (though their least-valued belongings), but not generous enough to actually spend time with her, and it appears that this pattern holds throughout Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

At first, Mrs. Norris, Sir Thomas, and Miss Lee all think her actually stupid instead of just ill-educated: we are told that not only did Miss Lee “[wonder] at her ignorance,” but

A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to [Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris]. Fanny could read, work [that means “sew”], and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the drawing-room.

You would think that the adults at least would realize that Fanny hadn’t had the opportunity of a gentlewoman’s education, but no, they attribute it to natural stupidity instead of opportunity:

“My dear,” their considerate aunt would reply, “it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself.”

It is only Edmund who perceives that Fanny is not only NOT stupid, she’s actually clever:

He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself. Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment: he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

One wonders, if a sixteen-year-old boy hadn’t decided to undertake part of Fanny’s education himself, how much worse off would she have been?

That Fanny’s companionship fell almost entirely to a teenage boy six years her senior who spends most of the year away at boarding school/university, is a ringing indictment of the behavior of Maria and Julia, and of those who should have been encouraging them to make a friend of their cousin.

Trauma 5: Mrs Norris (who gets a fucking section all her own)

Here we are. We’ve finally come to it. The other four traumas would certainly have been sufficient to cause C-PTSD, but JFC, Mrs. Norris could have caused it all by her lonesome. While she comes across as amusing in Austen’s sardonic style, she is absolutely toxic for Fanny’s mental health.

Mrs. Norris seems to have had an out-sized effect on the three Mansfield girls. Generally, mothers were in charge of the education of their daughters (even if indirectly, through a governess), so while Sir Thomas did examine them on their lessons, it was really supposed to be Lady Bertram’s job to see to their practical and moral education. But Lady Bertram is an absolute zero, a completely passive character, and Austen says directly that, “To the education of her daughters Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.” So it seems like the much more active Mrs. Norris stepped in, and her influence was extremely strong with all three of them, despite her being married and having her own house and her own concerns for the first seven or so years of Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

We can see her influence with all three in the fact that all three of the Mansfield girls end up evaluating themselves in almost perfect accordance to how Mrs. Norris evaluated them. Maria, the golden child*, became very spoiled and proud and thought she could do almost whatever she wanted. Fanny, the scapegoat, came to believe that her only worth was in being “useful” (Mrs. Norris’s hobby-horse) and that she could never be of any importance to anybody. And Julia, while closer to Maria’s level of treatment than Fanny’s, also suffers from comparisons to the golden child:

That Julia escaped better than Maria was owing, in some measure, to a favourable difference of disposition and circumstance, but in a greater to her having been less the darling of that very aunt, less flattered and less spoilt. Her beauty and acquirements had held but a second place. She had been always used to think herself a little inferior to Maria.

[*footnote: Treating one child as the golden child and one as the scapegoat is a very common tactic of abusive caregivers. The scapegoat becomes entirely worn down in self-esteem so that she is powerless to fight back against the abuse. The golden child and other children see how the scapegoat is treated and try hard not to rock the boat because they don’t want to end up like that.]

Mrs. Norris teaches Fanny from the beginning to judge and reject her own natural emotions. On her first traumatic separation from her family, Mrs. Norris lectures her incessantly on how she ought to be HAPPY, not sad:

Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.

Fanny is taught to regard her own natural feelings as “wicked”, especially when they are a negative reaction to how the Bertram/Norris family treats her. While she can see some of her own feelings as just--when they have been sanctioned by Edmund’s judgment--any feeling that tends away from perfect gratitude toward the Bertram/Norris family she immediately rejects as an immoral response. She frequently takes herself to task at these moments. Anger and resentment are natural responses meant to help us protect ourselves against mistreatment from others, and this self-defending response is entirely squelched by Mrs. Norris’s behavior to her.

Mrs. Norris’s behavior toward Fanny is not only emotionally abusive; it is also at least physically neglectful, if not physically abusive. Despite the fact that everyone agrees that Fanny “is not strong”, Mrs. Norris makes a lot of difficulties in Edmund’s attempts to make sure Fanny has a horse to ride, and also refuses to allow Fanny a fire in the East Room, even in the middle of winter, a privation that ever Sir Thomas thinks bad enough that he countermands it--though doing so with a little explanatory disclaimer to Fanny explaining why Mrs. Norris MEANS well and why Fanny shouldn’t dare to be angry, or indeed anything but immensely and forever grateful for their neglectful treatment of her:

Your aunt Norris has always been an advocate, and very judiciously, for young people’s being brought up without unnecessary indulgences; but there should be moderation in everything. She is also very hardy herself, which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants of others. And on another account, too, I can perfectly comprehend. I know what her sentiments have always been. The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believe has been, carried too far in your case. I am aware that there has been sometimes, in some points, a misplaced distinction; but I think too well of you, Fanny, to suppose you will ever harbour resentment on that account. You have an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event. You will take in the whole of the past, you will consider times, persons, and probabilities, and you will feel that they were not least your friends who were educating and preparing you for that mediocrity of condition which seemed to be your lot. Though their caution may prove eventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may be assured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the little privations and restrictions that may have been imposed. I am sure you will not disappoint my opinion of you, by failing at any time to treat your aunt Norris with the respect and attention that are due to her.

~*GAAASSSSS-LIGHTINNNNGGGGGGG*~

“Oh, shit, you’ve been freezing to death here for years because your aunt’s an abusive asshole. Oh, but there are three million excuses for her, and also you’re SO GOOD AND GRATEFUL that I KNOW you’ll never allow yourself to see it for the abuse it was, and aren’t you so GRATEFUL to us all for everything we’ve done for you? We MEANT well. And being abused was good for you anyway. If you ever get mad at your abusers I’ll treat you with withering criticism.”

*gagggg* I could write an entire essay explicating the gaslighting in that passage ALONE.

I could go on and on about Mrs. Norris’s abusive behavior toward Fanny, but I think most of it’s perfectly obvious to the reader. I think a very interesting argument might be made on whether Mrs. Norris would count as having a form of narcissistic personality disorder--always worried about her own importance, living through her golden child Maria, taking everything out on her scapegoat, insisting always on associating her own value with that of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram and insisting on Fanny’s status being lower because her own self-esteem is dependent on being as good as her sister Bertram and better than her sister Price. Might be interesting.

Part 2: Fanny Price’s Trauma Responses

Complex emotional trauma expresses itself in a number of symptoms and behaviors. We’ve already talked about emotional flashbacks, and I’m going to look at four more major aspects of Fanny’s trauma responses.

Anxiety and Hypervigilance

People with PTSD often suffer from hypervigilance, where their body is constantly on high alert for threats in their environment. These threats are not only physical threats (resulting in things like jumping really hard at sudden noises) but also interpersonal threats. For instance, whenever I hear people talking really quietly in my house, I stop whatever I’m doing and listen REALLY HARD because I’m worried they’re talking about me and it’s gonna be bad.

Fanny exhibits this same behavior when she has retreated to the East Room when Crawford is in the house to propose to her:

She sat some time in a good deal of agitation, listening, trembling, and fearing to be sent for every moment; but as no footsteps approached the East room, she grew gradually composed, could sit down, and be able to employ herself, and able to hope that Mr. Crawford had come and would go without her being obliged to know anything of the matter.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and she was growing very comfortable, when suddenly the sound of a step in regular approach was heard; a heavy step, an unusual step in that part of the house: it was her uncle’s; she knew it as well as his voice; she had trembled at it as often, and began to tremble again, at the idea of his coming up to speak to her, whatever might be the subject. It was indeed Sir Thomas who opened the door and asked if she were there, and if he might come in. The terror of his former occasional visits to that room seemed all renewed, and she felt as if he were going to examine her again in French and English.

Her trembling at the sound of her uncle’s footsteps looks like hypervigilance, and the fact of her childhood “terror” being “renewed” sounds like she’s having another flashback, since she so strongly associates the presence of her uncle in the East Room with those painful childhood visits. She reacts with physical symptoms of stress, trembling at his approach.

Fanny’s anxiety and hypervigilance also demonstrates itself in her being constantly convinced that people are going to be angry with her. When she turns Mr. Crawford down, for instance, she is CONVINCED that Miss Crawford is going to be furious with her, and fears to meet with her. Edmund tells her Miss Crawford isn’t REALLY angry with her, but cannot convince her:

The promised visit from “her friend,” as Edmund called Miss Crawford, was a formidable threat to Fanny, and she lived in continual terror of it. As a sister, so partial and so angry, and so little scrupulous of what she said... she was in every way an object of painful alarm. ...The dependence of having others present when they met was Fanny’s only support in looking forward to it. She absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept away from the East room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in her caution to avoid any sudden attack.

Fanny is so terrified of a polite confrontation with Miss Crawford, whom she has never seen angry before, that she spends DAYS trying to never be alone so that she’ll feel protected by the presence of company! Of course, when Miss Crawford DOES visit, she’s nothing but friendly. But Fanny’s PTSD couldn’t allow her to believe that until it happened. Her anxiety is intense, and this sort of thing happens repeatedly over the course of the novel.

Over-accommodation of others / people-pleasing

Childhood emotional trauma frequently leads to people-pleasing behavior: doing what you do not want to do simply because someone else wants you to. To understand this, you have to put yourself into the point of view of a very young child or an infant. Children depend entirely on their caregivers for survival: they are aware of this on an instinctive level. If the caregiver shows them very conditional love, only appearing pleased with them when the child does things they like and displeased when the child does things that inconvenience them, the child quickly learns that they need to please their caregivers in order to survive. “Mom gets angry when I cry--Mom doesn’t like me to cry--if Mom gets angry at me, I could starve to death--I need to not cry.” Obviously this line of thinking happens on a subconscious rather than a conscious level, but it’s incredibly powerful nonetheless. I have found myself in situations where a person with some kind of power over me--a doctor, for instance--shows displeasure with something I say to them, and I INSTANTLY find myself backing off, making light of it, taking back everything I said, etc, even though I very much meant it and it needed to be said. The people-pleasing instinct is very strong and difficult to overcome.

In Fanny’s case, it isn’t just a matter of her caregivers showing her inconsistent love in early childhood. Even as an adult, she is fully aware that she needs to please the Bertrams, or she--and her family!--are SCREWED. She is entirely financially dependent on the Bertrams. If she displeases them, not only can they make her life at Mansfield even MORE uncomfortable than it already is, but they can send her back to Portsmouth. Even worse, they could stop their financial support of William and the financial support they are periodically sending to the rest of her family. Huge things hang on Fanny’s pleasing the Bertrams, and it’s small wonder she has developed the habit of trying to please everybody constantly (even her un-pleasable Aunt Norris).

Fanny repeatedly does things she doesn’t want to do, simply because someone asks or tells her to, even if there’s likely to be no major consequences if she doesn’t. One example is on Miss Crawford’s last visit to Mansfield, when Fanny is trying her darnedest to avoid speaking with her alone:

[Miss Crawford] was determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerably soon, in a low voice, “I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere”; words that Fanny felt all over her, in all her pulses and all her nerves. Denial was impossible. Her habits of ready submission, on the contrary, made her almost instantly rise and lead the way out of the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable.

Fanny doesn’t want to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny doesn’t NEED to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny could stall, perhaps until Miss Crawford left. Nonetheless, the MOMENT Miss Crawford asks it of her, Fanny does it--even though she’s clearly terrified, feeling it “in all her pulses and all her nerves” (more on this physical reaction later). She acts almost like Ella Enchanted: she literally can’t say no.

Likewise, she doesn’t take opportunities she is offered to do things that she DOES wish to do. After a very long description of how much she wants to dance one evening, when her only chance of a partner is Tom, the following exchange occurs:

When he had told of his horse, [Tom] took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, “If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.” With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. “I am glad of it,” said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, “for I am tired to death.”

Fanny DOES want to dance, and the way that he worded the question, she could very well have said, “Yes, please,” and gotten up to dance with him. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want to dance, and she has picked up on this and said--not only that they don’t have to dance, but the LIE that she doesn’t WANT to dance--in order to please him. Later Austen points Tom out as a hypocrite when he complains, “It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!” But while it is true that Tom left Fanny LITTLE choice in the matter, it is also true that a stronger character, like Miss Crawford, could probably have found a way to say that she DID want to dance, even with such an unencouraging questioner. Fanny cannot do this: she has been conditioned all her life to give in to people--because her very SURVIVAL has depended on it.

In particular, Mrs. Norris has squelched Fanny’s independence of spirit very firmly. At one point she observes, very unfairly,

There is a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before—she likes to go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I would advise her to get the better of.”

As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust.

Obviously, Mrs. Norris is completely wrong about this. But as long as she can project* the fault of independence on Fanny, and punish Fanny for this false fault, she can prevent her from ever developing it. By picking on the least little supposed sign of independence and harping on it for ages, Mrs. Norris can prevent Fanny from ever developing a will of her own.

[*Footnote: this is another thing narcissists do: they project their own bad behavior on to others. Mrs. Norris is definitely not secretive, but she is very “independent” and has a lot of “nonsense”--instead of consulting with others about what they actually need in any given situation, she TELLS them. She has no spirit of cooperation, and all her “services” to others tend to be officious and useless.]

Low self-esteem

I thought about putting this together with the section on Mrs. Norris, because Fanny’s self-esteem has been so much shaped by her aunt. This is the kind of message Mrs. Norris is constantly drilling into her about the lowness of her importance:

The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves, makes me think it right to give you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. That will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last.

This message is so entirely in keeping with the messages Mrs. Norris has been indoctrinating Fanny with over the years that she has fully internalized it. When a primary caregiver tells you over and over again that you do not matter to anyone, you come to believe it:

[Fanny:] “I can never be important to any one.”

[Edmund:] “What is to prevent you?”

“Everything. My situation, my foolishness and awkwardness.”

“As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly. There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without wishing to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion.”

“You are too kind,” said Fanny, colouring at such praise; “how shall I ever thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me.”

Fanny’s “I can never be important to any one” sounds very much like a triggered teenager sobbing, “Nobody will ever love me!” even while friends next to her are demonstrating that they DO love her. The survivor of this kind of abuse comes to a place where their beliefs do not reflect reality because their beliefs instead reflect the intense emotional rejection they have received from their main caregivers*. Fanny is important to Edmund, William, and Lady Bertram, but is convinced that she not only is NOT important to ANYONE, but never CAN be. She also convinced that she is foolish and awkward, probably by the early experiences at Mansfield when she didn’t know all the intricate rules of high society and was far behind Maria and Julia in her education. Fanny, though she is extremely shy, manages to carry off most things with surprising grace, and she is clever and has a wisdom and common sense in some things far beyond her years. Yet she is CERTAIN that she is “foolish and awkward”, because she has been repeatedly called so by authority figures in her life and almost all of her family at Mansfield.

[*Footnote: these extreme beliefs are often couched in “black-and-white” language: “EVERYBODY hates me, NOBODY loves me, I’ll NEVER be able to do it right, I’ll be alone FOREVER”. We can hear this in Fanny’s “I can NEVER be of importance to ANY ONE”.]

Fanny not only thinks very lowly of herself, she also is afraid of being praised or of anything that could possibly raise her self-esteem. For instance, in a discussion with Edmund, she explains why she never wants anybody to notice her:

[Edmund:] “Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle.”

[Fanny:] “But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?”

“I did—and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther.”

“And I longed to do it—but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like—I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel.”

“Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect.”

She is literally fearful of notice and praise--because Mrs. Norris has told her repeatedly throughout her life that she must NEVER shine more than Maria or Julia, must NEVER take attention away from them--a sort of vicarious narcissism. And Fanny feels that to receive a compliment, to state her own opinions, or even to TALK much in company is “stepping out of her place”, the high crime and misdemeanor of Mrs. Norris’s upbringing.

I was raised by a narcissistic caretaker, and I am sometimes suddenly overwhelmed with terror that I’m taking too much attention to myself and that I’m therefore BAD somehow. Because a narcissist (or their proxy, the golden child) must always be the center of attention, the scapegoat is emotionally punished for ever taking the spotlight. Mrs. Norris is disposed to be upset when Sir Thomas holds a dance in Fanny’s honor, and is only reconciled to it because SHE will be able to make herself the center of attention in the preparations.*

[*Footnote: I think another argument can be made for Mrs. Norris’s narcissism in her response to Crawford’s proposal to Fanny:

Angry she was: bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it. It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford’s choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.

Mrs. Norris is DETERMINED to put Fanny down, as the scapegoat, and is offended that one of her golden children (her emotional stand-in) is shown less honor in this situation than the scapegoat. For the scapegoat to be elevated and her narcissistic stand-in to be neglected induces a narcissistic rage.]

“Sensibility” and High Sensitivity

In the 18th century, a theory and “culture of sensibility” grew up in places like Britain, France, Holland, and the British colonies. Encyclopedia.com’s article on sensibility states, “Sensibility (and ‘sensible’ and ‘sentiment’) connoted the operation of the nervous system, the material basis for consciousness.” But the workings of the nervous system, they believed, affected more than just the physical body. Some people, it was held, had greater sensibility than others: their nerves were more easily affected by not only physical but also emotional and moral input, and they responded accordingly--not just in word and in deed, but in tears, blushes, trembling, fainting, etc. It was believed that people’s emotional responses AND physical responses could tell you something about their physical AND moral makeup. A truly modest woman, for instance, would blush and look confused when confronted with something that offended her maidenly modesty. A woman--or indeed, man--who was truly moral and “sensible” would be emotionally affected by something sad, such as a tale of oppression, to the point of openly weeping. A heroine of sensibility would most likely faint if threatened with something she found, not only physically frightening, but morally abhorrent (such as a forced marriage). This is part of the reason for what seems to use like excessive emotional reactions in some 18th-century novels: the writer is demonstrating her characters’ moral superiority through their physical sensibility.*

[*Footnote: Encyclopedia.com adds, “The coexistence of reason and feeling was assumed, but the proportion of each was endlessly debated, above all because of what many saw as the dangers of unleashed feelings... [After the French Revolution,] The debate over the proportions of reason and feeling in persons of sensibility was politicized, and the need for women to channel their feelings toward moral and domestic goals was reemphasized. The word ‘sentimental,’ which had been used positively, became a label for ‘excessive sensibility’ and self-indulgence.” We can see this conflict clearly in Austen’s Sense and Sensibility!]

There is, in fact, a modern equivalent to the 18th century idea of sensibility: the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) or Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). First proposed by Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person (1996), the theory suggests that SPS

is a temperamental or personality trait involving "an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system and a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli". The trait is characterized by "a tendency to 'pause to check' in novel situations, greater sensitivity to subtle stimuli, and the engagement of deeper cognitive processing strategies for employing coping actions, all of which is driven by heightened emotional reactivity, both positive and negative". (wikipedia)

While some people have mocked this theory as pseudoscience, Aron is by no means the only researcher to have studied it, and a great many people who suffered from people telling them “You’re too sensitive” when they were hurt have taken comfort in the positive affirmation that high sensitivity is a natural phenomenon and can even at times be regarded as a strength rather than a character flaw.

It seems to me that there is a good deal of overlap between those who self-identify or may be identified as HSPs and those who have C-PTSD. Whether this is because greater emotional sensitivity leads to a greater incidence of traumatic responses to negative experiences, or whether high sensitivity is itself a product of repeated childhood trauma, I can’t say. (Heck, it could even be that the HSP’s belief that they’re over-sensitive comes from childhood gaslighting!)

What I can say is that Fanny Price exhibits, not only hypervigilance, but also what Austen would call “great sensibility” and I would call “SPS”. Fanny has the greatest sensibility of any character in the entire novel, even Edmund: she judges more clearly on moral matters than Edmund or Sir Thomas, and has the strongest physical and emotional reactions to stimuli. She seems to be constantly blushing, trembling, or tearing up. This is not only painful to modern readers (who, if they’re not pained by sympathizing with her, may well be pained by what seems to them a lack of proper 21st-century backbone in a main character) but is clearly highly uncomfortable at times to Fanny herself. She might be able to pride herself on her moral discernment (not that Fanny would EVER pride herself on ANYTHING), and she may be in transports of happiness when something good, like William’s arrival or promotion, occur, but she is often “cast down” as well by things that seem to others like trifles. We see this not only in her hypervigilance but also in the depression and the black-and-white thinking which are often the products of trauma. Edmund observes to her, “It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are.” Fanny’s apparent high sensitivity may be just a natural trait (made worse by trauma) or may itself be a product of trauma.

Conclusions

At the end of all this, I’m really not sure what I think about Fanny’s “happy ending”. On one hand, she gets what she’s always wanted in life: companionate marriage with Edmund, valued by Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, with Mrs. Norris (and Maria) gone forever, and Julia and Tom chastened and better behaved. It seems perfect for her. But a little voice inside of me keeps saying how very unlikely it is. People rarely change as much as Sir Thomas does in the book--and in fact, we are only assured by Austen that Sir Thomas comes to value Fanny more: we don’t actually SEE it. I can’t help but feel that Fanny must still have been subject to ongoing gaslighting about how she was brought up and about respect toward Mrs. Norris and himself. Fanny got what she thought she wanted, but at the same time, she didn’t get free. Especially considering that Austen goes out of her way to say that things COULD have turned out differently and that Fanny and Crawford COULD have been happy together, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Fanny had ended up with the ONLY person in the entire book who truly recognizes how badly she has been treated at Mansfield Park:

[Crawford]: And they will now see their cousin treated as she ought to be, and I wish they may be heartily ashamed of their own abominable neglect and unkindness.

#jane austen #mansfield park #trauma #c-ptsd #literature #tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Blood in the Rivers: I

A/N: I don’t even know, fam. This was supposed to be just smut but then The Plot happened and now this is 13.4k words and nowhere near finished. Now, it is somehow righting the wrongs D&D (and GRRM, let’s be real) trolled us with. There will be obvious canon-divergence right off the bat.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: M for canon typical violence, canon typical sexism, things get hot and heavy (or at least I try to make them...? Whatever. you be the judge) and my overuse of italics

Word Count: 13.4k (jfc)

Summary: Y/N Tully always knew how to play the part of the perfect lady when someone was watching. It was a game she liked to play, knowing how to act in order to get what she wanted. But now, as the War of the Five Kings rages, Y/N knows she needs allies if she wants to keep her family safe and her head on her shoulders. But in this game, everything has a price.

Chapter One: Plots, Plots, Plots

Smuggling Sansa out of King’s Landing had consumed the youngest Tully. While she played the part of dutiful peon, renouncing her father, uncle, and cousin and their actions against the crown, she was plotting. Sansa was sweet and kind and everything Y/N knew she should be as a highborn lady. Watching Joffrey command Meryn Trent to beat and strip her cousin’s eldest daughter in front of a crowd had only driven her to near madness in her quest to protect Sansa. It only took a handful of weeks for the plan to be finalized. Murmurs of Stannis Baratheon’s impending attack were quickly sweeping through the Red Keep and all of King’s Landing.

She set off toward the Keep’s rookery with two small missives neatly stacked together. An aged maester had been the same guardian of the ravens for decades. Blind in one eye and slow to walk, she knew her window was reasonable but still limited. He was also a loyal dog to the queen. Each of her movements would be whispered in Cersei’s ear by lunch.

She stepped into the rookery and resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the scent of shit and dirt and dust. It was just another reminder of how far away she was from Riverrun and its clean air, always scented with the mist and overgrown grasses.

The Maester stood slowly from his cluttered desk and offered her a small smile. “Ah, Lady Tully. How may I help you?”

She held up the slips of parchment to make it look like a single letter. “A missive for my Uncle Hoster.”

“Ah,” the maester said, the sound catching in his throat. “Another plea for him to see reason?”

“Of course.” She handed over the carefully written and brief letter while tucking the other into her palm.

The maester read it and nodded. “You are a service to your house, my lady.”

She pressed a pleased smile to her lips and dipped her head demurely, as she had half a dozen times before. Edmure and Hoster were aware that she would be pressed to write stupid letters like the one in the maester’s spindly fingers. The only truth written in those missives were that she loved them. “I thank you for that.” She then plucked it from his fingers with another smile and started to walk backward toward the cage.

“May I send it for you, my lady? The ravens here tend to be fickle beasts if they do not know your face.” The maester smiled kindly and held out his hand for her letter again.

But she shook her head and continued backward. It was true, usually her letters were taken directly from her desk and sent off without having to go to the rookery herself—but this called for a change. She’d visited the rookery last week to see how it was divided between the realms and she could time how quick she needed to be in her task; it had been under the guise of being lost looking for the Grand Maester to “ask for guidance as to how to bring her errant father and uncle back under the guidance of the Crown.” It was all so easy to play the part of mindless crown loyalist. “The ravens of Riverrun have always adored me—I do not see why these would be any different. But I do thank you for the offer.”

She skittered through the door and quickly found the correct batch of ravens and fastened the small slip of parchment to the raven’s leg and set it loose before flittering over to the ravens meant for Riverrun and tying the other. She set that one loose a little slower as she heard the maester step into the large cage with his uneven gait. She made a bit of a show of watching the raven fly away in the window and turned and heaved a hearty sigh.

“They seem to like you.” He chuckled, another dry, rasping sound.

“Yes, I suppose.” Another exaggerated sigh. “I do hope Lord Tully listens to reason this time.” She then curtseyed and walked away. The maester looked relieved as she said goodbye to him and took her leave of the rookery.

But it was done.

And when the Red Keep was essentially barricaded against the coming attack, she knew her time had come. She slipped out of Maegor’s Holdfast without too much fanfare. Cersei was drunk and had requested more wine anyway. Y/N saw the opportunity for what it was and left the Holdfast under the guise of serving the Queen, just ahead of schedule.

Sounds of the battle echoed through the strangely empty halls as she hurriedly made her way toward her destination. Quiet footsteps soon followed her and she skirted around a corner and pulled out the small dagger she’d hidden in her sleeve. But it was poor Sansa who had followed her—much earlier than what they had agreed upon.

“I-I’m sorry!” Sansa whimpered as she stared at the sharp edge of her “cousin’s” blade.

“You are fine, my little one. I’m sorry I almost cut you.” She quickly hid the dagger away and took Sansa’s hand, leading her back toward her chambers. The older of the two was equal parts relieved and shocked to see the Hound waiting in Sansa’s rooms. “Sandor.” His name came like a rushed breath. “You are early.”

“I’m not doing-”

“Take Sansa to Dorne.”

Both of them gaped at the request.

“What?” It was Sansa who finally broke the tense silence of the room. “Dorne? B-but, I-”

She gathered the Sansa’s hands in her own and kissed her shaking fingers. “You will be safe. Sandor will see you there without harm. Everyone will think you’ve gone North and scavenge and pillage looking for you. No one will think to look for you in Dorne. The Martells have no love for the Lannisters even with the betrothal of Trystane and Myrcella. They will know of your story.” She knew it to be a shaky alliance to begin with, especially with Myrcella being betrothed to Trystane. But betrothals could be broken and their memories were long. And this was the best option for Sansa. The only.

“You won’t come with me?” Tears gathered in her eyes.

She shook her head. “I must let them think they’ve won. I still have a part to play in this game.” She then turned to the taciturn soldier. “What say you, Sandor? Will you deliver Sansa to Dorne? Keep her safe, unharmed, and untouched?”

His burnt face twisted in a grimace. “I should take her North. Like I said-”

“But you will not. South is safe. Keep her safe.” She bent and pulled something from her skirts—a small satchel of coin. She pushed it into his hands when he didn’t move to accept it.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ coin-”

“This is for food and shelter during your travels. Take it. Now.” She only let herself smile when he did. “You may not believe in knighthood, Sandor. But you are the only man I’ve met who even compares to a true knight.”

The burnt man frowned at her words but didn’t say anything. He took several steps back as Sansa flung her arms about Y/N’s shoulders in a fierce embrace.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, little one. Now, you must stay alive.” A handful more of quiet encouragements and goodbyes were spoken before she pulled a small sack from beneath Sansa’s bed and handed it to her. “A few dresses for the warmer weather. And I stole some lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

Sandor snorted.

Sansa nodded with tears in her eyes and let out a shaking breath as Y/N kissed her forehead. “Go, Sansa. Live.” She watched Sansa place a shaking hand in Sandor’s before they quietly disappeared into the night.

Outside, the battle raged on. Y/N slipped out of Sansa’s chambers and walked toward the Holdfast once again. She hid away in a darkened passageway and once again drew her dagger. It didn’t take long for her to complete the final task of her plan for the night. She had grabbed a jug of wine from the kitchens and let it slip from her fingers with a crash before turning the blade on herself. Pain bloomed through her stomach and her dagger clattered to the ground, slipping from her now-slick, reddened grip. “Help me!” She screamed, forcing tears to her eyes. “Help me!”

Life in King’s Landing hadn’t particularly changed since the Tyrells had arrived. Of course, people whispered about Sansa’s disappearance—her favorite rumor was that Sansa turned into a wolf and raced into the battle herself. And Y/N’s stab wound had earned her a strange sort of awe around the court. Stabbed for wine, the stupidity of it all. The official story was that a kitchen maid had tried to steal some jewels (or just food, depending on who was asked) and little Lady Tully had caught the maid in the act before she fled into the night. They stopped by the time her wound had healed. As she sat across from Olenna Tyrell in the gardens, Y/N suddenly wondered if she had finally met an adversary worthy of her time or another ally. Margaery, the beauty and new betrothed to the Brat King, Joffrey after the ‘victory’ of the Battle of the Blackwater, seemed amiable enough as she sat beside her grandmother but a beautiful face often hid an ugly heart. Cersei was proof of that enough.

“You know, a cousin of mine was nearly scandalized by your father,” Olenna said as the tea was poured.

“Scandalized?” she parroted, feeling a smirk touch the corner of her lips. She knew exactly the story she was thinking of. “Surely not.”

“Oh yes. Our father tried to marry her off to Brynden Tully and he said no. ‘No!’ like she was some underfed calf.” She laughed. “It was the most childish fit she’d ever thrown.” Olenna waved away the servants as soon as the plate of lemon cakes was placed upon the table, nearly tipping the bowl of berries. “She eventually married some Vyrwel boy. And your father,” Olenna’s dark eyes suddenly pinned her guest, “married your mother.”

“I’ve heard stories of them, even in The Reach,” Margaery said with a kind smile.

Something tight twisted in her stomach at that, as it always did when a beautiful woman fixed her with a gaze. “I’ve heard a song the Valemen sing. I was unaware that my parents’ union was such fodder for stories across The Realms.” She stirred a bit of honey into her tea, fighting a smile as she always did when she heard of her parents. Some claimed to know her parents as they truly were, but few did. Few knew their story as it actually happened.

“Well, when someone as lofty as a Tully marries a lowborn girl nearly half his age--from Pentos, no less--it is sure to cause quite a stir.” Olenna arched an eyebrow, daring her to refute it. “No matter how pretty.”

“Love is a precarious thing. I cannot fault my father for whom he loved.”

“Love! Pah! Love is for stories and songs.”

“Grandmother, please. I am to be married soon—you said you loved grandfather and I know my lord father loves mother.”

“They learned to appreciate each other, dear girl. There is a difference.”

“I believe in love,” Margaery said, full of conviction but still smiling.

“And you, Lady Tully? Little Fish? Do you believe in love? You are past the age of majority. How you have not yet been married off is a mystery. You are highborn. Wealthy. Beautiful. Did your parents always plan for you to be a septa? A silent sister?” Olenna asked.

A poorly hidden titter nearly sloshed the tea from her cup. “Truly, I do not know.”

The older woman hummed. “I still find it strange that you were not at least introduced to someone after your first flowering.” She sipped her tea. “Have you spoken with your father?”

“No, my lady. He has taken to King Robb’s service.”

“Oh, yes, and to leave your unwed daughter in the Lion’s Den.” She huffed. “Lord Tully, too.”

“Grandmother,” Margaery softly chided.

“It is true and you know it.”

“It is true,” she acknowledged. But she trusted them just as they trusted her.

“But your uncle—he must have had some sense of duty to you.”

Y/N nodded. “Hoster Tully’s duty to me was to see me educated and fed. He succeeded at both. Exceeded at everything else a doting uncle usually deems necessary.” He had allowed her to train with blades and horses when she had excelled past her Maester and Septa’s teachings. It had been hidden from Court at Riverrun. But she had been a natural in that regard, too. She loved to spar and run wild with her horse in the fields and lands around Riverrun. It felt like another life. Or a lifetime ago.

Olenna leaned forward with an odd gleam in her eye. “Oh yes. I’ve heard you were sent as part of the Riverlands delegation when that band of raiders was running amok. The rest of the company left after Eddard lost his head—but not you. You stayed.”

“Leaving Sansa alone in the capital was not an option.”

“Yes, yes. Sansa Stark. The disappeared.”

Margaery shifted in her seat and took a bite of lemon cake, eyes warm but still calculating. But she continued to let her grandmother steer the conversation. “I have been told you were quite close to your cousin’s daughter. She confided in you, did she not? About King Joffrey.”

She took a sip of her tea and regarded the pair. Oh, yes. A formidable match indeed. This was either a half-hearted attempt at tricking her into admitting treason or a true plea for fact.

“Only Sansa would be able to divulge all the small details, I assume. But you will have to do, won’t you? Who else would know better in this wretched city?” Olenna pinned her with another stare. “We’ve heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated Sansa?”

She hummed and spied a man passing by, almost hidden by the bushes and greenery. “King Joffrey, His Grace is very fair and as brave as a lion.”

Olenna huffed as her granddaughter rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, all Lannisters are lions. And when a Tyrell farts, it smells like a rose.”

Margaery finally spoke, leaning forward in her seat, a sea of pretty blue fabric washing across the stone pavers as she moved. “But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand? I’m to be his wife; I only want to know what that means.”

Keeping quiet at a time like this was a simple tactic. Needing information made people desperate. Or agitated.

“Are you frightened, child?” Olenna huffed. “No need for that. We’re only women here.”

“And the men in the bushes behind you?”

“Loyal to me and only me.”

“And who are you loyal to, Lady Olenna?”

A small smile touched the woman’s lips. “You are a brazen one, aren’t you? Your father must be so proud.”

And she could not stop her own smile. “He is. I’m sure.”

“I am loyal to my family and my family alone. No harm will come to you, Little Fish.”

That was enough for her, satisfied that the Tyrells were self-serving enough to keep her counsel. “Eddard Stark always told the truth.”

“Yes, he had that reputation,” Olenna said with a nod.

“And they named him traitor and took his head. Joffrey did that. He promised he would be merciful and he cut Eddard’s head off. And he said that was mercy. Then he took Sansa up on the walls and made her look at it.” Rage bubbled under her skin as she remembered how broken Sansa had been, bleeding lip and tearful eyes, as Sandor lead her back to her chambers after that terrible scene. Someone as kind and pure as Sansa never deserved it. On the other hand, Margaery did not either. But there was a steely resolve and cunning tenacity that made her believe the Tyrell girl could bend just about anyone to her will. “He’s a monster.” There, she had said it.

“That’s a pity,” Olenna said, her tone making it seem like she’d had believed all the rumors anyway. Margaery sighed, looking disappointed.

“Will you stop the wedding?” She asked.

Olenna shook her head. “Have no fear. The Lord Oaf of Highgarden is determined that Margaery shall be queen. Even so, we thank you for the truth.”

For a while, they simply spoke about the wedding details and she did find the pair’s wit quite enjoyable. They never minced words and appreciated how they instantly seemed to know that she could hold her own.

“But if I never see another stitch of that red and gold, it will be too soon.”

“It is as if you are marrying a Lannister instead of a Baratheon,” Y/N hummed, plucking a berry from the plate. “Would you prefer the black and gold?”

“She looks quite fetching in gold,” Olenna said with an easy smile, one of the few she noticed the Queen of Thorns only reserved for her granddaughter. “But what of you, Little Fish? Your colors are blue and red.”

“I’ve never been fond of them. My father took the moniker of Blackfish and I have taken it as well. I much prefer black and red.”

“Black and red,” Margaery laughed lightly. “Like a little Targaryen.”

“Well,” she said with a light laugh, “we both have scales.”

Olenna tilted her head to the side, purveying the young woman in front of her for a moment. “Have you ever been to The Reach?”

“No, my lady. I do hope to visit Oldtown one day.” She answered honestly, confused by the change of subject.

Olenna clucked, smirk pulling at her lips. “Well, I have a proposition for you.”

“Lady Tully.” The small group of women turned to see Tywin Lannister strolling into the gardens. “Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery,” he added, with a tip of his head. “May I speak with you, Lady Tully?”

Y/N turned to Olenna, eyes pleading. Please do not make me leave with him.

“Now.” Apparently that wasn’t an option.

She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and stood, pressing another smile to her lips. “Of course.” She turned back to Olenna. “Thank you, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery, for the tea.”

“Of course, dear. You are always welcome at my table.” The Queen of Thorns, for her all her prickly nature and stinging words, actually looked troubled for the younger woman. “Take Ella with you. No young woman should be unaccompanied.” Another woman, probably one of Olenna or Margaery’s retinue, appeared as her name was said and tipped her head toward Tywin and Y/N in turn.

Y/N nodded at them and made her way to Tywin’s side who quickly made it clear that Ella was to stay several paces back. Ella did as she was told but arched an eyebrow as she made eye contact with her one-time charge. “How can I help you, Lord Tywin?” She let him lead, further into the gardens, the greenery growing higher and thicker with each step. She never wanted to be near the old lion. His reputation preceded him in every way and the fact that he felt the need to be alone with her only served to increase her trepidation. They had been introduced only two days prior, by a smirking Cersei, who had boasted of her father’s achievements at length before mentioning, however briefly, that Y/N was “much more amiable than her cousins.” A tentative compliment, to be sure. The old lion had kissed her hand and smirked at her, rolling her stomach, but she knew how to tip her chin demurely and curtseyed out of practiced politeness before she was dismissed.

But now she was here, in the gardens, largely unaccompanied by the man responsible for the death of the dragons an age ago and the one who set in motion all of her family’s tragedies.

“The Queen speaks highly of you.”

“Her Grace is too kind. It is I who should speak highly of her. She has fed me and housed me when my family has taken the side of traitors.” The words were acid on her tongue. Lies upon lies upon lies. “I am forever in her debt.” Tywin smirked and she fought the urge to let her lip curl in a snarl. “But I’m sure you did not ask me to walk with you to speak of your daughter.”

“You are correct. The Realm is still at war. Your family has held Riverrun for generations. While it is possible for the Crown to raise another family to Lord Paramount of the Trident, it always ends in more bloodshed. But you are smart—loyal.”

The conversation was quickly spiraling into unfamiliar and dangerous territory. “I thank you, my lord. I know the Realm needs stability now more than ever.”

“Yes. Stability.” The word sounded strange on his tongue. “Exactly.”

Frantic footsteps behind them drew their attention and she was thankful for it, whomever it was, and turned to see who had come. It was her handmaiden, a pretty girl named Daisy from the Stormlands who had once been Myrcella’s chambermaid before the princess was shipped off to Dorne.

“My lady!” She was out of breath and then blushed a violent shade of red as she noticed Tywin and quickly dropped into a curtsey. “Lord Hand, I beg your pardon.”

“What is it, girl?”

Ella started to laugh at his displeasure but hid it behind a sneeze.

“You have a raven, my lady. I know you prefer to read them promptly.”

Relief washed over her like a wave. “You are a treasure, Daisy. I thank you.” She turned to Tywin and curtseyed. “I must take my leave, Lord Hand. I am hoping it is from my father or uncle. I do believe I might have reached their hearts and minds in regards to this traitorous alliance with my Northern-wed cousin.”

“I will speak again with you soon, my lady.” He grasped her hand before she could leave and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I wish you luck with your troublesome family.”

She pressed a smile to her lips and knew it appeased him with the smirk he gave her as she curtseyed again and then quickly walked away, Daisy struggling to keep pace. She made sure to touch Ella’s hand in thanks before she rejoined the Tyrell retinue, and then quickly made her way to her chambers.

As the door to her chambers closed, Daisy quickly pulled the letter from her skirts with a small smile. It was still sealed with not a trace of one trying to decipher its inner secrets. She pulled a gold dragon from a small satchel tied about her waist and dropped it into Daisy’s palm, as she did every time the maid gave her a letter and guaranteed her secrecy. While the ravens from Y/N were many, those coming to her were few—a precious few. Daisy was tasked with retrieving them from the rookery before the maester could read them and then make a false report to one of Cersei’s many spies about its contents. The girl was trustworthy, worth her weight in gold—and she paid her thus. Daisy’s own vendetta against the Lannisters had started when the Lannister men stormed the streets of King’s Landing in an attack against Eddard Stark and his Northern bannermen. Jory Cassel, head of Eddard’s personal guard, had been killed. No one knew of Jory’s torrid affair with young Daisy, but Daisy had sworn retribution, something she knew she could use and quickly schooled the maid in how to play the part of dutiful, whispering servant.

The pair would have their vengeance. But it was a long game and Y/N didn’t mind parting with the gold dragons Hoster had sent her with to keep an ally. “Who did you say this was from today?”

“Your cousin, Edmure, my lady. Saying that he wishes you well but cannot see your reasoning.”

“Perfect.”

Daisy preened with the praise and helped herself to Y/N’s jug of wine as she usually did when Y/N read her letters.

The seal popped open and left a smear of red across the parchment. It creaked under her grip, like it had been baked and then left to dry in a desert sun.

Your bird has found her way to Sunspear.

The letter took her a moment to understand—her bird? What could that possibly…Sansa.

Y/N pressed the letter to her chest with a relieved sigh. She’d made it—far faster than she anticipated. She quickly read the rest.

Your letter to my brother Doran was a most welcomed surprise. She is unused to the heat but becoming accustomed to it. She is a loved guest—but she understands she cannot fly in certain halls. We do have golden cats here at the palace. House Nymeros Martell will keep her safe until she is ready to fly home.

The sigil stamped at the edge of the brief message was a sun pierced by a spear, standard of the Dornish ruling house, but a red viper was also wrapped around the tip of the weapon—mouth open and hissing.

“Oh little one,” she mused, finger brushing against the snake. “You have found yourself quite a champion.” Whispers of the Red Viper of Dorne had reached even her chambers in Riverrun. Bold, brash, and deadly, she was well aware of the Prince of Dorne. Oberyn. She always thought it a beautiful name. And if the rumors of his eight bastard daughters were true, he must have a face to match. And, if the rumors that he liked the company of both men and women were true, she’d found a kindred spirit.

“Good news, my lady?”

“Very good, Daisy.” She quickly touched the parchment to the flame of a nearby candle and watched it burn and smolder until only the corner was left and the tips of her fingers were near burnt. She scooped the ash into her palm and dumped it out of the window, watching the evidence of their subterfuge disappear in the wind.

The letters continued come at uneven intervals, keeping her informed at how Sansa was faring in Dorne. His missives, however brief, always left her a bit warm in the face.

Your little bird speaks of you often. Of your sweet nature and devotion to your loved ones. I am honored that you have deemed my House worthy or your trust. We will not fail you.

But I do wish to know you; to know your face as I know your heart.

And then another:

Your bird misses you. My brother has taken her under his tutelage and she is flourishing. I grower curiouser and curiouser about you with each passing day.

Words like that were scrawled across each letter she received and she treasured each new one as much as the last and always hated when she had to burn them to ash. They had become a small bright spot to her strange life in the Red Keep. A secret all her own that made her smile without care.

But, she knew she was being watched when she was not in the haven of her rooms. The Mountain had returned from “the Westerlands” and had resumed his place in King’s Landing—but she knew he had been the leader of the band of raiders in the Riverlands all those months ago. He had been the reason she was here in the Red Keep.

And he surely made his presence known.

Ser Gregor seemed keen to keep her within his sights. The Mountain leered at her and was unrepentant when he would make wildly inappropriate comments in highborn company about the shape of her hips or the heaviness of her breasts. Y/N was sure the only reason he had not approached her was because someone with enough power had expressly forbidden him from touching her.

But he was waiting—she knew. She could feel his eyes on her wherever she moved.

It unnerved her to no end. The small blades she had sewn into her dresses and hidden in her chambers gave her a small bit of comfort but she continued to play the part of a woman unaware of the eyes she caught and persisted to find a small amount of joy in her quiet chats with Daisy and her infrequent letters from Dorne or her quiet prayers to the Seven for the safety of her family.

But that was irrevocably torn asunder with new from The Twins.

The Red Wedding, they called it. Whispered the crude name for it in the halls as she passed. She held her head high and kept her tears silent in the darkness of night, soaking her pillow until she exhausted herself. Her cousin Catelyn, her son—her beautiful Robb who had made her laugh when she’d been fostered at Winterfell for two years—gone. Edmure was imprisoned and her father in the wind. Her family…gone in a single night.

It took the Queen and her father three days to summon the last “loyal” Tully to the throne room. Joffrey was there too, perched on the Iron Throne with a sneer. She curtseyed and smiled at them as if she hadn’t felt like a dagger had wedged its way between her ribs and twisted.

“The King in the North is dead,” Joffrey jeered. “Yes, I’ve heard, Your Grace. A great victory.” Her voice was steady.

That was not the emotion Joffrey wanted nor expected because he continued, “your traitor family—wiped out! Dragged to-”

“That is enough, Joffrey,” Tywin said with an even tone as he eyed her, quickly shutting up his grandson.

“What my family did was treasonous and stupid. Rebelling against the Crown was an act of war. Their deaths are only another act of war. Men die, Your Grace. It is better that it happened sooner rather than later for the betterment of the Realm.”

Joffrey seemed placated and looked so much like his mother as he held his nose in the air. “I see you are a reasonable woman. It is a shame your family could not follow your example.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She could feel the bile turn in her stomach and then rising like a terrible wave up her throat. “Is there anything you require of me?”

“The Freys have been raised up to Lords of Riverrun.”

And now something cold gripped her stomach. But what of what Tywin had said just a few suns ago? “Oh.” It was all she could say.

“But,” Tywin continued, “it is only temporary. Until you find a suitable husband.”

“That is very kind, Lord Tywin.” It was not kind. It was a threat. They meant to shackle her to someone they knew was loyal, too. Shaping the Riverlands into another realm under their thumb. And if they thought she was loyal, they would probably assume she would leap at any match they sought to bring.

Cersei, with almost a sincere smile, stepped down a few steps toward her. “We will make sure the match is agreeable to you, Lady Tully. I would not see you married to a brute.”

That was when her chin wobbled, a crack in her mask. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

A brute. A brute. A brute.

All her life, marriage had seemed like some far off arrangement. Her father had never pressed her to marry and Uncle Hoster had avoided it entirely. Being confronted with its inevitability had shaken something in her marrow.

Daisy had told her to spend some time in the market to “buy something overpriced and shiny” for some semblance of happiness.

“I do it all the time when my thoughts fall to my Jory.” Daisy gave her a soft, sad smile but quickly waved it away. “It is why I have so many beautiful things!”

That is how she found herself surrounded by the thrum of King’s Landing, weaving between people as she looked at various stalls of goods and wares and foods. Daisy had left her side a few moments ago to barter with some woman over a filigreed hair pin. She was in need of a new inks and parchment and possibly a pair of earrings to wear to the wedding ceremony in just a few days. Finding the ink and parchment was easy—and the ink was a pretty blue, almost the Tully shade and she had swiftly purchased three wells of it. Daisy flittered by for a moment to check on her before disappearing into the crowds again.

As she looked over the various “shiny things” Daisy insisted she look at, Y/N collided with someone. The scent of citrus and foreign, floral perfume engulfed her in a cloud as she was caught at the wrists and saved from falling to the cobblestone street.

“Forgive me, my lady,” she quickly said as she righted herself, not even looking at the woman she had nearly toppled. “I must take care to look where I am going.”

A delightful laugh pulled her attention and her tongue quickly glued itself to the roof of her mouth. The woman in front of her was stunning. Dark, luscious hair tied in a loose braid, away from her sharp, unfairly beautiful features, and draped in shades of orange and yellow which only highlighted the tan tone of her skin. She was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Cousin Edmure, if he was at her side, would have surely nudged her by now, used to how she would become tongue-tied around women. The Tullys had been aware of her partiality to women—Edmure had once caught her being kissed by one of their sworn houses’ ladies in the dim light of Riverrun’s halls and had simply sighed. She had always been drawn to both men and women. It was just that it seemed like beautiful women greatly outnumbered the men she could tolerate.

And now she was basically awestruck by this woman.

“I am no lady,” the woman said. “And I do believe it was I who stumbled into you.”

The man behind the stall they were standing in front of loudly cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows, silently telling them to buy something or move.

The woman laughed again and grabbed Y/N’s hand and led her down the nearest alleyway and leaned against the cool stone of the building as she released her hold. A basket of flowers was tucked under her arm and golden, swirling earrings dripped from her ears. “You are a quiet one, aren’t you?”

“N-no, I just…”

“Have never seen a Dornishman before?” The woman supplied, head tilted to the side with a soft smile.

“No, I mean. I have, but you are very—what did you mean, ‘I am no lady’?” She quickly stopped her poor stumbling and bit at her bottom lip, trying to will the embarrassment away.

“I am a bastard. Born of passion.”

“Oh.” She paused. And then held out her hand. “I’m Y/N Tully.” Being a bastard or low-born mattered very little to Y/N. Her mother’s own low-born, foreign standing had been held over her head for as long as she had remembered. It wasn’t fair. Her parents loved each other, loved her. It was a mindset that made her differ from most of her peer group but she did not mind. (Even when her cousin Catelyn had told her that Jon Snow, Eddard’s bastard, was not to be associated with. She had found him great company and loved his soft, low voice when they would speak in the cover of moonlight at Winterfell. It all seemed like ages ago, now.)

The woman paused, eyebrow cocked, before she smiled and took her hand, soft, long fingers curling around her own and Y/N shivered. “Ellaria Sand.”

“What brings you to King’s Landing?” She asked, finding her footing with speaking with the woman—finally. “Surely it is not the markets. I have heard the bazaars of the Shadow City are one of the wonders of the Seven Kingdoms.” She lowered her voice. “And I assume Dorne smells much better.”

Ellaria laughed. “It does. That is why I came to the markets.” She held up her basket of flowers. “For something sweet to smell in my rooms while I am in the capital.” Roses and lavender and little red flowers known as dragons breath were piled high and already smelled sweet and fragrant.

“Wonderful choices. I have resorted to keeping perfumed oil under my nose.” She grimaced at revealing her silly secret. “But I shall not keep you any longer. My apologies for pulling you from your day.”

Ellaria pulled a rose from her bundle and quickly plucked the thorns and cut the stem before tucking it behind the younger woman’s ear. “Apologize for nothing, Lady Tully.” She stood straight and smiled, making her poor heart flutter. “I shall see you again.” And then she walked away, leaving Y/N with a flower in her hair and her heart in her throat.

Olenna was sitting behind a dark wood desk as Y/N was led into her chambers. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains and the room smelled of cinnamon and tea. She waved a hand, signaling the younger woman to sit at the chair across from her and for the servant to leave. As the door closed, Olenna offered her a bowl of berries which she quickly helped herself to with a soft ‘thank you’ and matching smile.

“I will be frank. I know the Lannisters wish to marry you off to some oaf of a man who will do anything they say.”

She choked on a berry.

“You are a smart girl, Little Fish. Far smarter than you let anyone see.”

“Lady Olenna-”

“You have helped my family, let us help you. While I would prefer to present you to Willas, he is heir to Highgarden and Tywin Lannister is sure he would see you as the Lady of Riverrun. We will present Loras as a potential suitor for you. He would make a fine husband for you and I know you will understand his leanings.”

Without a berry to choke on, she now wheezed out a breath. Ser Loras’ leanings were an open secret to many. While it did not bother Y/N any, she didn’t understand the logic. “I am failing to see how this will help my cause.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at women—far more often than you look at men. You are not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

“Hm.” Was all She could say. Denying it was a fruitless and draining endeavor. Olenna seemed to be at peace with Loras and his proclivity for the male form so she didn’t see the need.

“So, you two could put to rest any sort of whispers and then reign in the Riverlands without the press of the Lannisters at your throats.”

“And of children? Heirs?” Children had always been a hope for her, not out of duty but she had always wanted a little one to hold and call her own.

“I’m sure you two could work something out,” Olenna tittered. “You’re resourceful.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh. “I will take your offer into consideration, my lady.”

Olenna waved her away with a small smile and Y/N left her rooms feeling a little strange. It was a blessing to have an ally such as Olenna Tyrell, but knowing that she would not truly see or help in the goal to see the Lannisters wiped from existence left something sour in her mouth.

The only true allies she could identify, outside of her family, were the Martells.

Just the thought of Sansa being safe—being alive—usually had her standing a little straighter. And now she had Oberyn, the faceless-but-surely-handsome Oberyn, to lift her spirits, too. It had been some time since his last letter, stating that Sansa had taken to reading to his youngest daughter, Loreza. It seemed Sansa had found a happy life in Dorne.

She just hoped she could make it last.

She rounded the corner, nearly at her chambers when the familiar scraping of metal against stone stopped her. It was the Sabaton and Greave of a heavy armor, stomping through the halls of the Keep. And she knew who those steps belonged to—only one man could shake the ground like that.

“Tully.”

She froze.

Gregor Clegane stood at end of the hall, just in front of her chamber door with his helmet shoved beneath his arm. He sneered as he looked at her and, despite the distance between them, she felt like she could feel him breathing, sticky and disgusting, against her neck.

“Clegane.” She spit out the name. Her heart was thundering behind her ribs in an angry beat. The very sight of him made her wish for a blade. While Sandor was (reluctantly) kind at heart, there was nothing redeemable about his older brother. His three dead wives, the suspicious death of his younger sister, Sandor’s mutilating burn. All of it was Gregor. His soul was charred ash.

His face split in a sneer. “You have been hiding from me, girl.”

She held up her chin, defiant. “I hide from nothing. Certainly not a mindless sword such as you.”

His sneer disappeared, lips curling to bare his teeth, yellow and crooked. “I’ve killed men for less.”

“I’m sure you have. But not me.” Her fists curled into the skirts of her dress, slick with sweat. “You will never touch me.”

“I will break you, girl. Have you screaming beneath me like a common whore.”

“Lady Tully!” Tywin Lannister strode into the hall, light eyes focused solely on her.

And she had never been so thankful to see the old lion. “Lord Tywin.”

His gaze turned to The Mountain and his thin lips pressed into a hard line. “You are dismissed, Ser Gregor.”

The knight bowed and walked away, but not without raking his eyes over her one last time. She tried not to shiver as her stomach rolled in disgust.

“He is a fine swordsman but an embarrassment to high-born company.”

That was an understatement. “How may I help you, Lord Tywin? I assumed the Small Council was still in congress at this hour.”

“We adjourned early.” He stepped closer and she had to will herself to not take a step back out of reflex. Just as she was with Gregor, she was alone with Tywin Lannister. She had traded one monster for another. “Walk with me.” He grasped her arm and gave her very little choice in the matter, almost dragging her through the stone halls. “His Grace’s wedding to Margaery Tyrell is in a few short days. As you will be the only member of your household attending, I would deem it wise to have you sit at the head table, at our side. It would not be appropriate for you to be unattended.”

The fact that he seemed to believe his own logic was infuriating. It was only exacerbated by the fact that she could not refute it. But she knew there was more than her propriety at stake. “That is most gracious, Lord Tywin. But would it be polite? I am not of His Grace’s family nor a Tyrell.”

Tywin stopped and forced her to do the same. He turned to her and his cold fingers slid down her arms, barely touching before he grasped her hands and held them up, just under his chin so she could feel his breath against her fingers. “Your concern for my family’s reputation is honorable, Lady Tully. But I insist. You will sit beside us.” He looked her in the eye and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hands.

She quickly curtseyed. “Of course, Lord Tywin. As you wish.”

“Wonderful.” He drew out the syllables. “I have one other gift for you. I would have you attend the Small Council meetings so that you may learn how to properly govern Riverrun when we seat you on your ancestral throne.”

The invitation was shocking. Very few women were privy to such gatherings and she knew, in any other life, that she would be enamored with the idea and anyone who offered it so openly. But this was Tywin Lannister. And Lannisters always pay their debts. But he was never going to let her refuse. She knew it. “It would be an honor, Lord Tywin. I thank you for the guidance.”

He smirked, as if knowing he’d won, and they said their goodbyes before she quickly walked to her chambers, desperate for her original destination. She flung open the door and then quickly locked it behind her. Hot, angry tears blurred her vision as she leaned her forehead against the wood. They slid down her cheeks in thick rivulets and only served to make her angrier. She pushed away from the door and flopped onto her bed with a huff, feeling very much like a child—petulant and powerless.

Everything was quickly slipping away from her and out of her control. All of it, all of the placating gestures, the twisting of her morals to survive to help Sansa escape, the planning. All of it. All of it was falling apart. She should have left with Sansa. Everything would have been easier. She curled a pillow into tried to will herself to sleep.

“Will you be my champion, Ser Aemon?” She tried to make her voice airy and breathy, how she assumed Queen Naerys had spoken. They were deep in the wolfswood outside Winterfell. But the colors were wrong. Instead of the cold tones of white and grey and brown, everything was red and gold and orange, like she was seeing it through candlelight. She watched as her younger-self placed a crown of twisted branches over her head with a giggle she tried to suppress. Both of them were just past their one-and-ten nameday and had taken to making mischief as often as they could. Their favorite stories were of Queen Naerys and Ser Aemon, the Dragonknight. Their history was filled with tales of valor and heartache--perfect fodder for their growing imaginations.

Robb kneeled in front of her, taking his role very seriously. “Yes, my queen.”

Young Y/N stifled another giggle but quickly attempted to regain her composure, staying in her role. “Arise, my Dragonknight.”

Robb did as he was told, fighting a smile of his own before they both burst into a fit of laughter. Y/N took the wooden sword from its place on a broken stump and handed it to him with a flourish and he grasped it and held it aloft, yelling into the cold, morning air as if he had already won a great battle. His cheeks were flushed against the cold but his lips were warm as he pressed them against her hand. She could remember it all so easily. “I shall avenge your honor, my queen. I swear it.”

“Lord Robb!” Maester Luwin called out, voice echoing in the forest. It echoed and echoed and echoed and grew louder until all it was, was a roar that shook the trees.

Robb suddenly grabbed her hand and started tugging her through the trees. “Run, my queen. Or we’ll be forced to suffer more Valyrian lessons!” The trees twisted as the pair ran away, forming a wall and climbing higher and higher into the sky until it blotted out the sun. Then the trees twisted and reached out to her and their wooden fingers circled her throat and choked the air from her lungs.

As she woke with a gasp and the dying light now filtering through her small window, she could still hear Robb’s laughter ringing in her ears.

The Small Council Chamber was nothing she had dreamt of when she had let herself believe she could one day be powerful. It was just a stone room with a few windows and a large table. She counted the chairs and frowned when she couldn’t place all the titles that went with each.

“You are early.”

She leapt at the sound of the voice and quickly turned at curtseyed in front of Cersei who smirked and settled herself into the chair closest to the head seat. “I wanted to be sure I was not late, Your Grace. It is a great honor to be invited.”

Cersei looked at her and her smirk widened. “Yes. It is, isn’t it? I asked my lord father to invite you. When the Riverlands are yours to govern, we would not have you mishandle them.” She pulled out the chair beside her. “Sit.”

She quickly did. “I do not want to disappoint you, Your Grace. But, would it be imprudent for me to take notes? To see how the duties are presented.” There was a bit of parchment and ink she could use, sitting on the edge of the table. Cersei nodded and Y/N had to will herself not to scramble for it. While this invitation would surely be used against her at a later date, there was no use in completely forgetting what happened in the chamber. “While we are waiting, Your Grace, may I fetch you anything?”

“The last time you went to fetch me wine, Lady Tully, you nearly died. I would have you close for now.”

The quill in her hand nearly snapped at that, even if delivered in Cersei’s usual droll. An admission of somewhat reluctant care for her well-being had not been what she had hoped to earn when she woke this morn, but it was definitely a welcome surprise, even if it did make her all the more suspicious of the Lannisters’ intentions. All she said in response was, “Yes, Your Grace.”

And Cersei seemed fine with that.

Other men filtered in, casting questioning looks in Y/N’s direction but never voiced them as they looked at Cersei at her side.

Well, except for Grand Maester Pycelle. “Are you lost, Lady Tully? This is no place for a lady!”

“I requested her presence.” Everyone scrambled to their feet as Tywin entered the chamber. “She is to see how a functioning government is kept.” Tywin looked at her as he took his seat and she quickly glanced down at her empty bits of parchment.

Pycelle muttered something else under his breath but took his seat and cast a side-eyed glance at Y/N one more time before the meeting actually started.

Soon, the parchment was filled with notes and she was scrambling to tidy them as the meeting was adjourned. To his credit, it seemed like Tywin was the only one who knew how to have a functioning council but it was still a mess. But perhaps he intended it to be like that—so he could be the smartest man in the room.

“My lord,” she started as the others had started to leave. “I noticed there are more seats than people. Will there be more lords on the council after the wedding?”

Tywin looked at the empty chairs and then back at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Everything is a piece to played, my lady. You’ll see.”

He escorted her back to her rooms and left her with another kiss to her hand and a promise to invite her back to the Small Council “soon.” And she was happy to be alone again. Daisy had been excused after helping her dress and ready for the day, leaving her by herself.

It had been almost two weeks since she’d received her last letter from Dorne. It was probably for the best; it wasn’t as if she had any family left to write to her so it would be suspicious if she had received a letter from the Riverlands now. She hoped Sansa and Oberyn were well. Safe. Happy. All of it. If she couldn’t have it, she hoped someone else could. When she was feeling particularly melancholy, she would pull the rose she’d received from the mysterious and beautiful Ellaria from its hiding spot under her carefully, gently folded chemises and press it under her nose. The scent was faint now, but it still brought a smile to her face. (She had never actually found the earrings she was searching for that day.) After the meeting, she had stayed to the quiet of her rooms instead of the godswood. The chattering from the guests arriving for the wedding in the gardens had bled into that small haven and forced her retreat if she wanted to save her sanity. She was reading a book on the War of the Ninepenny Kings when there was a knock at her door. She grumbled and placed her book down before walking to the door and hauling it open, prepared to see some Lannister or Tyrell handmaiden requesting her presence somewhere—but instead, she saw a handsome young man with black hair pulled into a small bun on the back of his head. His robes were tan with golden thread with a burnt orange undershirt left open. “Lady Tully,” he said, a soft accent touching her ears. “I have a delivery for you. From Dorne.” His smile was small, but knowing. “Prince Oberyn send his regards, my lady.” Before she could even thank him, he disappeared and left an ornate chest just on the inside of her chamber door. The chest was of a reddish wood, inlaid with golden suns and thick, bold metal strappings. It smelled faintly of citrus and was slick with a fine varnish.

Before she could even open the chest, Daisy had scurried into her rooms, cheeks flush with worry. “The Queen is on her way, my lady.”

And she was right, Cersei arrived soon with a thinly veiled look of curiosity in her green eyes as she looked at the chest. “A gift from Dorne?”

Y/N and Daisy quickly curtseyed as Y/N easily thought of a lie. “Not quite, Your Grace. I wanted to have the finest gown for His Grace’s wedding to Lady Margaery, behind yours of course. And my dresses are much more suited for the climate of the Riverlands. The seamstresses in the capital were all far too busy for my liking and I wanted to be sure that I would not embarrass myself with a poorly-hewn frock.”

“My seamstress could have found room for you.”

She pressed a look of shock to her face. “Your Grace is far too charitable. I have taken enough of your time and resources when my family has caused the Crown such irksome troubles.”

Cersei looked pleased with her answer, nose held a little higher in the air. “You are a credit to your bloodline, Y/N. But do ask for her when the next opportunity arises. I would not have you dressed like a Dornish tart.”

Anger rolled her stomach but she smiled as if she had been complimented. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will.”

Cersei excused herself and Daisy finally lifted her head from its tuck to her chest and she softly shut the door, rolling her eyes the entire time.

“Help me to unseal this.”

Daisy quickly did as she was told and they attempted to pry it open but were unsuccessful until Y/N gave in and pulled a knife from under her featherbed and cut the seal.

“Oh…my lady. That is a mighty fine dress.”

And it was. Nestled in the chest was a soft, sunshine yellow samite dress of a Dornish style. It would show off an ample amount of cleavage with a near-scandalous neckline but did preserve most of her modesty with long bell sleeves made of matching Myrish lace. Small, golden suns were stitched throughout along with silver stars and moons, and she knew a train of modest length would follow her even with her heeled shoes. It seemed her lie had been prophetic.

Daisy bent and pulled something else from the chest: a neatly folded bit of parchment.

Y/N carefully set her dress on her bed before taking the letter. She unfolded it and laughed even as more heat took to her cheeks.

So that I may know you on sight.

The familiar viper was pressed to the corner in red ink.

The date of the wedding had arrived and she grew more nervous with each passing moment, even as Daisy attempted to make her laugh as she helped her into her dress and uncomfortable heeled boots.

“You are not the bride, my lady. Cease your shaking.” Daisy grasped at one of her hands and squeezed. “And if the whispers I hear are true, your Prince had been in the capital for a few days now.”

“You are not helping, Daisy. Why would that information give me comfort?”

The girl laughed and finished lacing the black closure of the dress with a flourish. “You are finished. Lady Margaery has asked for you in the Maidenvault. You must hurry.”

She squeezed Daisy’s hands in thanks and told her to help herself to the wine and relax in her chambers for the rest of the day before leaving and quickly making her way to the Maidenvault. It was awash with Tyrell green and gold and nearly vibrating with energy as women went this way and that, preparing for the ceremony.

“You’ve made it!” Margaery exclaimed, seeing her through the crowd.

She quickly made her way to the side of the soon-to-be-queen and curtseyed. “How may I help you-”

“You look quite beautiful. Dornish, is it not?” Margaery reached out and trailed a finger across one of the suns just above her breast. If she felt her poor heart leap, Margaery blessedly didn’t mention it.

“It is.”

“Nearly scandalous,” Margaery said with a wink.

And Y/N nearly snorted at that—Margaery’s dresses were, largely, much more bold.

“But don’t change. It will be nice to see some color beside red and gold on my wedding day.” Maegaery squeezed her hands and then scowled as a handmaiden shoved a pin into her hair.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Y/N said, noticing how Margaery preened with the title, “I was told you asked me here for a reason.”

Margaery smiled again. “Yes, I wanted to personally ask you to save a dance for my brother, Ser Loras. He has been asking to make your acquaintance for some time now.” The twinkle in her eye did little to settle the knots in Y/N’s stomach. Almost everyone in the entire room, and there were quite a few, had taken a look at her then, at the mention of Loras’ name.

“I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

Margaery suddenly pulled her into a hug, ignoring the squawk her handmaiden let out as she had just about placed another pin, and held her tight. “You’ve made me very happy, Little Fish.”

“I am glad to hear it. It is your wedding day, after all,” Y/N said as she pulled back. “Now, you must excuse me.”

“Of course,” Margaery said, still smiling. “I shall see you in a moment.”

Y/N quickly exited, ignoring the strange looks she was receiving on her way out form the Tyrell retinue, and made her way toward the Great Sept of Baelor, filling in with the crowds and finding her place. It was more toward the front of the crowd than she had anticipated and her thoughts once again turned to how the Lannisters were planning something. At least with the Tyrells, she knew whom she could expect. Lords and Ladies from the Westerlands were at her back and was soon greeted by Ser Kevan Lannister and his wife, Lady Dorna Swyft in her row. They greeted her warmly, mentioning how both Cersei and Tywin mentioned her and she did her best to act pleased.

A flash of gold caught her eye a few rows ahead and she turned to see a golden headdress, rows of golden chain looped together, placed over a head of shiny, inky black hair. It was preposterous to believe it could be Ellaria, she knew. But, oh, she hoped. The man next to the woman with the golden headdress was handsome, from what she could see of his face. A strong nose and pouty lips that smiled as he looked at his companion and he was draped in a soft tan fabric that shimmered only slightly when the sunlight hit it just so. Perhaps it was Oberyn. Again, a fanciful thought. But his letter and the dress had made his intention clear that he would be at the wedding and there, of course, had been the usual whispers that Prince Oberyn had travelled in Prince Doran’s stead to represent Dorne during the festivities. He could and should be here.

“It is a marvelous moment, no?” Kevan asked, whispering in her ear. “The dawn of a new era.”

“Indeed,” Y/N said as the soft music started, signaling the arrival of the bride. “It is.”

It was a pleasant surprise to see she was to be seated beside Tyrion and Tommen at the festivities following the ceremony. While still Lannisters, they were decidedly the best of the brood. Tyrion made her laugh and Tommen was kind.

“Have you tried the boar, my prince? It is quite good.”

Tommen speared some of the meat from her plate with a playful smile as Tyrion softly, fondly chided him. “It is good, my lady.” The young prince quickly stole another bite.

“My lady,” Tyrion started as he stood from his chair, “would you be so kind as to join me for the next dance?” He held out a hand toward her with a small smile.

She did not want to. Not because of his stature but because of his family and how it echoed in her mind that the Lannisters were set on marrying her off. He was kind, it was true, but that did not make this easier. “Of course, Lord Tyrion.” She stood and grasped his hand, letting him lead her away from the large red and gold tent and into the fray of couples arranging themselves in two lines as the musicians readied for the next song.

The music started and she quickly tried to remember the steps that this dance required. A few steps forward toward her partner then a turn to the side to grasp a hand, turn once, twice, then step back and the partner on the left would step to the side and the dance would begin again with a new partner, again and again, until the entire line had been turned and the original partners were reunited again. For what it was worth, Y/N had to admit that Tyrion chose a smart dance to share with her—they hardly touched or spent any time looking at each other. Almost as if he knew her discomfort.

He bowed to her and she to him and they began the dance. He was mindful not to step on her gown as they circled each other and he gave her another fond smile before they switched partners. There was an older Lord from the Stormlands, followed by a knight from the Westerlands and then a familiar green and gold brocade gathered her attention as she stepped in front of her next partner.

Ser Loras looked relieved as he recognized her. “Lady Tully.”

“Ser Loras.” He was undoubtedly handsome, with his soft blonde curls and dancing, blue eyes and Y/N could let herself pretend, for a moment that she could be happy being married off to someone like him— strictly aesthetically, anyway. “I have been told to save you a dance by our new queen.”

He laughed as he grasped her hand and they turned. “Would you?”

“Yes, Ser Loras. I’d be happy to.”

He smiled again and they finished their turn before the next partner came. The dance eventually finished and Tyrion took her hand again and led her back to their table. Tommen now had a heaping pile of the boar on his plate and was devouring it. She stole a bite from his plate and he laughed. His laughter, however, drew the eye of Cersei and Tywin Lannister.

They both looked at her at the far table and she pretended not to notice as she laughed with Tommen and let Tyrion fill her chalice with more wine. It would be better if they didn’t think she was putting on a show.

Another set of musicians stepped up in front of Joffrey and Margaery and played another round of ‘The Rains of Castamere.’ It had been the fifth one already and it was hardly an hour into the festivities. Joffrey lobbed a handful of coin at them and sent them on their way.

Another song for the dancing couples went by, and another followed. The wine was making her head swim the smallest bit as she spotted Loras making his way toward her. Olenna was at his side, required to make the introduction for niceties sake and then they were off.

The musicians called out the dance and Y/N had to arch an eyebrow at Loras. This one would keep her close, almost intimate, but still playful enough that it wouldn’t be imprudent for mixed company. He shrugged and held her hands in his, easily guiding her through the steps. “Surely you know what they’re planning,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh yes. We could make quite a match.” She twirled under his arm, following the steps, and let herself be caught in his arms, her back to his chest as the dance continued. “But why would you agree to such a thing, Loras?” Her voice was low. “King Renly…” Words had to be chosen carefully. “You loved him. I’ve heard tales about it. Why would you tether yourself to someone you could never love?”

The knight’s grip tightened just a fraction. “When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”

And her heart broke with the pain in his voice. Thankfully, the dance needed her to turn and face him, placing her hands over one of his shoulders as she kicked, letting her dress flutter and glisten in the sunlight. “We can be friends, can we not? To find some happiness in this arrangement?”

He smiled then and almost laughed as she nearly missed a step. “I would like that, very much.”

They finished the dance, her heart a little lighter than it had been and he gently took her hand and started to lead her toward her table before she noticed him blushing. Y/N tried to find where he was looking and found Ellaria hand-feeding berries to the most beautiful man she had ever seen. It was a wonderful surprise to realize the woman she had been ogling during the ceremony had been Ellaria. But who was the man? Seeing him in the sunlight, completely, was beautiful. Just as beautiful as Ellaria. No wonder they seemed so besotted with each other.

“That is Prince Oberyn,” Loras whispered in her ear. “Gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Why lie? Anyone with eyes could see how he was meant to be painted, immortalized for everyone to revere.

“Shall I introduce you? I made his acquaintance earlier today.” There was a slight shyness to Loras’ tone that made her smile. He was like a little boy with an infatuation.

And she would finally meet him. But would their easy companionship filter over from their letters? Nerves had twisted her stomach when she thought of Oberyn not deeming her worthy of his beautiful word any longer. “I would be grateful.”

Loras led her through the crowd and Ellaria spotted them first. A happy smile touched her lips and she whispered something in Oberyn’s ear. He let his gaze slowly slide over to them, almost disinterested but she could see the playful glint in his eyes. And his own smile widened when he looked at her. Ellaria slid off his lap and walked over to them, dragging Y/N from Loras’ side.

“Finally. Someone worth speaking to.” She pressed a kiss to both of Y/N’s quickly warming cheeks and tugged her toward the table. “Come, Ser Loras. You can join us.”

Loras awkwardly sat across from Oberyn as Ellaria planted Y/N between herself and Oberyn, a hand already fond of tracing the suns stitched into her dress. “I was unaware you knew Lady Tully.”

“We met in the market. She has yet to meet my prince.”

“Yes, well, Prince Oberyn, I present-”

“Lady Tully. Yes.” He grasped one of her hands and brought it to his mouth to kiss the tips of her fingers, somehow making a shiver shoot down her spine as he never broke eye contract. “I have heard of you. And that is a fine dress. Dornish, isn’t it?” He smiled at the last question.

“It is—I’ve never had such a beautiful dress. I’m very fortunate. And, of course, it is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Oberyn. I hope your travels to the capital were pleasant.” Y/N was proud of herself for keeping her voice so steady despite his piercing stare. Perhaps it was the hidden joke, the secret in their verbal volley who made her a little more at ease. None of her nerves had been proven correct just yet. And she hoped they never would.

“The Capital is never pleasant, and the journey was tedious. But the company, it seems, to have finally evolved into something enjoyable.” He then smirked at Loras and pulled a berry from the bowl in front of him and tossed it into his mouth.

Loras’ pretty cheeks filled with pink and he averted his eyes and the cogs in Y/N’s mind quickly started to turn. “Ellaria, I have heard there is quite a display of Lysene contortionists somewhere around here. Shall we let the men talk?”

Ellaria laughed and let a finger trail across Y/N’s cheek. “I know exactly where these contortionists are. I will show you.” She stood and Y/N followed and they linked arms as they set off away from the dancing couples and the food tables. Ellaria’s hand covered hers as it rested on her arm. “That was very kind of you, my lady. To let Oberyn have his fun with that pretty knight.”

“Yes, well,” Y/N chanced a glance over her shoulder to see that Loras had switched to the other side of the table and Oberyn was whispering something in his ear, “it seemed Loras had been a bit smitten and who am I to stand in the way of that?”

“You do not mind that he likes both? My Oberyn?” The question was asked quietly, Ellaria’s lips close to her ear.

“I like both. It is comforting to know there is another like me.” And it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest to finally say it aloud. Of course, the Tullys knew of it, but they had very little patience to understand it so she had been forced to only live it in shadowed corners. And when she had moved to King’s Landing, it wasn’t an option for her to explore. There was an easy air about Ellaria, open and honest. That is perhaps why Y/N had felt so nonplussed to reveal her own secret.

“More than just Oberyn,” Ellaria said, her grip tightening just a fraction.

And Y/N’s heart leapt and bounced. “Truly?” The word was almost strangled from her throat as they neared the area of the fire-breathers and contortionists and jugglers, slipping through a display of the gifts the Brat King had received from his guests.

“You are not alone,” Ellaria whispered with a teasing smile. But then another question had Ellaria’s brow arching. “And what of your thoughts of loving more than one?”

“More than one person at a time? I have not loved one person. I would not know how to love two.” She frowned as she thought of it. There was love for her family, and a companionable affection for people like Daisy. But love? Real, romantic love? It had always been a distant daydream. Stolen kisses in shadows from pretty ladies and the occasional second son of a lord was as close as she had ever come to it.

“There is love in your heart, I know it. Can feel it. Passion waiting to be unleashed.” They turned a corner and a burst of fire greeted them. They had found their destination. The fire-breather danced away, leaving the scent of smoke and ash behind. “In Dorne, we embrace our passion. Lords and ladies have their paramours and lovers and take what they want.” She let her fingers trail down to take Y/N’s hand and raised it to her lips and kissed the pads of her fingers, just as Oberyn had done a moment ago.

Y/N swallowed the hard lump in her throat as Ellaria’s dark eyes lifted to meet hers. “Dorne sounds like a paradise.”

“It can be. If one has the right soul for it.” The older woman stood straight and continued to lead her toward the tables filled with contortionists.

“Do I?” Y/N asked. Could she be happy in a place like Dorne, unfettered by the social constructs she’d been born into?

Ellaria looked at her and smiled, wolfish and hungry. She said nothing and pulled her along to see the men and women twist and turn in almost unnatural ways and would murmur the position names in her ear like an illicit secret.

All of it was bubbling into something strange under Y/N’s skin, making her warm with each passing syllable and each new position they encountered only coiled something tighter until they were all a blur in her mind and all she could hear was Ellaria’s melodic hum in her ear and smell her perfume. Y/N was not so innocent to not understand that she was roused and yearning for some indelicate headiness, but she had never before been so close to achieving it. Only her own fingers had given her reprieve in the past but now Ellaria was staring at her like a tiger faced with a meal and she couldn’t wait to be devoured.

“Come. Surely there is a quiet place for you to catch your breath.” Ellaria had not let go of her hand yet and it seemed unlikely she would do so now as they walked through the masses, slipping out of the festival grounds and into the gardens. It was decidedly quieter but the music from the bards and musicians and the laughter of the crowds still filtered through the greenery, now muted and soft. The pair walked for a moment before finding a corner with a stone wall in the shadows, a reprieve from the heat of the sun.

And, as Y/N went to thank her companion for the respite, Ellaria pushed her against a wall and pressed her mouth to hers and stole her breath. Coaxing her mouth was easy and Ellaria almost laughed as Y/N whined against her lips. The quiet desperation that she had felt was now bursting forth as Ellaria easily coaxed her lips apart and delved her tongue into her mouth.

“Responsive, that’s good,” Ellaria hummed as he broke for a moment. Her hands slid from the other woman’s shoulders down her sides to grab handfuls of the yellow fabric at her hips and dragged her waist closer and wedging a thigh between hers. A choked breath pushed through Y/N’s lips at the delicious pressure against her core. “You taste so sweet.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N gasped, not knowing what she was begging for. To stop. To never stop. “Please.”

Ellaria suddenly grabbed at the back of Y/N’s neck to pull her head closer, angling her abruptly so she could kiss her thoroughly, devour her with spit-slicked lips and smiling teeth and dominating every sense she had despite Y/N’s some-what apparent lack of experience. And Y/N could have sworn she’d never felt such ecstasy in a touch like this—until Ellaria trailed her fingers against Y/N’s heaving chest, feeling the warmth she exuded and how soft her skin was before dipping beneath the fabric to cup Y/N’s breast and this time she did laugh as Y/N gasped again. She kneaded her and felt Y/N’s heart hammering and racing as she continued to draw whines and whimpers from her pretty little mouth. Deft fingers found her pebbled nipple and circled and tugged again and again before once again starting her slow torture of simply massaging the tortured flesh.

Y/N’s hands tried to find purchase in anything, the cold stone behind her, the fabric of Ellaria’s dress, but finally grabbed at Ellaria’s neck so she could thread her fingers into the hair at the back of her head, barely mindful of the golden chains in her locks, and hold her close—she needed her closer.

“You sing so prettily for me,” Ellaria said as her nose trailed against Y/N’s cheek, her other hand still anchored around her neck. “I’ve barely touched you.” A final squeeze to her chest and then her fingers retreated…only to start to trail down toward her skirts. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” Y/N blindly answered. “Touch me.”

“Oh.”

Y/N instantly stiffened at being caught, her own hands pulling away from the other woman.

“That will have to wait, I’m afraid,” came a voice just over Ellaria’s shoulder.

Ellaria’s lovely touch withdrew and she carefully pulled Y/N’s dress back to cover her chest with a wink before she turned, almost leisurely, to see who had stumbled upon them.

Loras was blushing a pretty shade of red and looking steadfastly up into the clouds while Oberyn simply smirked at the pair of women. The sight was a welcome one—surely these two could keep a secret.

“You’ve nearly made a mess of our young Lady Tully, my love,” Oberyn said as he stepped forward to grasp at Ellaria’s hand and he tugged her close to press a slow kiss against her lips. “And does she taste as pretty as she looks?”

“She does,” Ellaria agreed as she looked back at Y/N who was still pressed against the garden wall. “A taste from the source would be much sweeter.” The innuendo was not lost on anyone present.

“I’m sure it would.” Oberyn’s hand curled around Ellaria’s hip and he drew her closer. “But that will have to wait. Her absence has been noted by too many.”

Y/N sagged with the news. It had to have been the Lannisters. No one else would mind if she disappeared with a fellow guest for a few moments at a celebration such as this. “Thank you for finding us first, my prince.” She brushed her hands against her skirts to help them lay flat and straightened her shoulders before pressing the back of her hand to her cheeks to help them cool before starting to walk toward the banquet again. Only to be stopped by a roughened hand on her arm. Oberyn’s grip was not hard, she knew she could wriggle out of it without any effort.

“Your appearance will not keep a secret in that state, my lady.” Then, without much fanfare or warning, he started to gently right her mussed clothes and straightened the filigreed back across the top of her head to once again give her the air of a civilized lady.

His touch was always gentle, taking care to never pull or tug too harshly, and Y/N felt her heart trying to escape her chest for the second time that day and leap into the hands of a Dornishman. She tried to focus on the golden chain around his neck instead of staring at his face but then all she managed to do was appreciate his defined chest and how he smelled like ripe berries and sandalwood with a touch of spice she could not place. His full lips were parted and nearly pursed as he worked, making them ever more tempting and she felt foolish to even let such a thought cross her mind when she hardly knew him.

But, she hardly knew Ellaria who had her panting like a whore only moments earlier. He was every bit as entrancing as Ellaria, she was rue to admit. His gentle touch only exacerbated how flustered she felt. The pair was dangerous.

“Shall I pass inspection, my prince?” She asked, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking as he finished.

“Tell them you’ve been enjoying the less polite entertainment if they ask where you’ve gone, my lady.” It was said with a smirk and his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, making her shiver again.

“Thank you for the guidance.” She bid them adieu and squeezed Loras’ arm as she walked away and rejoined the festivities.

A/N: All right...so, that’s part one. I’ve tried to draw on a few plot lines from the books that didn’t make it into the television series, but if you have any questions, please just ask. I welcome feedback. The next chapter will (hopefully) be shorter and out soon. Cross your fingers.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x ellaria x reader #oberyn x ellaria #game of thrones #asoiaf

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trensu · 4 years

Text

Episode 30: The One where LWJ Wishes Jin Zixun Would STFU and Die Already

Okay, so we’re still in Yiling

Non-wangxiantics stuff happens

Unimportant nonsense happens

Ooooh, jc just appeared, looking awesome in purple robes as usual

Turns out he’s helped jyl sneak away so she can show off her wedding robes to wwx!!! And we get some wonderful Yunmeng Sib time!! I LOVE MY YUNMENG SIBS SO MUCH

OMG

Wwx’s face when he sees her in her wedding robes

HIS EYES WELLED UP WITH TEARS. SHE LOOKS SO PRETTY.

Jyl: i’m getting married, i wanted to show you my wedding robes!

wwx:*choked up* yeah, i heard you were getting married…(he’s looks so emotional here omg)

Jc: who told you?!

(he says this all snappishly bc of course he does, this is jc we’re talking about)

Wwx: None of your business! *scowls*

LOL SO DEFENSIVE, WWX. what’s the matter?? You don’t want to tell your sibs about your recent date with lwj?? How you showed him your home??? hoW YOU DISCOVERED YOU WANTED TO CO-DAD CHILDREN WITH HIM????

Ah, brothers…

Jyl calms them down before they could get too into it tho bc she’s a good big sister and knows her little brothers well

Jyl: i came alone tho, so you can’t see the groom today

Wwx: *pouts* i don’t want to see the groom at all

I can’t get over the way wwx keeps looking at her. HE LOVES HIS SISTER SO MUCH. HE’S SO HAPPY FOR HER

Lol, both of them tell her how beautiful she looks and she’s all it doesn’t count when you guys say it bc you’re my little brothers and it’s my wedding so you have to be nice to me

So now we get the obligatory soup time with the yunmeng sibs

And AHHHHHH, JYL JUST ASKED WWX TO COME UP WITH A COURTESY NAME

And wwx is all, “for who???”

And jc says, for my future nephew!! And he looks so damn pleased and proud when he says it. JC WANTS TO BE AN UNCLE SO BAD me too jc, me too

Wwx: hmmm, well, the next generation for the jin clan is “ru” so how about jin rulan?

Jc: jin rulan? It sounds like the lan clan. Why should a kid of the jiang clan and jin clan be called “rulan”??

Omg jc sounds so offended here; chill out bro

Wwx: it’s not that bad if it’s from the lan clan all right? Lan means orchid, a gentry amongst flowers! ALSO MY SOULMATE IS FROM THE LAN CLAN SO THERE

Wwx sounded all sulky here, like RULAN IS A GREAT NAME, HOW DARE YOU

Jyl cuts in before there could be any bloodshed with, oh yeah, having you come up with the courtesy name was jc’s idea

The look jc gives her is one of utter betrayal like, why’d you have to go and tell him that? HE CAN’T KNOW I WAS BEING NICE TO HIM, GOD.

They all have much more sibling time together but since there’s no more wangxiantics we’re gonna skip over it (EVEN THO IT HURTS ME TO DO SO BC I LOVE MY YUNMENG SIBS AND I WANT TO SEE THEM HAPPY AND TOGETHER FOREVER)

We cut to the Burial Mounds where there’s a Wen family dinner going on

Wwx is all spacey bc he misses his sibs so much but manages to distract EVERYONE from it by making grand declarations and generally being an over-the-top Drama Bi.

WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS LET THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOU LET THEM TRY TO MAKE YOU HAPPY STOP MAKING YOURSELF MISERABLE OMG

A-Yuan time!

Wen ning saved some of jyl’s soup to give to a-yuan!

He gives a-yuan a taste of the soup and a-yuan’s all “delicious! One more spoon!”

And after wen ning gives him more, he’s like, ONE MORE SPOON!

PRECIOUS, HE’S PRECIOUS AND SO CUTE

Then we get some Sad Times in the Demon-Subdue Palace where wwx has the saddest series of flashbacks ever

the promise he made to JC (twin heroes of yunmeng!!) that he didn’t keep

and then the oath on the lantern (always stand with justice and live without regrets) which he half-keeps

and then his declaration in the rain with lwj (if i should be killed, let it be by you) which he will keep BUT WE’RE NOT GONNA THINK ABOUT THAT

HE’S SO SADDDDDD

I’M SO SADDDDDDDDDDDDD

THERE’S SADNESS EVERYWHERE

Gross, now we’re in lanling, fastforwarding through that nonsense

Now we’re back at the burial mounds and get more A-YUAN TIME!!

Uh oh, a-yuan just murdered a lotus sprout

He’s all, what’s this?? And yanks the poor thing out of the mudpit it was growing in

Wwx yells at him: WHAT ARE YOU DOING

And a-yuan starts crying and wwx looks like he wants to start bawling too

Wen qing kind of tells him off

a-yuan’s a little kid and doesn’t know better, she says

Wwx gets this defeated look about him and says it’s fine, i see that it’s not meant to be now

LIKE, HE’S JUST RESIGNED THAT HE CAN NEVER HAVE ANYTHING FROM HOME EVER AGAIN?

HE CAN’T EVEN HAVE ONE STUPID LOTUS PLANT BC OF COURSE HE CAN’T HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT

MY POOR PRECIOUS SUNSHINE BOY

After a little adorable convo with wen qing, a-yuan goes to comfort wwx in his cave

A-yuan: i’m sorry i made a mistake. Wq says if you miss your sister, you should go see her

Wwx: she’s so far away...i won’t go

A-yuan: hmmm, you should become a bird and fly over there!

AND THEN THEY PRETEND TO BE FLYING BIRDS AND IT’S SO CUTE

But wwx is still sad inside :(

Now we get a time skip!

~ONE YEAR LATER~

Wwx overhears a bunch of gossipy cultivators talking about how the jin clan is doing a one-month celebration of baby Jin Rulan!!

WWX IS OVERWHELMED WITH JOY

HIS EYES ARE ALL TEARY AGAIN

AND HE’S LIKE, DID YOU HEAR THAT WEN NING? MY SISTER HAD A BABY! I HAVE A NEPHEW!!

Wen Ning is a supportive bro so he’s all congratulations!!!

And then wwx gets all the happiness gets drained out of him when he remembers that he has no official ties to either clan so he’ll probably never get to see his nephew ever

We cut to Lanling, where i guess guests are arriving for the upcoming celebration

We don’t really care about any of these people

EXCEPT THAT ZEWU-JUN AND HANGUANG-JUN’S ARRIVAL IS ANNOUNCED

AND WE’RE GONNA LISTEN TO LWJ TALK ABOUT HIS BELOVED SOULMATE

Unfortunately he’s talking to asshole cousin jz, fuck that guy

Lwj: since all of his seniors are invited to the first-month celebration, wei ying should also be invited as he is the baby’s senior too

Lwj says this all respectfully, gaze steadily forward and not looking directly at anyone

Jz: you want us to invite wwx even tho he’s the enemy of all four clans??

JFC IF SOMEONE COULD’VE JUST KILLED THIS GUY WE COULD’VE AVOIDED AT LEAST A QUARTER OF THE PROBLEMS WE HAVE NOW

Lol, lwj glares at jz SO HARD the minute jz calls wwx the enemy; i’m surprised the asshole didn’t drop dead on the spot

Lwj: not an enemy.

Jz: not an enemy? Do you have such a shitty memory that you don’t remember what happened in qiongqi way? Do i need to remind you?

NO LWJ NEEDS YOU TO STFU

Also, HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HANGUANG-JUN THAT WAY??

Lxc: what wangji said isn’t wrong. Wwx hasn’t caused any trouble since he took off to the burial mounds.

Jz: what, you’re taking the traitor’s side too zewu-jun?

You know, i was almost proud of lxc for finally siding with wwx and lwj

But the minute jz throws that accusation, you can see him start to pull back, WTF LXC

So now, since apparently having to deal with JZ wasn’t horrible enough, we get jgs and jgy on the scene, yuck

Jz gives them a summary of the conversation

Oh, i forgot to mention jzx has been here the whole time too but he’s basically useless bc he never shuts up his cousin

Jgy is all like, ah, hanguang-jun is being kind but perhaps inviting wwx is not the best idea ever

And jz is all well, I heard that he went to the burial mounds but no one knows why he went there!

Lwj: to visit an old friend

LWJ IS NOT ASHAMED OF VISITING WWX. HE DOESN’T CARE IF THE WHOLE WORLD KNOWS HE WENT THERE TO VISIT HIS SOULMATE

Jz: an old friend?! Wwx is a ruthless killer! Everyone wants him dead! Why do you have a friend like him?

I HATE THIS GUY SO MUCH

Lwj: when did he kill ruthlessly? Please tell us exactly.

DAAAMMN, LOOK AT MY BOY GO!

Jzx finally cuts in here and shuts them both up

He approaches his dad and is like, yeah okay so wwx killed some of our guys before and he’s kind of rebellious or whatever but like hanguang-jun said, he hasn’t done anything wrong for a whole year!

Then he goes on to show us that he’s completely whipped for his wife (AS HE SHOULD BE) by saying, also, since wwx has seceded from the jiang clan, jyl hasn’t been able to see him and she still misses him very much!!

Jzx: it’s a good opportunity to bring him back

His asshole cousin is all, are you crazy??

WILL THIS GUY EVER SHUT UP, OH MY GOD.

But thankfully lxc puts in his two cents!

Lxc: jzx makes a good point. If wwx intends to change and return to the right path again, it’s a good thing!

Jgs starts droning on and on about stuff i don’t give a damn about and lwj throws him the dirtiest of looks the whole time lol

But he more or less agrees to let wwx come on the condition that he turns in Plot Device 2

And jgy is like, SWEET, we can write him a letter telling him he’s invited but he must come alone (BC THAT AIN’T SKETCHY AF) and then once he’s here we can tactfully request he give me, i mean, the jin clan Plot Device 2

Lwj was looking concerned basically the minute jgy started talking but here he chimes in

Lwj: what will you do if he refuses?

BC HE KNOWS WWX IS NOT GONNA HAND THAT THING OVER TO THE JIN CLAN BC THEY’RE A BUNCH OF SLIMY SKEEVY BASTARDS

Then jgy does that thing where he replies without actually answering the question

Jgy: hanguang-jun, why are you so pessimistic? Wwx is not evil or vicious! (FUCK YOU JGY, WE ALREADY KNOW HE’S NOT EVIL OR VICIOUS, NO THANKS TO YOU) i’m sure if we talk it out, he’ll be reasonable and make the right choice!

Oh, thankfully, lxc answers the question properly

Lxc: even if wwx disagrees, he can go back to the burial mounds as long as he promises not to kill any innocents

Which, wwx would definitely promise that bc he’s never killed an innocent person IN HIS LIFE

BC UNLIKE THE JIN CLAN BASTARDS HE HAS INTEGRITY AND A FULLY FUNCTIONING CONSCIENCE

Jgy: hanguang-jun, can we bother you with the errand of writing the letter?

LOL

Jgy says that and we immediately see lxc smile at his little brother

Like, heck yeah, bro you have the chance to talk to your soulmate now! (LXC is trying to win back his greatest wingman title lol)

Ofc lwj keeps his face blank, but he bows and says yes

BC HECK YEAH HE GETS TO DELIVER GOOD NEWS TO HIS SOULMATE

HE’LL BE ABLE TO MAKE WWX SMILE

OFC HE’S GONNA BE ALL OVER THAT!

And that’s the last of the wangxiantics for this episode. Not a lot of them this time around, and none with shared screen time

But you know what

That’s okay

Bc this shows that they’re always on each other’s minds EVEN AFTER A WHOLE YEAR APART!!

Return to Masterpost

#WangXiantics #wangxian #the untamed #cql

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captainsteelandsunshine · 5 years

Text

Okay, so I’m having issues now. I still love the characters but honestly? While CCS is one of Clamp’s most definitive and well known series, leading it to Tsubasa, it’s a bit of a mess.

Love transcends all and hitsuzen are beautiful concepts but Clamp takes it a bit too far... I mean, it’s perfectly alright for students to crush on their teachers and to an extent, I can see teachers being fond of them and flattered. But all relationships are not equal at all!

Nadeshiko and Fujitaka - honestly, they’re so in love that it’s hard to find a fault here. 16 isn’t terribly immature and is the age of consent, so it’s legal and everything. What I don’t understand is why Clamp characters refuse to wait? They just needed to two years for Nadeshiko to be in college and for their relationship to be easier for others to swallow. Sure, true love and they don’t need anyone’s approval and most importantly, they were happy, but it can’t be terribly healthy for Nadeshiko to be pregnant so young nor is it entirely fair to call her family unsupportive since it was unconventional. Still though, it’s Fujitaka, and he’s such a good man, and it is legal, so you do give it a pass. I’ll admit that despite my reservations, out of all the pairings I mention here, they are my favorite and I do believe they were truly happy; look at their kids, they’re wonderful!

Then there’s Kaho and Touya, which rings all sorts of warning bells but not sirens. It’s underage and kinda weird, but there’s a pull of magic there and most importantly, we don’t know the extent of their relationship. I mean, sure, they said they loved each other but if all they did was exchange meaningful looks and conversations and hug, I don’t think it’s too bad. I mean, there are true enough feelings so. Too bad Touya gets hurt at 14 though, that’s why it’s not entirely healthy for kids to get into serious relationships but I guess he’s mature?🙄

Kaho and Eriol are a conundrum. This would be super problematic but with Eriol’s frozen age and reincarnation and again, the pull of magic and hitsuzen, it makes it much easier to digest; it even makes sense! I don’t know how they’ll work it out, but shouldn’t it be concerning that Kaho is attracted to pre-early teen boys?😓

Rika and Terada-Sensei are fine in the anime but creepy in the manga. Now I get it Rika, he’s hot and all but girl, he’s like two decades your senior! So in the anime, Rika has a crush, which is fine and understandable, and while Terada is fond of her, he thinks of her as a particularly dedicated student. If he eventually falls for her, at least 10 years later, it’ll be sorta weird, but perfectly acceptable. In the manga though! Jfc! He gives her a promise ring and honey, that’s just underage and weird as all hell. Even if it’s ‘meant to be’ and she’s ‘mature for her age’, which sounds hella predatory, it’s not okay to encourage this when she’s so young. It’s still all ‘pure’ and ‘legal’ because nothing happens, but acknowledging it to such an extent is highly inappropriate. Even if she’s in love, Rika’s 9! She has so much to learn and live through before she goes around making commitments, even if they are just words. Jfc, this was weird, and I’m sticking with the anime version, or I’ll never be able to look at CCS the same way.

Listen, I’m a huge fan of Clamp’s concept of love transcending but perhaps not conquering all, and hitsuzen but there are limits and one thing that Clamp needs to instil in its characters is patience. If you’re so in love, waiting a little while so that everyone’s in a better place to make decisions shouldn’t be a problem. You needn’t alienate families or tip-toe the legal lines in order to prove your love. Sometimes patience and waiting go a long way. Look at Romeo and Juliet, they might be a classic love story but those kids, because Juliet was 14 and Romeo 16, are an example of the fact that even true love doesn’t stand a chance if you don’t think things through, and while age isn’t the only indicator of intelligence, it does lead to experience which can contribute to it.

Live and learn people! At least our favorite canon pairings from CCS, Syaoran/Sakura and Touya/Yukito(Yue), seem to be on the right track!

Also for those who find Tomoyo’s love obsessive -

She’s 10, she’s allowed to be a little nuts over her love. We all like Sakura but tbh, she drives me a little nuts with the number of times she goes all hanyaan and sings Yukito~! every two seconds, but if that’s acceptable, so is Tomoyo’s enthusiasm.

She’s not even that bad! It’s easy enough to see her only as a best friend. She adores Sakura, finds her adorable and her passion for fashion and photography add to it. She’s a true artist and they’re always a little passionate and eccentric!

She’s always so good about not only acknowledging but also being completely on board with all the other crushes going around. She comforts Meiling, encourages Sakura and advises Syaoran, all to the detriment of her personal feelings. Though Tsubasa isn’t a continuation of CCS by any chance, you do get hints of what kind of person Tomoyo will grow up to be, and I think she’ll get over her romantic love for Sakura and eventually find someone who perfect for her (I don’t meant Kurogane, Kurofai is endgame and it’s practically canon, fight me.)

People compare her and Sakura to Sonomi and Nadeshiko and call it crazy, but if your beloved cousin/best friend suddenly ran off with her teacher and got married and pregnant soon after, no matter how amazing the teacher is (and Fujitaka is awesome), you’d have issues. Plus Sonomi was less mad about losing Nadeshiko than she was about the fact that her relationship was sudden and led to her being disowned. She also eventually accepts Fujitaka, so it’s not a problem with him alone either. Both Daidouji’s are some of my favourite characters because I honestly feel like, when the magic ends, they’ll take things in a stride and not only lead successful lives but also help the others do so. Lbr, Sakura needs real life skills stat xD

And that’s the end of my essay xD

It always upsets me when I see things I’ve loved forever in a different and less flattering light but sometimes you learn things along the way, and not everything is perfect, but you can still love it🤷🏻‍♀️

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xhaotixaesthetica · 5 years

Text

College! Jaebum x Kinda Mad Genius! Reader

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator

You are in: a genetic mutation of Gaia, the dwarf planet

look at this cute ass idiot ugh my heart

so WE’RE GONNA SPICE HIS AU UP A BIT totally not because I’m already sick of the same reader inserts, just enjoy this as a story and don’t complain pls

in this au you’re an astrophysics and computer programming major, minoring in bioengineering

in other words, you’re smart af

like you’re one of those child prodigy kids

Graduated high school early and took a bunch of AP's and CLEP tests so you’re way ahead and somewhere in between a junior and a senior but since you’re so young, you just say you’re a junior

you literally have the IQ of a genius and a bunch of Ivy league schools got in a fight over you but you were like nah nah i want something fUn so you came to SEOUL WOO HOO

you get A's in everything without even trying but that's OK because it leaves more room for you to do more SCIENCE

currently in a polyamorous relationship between you, Math, and Science

you’re really fascinated by the complexity of the universe but at the same time really into physics and math so when you found out that astrophysics existed when you were like 12, you knew that was it for you

you barely have time to eat, much less be fashionable, so you wear pretty nothing but jeans, huge hoodies, Converse, and a super hero t-shirt underneath (same but just because i’m too broke to dress nice)

with good brains comes bad everything else and you’re a hot fucking mess

clumsy, notes scattered all over the place, writing astrophysics shit in the margins of all your papers and doodling constellations on them while the professor lectures, it’s bad

you’re actually kind of extroverted and hyper but you just focus all that energy into astrophysics so everyone thinks you’re a hermit

you’re not obsessed with video games and comic books specifically, you’re just obsessed with space

like Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, Ender's Game, Prey, Alien, Dead Space, and even Halo, you love em all, cause fuCkinGH spACE MAN same i’m a space gay

you aLwAyS pLaYS THE FUCKIN SPACE OVERTURE ON YOUR PHONE AND WALK IN SLOW MO INTO YOUR APARTMENT AND YOUR ROOMMATE IS LIKE I HAD TO WATCH THAT WITH MY OWN TWO EYES

always writing reminders on yourself but they only help 60% of the time because you’re a hot mess

you can play the harp and the sitar?? the most random ass instruments, you literally have your harp in your bedroom and your sitar in your lab and like they were gifts from one of your cousins and you’re really protective over them

whenever you have a mental block you sit cross-legged and start playing your harp/sitar and chanting OM or the lyrics to We Will Rock You and your roommates are like omg they really are a mad scientist

you don't mind relationships but like no one wants to be with you cause they think you’re kind of fucking insane so you try not to think about it and just blow stuff up in the chem lab

like you’re really excited, you’ll gladly talk to people and you’re really bubbly and happy and friendly but all you talk about is astrophysics??? and you’re not on like level one, no you started reading college level astrophysics books when you were 14, you’re like wayyyy past PhD level so it's like you’re speaking another language

and no one wants to hang out with you like they think it's cute how passionate you are and how fucking just warm and open you are but still no one wants to be around you cause you’re like some sort of mad scientist and they're not interested in what you’re talking about

but you keep a smile on your face and keep to your astrophysics even though you start to think something's wrong with you and start getting kinda sad

aw bby :’(

and tHEN THEY WERE ROOMMATES that's when Jaebum came along

Jaebum is majoring in Ancient Studies and minoring in Greek and he’s Captain of the Football Team

pretty much every male-attracted person likes him but ain't no one going near that boy cause he is T E R R I F Y I N G

wears all black and never says anything and then when you talk to him he just has this resting bitch face on with no expression and everyone's like I’ll I’ljust go now and he just continues reading

he’s always reading with his earbuds in, you bother him it's your funeral

and it's weird cause like he has friends a precious few and ppl know he's not cold with them so why’s he ALWAYS COLD AND APATHETIC TO EVERYONE ELSE LIKE YOU GOOD MATE???

knows he's terrifying and uses it to his advantage

has no problem glaring down people who reach for the same thing at the supermarket or try cutting in front of him at starbuck’s and they near shit themselves

does not give two shits about all the people staring at him all the time as long as they don't talk to him or interrupt his reading

stays at home unless he's at class, practice, or a game

on the Dean’s List, and a massive teacher’s pet

but still, people just like to admire him for his looks and gush about how mysterious he is and that really irks him cause no one wants to actually spend the time to get to know him he’s not even that mysterious, he’s actually a bit of a crackhead so he's like i don't need y'all i have the Gupta Dynasty to keep me company

youngjae and yugyeom rolling their eyes, like HeRe HyUnG GOES AGAIN

knows more about ancient worlds than the current world?? like sometimes mark catches him staring at technology like it's an alien concept and he's like dude you've had a cell phone since you were like 12, when was the last time you had a break from reading that, chill out for a second and come back to modern times

and jb just scoffs like i don't need your modern times and buries his head in the book again but he just wants someone who's able to talk about the present AND the past with him without ignoring one cause he thinks both are really important

anyways one day you were late to an 8am class and you were rushing and dropped some papers and Jaebum came across it and he was like what in ThE HELL IS THIS cause first of all it was almost completely illegible and then when he did manage to read it, he couldn't understand it cause it was real complex math and science shit and he looked at the name and he knew who you were cause you’re the campus genius and the campus crazy

so he hunts you down until he comes across your lab later on in the day and you’re frantically looking through your BILLIONS OF PILES of looseleaf paper and jb's just thinking about how much of a fit jinyoung would have if he saw this tomfoolery

and he handed you your stuff and you were so grateful and friendly and you reminded him of a crazier version of youngjae

he couldn't help but be curious when he saw the really complicated math and science going on on your paper and he was like what's that, how does it work, what's the history

for a full fifteen seconds, you looked at him like he was god incarnate and you like i'M gLaD yOu AsKeD

and you were talking really fast but the way your eyes lit up when you talked about astrophysics and the way the sun from the window illuminated your features jfc

jb didn't believe in love in first sight he swore he didn't

unless it was you

like even if you weren’t conventionally pretty and most people wouldn't even notice you, bummie didn’t care, it was like you were the goddamn sun or something

he stops you in the middle of explaining and he's like look you're going a bit too fast, so could you repeat what you said but just a lil bit . . . slower

and for a long moment, you were stunned jungshook because like this boi . . . this devastatingly handsome boy who blows everyone off and makes them wet their pants in fear wants to hear me rant to him about astrophysics

and he actually wants you to slow it down so he can understand instead of just pretending to listen

and like you may be a genius but JB just broke your brain for a second

but then you jump back into it like yeah sure

and jae honestly finds you fucking adorable like how excited you get about astrophysics and he actually finds himself interested in it and then he starts talking about ancient cultures and greek and you already kinda know everything he's talking about and enjoy the conversation and he's all heart eyes

gets protective over you after like 2 days???

you don't care, you’re just happy there's someone who thinks you’re interesting so you don't even notice him glaring at anyone who talks to you and always hanging around you to scare other guys off

tbh bummie doesn't really comprehend why people don't like being around you cause like??? you’re so fucking pretty and cute?? you took all his uwus reader

only takes like 10 days before JB finds out you’re really affectionate and you’re hugging and cuddling all the time but he actually???likes it

and soon he's the one begging you for cuddles and you’re like ( ^_^) ofc babe lemme just finish doing these calculations right quick and JB's like asdfghjkl did they just call me what i think they just called me

but like you guys are always hanging at your lab and since JB doesn't really talk except with you and his friends and you never talk about anything but astrophysics on the off chance she gets back to the dorm in time enough to talk at all no one knows that you guys are even hanging out

it's not long after that jae asks you out and he takes you to an amusement park and you have a FiElD dAy because sooooooo much math? and pretty colors? and cotton candy? and he's made you the happiest person ever and in that moment when he sees your face he just can't help himself like pls be my s/o and you’re like ASDFGHJKL ARE YOU PLAYING WITH ME RIGHT NOW JFC OFC

and he just drops a bomb on his friends like they're all going out to dinner and he brings you and he's got his arm around your waist and he's just like guys meet my s/o and everyone's choking like S/O We ThOuGhT YoU wErE aRo oR sMtHiNG and for a minute they're so confused because no one even knew jaebum was talking to someone much less the mad scientist person when did this happen

and like they can see all throughout dinner that you’re really fucking strange but it's kind of cute and it makes bummie happy so Welcome to the Family, we have cookies

lol friends? nope, say goodbye to those, everyone is so terrified of bummie and his resting bitch face and them muscles that they refuse to come near you cause you’ve basically got Jaebum stamped on your forehead but that's ok because somehow you became really good friends with his friends and like you have this group chat that jae's not in specifically so they can share embarrassing things for you to tease him about later

but bummie highkey encourages it because if he pretends to get mad, you’ll play your harp for him and he loves that shit

jaebum will knock the living daylights out of anyone who mistreats you or makes you feel bad

like one time yall were walking back after a date and this dude grabbed your ass and was about to open his mouth to say some vulgar shit but he didn’t even get the chance before jaebum LEAPED ON HIM LIKE A FUCKING INSECT AND MOWED HIS ASS D O W N

jae had like two scratches on him meanwhile the dude on the floor probably needed a goddamn ambulance and he just took your hand and continued walking like anyways, like i was saying, no one can give me a valid reason why I shouldn’t get a cat

yall will 10/10 adopt a cat together

well it was supposed to be one but yall were weak bitches, so it turned into 3 same

at first yall rotated the cats between y’all’s apartments but then you were both like let’s just fucking move in together omfg

bam bam constantly breaks into your apartment to play with your cats

you come and cheer jae on at his football games

the first time everyone was SHOOK

for fuck’s sake, you just learned what a touchdown was when you infiltrated a superbowl party for the food sAME, why tf were you even here

but then they saw jae beam at you and they were like omfg, they’re these people

when they win, he runs up and scoops you into his arms and spins you around, pressing a bunch of kisses all over your face and calling ou his good luck charm and you’re screaming at him for hugging you while he’s sweaty and gross even though you’re laughing and kissing him back

when he loses, you and him go to McDonalds after he showers and you just sit at a table eating while he nuzzles his head in your neck and sulks

reader, i highkey advise you to get a couple tats or a body piercing and not tell him

just have your hoodie off one day so he happens to see the tat/piercing and you’ll see his eyes darken and he’s trying to keep calm like

“i didn’t know you had tattoos/piercings”

and he’s looking down at you so intensely he’s almost glaring

“i do, wanna try and find them all?”

you did it

you activated beast mode

whenever jae sees you upset or sad, he’ll just engulf you with his whole body and you can smell his aftershave and feel his warmth while he puts on calming music and tells you greek myths in that smooth, soothing voice

and when you have your head on his chest, half asleep, he’ll just kind of stop for a second because holy fuuck, you’re so gorgeous and you’re his? how did he land you?? he’s the luckiest guy in the world?

and when you look up, wondering why he stopped talking, you see him looking at you with just this really soft, mushy look of complete adoration and before you can even say anything, he’s like i fucking love you

I WAS GONNA WRITE MORE, BUT I GOTTA END IT NOW, I’M FUCKING SOFT HNNNGGH

Gaia, the dwarf planet

#got7 #fluff #jaebum #college au #got imagine #got7 headcanon #reader insert #genius! reader #kpop #got7 scenarios #this is highkey cheesy and cliche and idgaf i love it #youngjae #mark #jinyoung #bambam #yugyeom #gaia #genetic mutation #gaia genetic mutation

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coeurvrai · 5 years

Text

Serefin, the idiot, panics that he’s lost his eyesight until he realises it’s night time, so of course he can’t see jack shit.

Apparently we have gone from the royal gardens to his BEDROOM, somehow! Talk about a hard fucking cut, like jfc

“This is scandalous, Żaneta,” he mumbled, resting his head back against the pillows.

“Definitely more scandalous than the prince being attacked in his own palace gardens,” she agreed.

Żaneta has her head screwed on, which is more than I can say about Serefin for the entirety of this book so far.

Apparently the assassin that Serefin “acrid sprayed” in the face survived and is in the palace’s dungeons, so that’s something; though bad news for Serefin, his father has heard about the whole thing. If the assassins aren’t ones sent by the king, you’d think he’d get better security by now.

Serefin muses that it’s probably not his father’s because they wouldn’t have failed to kill him if it was. I mean... probably not? Considering this whole thing has been that his dad has plans for his heir and those plans are murder plans. Also what’s happening with the Rawalyk? Also how much time is passing in between these chapters? How long has Serefin been back in the palace? Does time pass at the same rate in both POVs?

“My father is going to blame the Kalyazi,” he mused.

“Was it not them?” Żaneta asked, standing up.

“I . . . don’t know.” The Kalyazi did not train incompetent assassins; his eye was a tribute to that. This could have been the work of the Crimson Vulture. Perhaps his father was behind the attack and she had shifted the pieces so incompetent assassins were sent instead to give him a better chance. He hated living with a black cloud of doom hovering over his steps, certain that his future was bleak but not having any clear answers.

I mean, how do we know that? Lmao Those could’ve just been very competent assassins and these could’ve been very bad assassins, if they are Kalyazi.

Serefin makes Żaneta leave the room and Kacper comes in instead, and Kacper comments that Żaneta didn’t look too happy leaving. Kacper mentions that a Vulture is interrogating the remaining assassin.

What information did he have? An attack on his life, a plan to find a queen for Tranavia, and questions with no answers. Why was his father sending thousands upon thousands of prisoners to the Salt Mines? Why was his father working so closely with the Vultures? To what end? Why now?

What was happening?

Well apparently your dad wants you fucking dead and he’s trying to achieved godhood through blood magic and dead people, apparently, so y’know. Why the Vultures are going along with this when it’s been made explicitly clear that they only answer to the Black Vulture, their king, who knows? Maybe this is a play by the Vultures themselves to manipulate and control the king, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Have you seen the current list of families participating in the Rawalyk?” Kacper asked.

“No, why?”

“It seems to be fluctuating,” he said. “Names of girls keep appearing then disappearing suddenly.”

“What do you mean?”

Kacper shook his head. “I’m not sure. I want to look into it, see if the girls are just getting nervous or if it’s something else.”

Serefin let out a breathless laugh. “We are so paranoid.”

I do hope that this fucking means something and isn’t a plot thread that’s going to be dropped later on in the book. I mean, that’s a futile hope considering @jefflion told me that the Rawalyk is pretty worthless. But oh boy, Serefin hasn’t looked at who he could hypothetically marry? Dude, why wouldn’t you?

Serefin decides that after nearly getting assassinated, it’s time to see his mum cause oh well, not the time to procrastinate.

He wasn’t sure she could help him, not with anything. But it was all he could do at this point. He was trapped in a cage of gold and iron with no door to escape from and had been given a dagger when he needed a saw to cut a hole in his prison.

Okay then, Serefin lmao Look, I’m all for that “a golden cage is still a cage” imagery, but like, chill. Being more edgy with it does not, in fact, make that allegory any more impactful.

Serefin nodded absently, before frowning and squinting up at Kacper. “Are you all right?”

Kacper blinked in surprise. “Me? Of course, why? They weren’t trying to kill me.”

Serefin eyed the other boy, taking in his dark hair and skin, the scar that cut across one of his eyebrows, and his sharp, brown eyes. He hadn’t grown up fighting off assassination attempts like Serefin and Ostyia. By all rights, Kacper should have been just another soldier in the king’s army; he was of low birth. His exceptional talent with blood magic and his sharp skills for espionage meant he had been shuffled around in the army until he was assigned to Serefin’s company. Their friendship had been struck a month into Serefin’s first tour of the front when he was sixteen. Kacper had gotten into a spitting fight with Ostyia. She broke his arm, he fractured three of her ribs, and it had taken Serefin knocking them both unconscious to get them apart.

Serefin still didn’t know what the fight was about. Neither would tell him. It had taken another week for Serefin to promote Kacper to his personal service after Kacper had nearly lost his other arm on Serefin’s behalf.

I get it, Kacper is brown, Kacper has dark skin, you don’t need to be Like That about it lmao Also that’s such a heavy-handed way to exposition your way through how the three of them met and became friends. Also Kacper is good at espionage and I’m trying to figure out whether he’s a more functional version of Azriel from ACOTAR or not...

But I mean, Azriel is a lowwwww fucking bar to clear, so I mean even if he is better than him, that doesn’t mean much tbh lol

But a “spitting fight”, fucking what? lmao Also if he’s so good at espionage, what is he doing as a common soldier in the army in the first place? Also I might just be being petty, but I still feel like rewarding a person for personal heroism and saving your life by assigning them as one of your personal bodyguards after your apparent childhood best friend got into an intense fight with them a week before is a bit of an overreaction but that might just be me.

Also, would like to know the circumstances of how and what Kacper saved Serefin’s life from but alas, we don’t get that important detail. A shame.

Anyways, Serefin and Kacper talk a bit more before Serefin leaves with Ostyia to see his mother. She seems like an utter delight.

“I have been in this blasted city for weeks now and my only son has just finally deigned to grace me with his presence.” The graceful lilt of his mother’s voice came floating down the hall. Lena shot Serefin a sympathetic look. Serefin had always found his mother to be a bit baffling. Both of his parents were larger than life, greater than reality. He had seen so little of them growing up.

His childhood had been spent with tutors and servants. His parents were figureheads who would move in and out of his life with little permanence. They sometimes appeared in the evening at mealtimes only to disappear once again at the start of a new day. Serefin had Ostyia—whose family had always lived in the palace—as well as a cousin on his mother’s side, but that was all. The cousin had left when they were still very young, off to the country for his health. His aunt and uncle were still seen around the palace, Serefin knew that much, but he had never seen his cousin again, and had eventually stopped inquiring.

Isn’t he your only child period? lol Also I’m sure this cousin was so important, as ED doesn’t bother to even give him a name. It’s also apparently the next fucking day, which is just a common theme in this book where we just jump from location to location or day to day, and expected to just follow along. I still don’t know how long he’s been at this palace, and how time passing in one POV relates to time passing in the other POV.

Serefin and Klarysa talk a little bit about the assassination attempt while Klarysa reinforces her apparent contempt for the city of Grazyk, and she’s not happy that he visited Pelageya before he visited her. I don’t know how egregious that is considering we don’t know how long it’s been since he visited her on his first day back in the palace.

Oh and Serefin describes the room as lavish, befitting of the Queen of Tranavia but we don’t get any description of its lavishness.

“Do you think I can turn the court to my side?” he asked.

She blinked, straightening in her chair. “Serefin?”

“Oh, I’m sure he knows anyway,” Serefin said, waving a hand. “I just need to know how many steps ahead of me he is.”

“Your father—” she put emphasis on the word ‘father’ as if it meant something to Serefin. Maybe once it had. Years ago when he thought he might win his father’s love. Not anymore.

“I found a cleric in Kalyazin. No one else seems to find that important. Doesn’t it strike you as a bit strange? They sent the Vultures after her, but she escaped.”

Serefin, our incompetent alcoholic prince, we’ve been over this a million times already; let’s not get into your blatant hypocrisy again. Also it’s kind of funny how this chapter just isn’t up to snuff compared to like, the last Serefin chapter. Like of course it’s better than any and all Nadya’s chapters so far, but like, oh boy.

His mum tells him that he should listen to Pelageya and her prophecies. I don’t get why, if his mum cares so much, that she isn’t doing that much to protect her only son. Like if his mum doesn’t really care about him, that’d be another thing, but we have no real reason to believe that she doesn’t so far.

“Listen to her, Serefin. I know you don’t want to. I know you think her mad. But listen to her. She could be the only thing that saves you.”

“Saves me? Yes, I’m clearly trying not to die here, but I don’t think the witch is going to help.”

“Not from your father, from the Vultures. From the gods. From everything.”

“Mother?”

“Pelageya knows what she speaks of.” His mother was speaking quickly, her voice low. She knew whatever they said would return to the king. She cast a suspicious glance toward where the wall met the ceiling, the likeliest of locations for eavesdropping spells. “I can’t help you, Serefin, you know that.”

Firstly, eavesdropping spells?! Can’t Serefin cast a spell to detect other spells or charms??? Also you’re telling me that Serefin, ultra talented general blood mage prodigy that he is, can’t cancel out any potential eavesdropping spells so he can have this conversation in peace??? WHY DON’T THEY JUST HAVE THIS CONVERSATION IN PELAGEYA’S TOWER SINCE NOBODY HAS FUCKED WITH THAT PLACE APPARENTLY.

It’s not like Pelageya cares! Pelageya apparently likes the Queen and the Queen likes Pelageya! She’s a companion of the queen!

Serefin felt cold. “What has he done?”

Klarysa shook her head. There was fear in her eyes.

She can’t tell me, he realized. If she tells me, he’ll kill her, too. What did she know that he had yet to figure out?

“Give me something,” he pleaded.

“Your father has always been a monster,” she said. “But at least he had his own mind, his decisions were his own.” She shook her head. “I fear he too has been taken by the Vultures.”

I swear to fucking god, if his dad is a fucking Valg, I will scream. I am not going through that shit again. FE: Fates already did it too and I am just, leave it be.

It was altogether likely there was discord amongst the Vultures as well. That the Crimson Vulture was working apart from her own king, the Black Vulture. But who was holding the strings?

Serefin still had no answers.

And so don’t we, about a lot of things. But that is the end of that chapter! We learn really nothing new on the whole “king is evil and corrupt” front, that he’s being manipulated and controlled by the Vultures is kind of a given. Not as interesting as this plot initially was. But still, I will take mediocrity over whatever the fuck is going on in Nadya’s chapter.

Which is up next!

#sarah reads ws

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storiesofsvu · 3 years

Text

Most recent SVU/OC. Crossover thoughts....

Okay... I already know a spoiler but here we GOOOO

The biggest thing Im stoked for is Melinda... pls give her a good few one liners...

They REALLY left thr “I love you” out of the recap? 😂

Was that’s Kat cousin on the phone???

I SWEAR to god if someone in this episode says “no ones ever tried a female perp/male victim” AGAIN I will punch someone... (I literally watched Ridicule last night...)

Atill 99.9% sure Amanda’s wearing Casey’s polka dot shirt

Okay... it was her cousin...

A “bad bach of something going around” y’all are like 3 yesrs late on the fentnyl crisis...

“Can’t find this at home depot” omg fin....

OKAY this FRUSTRATES ME SO MUCH, the bartender who closed the night before WOULD NOT be opening the next day unless management hates them (clopens suck....)

Kat... you are wearing a blazer (thst looks like one of Olivias weird pink ones) OVER a hoodie??? What are you doing??

OMG as if this is the first OD liv’s seen since simon...

YES melinda & the bringing up the vax

THANK YOU for Melinda bringing up El & that she contacted him. Thank fuck

Thank fuck Elliot is (hopefully but not probably) listening to Liv for once....

OLIVIA IS THE CAPTAIN AND DIDNT REALIZE IT WAS THE SAME HOTEL... jfc...

Melinda correcting detectives like a bad ass like usual. And FIN having Melinda’s BACK AS USUAL BLESS THEM

Liv: “el you’re too close to this case you cant work it”

Liv: also immediately working her own brother’s murder/death?

Also I GET she’d feel guilty/responsible partially but like, she wasn’t EVER close with Simon, he was the half brother by her rapist father, they didn’t bond too much.... yet she’s SO torn up by this????

THANK YOU FIN Jfc speaking the truth

Ooooooohhhhh I am FEEEELING THIS PURPLE BLAZER LIV!!

Where’s Amanda??

Why does Liv keep calling Melinda “warner”??? Theyve known each other for YEARS and constantly used first names

Okay i watched the first half while i was cooking so...

Olivia is doing an Amazing job, duh

Okay... SERIOUSLY the cops undercover/chasing a perp are SO obvious...,

Omg captain benson just stepped into the interrogation room & i swear i came...

Okay... maybe when you’re investigating crimes you ARENT ALLOWED TO (like your wife/brother) MAYBE DONT ADMIT TO THE RELATION IN INTERROGATION???

Okay that liv/elliot moment in the stairwell was actually super sweet & i was okay with it. I wanted them to hug.. (AND THATS IT) so im okay with that lil handhold

What kind of training/experience draws Angelia into knowing so much about ppls life? She clearly not all good (yes i know the spoiler)

STABLER REALLY SAYING HE CANT LET

HIS EMOTIONS CONTRIOL HIM BULLSHIT YOU DICK

#law and order #law and order svu #law and order organized crime spoilers

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years

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Survey #225

“i tried to write your name in the rain, but the rain never came.”

How many times a day do you check your cell to see if you have a text? Considering my dumb phone doesn't let me know I have texts half the time, I do multiple times throughout the day. Ever wonder if the person you hate will become the person you marry? HA HA YOOOOOOOOOOOO SARA AND I DID AND NOW I DEADASS WANNA MARRY HER TOMORROW How many times a day do you wash your hands? It varies. After I use the bathroom or if I'm about to touch food. You walk in on your parents smoking pot, what do you do? lol h u h How old were you when you had your first crush? Hell if I know. I do remember as a young kid though, I was very much "ew boys no thnx." Maybe like... 5th grade? When was the last time you asked God for something? A long, long time ago. Your opinion on smoking: Just don't, dude. It's money going towards gradual suicide. No one likes the smell. You sure won't like how it affects your body. It's an addiction/it's stressful to stop. I'm not gonna like, judge you if you smoke, but nevertheless, I'll tell anyone it's an awful idea. Make love or fuck? It depends on the mood. I was more into the former mood back when that even applied to me, though. Have you ever cried so much over something that later felt like nothing? Oh, I can assure you I have. The last time you were afraid of the dark was: I'm not really scared of the dark, but one time I got up semi-recently in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and after one incident, I was so, so careful and nervous to step on Bentley's tail. He lost his fucking mind on me when I did it once, of course on accident. The TV was off by this point, so I couldn't see well at all. I love having a dog that fucking scares me. How often do you say I love you to your parents and mean it? A whole lot. Your boyfriend/girlfriend say they can’t hang out & it’s been two weeks. You? I mean sure, it sucks, but if they're legitimately busy, they're busy. Have you ever wanted a wild animal for a pet? If yes what animal? I had a phase where I really wanted a fox, and now I am DEAD serious about fostering opossums at some point. When you go to sleep, do you have to have white noise or silence? SILENCE. Though I don't really get /total/ silence 'cuz I have to have my fan on. My room's always hot. Have you ever gotten in a fight with a teacher? No. Ever had a creepy dream about a teacher? No. Where were you when you had your first sleepover? Your house or a friends’? I believe I was at my then-best friend's house. I had suuuuch bad separation anxiety from my mom that I know I was older than most kids who did. What are you limits for doing stuff for money? I'd never do sexual favors or seriously hurt someone for it. Is there someone you are mean to all the time for no reason? No. I'll admit I'm typically rather short with Bentley, but Jesus, do I have reason. When you think of love what’s the first that comes to mind? Sara. How do you calm your mind and find peace when you are stressed? My best bet is going to sleep; that's pretty much, usually, my reset button. Have you ever given someone flowers? I gave Jason flowers once or twice. I gave my mom some for Mother's Day as a kid. How often do you get on Facebook? A couple times a day... mainly just to see memes lmaoooo. What day of the week is usually your busiest day? Good Lord, Tuesdays. I'm at school for 13 hours. Mostly sitting in the library waiting for classes, but. I do study a whole lot, though, and it's when I get a bunch of schoolwork done. Is there a place that you will never return back to? Idk. When was the last time that you created a PowerPoint? I'm actually working on/off one for FYS 'cuz we have to do this "Lifeline" thing where we introduce ourselves and give our stories. Guess who's not fucking ready. Do you like group work? NO. NO. Particularly if it's with people I don't know. Do you have any stickers on your laptop? No. Is music or the TV on while you complete this survey? I'm listening to Chase Holfelder's cover of "Kiss The Girl" rn. Does your grass need cut currently? No. Do you listen to Nirvana? Occasionally. What color are the doors in your house? White. Have your friends ever not wanted you to be with someone? Probably. What is your favorite use for whipped cream? I hate that stuff. What is your favorite flower? Orchids. And your favorite nut? Ew no thanks. Can you curse in a foreign language? Of course I know "fuck" and "shit" in German lmao. Are you fond of spaghetti? Hell yeah man. Have you ever played in the mud? I sure did zoom through it on my bike as a kid. Do you remember what your first real relationship felt like? That relationship ultimately led to PTSD, how could I possibly forget. Who can make you happy no matter what? Sara, Mark, and Game Grumps are particularly good at that. How tall are you? 5'4.5'' Are there any animals near you? No, I'm at school rn. Do have a lot of lists? No. Are you a godparent? No. Do you sleep too much or not enough? Eh, it depends on the day and my mood. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? Yep. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? Never been on one before. Do you think having a bad temper is a sign of immaturity? I mean, no? It's an interesting question and I guess a "maybe," but. I feel this depends on the trigger. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? I was a fucking yoga master babe in 9th grade, fuckin fite me. When growing up, did your parents keep the house very tidy? I guess? It wasn't dirty. How many watches do you own? Zero. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? Political views, I guess? Or the fact I'm bi? I only know of one person in my extended family that's gay. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? No shit? Emergencies are a thing? BUT, respect the teacher, please. I cannot stand people using their phone in class, especially here in college. You're paying a shitload to learn. Spend that time as you're supposed to. Take education seriously. If your phone's on vibrate for said emergency situations, that's cool. Do you have any gay relatives? Lol oh. Yeah, Mom has a cousin. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Yeah. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? I deleted my sister's mother-in-law in fury over her homophobia because I've seriously had it, then just a few days ago actually I went through my Facebook list deleting people I just didn't really feel connected to/didn't really care to follow their journey anymore. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? Zero. Do you know what your vocal range is? It's not broad. I'd say I'm probably in a rank slightly lower than most women. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I've never really been in the position to be capable of that. I've never had a source of income. If so, what sub-genres of metal do you like the best? Probably heavy. Or symphonic, though I haven't found too many artists in that sub-genre that I really enjoy. But BOY, when I do? I will BINGE that shit to the ends of the earth. Have you ever turned down someone who didn’t handle the rejection well? Ha ha oh man, I remember in 4th grade, this kid Nick was desperate to date me. It was endearing and cute, but he asked kinda obsessively. Then jfc, when I broke up with Tyler, you would've thought I was Jason and he was me, holy shit. How large is your largest scar, and what is it from? Well, I can't see it, so I actually don't know. I guess kinda long, but not wide. It's from a cyst removal surgery. Who was the last person you sincerely thanked? Omg, my Writing teacher. She really liked my writing on my essay. I was so flattered. When was the last time you went for a walk? Like, just a casual walk for the sake of walking? Not since I was at Sara's last. That was when my muscle atrophy was starting to get extremely bad though and I was very close to death omg. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? I don't think so. When cooking a meal, do you clean up as you go or wait til you’re done? I don't know how to cook. Do you develop crushes easily? NO. I am soooooo romantically picky. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? A month or more with Colleen after we were evicted. That was a really good time, honestly, regardless of how we feel about each other now. I don't think anyone's done something so selfless for me, and we really did have fun. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? I'd say it was normal for someone that age. Do you like salsa that has fruit in it? NO. Do you think stained glass windows are pretty? Hell yeah. That was my favorite thing about the church I grew up with; Catholic churches tend to truly have incredible stained glass. Are you scared of snakes? Nope, snakes are Baby. Have you had your wisdom teeth removed? No; I only have two, and I just slightly have enough room for them. Do you like hard or soft pretzels better? I strongly prefer soft. Have you ever been carded when buying something? Yes. Do you eat meat? Regretfully. Can you sleep with the light on? NOOOOOOOOOO. I have to truly be exhausted. Have you ever broken a bone? No, but I did fracture my wrist as a kid. Have you ever made ice cream in chemistry class? Bitch I wish, tf. Do you use the microwave often? Considering a bitch can't cook, yes. Microwavable meals are the reason I am alive. Have you ever painted a room? No. What’s in your copy and paste? This survey. Do you know anyone that’s painfully, socially awkward? Fuckin ME JFC. How do you usually pose in your pictures? With the left side of my face facing the camera (bc my hair kinda swoops over the right side), and I'll usually smile with my teeth or do a :D face bc at least I look happy instead of high with my squinty-ass eyes. :') Do you know anyone that absolutely freaks out if you try to take a picture of them? um????????? me?????????????? Do you pick on them for it and attempt to take loads of pictures anyway? If someone doesn't want me to take a picture of them, I absolutely don't push them 'cuz I totally get it. How’s your posture? Bad. Have you ever had to take care of a fake baby in family ed? Thank God in Heaven no. I. Would. Have. Raged. ^ were you a good mother/father? N/A What’s your favorite way to wear your hair up? My hair is too short for that. But I generally find french braid buns SO pretty. Have you ever read a ‘banned’ book? Uh, I don't think so. What does your screen name mean? Favorite animal, meerkats, + favorite artist, Ozzy Osbourne. Have you ever had to take a sobriety test? N- no wait. They were mandatory when I've gone to the ER for suicidal thoughts. Do you like movies more if they’re based on actual events? It doesn't really matter to me. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done with your cell phone? Idk, dropped it? What’s your opinion on gold diggers? Selfish, or smart? Both? Uh, I don't think it's exactly debatable to call it selfish... I mean, you're dating for the sake of monetary gain...? What would you do if your bf/gf was hitting on someone else right in front of you? I couldn't even try to picture her doing that, but obviously I'd be uncomfortable and jealous. What’s something you’ve done that you’ve sworn you’d never do? Idk, multiple things. Which ex of yours do you talk to the most? I only talk to Girt. Can you recall the first person you ever drank/got drunk/high with? I drank with family, probably, but I've never reached the point of being drunk, and I've never been high. ^ are you still friends? I mean, I love my family. Have you ever taken someone else’s vehicle without permission? No. What were you doing the last time you were videotaped? *shrugs* Is that something you’d be comfortable uploading and sharing? I don't know what it would be. Which friend wears the same size clothes as you do? Probably none? I don't have many friends to compare to. Is there anyone’s wardrobe that you’d like to steal? UM Suzy Hanson is a B A B E? ?? ? ? ??? I adooooorrrrre her clothing line (Psychic Circle), too, and so wanna buy something. Have you ever been lost in the woods? DARLIN I've watched The Blair Witch Project 2 much for that shit. What did you last stretch the truth about? Idk. Have you ever had withdrawals from something? Caffeine, and then WoW for quite a few months after I stopped playing for like, a year or more. Is there anyone on your friend’s list you know next to nothing about? I know at least one of Mom's friends that I've only met once, and briefly. How old is 'too old’ for you to date? I wouldn't date over 30 (I absolutely stg that has nothing to do with H I S age being 30 lmaoooo). How do you feel about guys in tight jeans? Skinny jeans look good on like, anyone. Favorite hour-long show? Uhhh idk. Well, at least out of the shows I used to like and would be most interested in watching, The Good Doctor. Favorite half-hour show? Meerkat Manor. Most people who’ve slept over at your house all at once? My current house? Just one, I think. Steak or chicken? Chicken. I'm piiiiickyyyy w/ steak. Is flirting really cheating? Yes, if you're clearly not just teasing. What’s something you own that’s /only/ of sentimental value? My pebble from my partial hospitalization program. What’s your choice of chips? Girrrrrllll gimme Cool Ranch Doritos. What song would you use to torture someone? i t ' s f r i d a y f r i d a y What is the weirdest compliment you have ever received? Probably that my nose was cute? If someone REALLY fat was upset, and saying how FAT they were, what would you say? First off, NOT say "you're not fat omg ur beautiful." I'M overweight and don't like when people say that. I'm perfectly aware that you're lying "for my own sake," which is sweet, but it's not helpful. Motivate me/the person to improve without being an asshole. Let them know I believe in them, which I do for ANYONE. If I could lose 60-70 pounds in a year, anyone can. What’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard a kid say? So when I was very little and my mom gave me orange juice, I freaked out because it had pulp in it. And what did I say? "I CAN'T DRINK THAT IT HAS NIPPLES IN IT" look idk don't ask but boy does Mom love sharing that story. A random stranger walks up to you and says 'you’re hot’. You say: Most likely "go away." Possibly "thank you, but please go away." Actually yeah, that's more likely. Like it's flattering to know someone finds you attractive, but yeah, that's just uncomfortable for some stranger to do that. I also wouldn't want to really piss the person off. Do you send messages on Facebook a lot? Definitely not. Almost the only person ever would be Girt. Have you ever gone to a strip club? No. Not my kinda scene. Like I absolutely will not think less of someone who does this, but I just don't like but moreso feel bad for men or women who reduce themselves to their sexual capabilities. Do you like Chinese food over pizza? Hell nah man. Pizza is supreme. What color is your watch? I'm not wearing one. I never do. Do you believe in love at first sight? Absolutely not. Visual attraction, of course that's real, but I promise you dear, you don't love someone upon looking at them. When you eat Frosted Flakes, do you add sugar in it? I hate that stuff. Who’s the biggest hugger you know? Ashley's father-in-law's mom. ... At least I think that's what she is? Do you want to change your name? Nah, it's fine. Have you ever tried to erase someone from your memory? Of course I have.

#survey #questions #quiz #random #bored

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