#Men are incapable of being quiet in general

[bluespiritshonour]

I am a fan of dead beat sister Mai and I also believe that Mai giving up Tom Tom in Return to Omashu is supposed to parallel her finally refusing to do so with Zuko in The Boiling Rock. It really isn't hard to reconcile the two.

Mai might not have had any love lost for Tom Tom, but that doesn't mean she appreciated having to give him up like that. He's still her brother and she doesn't necessarily hate him or wish him harm. And Azula knows Mai's family dynamics pretty well, she wouldn't have pulled the whole thing if Mai really was that uncaring about Tom Tom: it was supposed to prove Mai's loyalty to Azula and to the Fire Nation. Mai didn't have to be a simpering doting elder sister for the hostage exchange situation at Omashu to work.

An authoritarian state asks for complete submission, even that of your family, and Mai is well aware, and dare I say, not a fan of it. Yes, she wasn't too broken up about Tom Tom later either when her mother was crying: because for her, she did what was expected of her. Her parents, even though they're worried and crying, do not reprimand her for not bringing Tom Tom back. They're a cog in the imperial war machine that is FN and they know their place. And they made sure Mai knows hers too.

She might be quiet and never voice these opinions but there's so much resentment she harbours under the surface: for her parents, for Azula. I think she's, at most, indifferent towards Tom Tom. Mai wants to be treated with respect, that she never is. You might think, "when did anyone disrespect her?"

Well, being forced to conform and being ordered around and stripped of autonomy and most of all, not being taken seriously is insulting! It's one of the many forms misogyny manifests in in general. And with FN, since it's an authoritarian state with an established hierarchy, that's how the power structure manifests too. I think so many people misunderstand Mai because they don't take into account the society she was born into.

So many girls who have an upbringing similar to hers have such low sense of self!—I think it's incredible that throughout this all, Mai has somehow managed to cling to her self-esteem. Of course she conforms and bends herself into what's expected of her but it doesn't mean she appreciates it! Even her rebellion is either quiet in a way she can get away with (disobeying Azula she isn't around) or it finds acceptable avenues (accompanying Azula on her mission). There's always that undercurrent of resentment with her and I honestly love her for it: it means she knows she deserves better. (I think more women should be like her).

It feels like people on this site have never seen this elder sister younger brother dynamic where the younger brother is the child the parents always wanted. They don't even try to hide their favouritism, worse, the sister is asked to be just as dedicated as her parents to the said brother. And she's considered a monster if she isn't (whoa, reminds me of ATLA fandom, y'all are gonna make a bunch of boymoms for sure). God forbid women have less than positive emotions ever. I've seen girls as young as five-years-old being asked to compromise and prioritise their brothers over their own well being and happiness.

So, don't tell me Mai being an exception to the sacrificial elder sister trope isn't refreshing.

Besides, Mai is only indifferent to Tom Tom? Even if her parents weren't the "male heir is everything" kind and Mai wasn't fucked up by it... Even then, with the kind of age difference between her and Tom Tom, it's normal for them to be a little distant.

I don't care what the fandom thinks. And I don't care if misogynistic losers who think women are incapable of negative emotions and if they have them then there's something wrong with them (it's understandable for men though UWU) don't like Mai for it. I would forever defend dead beat sister Mai.

"She didn't like her brother waaaa—"

Well, good for her.

So thank you very much avatar comics, I'll take my dead beat sister Mai. I love her without reservations. You can keep your motherly one with you.

And no, it doesn't dilute her character development from Return to Omashu to The Boiling Rock if she isn't a doting sister! She still has a sense of familial loyalty underneath all that resentment (she wouldn't bend herself into a "big blah" otherwise).

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Sexism in HB (and HH)

I feel like I have mentioned some of the underlying misogyny present in HB before, but I never just fully talked about it, so I wanted to make this post where I talk about the sexism issue in Helluva Boss (Hazbin will also be addressed, mostly Helluva Boss though). This is a topic very close to me and I haven't seen a post that just wraps up all of the points in one Text, so that's what this is.

Little disclaimer, I know that the main creative individual behind these shows, Vivzepop is a woman. That's why a lot of people will diminish points made about sexist writing. But Viv being a woman does not mean that she is incapable of having misogynistic views. And I do not want to call her sexist directly, but it is important to realise, that how these shows (especially HB) write female characters can be quite sexist in multiple ways.

Since I like to keep things structured, here are the main things I realised about how female characters are written, which makes me call this show sexist with its writing.

Excluding female characters from victimhood

Sidelining female characters for male ones

Women for mens development/absence of mothers

Stereotyping women

-Rival for (male) attention

-Crazy Ex

-Rude bitch (+ rude bitch who gets in the way of a gay relationship)

-Caretaker/Mother

A lot of these topics will overlap in some way, I'll try to keep them concise and make the differences clear.

1. Excluding female characters from victimhood

There is a big focus on men who have gone through some sort of trauma in both shows. Blitzø, Moxxie, Stolas, Fizzarolli, Angel Dust and Husker. All of them are victims of some form of abuse (sexual, physical, domestic, psychological etc.). The ones I want to focus on now are Blitzø, Stolas, Fizzarolli and Angel. Because all of them are victims of abuse that is most commonly associated with and most commonly happens to women. Blitzø has to sleep with a wealthy man in power who holds something he needs to live over his head in exchange for sexual favours. Stolas was forcefully married at a young age and had to produce an heir for the family, while also facing domestic abuse from his partner. Fizzarolli experienced exploitation of his body through his job as a performer. Angel is a sex worker who get's raped by his pimp and generally is forced to do sexual things he does not want to do.

While of course, all of these scenarios can and do happen to men and it is important to acknowledge that, one cannot deny that these are issues that women are much more likely to experience. My problem isn't that these issues are portrayed through men, but rather how the women in HB/HH barely get acknowledged as victims.

Stolas and Stella are probably the best (or worst) example of that. They both have the same backstory with abuse I mentioned before, just with the bonus that Stella, as a woman would be more likely to experience not only a forced marriage and pregnancy but also the domestic violence they pushed on her later in the series. Fact of the matter is, that Stella and Stolas' relationship had no implications of domestic violence before the writers wanted to stop making people sympathize with Stella. A victim of the same trauma as Stolas, who got pushed as a maniac and psycho. All to redeem a man who sexually abused a lower class citizen while cheating on his spouse. There is also the fact that Stella faces very overt sexual harassment through her brother, which the show just doesn't acknowledge because it hates her. Stella is a bad victim (or not a victim at all) because she is angry and loud (and later on randomly an abuser), while Stolas is the good victim because he is sad and quiet.

Fizzarolli's story shows similarities, though not as extreme. The characters of Glitz and Glam are treated with no sympathy or anything, because they are mean to the male character. The idea that they are in a similar position to Fizzarolli (who fell victim to Mammon's exploitation through being a fan of his) is never acknowledged. We see the girls and they are immediately rude and bitchy. No one bats an eye to the fact that them facing the same exploitation as Fizz isn't good or deserved, because they are mean and probably chose that life. A statement which just reeks of misogyny, especially when one realizes, that the people mainly affected by sexualisation in the performing industry are women. Again, the women don't get sympathy because they are rude and promiscuous. Fizz deserves all the sympathy because he is hurt and 'actually' feels objectified.

In both of these scenarios, women are excluded from being victims in situations they are very likely to face, because they needed more sympathy for the male characters.

Blitzø's story doesn't have a situation like that, luckily. His story is mostly brought down because of the fetishization of gay men or mlm relationships. Since this is not the focus of this post all I'll say is, that if Blitzø was a woman, wayyy less people would be shipping Stolitz. I'll leave it at that.

Where we can once again find something similar is in Angel Dusts story, though to a lesser extent. Seeing as Angel struggles with sexual assault, I find it odd that they specifically chose Husker to console him and help him through his trauma. It is still a thing that most sexual violence or assault victims are women. I feel like no one ever considered how terrifying hell as a lawless place where pretty much everyone lives together is specifically for women. It seems like they want us to expect that every female character down there is like a badass murderer, who can easily avoid creeps and predators. But the show also makes a point to say, that the people in hell are often judged unfairly and that the system is "corrupt". So it's very likely that a majority of the women down there are simply just people who didn't believe in god or who made one mistake that doesn't deserve eternal damnation. With that perspective, a world without laws where no one cares about crime, murder, assault and rape is very terrifying. Seeing as so many crimes in hell would just be rape (which I know happens to men too). So we can easily assume that every female character has faced sexual harassment atleast once, if not to an even larger extent. Charlie I can see being excluded from that, as she is quite sheltered. And Mimzy too, seeing as she isn't played as a person who would realistically be able to add to the conversation (she is pretty much the brutal psycho murderer I mentioned earlier and she is treated mostly as if that stuff just doesn't affect her, which is weird in it's own right).

But then there is Valeria, who we know experienced at least sexual harassment from Adam while being an exorcist. And Cherry Bomb, who we can assume the same of, seeing as she was a woman on earth and a woman in hell, where sexual assaults should lurk around every corner. None of them get to have a discussion with Angel about his situation though. They are seemingly not important to a conversation about rape, which every girl hears at some point in their life. The actual nuance that could be there, having a conversation between two victims is eradicated through Husker being the one to talk Angel down. Husker, who has no common ground with Angel when it comes to this topic and who does not seem closer to him than Valeria and especially shouldn't be closer to him than Cherry Bomb in the end. Cherry, Angels actual best friend is shown to not know what Angel needs, coming off at best as simply out of touch and at worst, as directly malicious. Husker knows exactly how Angel needs to act now even though he, once again, doesn't know him nearly as well and isn't at all in touch with what he's going through. So not only are the female characters excluded from a meaningful moment, which could show the very tragic reality of something most women go through, but Cherry is also sidelined heavily as Angels best friend, to make room for a male character. Which leads into my second point.

2. Sidelining female characters for male ones

I think this is pretty self-explanatory. In Helluva Boss specifically, the female characters do not stand out and mostly do not get story focus quite like the male ones do. Millie and Loona are very egregious in that regard, seeing as they are part of the main group, but don't have nearly as much development as Moxxie or Blitzø and even Stolas (I will talk about that more later on). In Hazbin Hotel this is done a bit better, since Charlie is the main character and Valerie as well as some other background characters get focus too. That is not me saying that they have good characterisations, especially Charlie as the main character is very underdeveloped.

Who I mostly want to talk about here are Stella and Cherry Bomb though. Because while it is bad with the other female characters already, with them it is probably the worst. Because at least Loonas and Millies lack of screentime makes room for already established relationships and main characters.

Stella got basically replaced as a villain by her brother. That is so laughable because it simply is: female character with actual urgency, connection to the main plot, established goals and a personality is replaced by a male character that has none of that, just because. I don't think I need to elaborate on that. This change also just came with making Stella stupid as hell and just loud and obnoxious, something her brother is too, just to a lesser extent (so the change didn't even add a more likeable character in Stella's place).

Cherry got shoved to the side as Angels best friend and main confidante for Husker to develop their relationship, something that was purely fanservice and doesn't make a whole lot of sense in the general context of how these characters interact. Cherry doesn't know what Angel needs to be better, her attempt is misguided. So it is on Husk to actually understand what he needs, even though he should have no idea of that, since he isn't nearly as close with Angel as Cherry is. Cherry comes off incredibly misguided. Her relationship with Angel, which was always assumed to be very close is also not a thing in the show. They have very little interactions and in the ones they do have, Cherry doesn't know what Angel needs and Husk does a better job like I mentioned. Most of the other scenes Cherry shows up in are used to develop the ship of Cherrysnake. So bland and just badly done, that it is weird more than it is cute or romantic. So Cherry having an actual important connection to the main cast was replaced for Huskerdust and she was pushed even further aside to make Cherrysnake happen. A female character being mainly used to serve the male storylines leads to my next point.

3. Women for mens development/absence of mothers

Starting with the female characters that are mostly used for the development of male characters, rather than being treated as their own person. Cherry, as mentioned previously used as a way for Husker to get closer to Angel and also as a woman for Sir pentious to swoon over. She initially turns him down, but then realizes he is actually soo brave and amazing and strong, because female character who just doesn't want to be in a relationship with a male character? That doesn't happen.

Next up is Millie, who has the most unused potential in either shows in my opinion. She is often just reduced to being Moxxies wife. She helps him by practically acting as a caretaker in many ways (more on that later), helps Blitzø to rekindle his relationship with him, but rarely faces struggles that aren't somehow connected to Moxxie or made about how Moxxie feels. I know people want to point to the short she got with Sally Mae, but that was the only real time we got her personal struggles laid out. And it only got brought up and resolved in the same episode, which was also a short, so legit like 2 Minutes. And in "Unhappy campers" they just introduced a character trait she never was shown having before and in the end still made the episode mostly about Moxxie.

Loona was there as a vessel for Blitzø to express love as he felt he could only express genuine emotion towards his daughter. But now that Blitzø is with Stolas and their relationship is flourishing apparently, she doesn't have that going for her anymore. She is also physically abusive, which they have never acknowledged and probably decided to stop playing as a joke, since people got understandably upset. And the other thing that is reoccurring with her character is her crush on Tex and basically any other guy that would give her attention. That's not necessarily bad, but she has nothing except her special relationship with Blitzø (which like I said is pretty unimportant now) and her love problem, which was only focused on guys so far.

Barbie Wire is barely present and we know almost nothing about her. The one episode she shows up in mainly uses her appearance and her upset at Blitzø as a reason for us to feel bad for him. We do not get to know further why she is upset and made the choice to permanently move away. That's not of interest, only how Blitzø feels about it.

Octavia is actually a character I like a lot, but even then she is mostly used for us to feel bad for Stolas. She isn't as bad as some other examples, but depending on who you ask she is either a well written depiction of a child facing neglect and a broken family, who is right in her actions. Or a cruel bitch who doesn't understand how hard her father tries his best. I still think the way she is utilised is mostly leading to her being just a tool for Stolas to face some repercussions while also making him more sympathetic to some people.

In a similar way that Stella and Verosika are just the mean exes, that eventually lead to Stolas and Blitzø getting together to heal from their trauma (I'm aware that Verosika did not cause trauma to Blitzø specifically, he mostly mistreated her from all we know. She is still used in the narrative as something representing a past that Blitzø wants to leave behind for good).

Now onto the mothers in the room, or rather the lack thereof. Mothers in HB are used similarly to the other female characters as male development helpers, despite not even being present really. Blitzø and Moxxie have the "bad father, nice mom that's dead" combo. We don't have any more information on their mothers other than that they were the good counterpart to the evil dad's. They serve as nothing but plot for Blitzø and Moxxie to feel sad about. Stolas doesn't have a mom, just an out of touch dad. Millie has both parents actually, but they don't really get focus, because Millie doesn't get focus. The only thing we know about them is that her dad doesn't like Moxxie and her mom is slightly nicer I guess. And then there's Octavia, who might as well not have a mom at all, since her and Stella's relationship only barely exists. Stella is of course a bad mother, because that woman just can't do anything right. But even then, we never get an idea of how their interactions were when in Octavia's eyes "everything was still alright" in the family. Stella doesn't get to have a special relationship with Octavia, because nuance doesn't exist for her and she needs to be manipulative and obnoxious to everyone apparently.

4.Stereotyping women

These are just some stereotypes that female characters often fall into.

-Rival for (male) attention

This is mainly for Loona, but in general the female characters in HB/HH tend to not have friendships with other women. The only example I can really think of are Millie and Sally Mae, but they are sisters so it's kinda expected and Charlie and Emily, but they barely interact and even then, a point could be made about what I'm going to point out. Loona and Octavia don't really count, they hung out once and then never again (sadly).

The moment Loona is introduced to Beelzebub she immediately dislikes her. Just because the guy she had a crush on is dating her. This just the stereotype that women will always compete for men against each other, as if they have no other objective. I get that it makes sense for Loonas character, but I've said it before and I'll say it again, Loona desperately needs friends her age for her development. And I won't count the two hellhounds that showed up at the end of "Sinsmas", they are not even named and we do not have a reason to assume they are especially close with Loona when we have barely seen them before.

Also when Emily and Charlie first meet and get along well we can see Valeria being visibly upset. As if Charlie becoming friends with another woman is going to end up on her leaving Valeria or something. So another unnecessary rivalry between female characters, because they pose a threat to/ruin the possibility of a romantic relationship.

-Crazy Ex

Verosika and Stella. They are shown as overreacting (Stella hiring a hit on Stolas, Verosika throwing a whole hate party for Blitzø) and bitchy, mean and obsessive over a past relationship. Their behaviour is used to justify the behaviour of the male characters, while ignoring what they went through. Stella is pushed to the extreme of having her be a domestic abuser in the end, just so people can excuse Stolas cheating on her.

Verosika throwing that party is completely overreacting and is treated as weird and crazy (which it is), ignoring that Blitzø ended their genuine relationship by stealing money from her. That is also used to show Stolas as the "reasonable ex" because "he would never do something like that".

The lady from the latest episode also kinda counts into this. She isn't a real character, but she pretty much plays the same role of "see how terrible, obnoxious and even homophobic she is?!". So that it's excusable for a man to cheat on her to achieve happiness.

-Rude bitch (+ rude bitch who gets in the way of a gay relationship)

Rude bitch is pretty much every female character that is in some way mean to the male characters. Verosika, Barbie Wire, Stella, Glitz and Glam, Octavia (in some eyes). They come off as irrational and their rudeness, which is written like that intentionally, is used to excuse how the male characters treat them.

The special category of "rude bitch who gets in the way of a gay relationship" goes to (of course) Stella, thorn lady from Sinsmas and Octavia somehow. I don't think I need to elaborate on Stella, they made her an abuser so that people wouldn't dislike the gay relationship that came out of her getting cheated on (that is also just a terrible relationship).

The thorn lady is presented as blatantly homophobic, so that it's actually good she got cheated on and the gay couple can finally be happy with their children.

And Octavia, or how some fans of the show call her "Cockblocktavia" (which is just terrible for a teenage girl who just wants to feel close to her dad), who is mostly used for Stolas to feel kinda bad about being with Blitzø, without actually doing anything about it in the end.

-Caretaker/Mother

Millie fits here. The M&M relationship baits you with a Malewife x Girlboss sort of relationship. Which implies that the male counterpart (Moxxie) would take over a more traditionally female role. Being the caretaker of the other emotionally, while the wife takes care of finances and everything else. But even then in most instances it's Millie who takes care of not only Moxxie, but alo Blitzø. Like the responsibility lies with her to be a caring type, to build up her husband when he is sad and get the group drinks, without getting one for herself. That's a role that she even passes to the only other female main character. When she goes out with Blitzø in "Ghostfuckers" and tells Loona to basically look after Moxxie, as if he's some child that needs to be constantly cared for. Even though Loona is younger than him.

But of course that isn't the end of Millie being mothered by the show. Because how could I forget that she is pregnant now. How amazing that the female character we have been continually promised to get more character development, that isn't just being an extension of her husband, get's that in the form of a pregnancy. Wow.

I'm not the only one who hates this, for obvious reasons. It was just never in Millies character that she would want a baby. I hope they make her get an abortion. That could be used to be educational on a serious topic and wouldn't crowd the cast up more (because that's not what we need from this show!). In the worst case they'll make her keep the baby for some reason that will most definitely come off as very traditional and potentially conservative. It could also lead to her getting excluded from more action to do baby shenanigans, which would just be depressing at this point.

I haven't mentioned it yet, but her pregnancy is also used to discredit a very genuine and actually important point as just "having pregnancy hormones". Their livelihoods depend on killing people, if Blitzø just suddenly decides not to, because the people just so happen to live his dream life, that's his problem. I think it's so terrible to shove off her very real concern as just her being irrational because of pregnancy. And honestly, I see Millie and Moxxie having children down the line, but the reveal now, when so many people have been waiting for meaningful Millie screentime that makes her stand out just feels gross.

Now I just want to say that of course one can like the female characters and anybody can have a different opinion/interpretation than me. I just thought this was worth pointing out, because people still like to act as though there is no underlying sexism at all, which is just not true. Except for Striker and Mammon, all of my favourite characters are the female ones, mostly because I just feel like they could've been used so much better. And I enjoy using the base of these shows to make my own version basically, I feel like that is what most people are doing anyway and when you acknowledge that, just going deeper into your own version is super fun.

[i-live-inyourwalls]

more haikyuu characters i think would be friends as adults (PLATONIC! I WILL SELF-IMMOLATE BEFORE I BREAK UP MY FAV SHIPS)

bokuto + ushijima

- first of all, part of my reasoning is that it would be funny as fuck

- HOWEVER: bokuto is kinda gullible, takes a lot of what he’s told at face value without questioning it. he’s honest and open about his emotions

- ushijima is VERY literal, also takes things at face value, and doesn’t generally understand other people if they aren’t being direct

- bokuto’s inability to keep anything to himself would actually be helpful for ushijima

- he’d never be confused about bokuto’s emotional state which (as we know) is not something he would pick up on unless he was told

- bokuto would also benefit from being around someone who was incapable of sparing his feelings (ego probably would take a hit at first, but i think as an adult he’d be more capable of handling it)

- also bokuto is insanely social so he wouldn’t stop trying until he and ushijima were friends

- bonus: he’d get to hang out with tendou which would be fun for him

tendou + tanaka

- they are both insane

- high energy, like messing with people, weird hair

- somewhat self-centered but still socially aware

- i think tanaka would find tendou entertaining and i think tendou would find tanaka funny

- also the potential for them fucking with people to an honestly diabolical degree? yeah, i’m sat for that

- i think they would both mess with ushijima, but i don’t think they’d ever actually be mean— and they’re smart enough to know some of their friends should be left alone (…iwaizumi….daichi….oikawa but only because oikawa would put an honestly neurotic effort into getting revenge—which could only be learned through experience)

nishinoya + kuroo

- i mean… i feel like this one is obvious

- obsessed with themselves, enjoy causing chaos

- kuroo is so much smarter than noya but noya is more unpredictable so…they could definitely be a dangerous combination

- smarter than the tendou + tanaka duo because, like, kuroo

- kuroo would probably take advantage of how willing noya is to do dumb shit and get noya to do his stupidest ideas (noya would not realize he was being strategically convinced, also he probably wouldn’t even care if he knew because he was having fun)

- also, absolutely would be each other’s wingmen. probably with asahi and kenma. can almost guarantee they would NOT be good at this and the other men would just find it confusing

akaashi + kenma

- said in my prev post about this, i think akaashi would be friends with kuroo because they took of kenma and bokuto in high school so have a shared (ish) experience

- he’d be friends with kenma for different but adjacent reasons

- they’re both somewhat quiet and reserved but capable of being sarcastic or harsh if the situation requires it

- dating bokuto and kuroo (IN MY WORLD THEY ARE. ITS REAL TO ME!!!)

- anyway, both dating people with VERY different levels of extroversion who like to spend time together

- can sympathize with the sensory overload that is being around bokuto and kuroo at the same time

- BokuAka & KuroKen double dates??? yeah bro. bokuto’s idea, kuroo talks kenma into them.

- they’d probably enjoy watching Bokuto and Kuroo entertain themselves when they all hung out even if it was overwhelming

- ^^^ both of them have a much shorter social battery so would be allies in the situation (if they don’t want to talk, they hide from everyone in silence— my mental image is them quietly doomscrolling in the same room, or kenma playing video games while akaashi reads a book or something— point being, i think they’d be able to be around each other comfortably without it feeling like actual social interaction)

edited for spelling :-)

[1800-fight-me]

Thunderstorms & Heartache

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature)- as a general rule for my blog, minors please do not interact!

Warnings: violence, cursing, kidnapping, men being creepy.... i think that’s all. 

Word count: About 5.6k

Synopsis: When Aemond captures you the night before your wedding, your life goes down a path of twists and turns that you never expected. Here’s my take on an enemies-to-lovers snuggling-to-survive Aemond x reader fic! 

Author’s note: Sorry I’ve been gone for months! I’m throwing this into the void and running away again (lol) there will eventually (most likely) be a part two to this fic. I still make no promises that I will be back on tumblr regularly, but I hope y’all like this! 

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

You woke in a panic as a hand that was certainly not yours covered your mouth and prevented you from screaming. 

Your eyes widened and your ineffective frantic efforts to fight back lessened as you saw who woke you. 

At the recognition in your eyes he raised his brow in a silent question of your compliance. 

“If I take my hand away, will you scream?” he whispered. 

You reluctantly shook your head even as you glared at him. 

He did as promised and you took a deep breath as you attempted to calm the sharp panic that flowed through you. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Aemond?” you hissed. 

“I am here to rescue you,” he said as he sat back on your bed and pulled you up to a sitting position. 

“Rescue me? I never asked to be rescued,” you snapped at him, wide eyed and confused. 

“Regardless, you are coming with me, sweetheart,” he said with a roll of his eye and enough sarcasm to raise your blood pressure. 

“No, I’m not. Get out of here before I’m caught with a man in my room the night before my wedding,” you said through clenched teeth as you attempted to extricate yourself from his hands as he held your wrist and shoulder. 

His grip only tightened. 

“There will be no wedding,” he replied shortly and you wanted to smack the stupid eyepatch off his face. 

“So you are capturing me then. Who are you to dictate my future?” 

He stared at you with a deadpan look that you were all too familiar with. 

“Your capturer, obviously. Is that not how being captured works?” he drawled. 

You huffed indignantly. 

“Are you going to be compliant or will you make this whole ordeal more miserable than it has to be?” he asked as he stood and pulled you out of the bed with him. 

“The second option,” you snipped back. 

He sighed dramatically even as he threw you over his shoulder unexpectedly and you let out an indignant squeak in surprise. 

“Be quiet,” he hissed. 

“No! If you do not put me down I will scream, I swear it. I will screech and holler and-” 

The wind was taken out of you as he suddenly dropped you down on your bed once more. 

“Quiet! You will get us caught!,” he whispered angrily. 

“Yes, my prince, that is pretty much the point,” you said with a roll of your eyes. 

He pursed his lips in anger as he pulled out a knife. 

Your eyes widened once again in fear, but he used it to cut fabric off the sheet on your bed and then wrapped it across your mouth and tied it on the back of your head. 

You let out a muffled curse of anger and he smirked in satisfaction. 

“Now, do I need to tie your hands and feet together as well or will you be a good little captive and come with me willingly?” 

You merely glared at him and folded your arms across your chest in a small act of defiance. 

You knew that you were incapable of fighting him off physically. The last time you saw him was about a year and a half ago and even then as you watched him train you were taken back by how quick and lethal he had become. 

“Good,” he said with a small upcurve of his lips and hauled you over his shoulder once more. 

_______________

After much sneaking, he made it out of the fortress and crept around to the side where a horse waited for him. 

The moon was at the dark phase of her cycle and it was nearly pitch black. 

He pulled you off his shoulder and placed you on the ground surprisingly gently and slowly which caused your breath to catch. 

As your body slid down the length of his you tried to remind yourself that you hate him. 

You never were very good at believing that particular lie, no matter how many times you told yourself. 

He pulled the cloth off your mouth. There was a soft look in his eye. 

You looked over at the horse and then back at him. 

“Where is Vhagar?” you asked. 

He pursed his lips in annoyance and looked up at the sky as if he were cursing you inside his mind. 

“It would not exactly be inconspicuous to have the largest dragon in the world here with me, now would it?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him as you placed your hands on your hips. 

“She waits for us, but it is a few days' journey on horseback to reach her,” he explained. 

“This is the worst kidnapping I’ve ever been a part of,” you muttered. 

He ignored you, even as he shook his head and moved past you to the horse. 

He ran his hand across its mane and then pulled a bundle of clothes out of the saddle bag. 

He thrust them at you and turned back to the horse. 

“Dress quickly. We need to leave immediately,” he ordered. 

You didn’t have a retort as you truly were grateful for the warm clothes and quickly shucked off your nightgown and redressed in them. 

You were surprised to find that he had given you trousers as opposed to a dress, but you supposed it made sense given the long and cold journey ahead of you. You were grateful for the multiple layers and warmth they provided you. 

You traded your slippers for thick socks and boots and with a small clearing of your throat he turned back to survey your work. 

He nodded and pulled your hood over your head, his touch surprisingly gentle, just as his had been firmly pulled over his shock of white hair to hide it. 

He helped you onto the horse and then sat right behind you. 

The heat of his chest warmed your back as his body was pressed tightly against yours. 

He clicked his tongue and the horse started at a gallop, and soon it was a sprint. 

You and your captor made your way south towards King’s Landing without detection. 

_______________

As the sun began to rise your eyes drooped and your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder. 

“If you fall asleep and tumble off the horse I shall be incredibly cross with you,” he drawled and you huffed. 

“You dragged me out of my bed in the middle of the night, how do you expect me to not be tired?” 

He sighed. 

“We will stop soon, but we need to get as much distance between us and your former betrothed,” he said firmly. 

You decided to try to annoy him with your silence. It always used to work when you were children. Sure, Aemond was one who appreciates silence, but not when it was due to your anger at him. He never used to be able to handle it when you were mad at him.  

But, oh, how times have changed. 

“What? No withering retort?” he demanded. 

You maintained your silence. 

“Hm. Glorious silence. I would have kidnapped you earlier if I knew it was the price of such blessed quiet,” he said with a dark chuckle. 

You rolled your eyes but refused to speak. 

He sighed softly at his failed attempts to bait you into conversation. 

You smirked in satisfaction. 

_______________

Hours later you finally said, “I thought you said we would stop soon.” 

He laughed spitefully. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me.” 

You sighed. 

“Up here looks like a safe place to rest for a little while,” he said softly as he led the horse off the path and further into the woods. 

You sat and ate your meal of bread, dried meat, and hard cheese while you watched him pull various items out of the saddle bags. 

He laid a blanket out on the ground and gestured towards it. 

You watched him warily and did not move. 

“Honestly, are you really going to be angry with me the entirety of this trip?” he asked as he sat down and crossed his long legs. 

“Trip? This isn’t a trip, Aemond. You stole me from the home of my betrothed!” 

He sighed and rolled his eye. 

“You are such a prick,” you seethed. 

“It is not as if you wished to marry him! Look me in the eye and truthfully tell me you desired to be wed to that sack of shit and I will betray my brother’s orders and take you back immediately.” 

You looked down at your hands as you fidgeted and ripped apart the bread nervously. 

You could not tell him what he asked of you. 

You didn’t want to look up and see the smirk that surely adorned his lips. 

“It was my duty,” you said softly, weakly. 

“You used to care little for duty,” he said, his voice velvety smooth, the way it always did when he felt assured he had won an argument. 

“Yes, well I grew up, Aemond. I learned that I must do what was expected of me in order to survive,” you rasped as tears began to fill your eyes. 

You risked a glance up at you and his expression was hard, but there was a flicker of remorse and concern in his eye. 

You looked away. 

He sighed. 

“Rest. I’ll wake you in a few hours so we can continue our journey,” he said and you nodded. 

You returned the remainder of your food to the saddle bag and as you laid on the blanket, Aemond laid another on top of you. 

You didn’t get a chance to say anything as he immediately turned and walked a few paces away to sit on watch. 

Sleep quickly found you. 

_______________

You woke, once again, to Aemond startling you awake. 

It was becoming a habit for him, one you loathed. 

He hissed your name and shook your shoulder as he crouched over you. 

You looked at him and opened your mouth but he shook his head and whispered, “There’s a group of men coming this way. We need to be prepared.” 

You nodded even as your heart began to pound. 

As quickly as you could, you helped him pack up the supplies. 

He pulled up his hood and you followed suit before he helped you up onto the horse. 

He was soon behind you and grabbed the reins. 

“I don’t have to remind you that betraying me and taking your chances with random men would be a horribly stupid decision, do I?” he murmured in your ear as four men on horses neared the two of you as you returned to the path in the forest. 

The thought had of course crossed your mind. But you at least knew Aemond to be relatively honorable. You didn’t have the same assurances of the strange men you were soon to encounter. 

“No,” you breathed out. 

“Good. Take your hood down. Perhaps if they are distracted by how pretty you are they will not ask many questions of us,” he whispered. 

Your heart thumped harder within your chest. 

You did as he asked. 

“Would it not have been wiser to keep hiding?” you murmured back as the men were close enough to properly view them. 

You gulped in fear. 

“We were not very well hidden. And besides, it is always better to meet potential enemies prepared and on your feet,” he said quietly, his mouth close to your ear. 

“Hello there!” one of the men called out as he raised his hand in a wave. 

Aemond waved back. 

They met you in the road and Aemond pulled the horse to a halt. 

“Where are you lot headed?” the man asked in a thick accent and a too curious gleam in his eye. 

“My wife and I are headed south towards the city to find better work,” Aemond replied curtly. 

You kept your expression neutral though you wanted to scowl at him calling you his wife. 

“Not much work in the city. You may have to go further,” one of the men called out. 

“Thank you for the suggestion. We’ll take it into consideration,” Aemond replied and indicated the horse to continue forward. 

“Have I seen you somewhere before?” the man in the back asked, and he was looking directly at you. 

You shook your head, but did not speak for fear that your shaky voice would betray you. 

“I highly doubt it. My wife and I have lived very remote for the last few years. But she does have the type of beauty that feels familiar to many,” he said and one hand curled around your hip protectively. 

“Safe travels,” he then said before they could reply and continued his guidance of the horse forward and past the group of men. 

“To you as well,” one of the men replied but there was something in his voice that pricked at the back of your neck. 

You turned and watched the men as they rode in the opposite direction. 

Once they were out of sight you heaved a sigh of relief and slumped back into his body. 

He buried his face in your neck and hair and hummed softly. 

“I do not think they believed our story. We must make haste as well as change our route, otherwise we may find more trouble,” Aemond said.  

You allowed yourself a few more moments of comfort from his touch before you sat up straighter and put as much space between the two of you that riding together on a horse would allow, which wasn’t very much. 

“Okay,” you said shakily. 

_______________

Trouble found you not much later in the form of a viciously cold thunderstorm. 

Harsh rain turned into ice as it pelted your skin. The cold cut through and seeped into your bones. 

Aemond had already led the horse off the beaten path and through the woods, a lesser known path he claimed to be familiar with. 

The trees did not provide enough protection from the weather, however. 

Hooded cloaks could only do so much to prevent one from becoming soaked. 

As quickly as possible, but also after what felt like an eternity, Aemond spotted a shallow cave on the side of a large hill. 

It was protected enough from the elements to provide a reprieve.  

You pulled off your cloak and found that your shirt was not as wet as you expected, the same however could not be said for your pants. 

At the look on your face Aemond said, “I do not have any additional clothes for either of us. You should still remove them and let them dry.” 

You glared at him. 

“I will freeze to death.” 

He tossed you the blankets. 

“You’ll freeze quicker wearing cold wet clothes.” 

You pursed your lips together but could not deny the logic of what he said. 

You laid out one of the blankets and then looked over your shoulder to see him murmuring softly to the horse. 

You unlaced and slid your feet out of your boots, grateful they had protected your thick socks enough that they were still dry, then shucked off your wet trousers. 

You laid them beside your cloak in an attempt to allow them to dry before you laid on top of the blanket and pulled the second blanket firmly over you to protect your modesty. 

“This storm will surely delay us. Hopefully it passes during the night,” Aemond said. 

“What will happen to me when we arrive at our destination?” you asked in a small voice. 

He turned back and looked at you in concern. 

“Do you imagine I would drag you to some horrific fate?” he said, replying to your question with another question.  

You turned over so your back was facing him, partially to give him privacy to undress and partially to avoid his gaze as you spoke. 

“I… I do not know you as I once did,” you murmured. 

“Hm,” he hummed in discontent as he laid beside you. 

“Though we grew apart, I would never wish you ill,” he said finally. 

“Grew apart?” you scoffed. 

He sighed. 

“Your former betrothed had already sworn himself to my sister. The plan is to end your prior engagement and wed you to an ally of my brother. That way your father’s arm is twisted into remaining our ally rather than switching sides in this impending war,” he said. 

The silence after he spoke felt heavy. The only sounds were the pouring rain as it beat against your small hiding place and your heartbeat as it pounded. 

Finally you spoke slowly, “I was right before. This truly is the worst kidnapping I’ve ever been a part of.” 

A huff of hair fell past his lips, it almost sounded like a laugh. 

“It was Aegon’s plan and nothing I attempted to counsel could dissuade him,” he said. 

“My father will be furious,” you said, your voice shaky as shivers wracked your body. Even under the blanket, the cold felt inescapable. 

“Less so if you are agreeable to your new betrothed,” he murmured. 

You suddenly felt the heat of him against your back and squeaked in surprise as he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and pulled you against him. 

“Hush. I cannot possibly sleep with your teeth clattering so loudly as you shiver,” he said haughtily. 

You were stiff for a moment but too quickly felt yourself relax and melt into his body and the warmth he provided. 

You could not even be angry with him, for you were far too comfortable. 

“Who is to be my new betrothed?” you asked quietly, after a few moments of silence. 

You waited for his response. 

Finally he said, “I do not know.” 

You weren’t quite certain if you believed him, but exhaustion weighed heavy upon you and wrapped in his warmth you were swiftly pulled into unconsciousness. 

_______________

You were floating, for now, though you began to fear as water rose and rose around you. Then you were flailing as a hand wrapped around your ankle and attempted to pull you down. 

You fought your hardest, but you were powerless against the strength of that hand. 

You ran out of air and attempted to breathe, but choked on salty water, and attempted to scream but no sounds came out. 

You were being pulled into inky depths until fire surrounded you, turning the water into mist and you could breathe, you could breathe in deep as hot dry air that filled your lungs. 

The fire twirled, danced around you and burned the hand that attempted to drown you. 

You were free, and as you sobbed in relief, the fire licked at your cheek, never burning - never hurting, and dried the tears on your cheeks. 

A voice murmured your name, and so you reached a hand for that voice, up and away from the dark murky water. 

“We need to go,” Aemond said, his voice urgent as he shook your shoulder. 

You groaned and attempted to pull the blanket over your head, but it was tugged from your grip. 

You opened one eye and found the object of your ire as he knelt beside you, staring at you with one eyebrow up, judgment clear on his face. 

“You really are a horribly deep sleeper, it is near impossible to wake you, it is no wonder you were so easily captured,” he mused then stood and pulled the blanket completely off you. 

“Asshole” you seethed as you yanked down your shirt where it had rucked up enough to show your underclothes. 

He winked at you as he turned around to give you the privacy to redress. You clenched your teeth in anger as you held back your retort. 

You groaned internally as you realized it was still raining. It was certainly no longer storming as it had been only hours before, if your level of exhaustion was any indication, but it still rained rather heavily. 

You were in for what would certainly be another miserable day if your pounding head and Aemond’s chipper attitude were any indication. 

You swiftly pulled on your pants, boots, and cloak and trudged back into the rain. 

_______________

The rain slowed and stopped sometime early in the morning. 

The conversation between you and Aemond did the same after one too many snippy comments from you. And also him. The tension was rather strong. 

It had been so long that there was anger and hurt feelings between the two of you that you hardly remembered the love and friendship that was once there. 

No, that was a lie. It haunted you. There was a reason you had been unable to stand his presence for years without nearly biting his head off. 

When you were children he had been your best friend, your childhood crush, your biggest ally and confidant. Until all of that love turned into hurt feelings and resentment. 

You had entirely too much time this morning to ruminate on the past, and the thought occurred to you that maybe you should discuss it with him and attempt to put it behind you. 

You turned and looked back at him. 

It frustrated you endlessly that a part of you that you had attempted to squash for years was attracted to him. 

It was not lost on you that the boy you grew up with had become a dashing, lethal warrior. 

With his sharp cheekbones and jawline and curved lips that were entirely too distracting…

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked dryly. 

You huffed and turned back around. 

This adventure had, to your utter dismay, softened your feelings towards the man who sat behind you, pressed against you, his long silver hair blowing around the two of you in the wind. 

“Nothing,” you muttered. 

You knew if you looked back you would see a smirk on his perfect lips and it ignited your anger once again. 

You let silence fall and couldn’t find the courage within you to share your thoughts and feelings. 

_______________

“Do you plan to stop any time today?” you complained. 

“Surely you- shit,” he cut himself off and cursed as he snapped the reins and urged the horse to speed from a walk into a gallop. 

He yanked his hood over his head. 

“What is it?” you asked as you craned your head to see around his body. 

“Shit,” you echoed him. 

A group of about ten men on horses had rounded the hidden curve of the path behind the two of you. 

“Do you think those are the suspicious assholes from before?” you asked worriedly. 

Aemond pursed his lips into a thin line as he nodded stiffly. 

“We can’t outrun them, not with two people on one horse,” he said. 

“D-do we fight? I can’t fight. Oh my gods, Aemond you’re ruining my life. I should be married to a boring old man right now, not running for my life with my worst enemy-”

“Quiet, we are not going to fight, you ridiculous woman. We are going to act normal and do our best to talk our way out of this situation,” he said calmly as the men sped their horses and closed in on the two of you. 

One man, the same man who didn’t stop staring at you the last time you saw him, led his horse directly in your path, causing Aemond to yank the reins of his horse. 

The horse skidded to a stop abruptly and you gripped Aemond’s hand as your heart began to gallop in fear. 

“Well hello again,” the man said with an all too knowing smile. 

You gulped. 

“Hello there, what a pleasant surprise to see you again,” Aemond replied. 

The men chuckled darkly and you shivered. 

Aemond placed a hand on your thigh and stroked his thumb back and forth in an effort to reassure you. 

“It certainly is a truly pleasant surprise,” one of the men practically purred. 

“Well, perhaps we can schedule a third meeting, but otherwise my wife and I have to get going,” Aemond said. 

“Your wife, huh? I mentioned she looked familiar, didn’t I?”

“Hm,” Aemond hummed noncommittally. 

You began to feel queasy and perhaps slightly lightheaded. 

“Well, now there’s a ransom out for a runaway bride. The description matches your wife exactly.” 

Your breaths became shallow as the men leered at you. 

Aemond chuckled in a way that made him appear completely unconcerned. 

“I am sorry to inform you that my wife and I have been married for years, so you must be mistaken,” he replied. 

“Really? Because I think we would’ve heard if a Targaryen got married. Isn’t that right, Prince Aemond?,” the dark haired man said. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

You wish you were better at this. 

Say something. Say anything, you screamed at yourself. 

You were frozen, you were frozen, and you clung to Aemond’s hand as your only lifeline in your fear. 

Good gods, you were tired of being afraid. It wasn’t just the cold terror you were experiencing. No, dread and fear had been a part of your life ever since Aemond had walked out of it when you were young. You feared rejection, your duties in life, your future. 

So you made a decision right then and there, with tears pooling in your eyes, that you would never be afraid again. 

You would fight, you would become a fighter, a warrior, whatever it took. Starting here and now. 

“What do you want from us?” you asked sharply. 

The men laughed once again and instead of fear slicing through you, it was anger. 

“Well we would like a payday, pretty lady,” one of the men from the back said and they all gave you predators smiles. 

“And I would like to go one day without a man being an absolute prick,” you snapped back. 

The men’s faces hardened. 

“Perhaps we could come to some sort of arrangement,” Aemond said and he gripped your waist. 

“How about we capture you and sell you for ransom?” the man teased back. 

“Not fucking again,” you said with gritted teeth. 

You reached behind you and slowly pulled Aemond’s dagger out of the sheath at his waist. 

His fingers brushed yours, but he didn’t stop you. 

You weren’t certain what his plan contained, surely he had one, but you were sick of waiting. 

Particularly after the men laughed in a way that made your skin crawl. 

“She’s got a mouth on her. I like that,” one of the men said. 

The knife flew from your hand and buried itself in the chest of the man blocking the path. 

“Shit,” Aemond hissed as he snapped the reins and the horse launched herself forward. 

The man slid off his horse with a thud, the horse neighed loudly in a panic and rose on its hind legs but you, Aemond, and your horse were already passing by. 

The other men stared in shock which gave your horse enough time to get past the group of harassers. 

Then the shouting began. 

Aemond pulled out his sword as he shouted, “Take the reins!” 

You did as he ordered and snapped them once more, the horse was now galloping at top speed. 

You knew it wouldn’t be enough. 

There was a clearing in the trees up ahead and as you saw a large shadow over it you looked back at Aemond, eyes widened in a silent question. 

He nodded and you threw up a prayer to any gods listening that the two of you would make it. 

His sword clashed with a man who caught up to the two of you. 

You yanked another knife out of the saddle bag and turned just in time to see another man catching up with his sword out and pointing at you. 

You aimed and let the dagger fly from your hand and watched it reach its mark directly between the attacker’s eyes. 

You gasped a sigh of relief at the same time Aemond gutted the other man. 

The clearing in the trees was closer. 

“Do you have any more daggers?” you asked.

“No,” he said through gritted teeth as he engaged in another sword fight. 

The wind tore at you as the horse raced at a breakneck speed. 

Finally, just as the other men were nearly caught up and Aemond felled another foe, you reached the break in the trees and your horse sprinted through the clearing. As soon as you were clear, Vhagar appeared to fall from the sky with an ear shattering roar as she landed between you and your pursuers, crushing a few of them.

The ground shook hard enough that your teeth clattered and you tightened your grip on your horse. 

“Dracarys Vhagar!” Aemond yelled. 

Her roar turned into flame hot enough to turn your tormentors into ashes and you gasped in relief, a few tears slipping from your eyes.

You led the horse to slow and stopped and stared at Vhagar with wide eyes, both fearful and in awe. 

Aemond slid off the horse before he helped you as well.

“Are you alright?” Aemond asked worriedly as he pulled you into his arms. 

You allowed yourself to sink into his embrace for a count of five before you pulled away and pointed a finger in his face. 

“I’m not done fighting. I am incredibly angry with you,” you said strongly. 

He blinked in surprise. 

“For capturing you and getting you into this situation?” he asked cautiously. 

“No,” you said with a dismissive wave of the hand, “I’m over that. I think my actions have shown that.” 

He raised his eyebrow at you, his only show of confusion. 

“I’m angry at you for abandoning me,” you said heatedly as your breathing quickened and your eyes stung with tears. 

“What?” he asked, his tone suddenly flat. 

“You decided that obtaining a dragon meant you no longer had to concern yourself with the likes of those below you. And that is fuc-”

“That’s your version of the story?” he chuckled spitefully. 

He leaned down so his gorgeous face was closer to yours. 

“High talk for someone who was disgusted at being associated with a cripple,” he said, his lip curled in anger and his teeth clenched. 

“What?” it was your turn to ask. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his anger becoming something vicious. 

“I wouldn’t. I would never-” 

“Aegon told me! He heard you talking to one of the other noble children and-” 

“He lied! Your brother is a lying piece of shit!” 

You were both breathing heavily, your faces merely inches apart. 

“I…. He lied?” he asked. 

“Yes, you asshole,” you seethed. 

He licked his lips as he stared at you thoughtfully, the anger deflating from his face. 

“I would never drop you just because I got a dragon, you were my closest and most cherished friend,” he said. 

“And you were mine,” you admitted. “That’s why I was so angry and rude to you… which I regret.”

“I find myself full of feelings of regret as well. I was unaware of your side of the story,” he said softly. 

“All that time wasted,” you said. 

“Hm,” he hummed in agreement. 

His face was still close to yours. There was a heat between the two of you that had not dissipated just because the anger was gone. Then you remembered your agreement with yourself. 

You took a deep breath, “I don’t plan on wasting any more time. I’ve lived my life in fear for far too long. Fear of being rejected, fear of becoming too attached to anyone else, fear of fulfilling my duty, and fear of the consequences of not fulfilling it. Fear of my own feelings, my own wants. But not anymore. I’ll face whatever the future and duty expects of me but today….” 

“Today?” he prompted as he glanced down at your lips, then met your gaze once more. 

“Today I am going to act on my feelings and desires for once and face the consequences later.” you said as you placed a hand on his chest. 

“And what are your desires?” he practically purred as he cupped your cheek with his hand. 

“Kiss me,” you breathed out. 

His lips pressed into yours, and it wasn’t a slow gentle kiss like you had always imagined your first kiss with Aemond to be, no it was fiery and all consuming. As his lips moved against yours you did what you had always wanted to do, and tangled your fingers in his silken white hair. 

He groaned softly as you tightened your grip and he hauled you impossibly closer against the hard planes of his body. 

At the brush of his tongue against yours, you whimpered with desire. 

A shiver went all the way down your spine and your toes curled as he consumed you. 

Vhagar roared and you pulled back from him with a laugh. His crooked smile melted your heart and he nudged his nose against yours and kissed you once more, softly and sweetly. 

As he pulled back you grinned at him. 

He didn’t release you from his embrace, which you were grateful for. But, he did take a deep breath as he stared deeply into your eyes. 

“I must tell you that I was not completely honest with you before,” he said, his voice low and vulnerable. 

“About what?” you asked carefully. 

“I do know who my brother intends to betroth you to,” he replied. 

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, wordlessly asking him to explain, even as you extricated yourself from his grasp and crossed your arms. 

He pressed his lips together. 

“You are to marry me,” he said finally. 

“What?” you gasped. 

To be continued....

[emiko-matsui]

making a brave post btw. i have found the way taylor swift has been treated by men and the general public shameful and i love her music a lot, i was very happy when she took her image back and saw the internet start to turn in her favour, but then it did and she's everyone's favourite person for the past few years and i still love her music, but i find her lack of accountability and double standards disgusting and she's started to show sides of herself that should be deeply criticised but is now being looked over for how she's been genuinely wronged in the past. there is no reason you can possibly invent to defend having been the single highest co2 emissions producer and pursuing quiet legal action against the kid trying to bring that to light. for example. btw. im still gonna listen to her music because im a normal fucking person who's not responsible, but i can't trust a damn person on her side or her until there's some actual fucking accountability or action to make change or at the very fucking least addressing you have done something wrong which it seems she is incapable of doing

[sansloii]

HOW WOULD YOUR OCS BE MISINTERPRETED BY FANDOM ( stolen from @arcxnumvitae )

Mikah

Exaggerate all their personality traits--especially the Anger. Goes from pillow princess that does no wrong to someone that will punch holes in the wall in the "this is never sexy at all what is wrong with you" sorta way.

Also apparently gaslights their romantic partners. A lot. Because they can be manipulative with targets and people they are actively stealing from. No I will not show proof of that because google is free :)

Penny

Angry Latina that has absolutely zero nuance and is hyper aggressive when Mikah and Evan so much as breathe. so she hates them.

Hates men in general, honestly, because she's a lesbian and cannot be friends with them. Every time she makes a face that is not 100% happy around them is zoom and enhanced because they want to prove that she's a man-hating woman.

Wynn

The way they would disrespect this sweet man hurts my spirit because these people would:

Make him stupid despite multiple instances of Wynn navigating difficult personal conversations and making complex choices. This includes the whole babying thing that would make my skin crawl.

he is quiet so therefore he doesn't speak. No like he's mute. Cannot communicate at all. this also means he's slow for some reason

Also make him hypersexual with no fucking rhyme or reason. They see "he can be rough" and that's it. Off to the races. they would completely butcher him and explain it with "instinct"

Evan

Pussy/Bussy being the therapy he needs he needs to stay in a relationship because of the VERY FEW relationships he's in that started with sex. Like legitimately saying, with their whole chest, that he'll immediately become Better and ignore, the disagreements, and the ghosting, and the lack of accountability, and the shit explanations for his behavior--

also turns him into a raging drunk or something (because of his dependency on alcohol)... like specifically that. and make him super sleazy and incapable of taking no as an answer.

Dakota

Also hates men

people would 100% ship her with Joseph despite Joseph being married. And then turn around and misunderstand their familial relationship, ship them HARDER, and then start drama which results in calling her a homewrecker.

they would draw this woman with MASSIVE tits. And if you correct them, you're an awful human being for erasing her big boobs. even though she doesn't? have size triple-E knockers???? but you're wrong for that.

did i mention she hates men? because she does.

Joey

no personality traits outside of "Lera is my soulmate". You'd think Lera literally has his hand up Joey's ass with the way people describe his behavior

Or! Dakota has her hand up his ass. Like Lera and Koko take turns

they would not know what to do with his trauma. and that scares me so i will not think about it.

Roderick

He's a biker so of course he's a misogynist and sexist :) his DEAD wife was the exception :) no I will not provide proof of that because google is free and i am never wrong

that's it. that's the take.

Andris

uwu he's misunderstood. Of COURSE charming and manipulating your partners is bad but. He's hot. So if they don't forgive him for it, it's their fault and we should shit all over those characters.

on the flipside: he's the literal devil in human skin and super predatory. he is just waiting to assault someone.

very polarizing. People either love him or will tell you you're going to hell for liking him. and the next day, you have a callout written about you because you like him so therefore, you're okay with and condone everything he does. It doesn't matter if you understand he's an awful person and can objectively look at him--you're a piece of shit.

[caffeineandsociety]

The most insidious thing about intracommunity transphobia is how much it still relies on stereotypes of someone's AGAB - trans women and fems and other presumed-AMABs are scary, creepy, burgeoning, sex-obsessed perverts; trans men and mascs and other presumed-AFABs are frivolous, selfish, shallow airheads who just want attention and can't handle REAL problems and/or gross ugly creepy girlfailures who are lashing out and preying on other people because it's the only way to get control over their lives -

And very few people are willing to acknowledge this, because they will SAY "trans women are women, trans men are men, trans people are who they say they are" until they're blue in the face - or rather, until they come up with justifications for these stereotypes that fit into that framework.

It's not subtle misgendering and deep-seated queerphobia to immediately believe the worst of any trans girl who happens to like My Little Pony and Sailor Moon and exists in the general vicinity of teenagers; no, it's TOTALLY a one-off, pay no mind to the fact that the person in question has uncritically believed every single one of these claims that's crossed their social media feed. If anything, it's fighting the idea that women are all weak, powerless, delicate flowers who can never actually hurt anyone! Right?

It's not subtle misgendering and deep-seated queerphobia to write trans men and mascs' issues off as a lesser, "diet" transphobia that's never done anything worse than making people sad on the internet, that's not a persistent stereotype of women from both outside of AND within the queer community; it's just a means of trying to get men to stop talking over women, nor is it transphobia try to talk trans men and mascs out of transitioning because "testosterone is poison" - nor does that idea rebound back around to hurt pre- or non-HRT transfems for that matter - it's TOTALLY true that T will cause roid rage but ONLY in trans men and mascs for, uh, some reason. Absolutely none of this "sit down and shut up and let people insist you're just confused or be written off as a screeching predatory harpy who's an inherent danger to women and children" is a recycled lesbophobic stereotype, how dare the person calling out this behavior misgender trans men by implying as much!?

But of course, pointing this out is just "trying to have it both ways", trying to claim the authority presumed of a man AND the fragility presumed of a woman, right?

Just. Fuck. On the one hand, I need to reiterate, as I always do, that queer people are NOT the primary source of queerphobia - these root ideas aren't born within the queer community, and in fact despite the loud minority, ARE less common here than within cishet society, however much it may sometimes feel otherwise because we're basically each other's captive audience.

On the other hand, we have to look at what's happening here. When this happens as an intracommunity thing, it REALLY fucking sucks because 1) someone who will double down into infinity on any of these ideas does, indeed, have basically a captive audience that they're free to abuse, and 2) it's all predicated on the idea that the MOMENT you come out as queer, you're totally incapable of holding queerphobic ideas, or at the very least you can't REALLY HURT people with them. "What, you're really accusing me, a flaming faggot/a whole lesbian/an actual trans person, of being queerphobic?" says the guy who insists on sticking to the narrative that most gay trans men are obnoxious screeching yaoi fangirl chasers who just want to trick him into straight sex disguised with one degree of abstraction; or the girl who's constantly trying to get her trans girlfriend to quiet down and stop asserting herself, flinching in terror the moment she shows the slightest negative emotion, despite never having acted this way with her cis exes; or the person who immediately pivoted from seeing their nonbinary friend as totally fitting into their "women and nonbinary people" community to seeing them as a creepy predator trying to invade the space the moment they found out they had a deep voice and facial hair. While these are NOT things that all queer people do, they ARE things that most if not all queer people will be on the receiving end of at some point or another if they spend enough time in the community, and that's a problem! Especially since people who have a queer-positive- and feminist-sounding justification, and especially who think of themselves as incapable of doing this kind of harm, are sometimes even capable of justifying saying and doing shit that, coming from anyone else, would be blatantly obvious as a hate crime.

And once again, in conclusion, I must repeat, this is not an identity-linked issue, because guess what - assuming it is is part of the problem!

[babyloniastreasure]

Do I hear you are doing a character meme??? How about Ozymandias? Just out of curiosity

I LOVE OZY ahem i mean. sure yeah

Sexuality Headcanon: this man fucks. historically. men women both neither. if you exist and you're both interested in getting jiggy with it, the deal's on. his sexuality is: Yes

Gender Headcanon: i do see him as cis, but like. cis+. he gets gender in a way most cis folks do not. if you asked him he'd probably say something ridiculous like "My Gender is as Magnanimous as the Sun!"

A ship I have with said character: i am incapable of shipping Ozymandias with anyone other than his beloved wife. Do you have any idea how much he loved Nefertari? The man wrote poems about her to people. He was ready to kill his master that one time when he was summoned by her necklace, meaning her tomb had been broken into and robbed. The man LOVES his wife!!!!!!! that being said. Arash. I ship him with Arash Kamangir

A BROTP I have with said character: Gilgamesh. 100%. I love how high and mighty and regal and silly they are about their kingship and glory and their connection with the sun and the gods. They're a couple of huge dorks and I love them together. I'd watch an entire spin off about them

A NOTP I have with said character: I'm not sure I have a NOTP for Ozy. None really come to mind

A random headcanon: He takes at least three hours to get ready for the day. At LEAST. Washing, pruning, anointing himself, dressing, accessorizing, etc. He spends excessive amounts of time on the whole ordeal

General Opinion over said character: [looks at the Ozymandias nesoberi next to me] I am a casual Ozymandias enjoyer for certain. [looks at the seated figurine on my bookshelf] I think he's really interesting and a compelling character, in particular I'm a huge fan of how he's written in the Round Table Singularity as both a powerful, ruthless king, but a generous one when it counts, and also how human he is in quiet moments. [looks at Ozy rubber keychain]......I wish we got more of him in FGO, he's REALLY neat and he has so much potential [looks at Ozy print]...uhm,, also he's sexy. I love Ozymandias

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

But the citizens of Westview do know about it. How are they going to get them to be quiet? I assume they had friends/family outside of Westview who couldn't contact them for a week or so during the time the Hex was up. What will they tell them? Will they lie to them as well? This sounds a little convoluted.

Not to mention, it is my understanding that Scott's book basically tells everything about the team, the missions, etc + Wanda is well-known and probably not well-liked (as per CW's news footage after Lagos), so the people know about her and her powers.

Even if the Hex is not covered at all in Scott's book, it still means the general populace is privy to a lot of information regarding missions and the like, so why hide this one specifically?

Oddly enough I'd like it better if the people of 616 knew about it all. Wanda admitted she had been wrong, that she had made a mistake and she had hurt those citizens... and now S.W.O.R.D. will cover it up? If it's to avoid going public with Hayward's crimes then perhaps I could understand it, but... I'm not sure I like this.

Also, does anybody remember White Vision is still out there?!

It sounds like a bad idea or an attempt to give the Avengers a bad name. This was Wanda, not the team, and she had a mental breakdown. Funny how what Ronin did is not even brought up as something that needs to be covered up, huh? I'm trying to understand why this even needs to be kept a secret and I can't figure out why unless they don't want to be seen as incapable of controlling the enhanced (given that the Accords have been repealed).

All in all, this would be grounds for another TWS if anything but I unfortunately doubt Marvel is capable of pulling off anything even remotely similar to that level of quality these days since they're going hard on the pro status quo narrative as of late.

But goddamn what wouldn't I give for a story where S.W.O.R.D. hides this to give the team a bad name and fuck up Sam as Cap, then when the truth comes out the Potus (remember the Secret Invasion speech, anyone?) and allies go hard against nonhuman beings and we get the introduction of the X-Men along with the Avengers teaming up again with Sam leading to take S.W.O.R.D down. Basically another TWS but with Sam as Cap. Gimme, gimme 😜

[more-than-a-princess]

"Half the men in this room wish you were on their arm tonight." Regulus

Flirting Sentences - Accepting!

It was part of the deal, she knew, that came with being a princess: with all the positive change she tried to help create in the world, opportunities and initiatives to propel Novoselic forward while honoring tradition, and ensuring its citizens were happy, healthy, and cared for, there was also the part of it she tended to dislike. Namely, all of the parties and balls that were a thinly-veiled opportunity for the rich and powerful to see and be seen. Sure, they might have a charity loosely attached to it, but it was mostly a parade of money, preferably old and steadfast through generations, and the authority it wielded. 

Still, she was expected to smile, await introductions, pose for the necessary photos and, if her parents badgered her into it, accept dances from men she would have never looked twice at due to their entitlement and complete opposite sense of values. A trophy to be put on display, she grimaced as she clutched a glass of champagne: it was a ballroom she was at least familiar with, residing in the manor of some Novosonian count who wanted to both launch an initiative to fund some medical research while, truthfully, desiring to show off his remodeled and restored country manor (that, if Sonia remembered correctly, cost him nearly 25 million pounds to complete). But she knew the quiet nooks and corners, when she could convince her private secretary and security detail for a few minutes' peace. To sip her drink, smooth over the front of her forest green gown, and remind herself why she was there.

To make the family look good, to make her father look good. Personal quibbles were set aside for the sake of politeness, at least when she felt she was under the microscope of high society.

"Half the men in this room wish you were on their arm tonight."

Sonia half-gasped, half-choked on her champagne, managing a ladylike recovery as she discreetly swallowed the sip in her mouth. She was so sure she was alone, well away from prying eyes and men who saw her as a prize to be won: a pretty girl and a monarchy to go with her, a country they deemed fit to be run only by men. A woman was too emotional, too fragile, too incapable for the job.

Well. She had every intention to prove them wrong one day, and that included never settling for someone who treated her like an object to be possessed, to be controlled and manipulated. And as she turned to face the man who addressed her, Sonia couldn't deny the feeling of unease that flooded over her. She didn't know him, and yet his voice, expression, and attitude were terribly unappealing. Just another man looking to own her.

At least she had etiquette on her side: regardless of her distaste, he was still a stranger to her, and strangers needed to be brought before her by her staff for proper introductions. "Sorry, but I do not believe we have been introduced," She replied, polite yet firm. Hopefully clear enough that he'd understand this was a rejection unless she was forced to interact with him. "Please, do excuse me."

She'd need to find another place to hide, or go back to her royal duties. Either way, they seemed far more enticing than being chatted up by the man who had approached. Something about him, Sonia thought as she turned and walked away, didn't feel right.

[fairiewines]

whether he wore a crown made of jewels or leaves he was still a man and cauldron knows how many of them elspeth has had to deal with, their never satisfied gaze, their wandering hands how cliché yet utterly expected of a high lord. "such a charming man", a tight smile, flaring of her eyes as she takes him in. as far as matches for their family went this one was rather superb. her father had been incessant with his gloating, shouting the news of adreline's engagement to anyone who would listen as if she were a mere possession than a woman. but such was the way of the yarrow's, daughters should repay their father and mother. "ah, i knew that decorum could only last for so long", tongue clucks against the roof of her mouth, the rather tame insult rolling right off her shoulders. she has been called much worse by lesser men. "you men seem incapable of sticking to anything for longer than three seconds, i suppose it has to do with your general lack of . . . devotion." she would have said intelligence, yet to so blatantly accuse the high lord of being stupid was not a wise move. "do you not pay attention to the reputation you have earned? or is this palace of yours truly numbing your mind? i know about all those little encounters you have had with women in the past. what is to say you won't continue?" adreline was in possession of a quiet beauty, a gentle nature and rather naive sense of how life should be. astarion would ruin her. "but you are forgetting that i am a guest of yours, high lord and you, the host, were nowhere to be seen. could you truly blame a woman for needing some fresh air? for wanting to explore these gardens you seem so enamoured by?"

suggestion that he'd been off in the woods meeting a mistress is completely ridiculous to the male. though he most certainly was no saint when it came to enticing fae, he was no fool either. destroying such a marriage proposal would go beyond disappoint and broken hearts ⸻ it could place the courts on the brink of war. while many high lords broke their solemn vows before they were even made, astarion had been raised by a noble father. one that loved and remained loyal to his mate. the high lord had playthings, but those were long gone now that adreline had entered the picture. though love may never blossom between the two, there were worse fates. "i'll make sure annunciate better next time if it pleases you." because there would be a next time. the two would be perpetually stuck in the same room for centuries. "even shrews have suitors," he points out. elspeth would marry easily with a face as beautiful as hers, it was her mouth that remained the trouble. brow raises at her threat, devilish grin on full display. "and what makes you think i dishonor your sister ? am i not allowed to wander my own gardens . . . much like you are ?"

[leggerefiore]

💼Larry General Romance HCs🏢

written for a friend obsessed with this tired salaryman

cw: minor scarviol spoilers

------

🍙 He's painfully average, with little time for himself. His duties for the Paldean league consume him, and Geeta doesn't care to let up on him. You are likely someone who just challenged the league or a regular at the Treasure Eatery. Either way, he comes to enjoy your presence in his life. He is normal, but he admits this change is acceptable.

🍙 PDA is never something he initiates, and admittedly would prefer not to engage with it. He is busy. His work never stops, seemingly. He's stiff. He can't stop you from clinging to him, however. Larry will ask you to stop at most, but otherwise stands there with a stoic expression, accepting his fate. You are hugging him, giving him a kiss, and wishing him a good day. This is inevitable. (He eventually moves from neutral to silently enjoying it. He just needs an adjustment period.)

🍙 In private, he's much the same, but more lenient. Larry is always stiff, but here there are no eyes, and he can somewhat relax. You want to hug him and kiss him now? That's fine. He even gives you a kiss to the cheek as a greeting. Though, you always retaliate with a kiss on the lips. He's indifferent to cuddling, but it grows on him. Larry is pretty quiet at home, but occasionally, he'll remind that he does love and care for you.

🍙 You will tell him to stand up to Geeta more about his personal wants, but he simply refuses and sighs. He prefers the status quo. It is calming and relaxing, but always a bit concerning with his preference. Larry is quite stuck in his ways and in a morbid sense, he kind of enjoys the pressure. He doesn't like being anything more than he is, but he does somewhat enjoy his job. (Even if Geeta doesn't believe it.)

🍙 Dating you brings on a new ordinary for him. Most men his age are married and have children, so this adds another layer of mundane to him. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you. He enjoys the mundane and embraces himself as completely bland and average. Larry likes you, too. This is simply something he wholeheartedly enjoys. (You get an occasional smile from him and oddly awkward, yet loving words.)

🍙 Dates are to the Treasure Eatery and nowhere else. Where else do you go, after all? Well, he's willing to try other restaurants in Medali, too. It's a bit endearing to see him enjoy different meals and clearly relax a little. He pulls his tie a little looser and lets his shoulders drop. You smile at the sight often. Occasionally, you do convince him to try other things. A quiet walk just outside of Medali lets you both see the wild pokemon. It's always a lovely sight to see a Toedscool standing around while Larry gives it a disgusted look. The Meowths do intrigue him, luckily. The walk is spent quietly enjoying nature and other before his stomach loudly growls. Back to the restaurants you go.

🍙 This guy is physically incapable of getting jealous. The best you will get is a sigh and him asking them to leave on the basis they are being annoying. He trusts you because you would have to literally pick him out of your own volition. There's no reason for him to be jealous. If you get jealous toward people being flirty with him, he will reassure you that he has absolutely no interest in dating anyone outside of you. He just doesn't care. He likes you; why would he go after anyone else? Larry just isn't one for strong emotion in general.

🍙 If you're a trainer, do not invite him to battle. He's tired and been told off overtime. Larry may oblige you occasionally, but otherwise he is just exhausted. He doesn't mind listening to you go on about battle tactics, however. His job still does involve it, and being an elite four member does require him to be somewhat innovative. He may even give you a random tip from his experience, too. Your passion does remind him of what originally got him into battling, however, and he does find himself finding his challengers more entertaining than before. Your discussions come to his mind and everything feels just a bit more diverse.

🍙 He's not a big user of pet names. A rare 'dear' may come from him, but he ultimately views calling someone by their first name a form of intimacy. It's just not his thing, but he does try. When they are used, it's usually in a moment where he's overcome with emotion in some way.

🍙 Overall, he's a pretty normal guy to be in a relationship with. Not terribly exciting, but that's what he prefers. Larry is a relaxing and easy guy to get along with. There is a funny prestige of dating such a powerful trainer, yet there is no reason for it at the same time. You'll like find yourself falling into a pretty normal routine, but that's just life with Larry. At least you get a Komala to dote on at home and get to watch his raptor bother him to feed them by pecking at his hair. Honestly, there's not much of a bad side with him maybe excluding his preference for things to remain the same.

[gatheringbones]

[“Jails and prisons are designed to break human beings, to convert the population into specimens in a zoo—obedient to our keepers, but dangerous to one another. In response, imprisoned men and women will invent and continually invoke various and sundry defenses. Consequently, two layers of existence can be encountered within almost every jail or prison. The first layer consists of the routines and behavior prescribed by the governing penal hierarchy. The second layer is the prisoner culture itself: the rules and standards of behavior that come from and are defined by the captives in order to shield themselves from the open or covert terror designed to break their spirits.

In an elemental way, this culture is one of resistance, but a resistance of desperation. It is, therefore, incapable of striking a significant blow against the system. All its elements are based on an assumption that the prison system will continue to survive. Precisely for this reason, the system does not move to crush it. (In fact, it sometimes happens that there is an under-the-table encouragement of the prisoners’ subculture.) I was continually astonished by the infinite details of the social regions that the women in the House of Detention considered their exclusive domain. This culture was contemptuously closed to the keepers. I sometimes wandered innocently through the doors and found myself thoroughly disoriented. A telling example happened on my second day in population. A sister asked me, “What did you think of my grandfather? He said he saw you this morning.” I was sure I had misheard her question, but when she repeated it, I told her she must be mistaken, because I had no idea who her grandfather was. Besides, I hadn’t had any visitors that day. But the joke was on me. I was in a foreign country and hadn’t learned the language. I discovered from her that a woman prisoner who had come by my cell earlier in the day was the “grandfather” to whom she was referring. Because she didn’t seem eager to answer any questions, I contained my curiosity until I found someone who could explain to me what the hell was going on.

A woman a few cells down gave me a fascinating description of a whole system through which the women could adopt their jail friends as relatives. I was bewildered and awed by the way in which the vast majority of the jail population had neatly organized itself into generations of families: mothers/wives, fathers/husbands, sons and daughters, even aunts, uncles, grandmothers, and grandfathers. The family system served as a defense against the fact of being no more than a number. It humanized the environment and allowed an identification with others within a familiar framework.

In spite of its strong element of escapism and fantasy, the family system could solve certain immediate problems. Family duties and responsibilities were a way in which sharing was institutionalized. Parents were expected to provide for their children, particularly the young ones, if they could not afford “luxury items” from commissary.

Like filial relationships outside, some sons and daughters had, or developed, ulterior motives. Quite a few of them joined certain families because the material benefits were greater there.

What struck me most about this family system was the homosexuality at its core. But while there was certainly an overabundance of homosexual relationships within this improvised kinship structure, it was nevertheless not closed to “straight” women. There were straight daughters and husbandless, i.e., straight, mothers.

I recall with fondness a young woman of sixteen, with a very intense beauty, who told me plainly and simply one day that she was going to consider me her mother. Although I shared my commissary with her (and others as well) when she didn’t have enough money in her account, she never once asked me for anything. She was quiet, serious, and very curious about the Black Liberation Movement. My obligations to her seemed to consist primarily of carrying on discussions with her about the movement.”]

angela davis, an autobiography

[pagetreader-archived]

"We just want peace, Princess...we just want to be able to live as ourselves and on our own terms. That's all. We never meant to hurt anybody."

But they had. Many Patriots, whether their superior officers condoned it or not, had hurt people. They’d condemned those who would not support their cause and treated them as a sickness that needed snuffing out. When she’d visited the hospital in New York shortly after her arrival, Daenerys had seen not only wounded soldiers but Loyalists who had been met with violence simply for disagreeing with the Rebel Cause. 

One couple had sustained wounds after being pulled from their carriage while traveling the countryside and beaten by rebel sympathizers before they were tarred and feathered, and left on the road with all their possessions taken. Another young man had been stabbed while sweeping the outside of his Loyalist grandfather’s general store before the assailant threw a Molotov into the window, setting the establishment on fire. Contrary to popular belief, there were victims of cruelty on both sides. 

While she was being forced to marry a Patriot for the sole reason of rendering her politically useless to her father, thereby humiliating him to some degree, Daenerys knew that she had to look at her fiance from a humanized view. He was, after all, simply a man at the end of the day. For now, she needed to cast aside their differences and make peace if she was going to survive this. Being dragged in kicking and screaming would be of no help. No. She was going to face this with courage and grace, the way one ought to. 

Benjamin locked eyes with her, his expression softer than before, "I know this is...w-what we have done to you is vile, but I hope you know we're not all this way. In fact, I would argue most of the men I work with aren't despicable...we're just acting according to war -- or rather, what will get us taken seriously."

“Not everything need be solved with violence…but I understand to some degree what you mean,” she answered with a quiet sigh, “Perhaps man is incapable of abstaining entirely from violence since our fall from perfection, but I don’t believe that it is the only way.” 

In her mind, violence was reserved for those who purposefully inflicted violence on others – to punish them in the same manner they’d done without shame. If Daenerys were able to make decrees, she would see to it that those who harmed those they deemed lesser than themselves were the ones who would die screaming. To answer injustice with justice. 

For now, however, forging something resembling harmony between her and her reluctant spouse was of the utmost importance. Thankfully, Benjamin seemed like minded. 

"I don't wish to quarrel," he confessed. "So long as you respect my principles, I will respect yours...Within reason." 

He offered her a slight smile, prompting her brow to quirk. Benjamin was perhaps the first man to ever offer her his hand to shake, deeming her worthy of such respect, "I will adhere to any and all of your boundaries, Princess. Name them, and they will be done, but again: within reason." 

“Why Major Tallmadge, I do believe you’ve managed to make your company almost pleasant,” she replied in good humor, taking his hand firmly, “Thank you for your cooperation, as limited as it might be. None of this will be in my favor, but better I find myself attached to you than a man who would mean me harm.” 

His lips curled into a more rueful expression, "Unfortunately, releasing you doesn't seem to be an option. We might as well make the best of this."

“It’s as you said. You don’t mean to hurt anyone. You're just acting according to war,” she reminded coolly, the quotation of his words acting as the sealant of her fate.

“I find all that quite difficult to believe, especially considering it has become increasingly apparent you’d rather I keep my opinions to myself."

This woman was confounding. Had he misjudged the royal court? Did they actually allow their womenfolk to run about, freely snapping at their superiors and judging them without so much as a proper introduction?

Unfortunately, Daenerys was not finished with her slander. "I’d be shocked if any woman who found herself saddled to you managed to speak her mind freely without finding herself crushed beneath your seemingly massive ego.” 

"Seemingly massive?" Benjamin echoed, unable to help himself. "Well! Consider me equally shocked that you haven't yet formed a concrete opinion, given your quickness to belittle and mock my good intentions!"

Despite the physical distance between them, he could practically feel the heat smoldering from across the room. Both were equally nettled, incensed, and her hands curled as she declared, “I am their princess, a position that I take seriously, sir, whether or not they wish to have me –though I suppose they’ll have me if it means the desecration of my purity, and thereby my reputation."

Benjamin flinched at that, rolling his eyes skyward as if to cast out the very image. "You're wrong," he deflected. "His Excellency would never-"

"What’s worse, it is meant as a slight to my father, who has never once expressed a modicum of love toward me," she cut in. "To him, Major, I am a bargaining chip, a pawn, just as you are. Ultimately, this marital feat will accomplish very little for your cause. ”

She was right. Although having Daenerys in their power would send a message, it wasn't guaranteed to achieve anything other than mild humiliation. Women were viewed as weak and easily overpowered, so capturing her and setting fire to her purity would show very little in the long run, and least especially if the king truly didn't value her beyond what she could give.

Shoulders hunkering, Benjamin murmured, "We just want peace, Princess...we just want to be able to live as ourselves and on our own terms. That's all. We never meant to hurt anybody."

Or at least, that was what he told himself each night. That was the only way this whole damnable war, this whole bloody conflict could ever be palatable.

“Loathe is a strong word, Major,” Daenerys informed him. “I do not know you well enough to hate nor admire you. But I do appreciate your attempt at compassion. Perhaps I’ve been too hasty – too harsh in my judgment of you outside of your political stance…” 

Her hand was suddenly on his arm and Benjamin froze, stiffening in surprise. Could she truly mean it? Was there truly hope for a cease-fire of such emotional turmoil?

Turning his head to regard her, a lump formed in his throat as they locked eyes. "I thank you for saying that," he murmured. "I know this is...w-what we have done to you is vile, but I hope you know we're not all this way. In fact, I would argue most of the men I work with aren't despicable...we're just acting according to war -- or rather, what will get us taken seriously."

Daenerys' touch softened. "With the envoys and ambassador dead, I have very few people left in my corner, and while I don't expect you to support me politically, I hope we can at least try to be friendly toward one another despite our differences."

Darting his eyes in between her face and the floor, Benjamin curled his hands and offered a slow nod. "I don't wish to quarrel," he agreed. "So long as you respect my principles, I will respect yours..." Unbidden, a slight smile touched his mouth and he amended, "Within reason." Here, he offered her his hand to shake. "I will adhere to any and all of your boundaries, Princess. Name them, and they will be done, but again: within reason." His smile grew tragic. "Unfortunately, releasing you doesn't seem to be an option. We might as well make the best of this."

In truth, he pitied her. He knew what it was like to be uprooted and to start fresh -- to know no one in town, and be all alone. But for him, that had been school. This was Daenerys' new life.

[kyberphilosopher]

Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man. 

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off. 

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men. 

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

 * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot. 

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried. 

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one. 

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point. 

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day. 

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man. 

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn. 

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering. 

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard. 

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above. 

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you. 

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible. 

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman. 

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath. 

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do. 

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks. 

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?” 

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something. 

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that. 

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’. 

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch. 

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans. 

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even. 

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut. 

What’s wrong with you today? 

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again. 

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person. 

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark. 

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair. 

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins. 

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close. 

“When?” you question. 

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement. 

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine. 

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself. 

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half. 

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones. 

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response. 

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings. 

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused. 

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike. 

A man, as usual. 

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory. 

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will. 

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time. 

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand. 

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually. 

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment. 

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change. 

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all. 

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot. 

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank. 

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again. 

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all. 

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately. 

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth. 

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something. 

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last. 

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed. 

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away. 

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him. 

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around. 

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly. 

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly. 

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes. 

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time. 

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him. 

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl. 

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally. 

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it. 

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding. 

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject. 

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food. 

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat. 

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question. 

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond. 

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought. 

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible. 

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump. 

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one. 

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense. 

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend. 

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe. 

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt. 

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded. 

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help. 

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder. 

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes. 

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips. 

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly. 

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it. 

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building. 

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

That night, it rains. 

Thunder echoes, with  ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands. 

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes. 

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning. 

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it. 

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual. 

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think.  Please protect me. Please do this for me. 

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android. 

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are. 

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you. 

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now. 

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good. 

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor. 

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself. 

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes. 

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea. 

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators. 

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him. 

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy. 

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does. 

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying. 

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead. 

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second. 

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

[littlesparklight]

Because I'm incapable of seeing something that's shitty about Perseus without adding to my might-one-day-be Perseus fic, have some Polydektes;

Polydektes eyed his scribe, leaning forward and practically stabbing his hand towards the unfolded wax tablet in the man's hand.

"Well? What does it say?" He'd waited long enough for some upper hand, some way to proceed that didn't mean he'd have to do something so gauche as break into his brother's house with an armed contingent to escort his 'guest' out for her nuptials.

Guest, hah! Guesting anyone for nearly two decades by now would pale belief even among the most generous of hosts, and yet that was what his brother insisted the lovely Danae was, and what she insisted she was, nothing more, nothing less. And to be true, he did believe his brother hadn't made a concubine of the woman, despite that she was no less beautiful now than when she'd arrived on their island sixteen years ago. The woman was flawless, like a goddess among her mortal brethren, a single flower in an otherwise empty field of plain grass. She claimed she had a father who was alive and must be consulted before she married, yet refused to name him. Claimed she was a princess, and wouldn't willingly be made anyone's concubine, that it was an insult beyond life, and yet, again, she refused to name her supposed king - 'as long as my honourable and generous host is willing to keep me in his house'.

And his brother, his stupid, ridiculous, exhausting brother, had of course never wavered in his hospitality. His wife Clymene had, too, been frustratingly impeccable, apparently impervious to jealousy as well as bribery.

Now, none of that would matter any longer. Nearly three weeks ago, at the Festival of New Wine, he'd managed to approach his brother, Clymene, and the lovely Danae with her son without immediately being spotted, and overheard a most useful snatch of information. A clue to who Danae's father might be, as she'd spoken, with a quiet, aching sort of nostalgia that only made her lovelier and made him want to keep her so distracted in his bed her loveliness wouldn't yet be married by it, that she missed how Argos looked at this time of year. He'd been spotted moments later, pretending to no knowledge of what he'd overheard, but had sent a letter to the king of Argos only a couple days later.

If Danae was indeed the daughter of a king, and it was Argos she came from, unless she'd been married to the king of Argos but in that case he'd surely be directed to however her father was, he would now have what he needed to make Danae marry him. He was sure of it. The scribe cleared his throat, swallowing heavily as his gaze flicked between the tablet and Polydektes, finally bobbing his head.

"'My scepter bearing brother of Seriphos, greetings. Danae is indeed my daughter, born of my wife Eurydike and I, son of Abas. You have my permission to marry my daughter, taking your joy of her. The only bride price I would demand is that if she came to your island with a boy, who would have been about three years of age at the time, you have him killed, and kill any further sons you have by your new wife. The only reason I consigned my daughter to the elements to arrive at your island was due to an oracle, and I'm not about to risk it being fulfilled after it's finally being averted, by your gracious hand.' That's the end of the message, my lord."

Polydektes smiled, smacking the butt of the sceptre into the floor, ignoring his scribe and his pale-faced tension. The man was weak of stomach, but loyal.

Kill the boy?

Something he'd already been planning to do, though since Perseus had showed himself to be stronger than regular men when he'd been no more than twelve, the seemingly easy task had been decidedly more complicated since then. Being that strong, he was surely the son of a god - something which his grandfather had notably not mentioned. Perhaps Akrisios thought he would be weak enough to not dare such a deed, if he told the truth?

It couldn't be done simply, by mortals hands, even if they attempted to overwhelm the boy, definitely even stronger now just shy of twenty than he'd been at twelve, but there were other ways. Ways which would ensure the boy's father, if he was indeed a god, would have no reason to come after him, for it wasn't he who would have killed Perseus. And perhaps Perseus was just strong for no reason of divine ancestry, his grandfather putting child and mother in the chest that'd brought them to Serifos not for fear of the potentially divine father, but having enough conscience to not wish to kill kin directly.

It didn't matter. Whether Perseus' strength came from a divine father or merely blessed luck of human excellence, he'd take no chance. He'd simply find a way to trick the boy into some deed or another that'd be sure to kill him, and since he needed to plan for a wedding no matter what, he knew exactly how to go about it.

And if the old king of Argos thought he'd kill any sons he might get from the lovely Danae, he was gravely mistaken, whatever that oracle was. But then, what Akrisios wasn't told and wouldn't find out - until it was too late, if at all - wouldn't hurt him. Chuckling, Polydektes dismissed his scribe. Finally, this would be put to an end. Sixteen years after Danae's arrival, ten years of fruitless courting.

He'd show her what the place of a woman was, and she would come to enjoy it, for the life he could give her was no mean one. And she'd have new children, in time, to make up for the loss of her first one, ill-begotten as Perseus surely had been, no matter his father.