#and their relationships with whom the harm is being done to

[1lvaites]

ppl will write villains and then be like mmmm i don’t like that villainous thing they did <3 and change it / erase it

[meanbossart]

What are your thoughts/takes on Astarion's relationship with sex? How does that reflect on his relationship with Drow?

(Obvious disclaimer: this is just my opinion, and my goal is always to entertain myself - never to argue or be the most correct about canon interpretations or themes.)

Hm. So, something that I find very unique (and frankly, overlooked!) about Astarion's previews experiences, is that when speaking specifically about his M.O for luring marks for Cazador the majority of the encounters he seems to have had were not, primarily, "negative".

They weren't positive either, of course. There is no way around it: having sex against your will is rape. But in his case, the perpetrator was never inside the room. From the way he speaks of the people he slept with, he seems to hold a mixture of contempt and pity; but never anger; from the way he speaks of and with Sebastian, it even seems like, sometimes, perhaps in the early days of those 200 years he might have even allowed himself to indulge in small, brief attachments and hopes. Then, as fatigue settled in and the permanence of the situation hit him, I'm sure the motions became mechanized at best and agonizing at worst.

But I think whatever harm the experience has done to his sexuality or self-value, it's damage struck him tenfold in the concept of object permanence. Imagine it: throughout the course of two centuries, you are not allowed to form a connection with a single person who isn't damned to die later the same day. You never see the same face twice. You are never allowed to progress past impersonal first encounters. Astarion says he wants to be seen and known, but a reality that hurts almost more than being invisible is that there were probably thousands of people who would have loved to do that. But you ruined them as much as they ruined you.

I wholeheartedly believe that he was sick of sex, and that for decades to come there will be times when he still turns the lights off during the act, or, ideally, just says No Thank You and moves on, but the hypothetical that really haunts me is that other thing: the almost pavlovian association between sex and looming demise. That people are going to be taken away from you, so why bother being present?

This is a feeling he struggles with sorting through and vocalizing. And in turn, DU Drow often is under the assumption that this is all about sex, and about whether he truly wants it or not. This is yet another small theme in A Novel Experience but, in summary, for a while he still doubts Astarion's own agency to initiate or participate in it - this reduction of the issue as a matter of physical touch, while the big picture is much more complex.

And this does not always externalize in the far more palatably tragic "woe is me, everyone I love leaves" way. Sometimes Astarion still catches himself thinking of the ones he loves as disposable, and acting with due disregard for their lives like it's second nature.

But back on subject: he can have, does have, and likes sex. By finally being allowed to form a friendship and rapport with a sexual partner for whom he does not feel the need to perform to, he can finally enjoy the silly, the awkward, the gross and even the subpar aspects of sex with true intimacy; the anxiety sets after the fact, as he wonders about what comes next once you're out of his sight.

[chaconnehoon]

Behind closed doors- P.SH

✰ Boyfriend! Sunghoon x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Just a comfy night in with your boyfriend, who tries to keep his cool image despite what happens behind closed doors.

WC: 1.5k

Cw: Suggestive fluff(?) Pls do not read if you’re uncomfortable with anything even slightly sexual ! Or if you’re a minor !

A/N: Just something to make my existence known on this app! I’m done lurking, it’s time to unleash my inner writer(cue evil laugh)

Your boyfriend was never the type to go around boasting your relationship, especially the intimate parts. Of course he would brag about his beautiful girlfriend, and he’d feel his ego grow slightly when his friends praised your healthy relationship, but he never felt the need to show off in any particular way.

You however, are the complete opposite. Any chance you get, you’re bringing up your handsome and so talented boyfriend whom you are practically obsessed with. Of course, with a man like Sunghoon, who wouldn’t be? Your friend group always swore you and your boyfriend are the real “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, but you know your boyfriend is just as in love with you as you are with him.

That’s why you’re unfazed in situations like these; with your friends cracking jokes about how you’re the clingy obsessed girlfriend, while Sunghoon is the chill laidback boyfriend that somehow puts up with you. You know they mean know harm, and you’re actually glad they brought it up, knowing you can use this conversation against Sunghoon later, when you’re alone.

A big roar of laughter errupts from the group when the eldest makes a move towards the topic. “I mean, Jake is clingy and we can’t even deal with him! Props to you for dealing with your own little Jake everyday.” Heeseung laughs along with the crowd into his red solo cup before taking a sip. Sunghoon just rolls eyes and sits up before speaking, “At least my ‘little Jake’ is cute. Plus, you’re all just not use to someone being this down bad for you.” Sunghoon retorts and scoots his chair closer to yours before gently grabbing your hand that was in your lap.

“Hey!” Jake whines and sinks himself into the lawn chair like a child, “I’m cute.” He murmurs through pouted lips and looks at Sunghoon with puppy eyes. Sunghoon scoffs before whispering a “you wish” for only you and him to hear. You giggle lightly before taking your hand back from Sunghoon’s to grab your own red cup.

You look him directly in the eyes before speaking, “You know…” You trail off with a small smirk as Sunghoon widens his eyes before narrowing his gaze, still staring into the side of your head even when you turn to look away from him and into your group of friends. “Hoonie tends to be quite the needy one when it’s just us two.” You snicker and turn back to look at him, only to see him still staring right at your face, only this time with bright red cheeks. Seeing him so easily flustered makes your heart warm, knowing that you’re not lying about the way he acts in private at all.

You wink at your boyfriend and he sighs before focusing his gaze back into the bonfire. A few cheers and hollers are heard before someone is speaking again. “Is that true Hoonie? Is our Hoonie getting some princess treatment during alone time?” Jay teases and wiggles his eyebrows, causing Sunghoon to shake his head and run a hand over his face. “I hope you know you’re all so annoying.” Sunghoon pauses, “But never you my girl.” He turns to you and pets the side of your head, which earns a few more cheers before Jake is whining again, “Quit sweet taking her, we’re talking about you being the receiving one, not her!” He sounds offended for some reason and you think he’s maybe had one too many drinks tonight.

“What the hell, freak.” Sunoo’s upper lip lifts in disgust as he aims his insult towards Jake, however the conversation flips when Jake is standing up from his chair and flexing his arm that isn’t occupied by holding his cup. “Yup! A freak and proud! You know I’ll eat a-” before Jake could finish, Jay is slapping a palm over his mouth and guiding him back inside the house. “Alright! Seems like someone is way too intoxicated to have this conversation right now.” Jay voices your earlier thoughts while dragging Jake through the now open sliding door. “Or any conversation.” Heeseung is adding on while standing up from his chair and following the other two inside.

You and Sunghoon stand up and make your way towards the door until you hear Sunoo speaking from behind you. “It takes a powerful man to allow himself to be dominated in bed. Just saying.” You both turn around to see Sunoo cleaning up any extra trash with a light smile on his face. Exchanging glances, you just shrug and Sunghoon slowly nods his head before patting Sunoo on the back. “Yeah…thanks, goodnight Sun!” Sunghoon grabs your hand and rushes inside, pulling you with him.

✰

“You know, I don’t bring up your soft side to embarrass you, baby.” You set your phone down on Sunghoon’s desk and look back at him as he sits on his bed. “Hm?” He raises an eyebrow and tries to act like he isn’t understanding what you’re saying. You know him better than this though, and you know there’s a possibility of him being slightly embarrassed of you exposing him. “I know…I’m just usually quiet about our sex life. I don’t really let my friends know what’s going on.” He shrugs and gets comfortable in bed, laying down with his hands behind his head.

You smile softly and walk towards the bed, gently climbing on top of him to straddle his hips. “Yes, but there’s a reason for that.” You let the words out softly and play with this hoodie drawstrings, “Just like the reason you wear this hoodie when you want to cover up any marks I leave behind.” You feel his body get tense under you and know you’ve hit the nerve of what he’s most ashamed of.

Of course it’s different for a man to be even slightly submissive in bed. You don’t blame your boyfriend for being ashamed of that when it’s less socially acceptable. However, with such an open and comfortable friend group like the one you have, you know he shouldn’t feel ashamed for being treated good like he deserved. Even with Jake’s proud claims of being an ass eater, your friend group has never shamed each other of their sexual desires.

“You know they won’t actually judge you for what you like or don’t like in bed.” You’re looking up from his hoodie and tilting your head as if it’s a question. Sunghoon just nods his head and stares at his ceiling like he’s deep in thought. “So why do you hide it?” You’re practically whispering now like you’re afraid to hurt his feelings. “I dunno” Sunghoon mumbles lowly and you can feel the vibrations run through your body from on top of him.

Placing his hands on your hips, he slowly sits up and looks you in the eyes and takes a deep inhale in before speaking. “I guess I’ve always just told myself these things, but I’ve never heard anyone verbally confirm it before.” He looks away for a second, and then back into your eyes, this time with a more confident gaze and that’s when you know you’ve got him.

“So my big strong boyfriend has been afraid of his friends’ opinions this whole time?” You ask although you already know the answer. Before he can respond you laugh to yourself and speak again, “Even when Jake has admitted to whimpering and whining? Or Heeseung admitting he likes being handcuffed? Even Jay! Remember the other night? He told us about that older woman that he let slap him!” Sunghoon scrunches his nose in disgust at the thought of his friends’ intimate moments before letting out a laugh you knew felt good to release.

You could feel his body easing up and his grip on your hips lightened. You lean down towards his face, close enough to nudge your noses together and feel his lips when you talk. “Their opinions don’t really matter in the end.” You press a small kiss to his lips and pull away quickly. “What matters is you feeling good with me.”

You kiss him a bit longer this time before pulling away and speaking again, “Because you’re my beautiful boy. And you shouldn’t hide the marks I leave on your beautiful body.” You kiss him one last time, then drag your lips down his chin and trace them along his jaw in soft pecks. Reaching the sharp angle between his jaw and his neck, you lightly suck and nip at the skin and you feel him inhale sharply at the new sensation.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you impossibly close to his body and you think you can feel his heart beating against your own. You kiss him softly again, trapping his bottom lip between yours and lightly swiping your tongue across it. He parts his mouth slightly and whimpers at the feeling of your tongue softly brushing against his.

Maybe becoming a whimpering and submissive mess under you is something he thinks he needs to be ashamed of, but you know that when he’s with you, the last thing he worries about is what other people think. At this time, he knows he’s safe behind these closed doors, and he’s proud to be nobody’s boy but yours.

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (12)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer gets closer to the truth while she feels suffocated by the situation. wc: 4.3k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

a/n: Let me give you a long part as a token of my apology for being a slow writer. I hope this was worth the wait

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"WE BELIEVE WE ARE DEALING WITH A MALE OFFENDER IN HIS LATE 20s TO EARLY 30s," Aaron Hotchner announced, his voice loud and jarring. "Based on the crime scenes, the Unsub doesn't have a lot of experience as they were most likely done in a moment of rage."

The team stood in front of the bullpen, facing a room full of officers and agents scattered along the space. Pens clicked and notepads rustled around them as everyone prepared to add insights to their unfolding narrative.

Rossi, who stood by the evidence board, skimmed his eyes across the room. "It suggests someone who is impulsive and might have difficulty controlling urges. This could also be a sign of an underlying mental illness."

"It's likely that there is some kind of history there, either of abuse or trauma in their childhood," JJ added. "It seems that the Unsub may have difficulty connecting with or relating to others and may be socially isolated as a result. He would mostly like to keep to himself."

Spencer took a step forward and carried on with their profile of the unidentified suspect. "The Unsub might also have grown up in a deeply religious environment. Their beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading them to believe that they possess a unique calling to carry out their crimes as a way of punishment."

"Based on the victims, the Unsub has targeted specific people whom they believe have harmed one of our witnesses," Morgan added, his voice seeming to turn deeper as he continued, "Y/n L/n."

A jolt of electricity surged through Spencer's consciousness. The human mind really was a powerful thing. Somehow the simple sound of her name projected the memories he had of her and suddenly he was seeing her face, her radiant smile, her beautiful eyes—he was seeing her so clearly as if she were standing right before him.

But then Emily moved past him, jolting him awake from his reverie as she bumped against his shoulder. "The Unsub has a sense of loyalty to her that they are acting out these crimes as a desire for retribution on her behalf. They might believe that they have a connection or some kind of relationship with Ms. L/n."

"We believe the Unsub might know her personally," Hotch addressed, his eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanning around him. "Go through places where the witness is most likely to go. This could be her neighborhood, workplace, daily commute, and so on."

The atmosphere seemed to shift as he finally dismissed the room. Everyone rose from their seats, each one heading to their respective posts and assignments. It didn't take long for the phones to ring in the background, followed by the constant shuffle of feet as the entire space started to come alive.

And as Spencer turned back to his desk, a familiar man pushing the glass doors of the office suddenly caught his attention. His steps faltered while the man looked around the room as recognition hit him. Spencer walked over, addressing him as one of the witnesses. "Mr. Adler?"

The other man blew out a sigh of relief. "Eric, please." He entered the office and gave Spencer a look. "The people downstairs told me I could find you here."

"You were looking for me?" He frowned. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I hope so," Eric replied. "Has there been any missing person report lately?"

The confusion on his face grew prominent at the question. "Not that I know of. Why? Is someone you know missing?"

"A coworker of mine hasn't shown up to work and I can't contact any of his family members," he explained. "I'm starting to get worried."

"What's his name?"

"Oliver Walsh."

Having an eidetic memory helped him recall the name easily. His mind went through all the information he gathered these past few days and remembered the exact name written on the list of employees. "When did you last see him?"

"Three—no, four days ago. He left work looking very troubled."

Spencer's brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Eric's. "Troubled?"

Eric nodded. "He seemed distracted."

"Do you have any idea why he acted the way he did?"

"No," he responded. And then it suddenly happened. His eyes, previously engaged in maintaining eye contact, drifted upward for a fleeting second. It was as though a switch had been flipped in his mind and the gears of his memory whirred to life. "Although he did seem to act different that day... especially towards Y/n."

His stomach churned. A subtle tremor coursed through his limbs, betraying the unease that was slowly but unmistakably creeping into his consciousness. "...Y/n?"

"You remember her, right? She was with me the night it happened."

Remember her? She was the only person he couldn't stop thinking about. Spencer cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I'm aware Ms. L/n was also a witness."

"Well, Oliver has been fixated on her for so long, everyone in the office knows this. Y/n mostly thinks of it as a joke but I don't think Oliver sees it the same way as she does."

"And something happened between them on the day you last saw him?"

"I'm not sure." Eric sighed. "I saw them talking after work hours, and by the looks of it, I think Y/n was pissed at him." He then crossed his arms, his brows in deep concentration as he seemed to be recalling that day. "She looked like she was under a lot of stress, actually."

"Did you hear what they were talking about?"

"No. But after that, Oliver didn't seem like himself anymore. Then he didn't come to work the next day..." Eric trailed off, his eyes casting down before he mumbled, "I still don't know where he is now."

Spencer's mind suddenly became a whirlwind of calculated chaos, connecting the dots with lightning precision. His heart raced in his chest, pounding out a rhythm of urgency that echoed in his ears. There was no room for hesitation, no luxury of second-guessing.

He needed to move fast.

"Emily!" He called out as he saw his friend walking past them, quickly stopping her pace at the mention of her name. "Can you help Mr. Adler file a missing person report?"

"Uh..." she looked between the two men, uncertainty written across her face. There were questions lingering at the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself when she saw the urgent look Spencer was throwing at her. "Of course," she decided to agree, her attention shifting to the other man. "Right this way."

With a swift, purposeful stride, Spencer left them behind, his footsteps echoing the urgency that had taken hold of him. His heart was still racing when he walked down the corridor, quickly making his way to the room down the hall.

The door swung open with a resolute push, and he entered the room, his senses on high alert. "Garcia."

"I wasn't doing anything!" The woman sitting before him shrieked, closing the window tabs on the screen in front of her. Usually, Spencer would tease her on how unprofessional it was to be doing something else that wasn't related to work, but he didn't have the time to engage in playful banter.

Spencer stepped behind her, placing a hand on the back of her chair. "Garcia, I need you to find Oliver Walsh for me."

She wasted no time. Her fingers danced across the keyboard with a rapid, almost feverish intensity. "Oliver... Walsh..." The soft clatter of keys echoed in the room as she navigated through files and databases. "There are too many Oliver Walsh in this country."

"He works at the same company as Y/n."

"Should've mentioned that sooner." Her eyes scanned lines of text, images, and documents in front of her. "Bingo. Oliver Conrad Walsh was born on 18th December 1991 as an only child—wait, look at this. His family was part of The Haven Hill... a sanctuary of unwavering faith and profound tranquility?"

"Is it some kind of a cult?"

"I don't think so." Her eyes landed on an old article buried within the archives and clicked on the link before a picture of a worn-out brochure greeted them. "Prospective members are welcomed into Haven Hill, a secluded and serene enclave where faith and tradition unite. It seems like a very tight-knit community with a very religious belief—oh!"

Her fingers moved as she navigated through digital records. "Reid..."

"What is it?"

The screen suddenly displayed a grim history of illicit activities and misdeeds, a virtual breadcrumb trail leading them closer to the truth.

"Oliver Walsh was far from being a saint albeit growing up in a religious environment. Along with his group of friends, he was constantly rebelling ever since a very young age. He had to do a lot of community service for it too; underage drinking, burglary, public disturbances—oh dear."

"Attempt sexual assault?" Spencer read out loud.

"...a group of underage boys was proved guilty of trying to violate a fourteen-year-old girl on school grounds—"

"Garcia," Spencer stopped her, not wanting to listen to the rest of the story. "Give me his current address."

"Already on it," she responded, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe this, the suspect was no longer a shadowy figure; they were becoming real, tangible, and within his grasp. Then his eyes caught the shot of the man on the screen. A jolt of recognition surged through him as he scrutinized the suspect's image on the screen. The face staring back at him carried a haunting familiarity.

Memories raced through his mind like flickering images from the past. He remembered him, he always remembered people's faces, and that man right there was the same man he had seen in Y/n's house that afternoon. There was a huge chance this was all a coincidence.

But there was also a possibility of Oliver Walsh being the Unsub.

He didn't know which one was true, but what he did know was that he needed to find out the truth.

The sudden, shrill ring of his phone shattered the intensity of the moment. It was a jarring intrusion, snapping him back to the present. With a swift, almost automatic motion, Spencer reached for the device and answered the call without looking away from the screen. "Yes?"

"Agent Reid," the person on the other line greeted, their words rushed in a moment of panic. "I can't find her."

Spencer pulled his phone away from his face and glanced at the caller ID. Officer Anderson. A sense of relentless panic coursed through him as the realization hit like a lightning bolt. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a visceral reaction to the gravity of the call.

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"I—" There was a sigh. "I-I was watching inside my car and I somehow ended up sleeping. She's nowhere inside the house now—"

"Did you call her?"

"She left her phone in the kitchen."

At that moment, he was acutely aware of every heartbeat, every pulse of blood coursing through his veins. Panic resounded through his thoughts, casting a dark shadow over him. It was a visceral, gut-wrenching sensation that threatened to paralyze him like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet.

"I apologize, Agent Reid."

But then anger coursed through his body. He was suddenly angry—Angry at the situation, angry at the Unsub, angry at the officer who couldn't seem to do his one simple job. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter, and his eyes flashed with fury.

"Being sorry isn't going to help you find her," he snapped. He then straightened himself. "I'll be there in ten."

"What happened?" Garcia whispered, noticing the sudden tension in his shoulder.

Spencer shoved back his phone and turned to her. "Garcia, I need you to inform the others, I have to go."

"What?!" She yelped, watching as he turned away from her. "Right now? Where are you going?"

But her question was left unanswered as he bolted out of the door.

There was no other way to explain what being followed by a disguised officer felt like. It was suffocating. Even everything felt suffocating these days, and when she meant everything, Y/n really meant everything.

At first, the idea of protection had offered comfort, but now it was an oppressive weight that bore down on her shoulders. Everywhere she turned, a shadow loomed, an unwelcome reminder of the loss of her freedom. The suffocating sensation was inescapable, restricting her every movement.

The constant surveillance had pushed her to the brink of stress and manifested in the form of tension that coiled within her, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Her patience wore thin and the weight of anxiety rested heavy on her chest. One moment she was on the verge of tears, the next, she was snapping with sharp words, irritable and sullen.

She really needed a break.

"You should go to the gym," Sandy had suggested the other day. "It might help relieve the stress."

After debating whether it was a good idea to visit the gym when she couldn't even remember the last time she stepped foot on a treadmill, she finally decided to slip out of the house. She walked over to the black car she already grew familiar with and stood by the window—only to find Officer Anderson fast asleep behind the wheels.

A pang of guilt tugged at her, but the allure of temporary freedom was too strong to resist. It was an unexpected opportunity, a rare moment of freedom dangling before her like a tempting prize. Was it wise to leave without informing him? Probably not. But she couldn't imagine herself working out—all awkward, tired, and sweaty—with Officer Anderson watching her from the corner.

So silently, she retraced her steps. Her pulse quickened with a mix of trepidation and exhilaration as she walked away. It would be fine, she had assured herself. She would be back before he realized she was even gone. And with that thought in mind, she quickly made her way to the closest gym around the corner.

The place felt both familiar and foreign as she navigated the equipment, but she finally found her place in an exercise routine. Her muscles protested the unaccustomed effort, but with each movement, she could feel the tension slowly dissipating. It wasn't until she could barely feel her limbs anymore that she stopped and left the place.

Even though her body was aching from pushing her body to its limit, she did feel slightly better. Her steps also did feel lighter when she walked back to her home, and her mind felt calmer, and less chaotic than it did when she left her house. But as she approached her street, a knot of unease tightened in her stomach.

The evening's fading light cast long, ominous shadows that seemed to reach out and embrace her front door, which stood ajar. It was an unexpected sight, one that sent a chill down her spine. Two things flashed into her mind at that very moment. One, she realized Officer Anderson was nowhere in sight. His usual parked car looked very much abandoned with no one inside the vehicle. Two, she could probably die if she entered her house alone in this state.

Maybe she should call the police. Maybe she should call Spencer... Yeah right, she didn't even have his number. Maybe she should just call Agent Jareau. Or Agent Prentiss. Yes, that would be a wiser option than to—shit. She clutched her empty pockets.

She didn't even bring her phone to begin with.

She cursed to herself. This was a bad, bad decision. She was probably going to regret this, but she couldn't just stand there and do nothing. So very cautiously, she approached her house, her senses on high alert.

As she pushed the door open wider, it revealed a slice of the dimly lit interior. She couldn't help but hold her breath as she stepped over the threshold, her footsteps hesitant, almost reverent, on the creaking floorboards.

She stepped deeper into her home and slowly entered the dimly lit kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a figure standing shrouded in shadows, a silhouette in the gloom. A gasp of shock emitted through her lips, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognition washed over her like a tidal wave.

"Officer Anderson!" She yelled, placing a hand over her heart. "You scared me!"

"Ms. L/n," he breathed out, his expression softening when he saw her. "Where have you been?"

Guilt washed over her as she noticed the concern in his eyes but she quickly dismissed it, stepping further into the room, and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "I went to the gym."

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm supposed to accompany you—"

"You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you."

"You should've woken me up, Ms. L/n."

"You looked like you could use some sleep," she mentioned before glancing at the clock perched on the wall. "I was only gone for like an hour, it's not a big deal."

Officer Anderson looked like he wanted to argue with her, but stopped himself before letting out a sigh. "Can you please inform me whenever you step out of the house, even when I might be asleep?"

His concerned gaze met hers as he turned to her, a mixture of relief and worry in his eyes. Guilt twisted in her chest as she nodded. "Alright, I will."

"And please bring your phone with you at all times."

Her eyes snapped towards the device sitting on the counter. "I did forget to bring it with me, I'm sorry."

With a nod, the officer excused himself, giving her a moment of privacy to collect her thoughts. She watched him go, his retreating figure a testament to his dedication, despite the surprise of her brief absence.

Feeling overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—being scrutinized by an authority, being a potential target of a serial killer still on the loose—she retreated to her room, seeking solace in the familiar confines of her private space. She quickly peeled off her clothes which clung to her body from all the sweat and stepped into her bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the room as she turned on the shower, its warmth a soothing embrace. Steam enveloped her, and as the water cascaded over her body, the tension that had coiled within her began to unravel. Under the gentle caress of the water, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders trembled with the tension she had carried for so long, the weight of guilt, responsibility, and emotions too complex to unravel.

How had things turned the way it did? A few weeks ago her life seemed normal, yet now she was linked to a crime with her name at the center of it. This felt so unfair. Why her? Why now? Wh—

Bang!

She opened her eyes.

What was it now?

It sounded... it sounded like a thud coming from somewhere in her house.

The sudden interruption jolted her from the sanctuary of the shower. Her heart raced as she hastily wrapped a towel around herself and emerged from the bathroom, water droplets glistening on her skin. The door to her room suddenly wrenched open with force before a figure she last expected walked in.

"What the—Spencer!" She gasped, not believing who she was seeing. "What the hell?!"

His gaze met hers, and she saw something in his expression that sent a shiver down her spine. It was an anger she hadn't seen before, a storm brewing beneath the surface of his usual calm demeanor. His jaw was clenched, and his normally warm eyes were steely and cold.

"Are you crazy?" He suddenly snapped.

"Me?" She wailed, tightening the towel around her body. "Are you crazy? What are you even doing here?"

"What were you thinking going out without notice?" Spencer's tone was incredulous, his anger unabated. "Without informing Officer Anderson?"

So this was why he was here? To confront her reckless action perhaps?

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He looked like he needed the sleep after constantly watching me with little to no rest."

Spencer's frustration deepened, his brows furrowing. "He's assigned to you to keep you safe. You can't just disappear like that, it's irresponsible."

"Well excuse me for being considerate," she retorted.

"You were being reckless."

"No," she argued. "I was being thoughtful."

"Why are you not taking this seriously?" His voice grew sharper, a desperate attempt to make her understand as he stalked towards her. "Can't you understand you were putting yourself at risk?"

"I was only gone for an hour."

"Something could've happened!"

"But nothing did!"

She met his frustration with a defiant glare, holding her ground as he approached her, his tall, intimidating frame only stopping when he was directly in front of her. She saw his eyes drift down her body before pinning his gaze on her face again.

"Y/n, I need you to be safe."

"I am safe! I've been safe ever since you guys put someone to watch over me. I've been safe ever since the same person has been following me everywhere I go, which if you haven't caught on my sarcasm, has made me feel more like in prison than actually feeling protected." Her voice was tinged with frustration as she squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. "It's like I'm being controlled."

"It's not about controlling you, it's about ensuring that nothing bad happens to you."

"I was simply gone for an hour, Spencer," she reminded him again. "No need to go all dramatic over it."

Then in the blink of an eye, the heated tension that had filled the room seemed to snap, leaving them both breathless and disarmed. But instead of reacting with anger or shouting, Spencer's frustration found a different outlet.

"Why are you not fucking listening to me?"

And in a sudden and unexpected gesture, he cupped her face in his hands. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, filled with a mix of emotions too complex to name. And then, in a burst of raw and unspoken desire, he leaned in and crashed his lips on her.

She was too stunned to speak, too stunned to respond. There was nothing else she could do but to give in his advance, because dear god, it felt too good to have his mouth moving against hers again. Spencer had kissed her many times before, but not like this. Not this rough. She could even feel the frustration seeping from his body as his lips moved against hers with urgency.

He continued to kiss her, biting hard at her bottom lip, teeth gnashing against the soft flesh of it as a rumbling noise vibrated deep in his chest. Each time she gasped in response at his teeth, his tongue forced its way into her mouth and lapped so mercilessly that she was left desperate for air each time he returned to assaulting her with his teeth and lips.

"Is this what it would take for you to listen?" He growled against her mouth. "Is this what you want?"

Speechless, she responded to his ardor with a fervor of her own, her body leaning into his, fingers tracing the contours of his face. She continued to stare up at him, trying to quickly piece together what was going on, though she nevertheless found herself aroused. It was as if their desire, long suppressed by their arguments and differences, had suddenly ignited, leaving them both powerless to resist the pull of passion.

"Answer me," he barked out.

"Yes," she finally breathed out. "Yes."

Releasing her face, his hands rose in between them. Her eyes dropped down, watching as he gripped her towel with so much force before he ripped it off her body in one swift movement, throwing the material onto the floor.

His eyes roamed over her body, tracing every curve and contour with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. His hands traced over her sides before he gripped onto her hips, tugging her towards him desperately. "I won't be able to restrain myself."

She knew what he meant. She was acutely aware of the tension seeping from his body, all the anger, all the frustration. She understood how hard these past few days had been for him, she could even feel it from the taught in his muscles. He was tensed and from the way he was looking at her with hooded eyes, he needed a release.

And so did she.

The intensity of the moment had ignited a different kind of fire within her, and her previous anger and frustration began to fade away, which was why she found one of her hands caressing his cheek, pulling him closer as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Then don't," she whispered. "Use me."

His eyes snapped to her.

"You can use me, Spencer," she assured him. "Use me in any way you want."

There was a moment of silence as he contemplated her words. "Do you mean that?"

She nodded. She missed this—dear god, she missed him so much. She hadn't realized how much she missed being close to him until she was standing naked underneath his heated gaze.

She pressed her lips against his softly. "I'm all yours."

And then he deepened the kiss and she melted into him, her tongue dancing with his. He slowly loosened his grip on her hips and found its way onto her hand resting against his cheek. He pulled away from her, tugging her hand towards him, his mouth hovering above her wrist.

"In any way I want?" He asked, gently brushing his lips over her pulse.

"Any way you want."

He smiled at her then, the first smile she saw on him ever since he barged into her room unexpectedly. But there was something about his smile that sent her into a frenzy of nerves. It wasn't genuine, it wasn't gentle.

It wasn't until his other hand reached behind him that she finally understood what his smile meant. Because right at that moment, to her surprise, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and with a soft click he carefully bounded one of her wrists, the steel bracelets feeling cool against her damp skin.

And then his smile morphed into a more dominant edge as he leaned closer, his eyes burning with need.

"Any way I want."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: Did you think I wasn't going to insert another smutty scene in between all the chaos? You thought wrong!

.

taglist #1

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Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[toobbolive]

Hear me out: Pac is just as afraid of intimacy as Fit is. Pac has a specific idea of what being close to other people will entail, and that's why he situates himself by the violent, unstable men.

They'll be exactly what he expects them to be, they're familiar.

That's why he still seeks out Cell during purgatory, and how he's decided to stay with him and try to walk him back to being Cellbit regardless of what Cell's done to him and his friends (including those who did not end up respawning or escaping.) Cell is already close to him, to his body and mind and Pac is afraid to lose that closeness no matter how ugly or unhealthy it is.

Any attention, any intimacy is still intimacy. A hand reaching out to harm you still has to touch your skin.

Meanwhile, Fit is from an environment that paradoxically prevents and ensures closeness, the bond between warriors, the conditional loyalties of where you lay your head.

Fit is aware that getting closer, getting what he wants will hurt him, and he still wants it anyways. I think he's prepared for the pain waiting for them both if he'll just reach out for it. As well, Fit has Ramón, a job, a mission, people who need him, other connections to the people around him. Pac doesn't.

And we see Pac keep people at an arm's length so that he won't have to risk the pain of being left behind by the people he cares about.

Considering old Fuga Impossivel 2 lore (which could be canon! they've been using parts of it) Pac and Mike are orphans, only fully having each other. The single constant between their adventures. Pulling capers, spending a long time in prison and then on a boat with other dangerous escapees, with whom they're now a twisted kind of family, but Richas has other dads, and people like Forever and Cellbit both have their own partners and demons right now.

So Pac during the Happy Pills arc? Walter Bob could be dead. Mike is in deep sleep, and Pac doesn't turn to anyone else for help. He doesn't reach out to the morning crew. He's self-sacrifically on his own, he goes on the drugs alone, and he begins to develop the antidote alone and what he says is that he doesn’t want to be sad again but he isolates himself in fear of it.

Let's think about the Pac who's openly affectionate to cover up the Pac who knows that no one needs him around and who's intelligent enough to know that challenging that understanding could destroy him.

That's why Pac won't confess either.

Pac avoids every concrete escalation because changing a relationship means risking losing it.

[sophie-frm-mars]

Hi, ex-supporter here. Genuinely hope you’re doing well. I have been tempted to start up my support again because you genuinely are a talented writer/creator and I do enjoy your work.

I hope you understand supporting your Patreon is somewhat fraught. Your private life should be none of our business, but sadly it is relevant here. Moral action, both private and political is central to your work; you have called out plenty of people for abuse & morality drives your politics. We know abuse took place on your end, but that’s all.

A lot of people like myself might be emotionally rooting for you to bounce back from this, but are unable to support you right now because that moral dissonance has not been resolved. We really don’t know if you are like other ‘cancelled’ leftist influencers and just use leftist values to deflect attention away from abuse, or you are actually trying to do better and working on yourself.

You don’t owe us anything. However, many of us who are eager to support you are forced to hold back because trust has been damaged, and there has not been any real sign of reparation or reconciliation. Maybe you think those kind of questions are invasive, maybe you don’t think we are real fans for not sticking by you despite the allegations.

I don’t know, I just want you to know that there are plenty of people who do want to support you, but feel they need to trust you first. And that can’t happen without addressing some things.

Anyways, best wishes. Take care.

Hiya, thank you for speaking to me on this.

Before I say the rest of what I say I want to be clear that between me and the people I was involved with in 2023, there were some instances where I was responsible for harm, there were instances where I received harm and there was also a general pervasive ecosystem of harmful behaviours in the community I was in. This includes people who signed the statement against me, and in one instance one of them did something which everyone to whom I have described it has agreed is sexual assault, though there is more besides.

For the time being I'm not talking publicly more about what happened because it was a very messy situation, and although I have been seriously harmed by issues in my personal life being litigated in public in this way, I don't want to give my full account of my relationships with everyone involved because I don't want that type of harm to be done to other trans women. There are plenty of complicating factors as there often are in real life that social media isn't really capable of parsing. I have made it clear repeatedly that I am open to hearing anything that people involved want to say to me, and I talked in this post in January about that and about what I would be doing to ensure that I put in the work and make sure I don't cause harm like it again

https://x.com/sophie_frm_mars/status/1745414530455261531

I think that that post says everything I would like to say for now, although I regret saying I agree that my behaviour was abusive, because with more distance and perspective I don't think abusive behaviour was actually described to me.

As I understand it via the support that my therapist and friends have offered, my problems in 2023 were that: I wasn't taking my mental health seriously, I didn't learn good kink practice, I had very little appreciation of my own boundaries and when I shouldn't be doing something that someone asks me to do, and I was high basically all the time. I am in therapy and doing DBT and taking my mental health deadly seriously, I have done a huge amount of reading assigned by my therapist about kink, sex, relationships and mental health, I am working in an ongoing way on learning how to effectively communicate, know my boundaries and understand myself well enough to not be in the kinds of situations that risk harm, and I'm no longer high all the time.

(If anyone is interested in those book recs, so far I've read: Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again by Katherine Angel; The Right To Sex by Amia Srinivasan; Screw Consent (I hate this edgy title) by Joseph Fischel; Playing Well With Others; The Loving Dominant by John and Libby Warren; I Hope We Choose Love by Kai Cheng Thom; The New Topping Book by Dossie Easton and Janet W Hardy; and Dissociation Made Simple by Jamie Marich. There have been some others, and I've written a bit about them in the book club channel on my discord as I've been reading)

I haven't heard from the people involved. The last I heard from anyone was one of my exes calling me a pathological liar and saying that they just want to move on with their lives, so while I'm doing the work to make sure I act better in future I am just trying to get on with my life and let them get on with theirs. I hope this clarifies why I have not talked further about the situation.

I will say that the last few months have been hellish for me. I have been frequently suicidal, I spent Christmas and new years alone, I lost a tooth because I couldn't afford proper dental treatment, people from within the community I've been ostracised from have been putting pressure on my remaining friends to cut ties with me, Keffals had my abuser on her twitch stream, a bizarre exaggerated and monsterised version of my personal life has been publicly gossiped about by trans people, fash and "leftist" drama streamers alike, I have been doing other work to make sure I can still pay rent and afford my bills and my HRT, and to survive. As I've been getting more stable and more able to focus on things besides this, I've been working on new writing because all I want with regard to my work and my channel is for my writing to help people. I don't want to talk about my private life, but I do understand that some number of people will feel after what has been said about me that they can't move forward with me without hearing the full details. Lots of people in my life have repeatedly encouraged me to publish a full account of everything that happened but I know how the Internet works and I don't want other trans women to be harmed in the ways that I have been harmed.

[jacespookiebear]

ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 6

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 2-3 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, angst, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

Alicent paced across the celebration hall with such eagerness. Organizing many celebrations to be held in the future. Such as your return to King’s Landing— but you weren’t returning for her. You were only returning to celebrate your betrothed’s nameday along arriving with the rest of your family. Usually, she wouldn’t give a damn to make preparations but you were also to be married under the same week as your future husband’s nameday. Alicent wanted it all to be set perfectly, just for you.

“That is not right! I had ask for lilac orchids. If you cannot fulfill your duties, I shall have you removed at once!” Alicent bitterly shouted to the tradesmen, feeling disappointed and stressed to see they had brought white peonies— flowers she clearly did not request.

Talya, The Queen’s handmaiden, arrived quietly in the hall to give her the urgent news she had just received. “My Queen, they have arrived.” Talya muttered closely to Alicent’s ear. Immediately she had stopped ordering the servants and turned her attention to her handmaiden.

“Already!?” She gasped, “I had thought they would arrive on the morrow.” Talya shook her head and within minutes, Alicent left the hall to greet the family. To greet you, specifically.

To her surprise, you all have already been greeted by the King. Although it has only been two years, he was weakening day by day, though still being able to stand on his own.

“My sweet daughters,” the King welcomes you and Rhaenyra in his remaining arm. “I have missed you both.” Alicent watched as tears streamed down your cheeks, smiling towards your father with happiness. She felt immense nostalgia from the way you dressed— you certainly did look the part as the Realm’s Beauty, wearing a dark blue velvety dress with sleeves falling off your shoulders and separate straps connecting from your dress wrapped around your neck. In her early years, she had also wore the proud colors of her husband’s house, but had only done so to appease others around her. But, she couldn’t help to feel that you only done it solely for yourself and to prove you would always state your loyalty to Jacaerys.

“It is a lovely sight to see you all back in King’s Landing,” Alicent interrupted the sweet moment and took the time to hug you. Seconds had passed, you had placed your arms around her. Alicent breathed in your existence, she missed you dearly and now you’re here, at last, just like you said you would.

She desperately wanted whatever had happened between you both two years ago to be pushed away and forget it had ever existed. She wanted you both to savor the relationship, with Rhaenyra— she couldn’t help but feel that your elder sister had probably put a seed in your mind to look at your step-mother differently.

I have missed you, my dearest, that was all Alicent thought about. Finally having you in her arms, where you truly belong.

After what felt like hours, she let go of you and cupped your face to look at you, warmly. Though, you gave her a friendly smile, you pulled away and remained standing right by Lysanna and Daemon’s side, whom looked smug right after you done so. “Forgive the King and I, we had thought you would be arriving later. If I had know you would have arrived much more early, I would have properly prepared the Red Keep.” Alicent maintained a calm composer, ignoring the sly glares that were being given from Rhaenyra and your betrothed. She had motioned for them all to head inside, the Red Keep was still being renovated, she had made sure to have some of her faith hung across the halls.

“You must rest,” she suggested, “we have much to celebrate. But tonight, we shall have a feast to celebrate upon your arrival.” The King nodding happily at the thought. He ordered the knights to lead you all to your temporary chambers.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“She certainly was happy to see you,” you spoke to Lysanna as you unpacked from your luggages, placing gowns and capes back into your old drawers. “I could’ve sworn I saw a tear streaming down her cheek when you told her you missed her.”

Lysanna scoffed and let out a laugh as well. “She is my cousin, afterall.” that you can agree to, your step-mother was family whether you want to disagree or not. Even if she held dislike towards your sister, she held adoration for you and Lysanna.

“If only we could be in the North as we are speaking,” you spoke up, Lysanna turned to you, “your brother is lucky to live far away from the South..”

Before Lysanna could have answer back, your chamber doors were knocked and opened without even announcing themselves. You saw your youngest brother, Daeron, who was smiling ear to ear to see you. The scowl you wore for being interrupted immediately replaced with a bright smile and you ran to leap into your brother’s arms.

“Daeron!”

“Sister!”

Your brother wrapped his arms around you tightly, afraid to let go. You had not seen your brother since he was about nine, went off to be the squire of the Lord Hightower in Oldtown. You had only heard from him whenever he written to his mother, he became very strong with the sword and had the chance to bond with a dragon, Tessarion, before he left. He was always gentle and caring, more sweeter than his other brothers but still held no liking to your elder sister and her family.

“I had him return to King’s Landing to attend your wedding,” Alicent spoke, with her hands clasped, she was arrived in your chambers behind Daeron, whom was only ten-and-third but still loomed over you and your step-mother. He was getting much taller. “I wanted the whole family to be here to watch you marry under the seven.”

Oh. You felt yourself clench your hand in anger from what she had said. You wanted to scream and yell at her face. It is my marriage, not yours!

“It seems we need to discuss more of my wedding.” you coldly stated, bringing your attention on Daeron once more who continued to smile. He had no clue on your underlying bitterness towards Alicent.

“I have missed you, dear brother.” Both of you beaming with happiness to finally be reunited with one another. With swiftness, you brought Daeron towards Lysanna, “I shall speak with the Queen, you must catch up with your relative, it has been quite a long time since you both had seen each other as well.” Lysanna quickly hugged Daeron with tight grip, the two were always so rough with each other when they were younger.

“It is good to see you, cousin!” Lysanna happily chirped. You excused them to find Helaena as you stayed behind with your step-mother.

“My dearest-“

“I want all of us to meet. Now.” you resisted her touches and walked out to find Rhaenyra and Daemon. Your father was already ill but still insisted to attend the continued preparations. As you arrived in their chambers, you apologized to interrupt their resting, considering Rhaenyra is heavily pregnant but she was quick to come to your rescue, they were both very serious about your worries and did not hesitate.

You all sat in the council room, you were sitting with Rhaenyra and Daemon across from Alicent with the King sitting in his seat that was always placed in the middle end of the table. You had not planned to have Jace attend— noting he wouldn’t have arrived anyways but in moments, you were surprised when he barged in the room,

“Excuse my tardiness,” Jace announced and sat next to you, happy to see that he arrived even without being called to attend. “I had not been told to attend but I will make the effort for my betrothed.”

Alicent grimaced when he called you his betrothed but none the less, she cleared her throat and joined her hands together to begin the meeting.

You leaned to whisper in Jace’s ear, “how did you know we were meeting?”

“I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” Jace answered. You didn’t mind his explanation, his existence already reassured your feelings and helped you relax a little.

“I believe I have said this before. I shall have it repeated. They will be married under the Seven,” your step-mother stated, her joined hands planted on the table. She clearly wanted no negotiation on how your wedding would be customized. 

Rhaenyra sighed, Daemon let out a scoff at her audacity, “This is a Targaryen marriage, let you be reminded, my Queen. My sister is not a believer of the Seven, she puts her faith in the Valyrian Gods.”

Alicent did not budge, relaxing into her seat a little, “My eldest daughter deserve a wedding that will have many witnesses. Her siblings were married under the faith as well. She should not have to hide in Dragonstone to wed and I have not yet accepted her marrying Jacaerys-“

“My niece does not share blood with you, let it be known once more,” Daemon seethed, his words dripping with venom, “You did not birth her, the Late Queen Aemma whom suffered long hours in labor, only to be cut open like a helpless pig. She would have wanted her daughter to have this.” That immediately shut your step-mother up. You saw how she took a big gulp after being reminded that you were not her trueborn daughter. But not only those words reached over to Alicent, it put you, Rhaenyra, and Viserys in a emotional and awkward state. You brought your hand over to your face to avoid any quivering to be seen from the mention of how your mother died.

Alicent cleared her throat— trying to recover from the sadden reality check she was given by Daemon. “I suppose it is only right for the King to make the decision…” your father slightly lit up at how Alicent let him have the right to make the decision for you all. He turned to make eye contact with you and saw how visibly upset you looked.

You were surprised on how she gave in so easily. Your step-mother had only been insufferable about your wedding for years before she gave it up to have your father finally have a choice in the matter. “If my daughter wishes for an Old Valyrian wedding then I don’t see why not.” Viserys calmly stated, coughing into his handkerchief once more. At his words, your spirits were lifted and smiled at your father. But your step-mother did not seem to be too happy, her frown was noticed from you and your sister.

Rhaenyra seeming to not be so pleased of your step-mother being upset, “I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement,” your sister offered, turning to you for your approval and you let her continue to hear what she had to say, “It would not be official but we can have another wedding under the seven— no one should be allowed to attend except our family, of course. I will only propose it if my son and sister is willing to allow it.”

It did not make you upset at the proposal but having to negotiation on your own wedding did. But from the delighted smile on your step-mother’s face from the offer, you couldn’t help but nod your head once more to agree, as you gave your answer, you felt angry at yourself for letting your step-mother have her way like always. But yet, she just looked so happy as well as your father who seemed delighted to hear you and your sister wanted to consider Alicent’s feelings even with what happened two years ago, but Daemon and Jace seemed to not be so onboard with the idea.

Your step-mother looked surprised, a grateful smile danced on her face, “I am grateful for your proposal. Thank you, Princess.” she graciously thanked and Rhaenyra gave a slight smile.

“A sweet proposition!” Viserys praised.

Jacaerys looked helpless, he’d never been reduced to a simple watcher before. You wanted to comfort him while your father began speaking about Jace’s wedding robes and which colors he should wear. It was his wedding as well and yet no one had asked him what he wanted.

“I’ll accompany the Princess on her fitting with the Seamstress.”

“My grandson should have the robes that I wore in my wedding.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t fit him, brother.”

“I shall have my cousin, Lord Stark, to prepare Winterfell for the newlyweds quickly.”

“Will he be attending my grandson’s nameday?”

At last, they all seemed to be in a agreement with each other. It all left a neutral look on everyone’s face besides Jace. He did not look happy like everyone else. Even if he wished to speak up on his wishes for his weddings, he did not know what to say. He did not like how you or his mother had negotiated or how they continue to let the woman who used her position and power to ruin his family’s lives, to say he was angry was an understatement.

As you pardoned yourself and head to your chambers to retire, he followed you with the intention of talking with you.

You turned, continuing to walk, “You should be heading to your chambers. Are you alright?” As you finished speaking, you arrived in your chambers and allowed him to come in. You only expected him to wish you well night rest.

“You’re allowing her to have what she wants. Once again.”

You whipped your head around quickly from his words. Jace looked back with annoyance as you looked with confusion. You both seemed to be feeling alright in the council, now you felt that there was tension between you both.

“If you disagreed with the idea then you should have said your piece,” you reminded Jace, he scoffed in return. “you had only disregarded this wedding many times and now you seem to care?!”

He sighed, “Of course I had cared! I wanted you— only you to prepare our wedding. You had the chance to finally have full control of,” his words made you bite your lip, he was right. “That woman had humiliated us for years..you are letting her remain in power even in our marriage!”

You turned, facing him completely, you stepped closer to him, face now only inches apart, “What else can I do, Jacaerys?! She is close that I have to a mother. Let it be reminded that she is still the Queen.”

“Not only days ago, you held distaste for her!” He shouted, “You do not defend yourself, me, or our family when it comes to her.”

You resisted the urge to slap him, “I had done so much for us! This wedding..I thought this is what you wanted!”

For a moment, Jace was taken aback from what you had said. Utterly shocked was his emotions.

“I wanted nothing but your love.”

Your face softened from his words. Within moments, his arms sneak around your waist and hold you affectionately. “For years, Ñuha hūra qēlossās, I yearned for your love and now I was given the chance by the Old Gods to relish in it.” The memory of younger Jace wishing to confess to you in the future was running in your mind, remembering his words: “I will tell you when I am of age, so please wait until then.” Hot tears finally streaming down your face from his words. He gently wiped them off your cheeks, “You and I were meant to burn together.”

You sobbed, stepping away from him, it wounded him deeply once you left his arms but you had no choice. “Please do speak no more..” creating space between you both, it felt wrong to be apart from each other this long.

His face fell and the sight made you want to bury yourself alive for the way you were beginners to hurt him, wounding his heart all because you were not sure. “You share the same feelings as do I, do you not?”

The silence from you was furthering his heart to shatter, to break into two. The heart that belonged to you and only you. Why were you not saying anything?

“Please, my love,” Jace begged, closing the space between you both, holding onto your hands so desperately— almost falling to his knees, “please tell me that you feel the same.”

Jace’s mind was racing. He had always thought you shared love for him as well. Why else would you spur his name towards the Queen on a suitor, or how you would always call him your sun, or how you would allow him to show his affections nearly everywhere, and even when Meraxes allowed Vermax to show his love for her so loudly around Dragonstone that it became clear to Jace that they were the sign of your love for one another. Was he wrong? This whole time, he was wrong?

“Does it not bother you?” you finally asked him, “I had helped raise you..”

Is that why you are in such denial of your feelings towards Jace? No matter how much you might love him, you would still see him as the young boy you had watched over all your life and called him your nephew. But he will no longer be your sweet nephew after four days.

Your words appear to sting Jace and wound him so deeply, from the betrayed look on his face. What was the difference? His mother married her uncle, they’re happily together and inlove.

“Does it really matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

From the tone of your voice, he nodded, only bringing you closer to him. For a moment you had tried to lean away but failed once he placed his hands on your cheeks, continued to wipe your tears away. “Not once have I ever been ashamed of my love for you.” 

His touch was a touch you had yearned for years. The gentleness and sweetness that it came with was reassuring, you were not used to it. From what you were used to was harsh and rough, usually received by your brother, Aegon, whom never held any sort of respect towards you but viewed you as his potential maiden he can abuse whenever he wanted. Everything you wanted in a man was standing right in front of you and yet you pulled away.

Why were you so afraid? This is what you had always wanted right? To be married to the right man and to have sweet children who will turn out right. To be married by your choice and not by duty.

“We shall continue to talk on the morrow.” With that you said nothing else. You stood your place and refused to shed more tears. You watched as Jace was hit with realization. Realizing that you weren’t going to speak anymore or return your feelings. He stepped back and his face was clearly written with hurt all over.

Jace turned to leave your chambers and once he had left, you broke down in continued tears. You broke down into messy sobs, feeling so alone and hurt. Your glassy violet eyes watching the door— thinking about chasing after him. Your eyes begin to dry, rimmed with redness and puffy, you were so conflicted and hated yourself for being so confusing, you wished you had the courage to declare how much you do care for him. But you could not, you were too late, he now thinks you do not love him.

As you continued to cry in your chambers, unknowingly to you— Jace remained behind your doors and hearing it all, salty tears swelling in his eyes. You both cried for each other, yearning for each other’s warmth with the door separating you two.

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“The design…” Alicent eyed your wedding gown, the seamstress was still needling the gown while you were dressed in it, stepping on the high stool as you were studied by your step-mother and sister, they both shared slight distaste for the gown. Lysanna was behind you with your wedding robe to be tried on.

“It is not quite finished yet, my Queen,” the seamstress announced, she placed more needles around the bottom of your gown. You were mesmerized by the gown, it was your step-mother who prepared this gown for you, you had to admit how she perfectly knew what you preferred and what not you preferred. The red lining on the white dress and golden accents were beautiful, the designs of Meraxes on your gown made you beam with excitement. You hate to admit how much step-mother knows about you even though you are still upset with her, she was the reason why you and Jace are having a rough patch.

“Let’s have you try on the robes, hm?” Rhaenyra asked as you quickly nodded, excited to see how they looked while Alicent spoke with the seamstress to have a cape sewn in on your sleeves. Lysanna helped you out of your gown before helping you into the robes. It looked gorgeous, the robes had blue and black as the main colors to represent House Velaryon and Targaryen.

You turned to face your family and they only had given you a smile. It was surprising to see Alicent cooperate and be less vicious to Rhaenyra but perhaps they put their differences aside for your weddings. “You look beautiful, my dearest,” Alicent complimented to which Rhaenyra wholeheartedly agreed. “And what of the headpiece? When will it be finished? Her wedding is in days, let you be reminded!” the seamstress moved quickly across the room to fetch the matching headpieces she had made for you and Jace, handing Alicent yours and she quickly placed it on your head.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Except you could not shake away the guilt that was burning inside you from what had happened last night. You and Jace have not spoken to each other since, he was off preparing for his celebration feast that was happening tonight, with Daemon and your father, Viserys. Nobody knew what had happened between the both of you but everyone in the Keep could all feel the tension.

Alicent soon became concerned and remembered, “The gown will be finished before the wedding, I hope?”

“For the heir and his future Queen’s wedding? I will have it finished before the evening,” the seamstress insisted.

You stepped down from the stool after having the robes be taken off of you. You watched as your step-mother place a bag of coins in the seamstress’ hands for her time and hardwork. While your sister graciously thanked her, you all said your farewell before leaving the room. You planned to meet Lysanna in your chambers to help each other with the gowns for tonight.

“Would you like for me to help you pick a gown for the feast?” Alicent placed a cold hand on your shoulder but you shook your head and gave her a friendly smile,

“Liz is helping me,” you answered, “she is helping with my hair as well.”

Rhaenyra nodded from your answer and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “I shall see you at the feast, sweet sister.”

“Thank you, Nyra.” you smiled while she scurried off to her chambers, you were standing alone with your step-mother, awkwardly. “Then I shall depart as well-“

With swiftness, you stopped your step-mother from leaving and she gave you a confused look but quickly was replaced with surprise once you shoved yourself into her embrace. Hugging her so tightly, you were scared she would be crushed. But quickly enough, she held onto you as well, possibly her grip was more tighter than yours. “I’ve missed you, my dearest love,” she voiced gently, genuinely terrified to let go of you.

“I have missed you,” you admitted, cried softly. Not caring with what Ladies or Lords around the halls are witnessing.

She didn’t waste a second to kiss your head gingerly and hush you like you were still a baby. “My sweet, miracle girl. What is wrong?”

You couldn’t answer her, instead you buried yourself deeper into your step-mother’s shoulder, the tears continued falling from your eyes, as you breathed in the scent of the Keep. You had not understand why you were suddenly missing your step-mother. In seconds, your step-mother brought you back inside your chambers, pleading to Lysanna to be excused and come back later. She sat you on your bed, helping you loosen your gown to feel more comfortable.

“We had a fight”, you confessed, you saw how she wanted you to continue about why, “about you.”

Alicent looked at you— confused, soon realizing what you had meant. Now understanding why you had looked so gloomy this morning, eye bags and a grim frown danced on your face. “Oh,” she muttered, “I am sorry.” you shook your head, not believing her apology, “No..really, my dearest, I am.”

“He is rather angry with me to know that I have gave you an opportunity to have a part in our wedding.” Her face seeming to hold some sort of guilt, “He’s seething with envious to know that no matter how much I hold hatred, fear, and disgust towards you..I will always find my way back to you, to please you, and to make you part of my life.”

To know that even if you hate her, you would always keep her in your heart. Why? Because she was there for you since you were born, had raised you like her own. You were always her little girl and will forever be her little girl. As much as Alicent despises Rhaenyra and her family, she had learned to accept that you were always apart of her family, she chooses to understand Jace’s anger.

At that you sat on the large bed with your mother, placing your head onto her lap as she soothed you to comfort, humming. You let yourself breathe in and breathe out to calm your nerves, silently sobbing while she whispered sweet nothings into your head, rocking you back and forth. You are ten-and-seventh, and yet you still loved being babied by your step-mother. Moments like this had you wishing that your mother was alive, you only relied on memories and stories told by your father and sister, sometimes your step-mother would tell you how much of a mother she saw in her when she was younger. It was sure by day that she would’ve loved you so much— you and your twin brother, you grieved for them everyday. You could only meet your mother in your dreams but that was more than enough, or that was you just lying to yourself for hope it’ll help ease your curiosity of your mother.

But it was okay, you knew you still had your step-mother, “Sweetest,” she cooed, kissing your forehead lightly, her kisses made you melt with warmth, you had missed this so dearly. “He will come to his senses soon. He won’t hold anger over you forever. He adores you.”

“That is what’s wrong, mama,” you whispered, you pinched yourself to calm your growing anxiety but it was not working, instead you twiddled with your rings, “I have led him to believe that I do not love him. He is rightfully hurt and I do not know what to say..”

Closing your eyes, breathing in the air before you spoke your truth. “My marriage has already ended before it even started.”

Alicent held your face, squishing your cheeks, your sad and heartbreaking eyes left her feeling more sorrow for you. “My dearest, you are no fool. It can be savored, tell me, truthfully, do you carry such love and devotion for Jacaerys as he has for you?”

Her question made you begin to wonder. You had always tried convincing yourself this betrothal was good for the family, for the House. It saved you from marrying your brother, loveless marriage or an abusive one with a high Lord who only wanted you for your Valyrian blood. But really, you knew deep down it was otherwise, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself and others around you that you and Jace were always just family, it pained you tremendously. You weren’t as confident as he was when admitting his love for you— you didn’t know what to say or do. But you knew your heart belonged to him and only him, it was only right for you to make it up to your lover and it was only right to do it quick.

“I do,” you sighed, exhaustedly, leaning into your step-mother’s hold on your cheeks, “I love him with my whole heart. But I fear he may not want to hear it after what I done.” You had finally admit your love for Jacaerys.

Alicent let out a soft chuckle, getting up from her seat on your bed and straightening her gown, “Believe my words when I speak them, my sweet girl. He will be contented.” slightly smiling at the reassurance she tried giving you. You heard a knock on your chamber doors and it was Liz. To help you with your gown and hair for tonight, of course you let her in and dismissed with your step-mother.

You sat down at your vanity, quietly. Trying to think what to do tonight to apologize to Jace and express your true feelings for him. Waiting for Lysanna to start helping you, she noticed your dreary mood.

“Your eyes are swollen,” Lysanna pointed out and rubbed her cold hands over your face, it startled you which made her laugh. “I won’t ask what happened.”

Feeling a little better while she worked to braid your hair and wrap behind your head, leaving most of your hair down that were stylishly curled. “Have you ever been inlove, Liz?” you whispered, your eyes trained on her from the mirror, she looked rather stunned from your question. Worried you touched a sensitive topic but you wished for some sort of help from her, she was the closest companion you had and probably could relate to your troubles.

“Once.” Lysanna answered, truthfully. She brought over a bright red gown with gold trimming on the front of the gown and around the breast area, the sleeves reached mid arm and had fabric cascading from behind the ending of the sleeves. Though it looked magnificent and appeared to be the dress your step-mother picked out for you, you were not in love with how simple it was…or the color for that matter.

“He was my father’s squire. Much more older than I was at the time,” she helped you out of your pink gown and carefully put you into the red and gold one before starting to tie the laces for tightening. “The lad had dismissed my existence while he stayed in Winterfell, it broke my little heart. All of my hopes and dreams of marrying him disappeared when he left to arrive back to his home. My brother told me he left because his father had betrothed him to a lady from House Baratheon. That was the only time I had ever seen myself marrying for love, not for duty.”

At the newfound information, you frowned. Liz had only arrived to King’s Landing at the age of ten to be your lady-in-waiting. She has been your companion for so long and yet has never thought of marriage ever again. In a way, she was like you, the comfortable atmosphere around you both certainly helped you become more closer to the Stark girl.

“Do you long for home, Liz?”

“Most days I do. Why do you ask?”

“I long for home too.”

Your answer reached Liz’s understanding on what you truly meant. You knew she would understand. You both meant the exact same thing— not the home you grew up in, the home you had known all your lives. The home you desired for, a dream that you hoped to come true, a home that was far away from this place, a home where you could stay for the rest of your days and do whatever you wished. Where you were truly happy and safe.

You were finishing getting ready but you decided to take a few more minutes to help Lysanna with her gown, sure you both would have been late to the celebration but you wanted more time with her. Usually, Lysanna wore grey gowns with sigils stitched of House Stark but she started wearing appropriate gowns for the spring time, dark purples and flowery gowns looked amazing on her. You had her wear a pink patterned gown with much yellow accents and put her hair in a similar hairstyle to what she placed you in, but you wrapped the braids around the crown of her head to make a braid crown.

“Beautiful.” You complimented, Lysanna happily giggling at your words. You both left the chambers and made your way to the Hall where all celebrations and feasts are held. Tonight, not only they would be celebrating the nameday of your betrothed, but the celebration of your betrothal.

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Rhaenyra sat on the other end of the long table with Daemon, Lucerys, and Rhaena while waiting for Rhaenys who had came with Baela right by her side as well as her brother-in-law and her House since Lord Corlys was still at sea, in battle. Alicent and her family occupied the other end of the table while you and Jacaerys were supposed to be seated in the middle with the King, he was there but you were nowhere to be found. Nor was Lysanna.

“Where is my sister?” Rhaenyra whispered to Daemon, as if he would know where you were. He turned to look around the Hall, where many Houses with their Lords and Ladies were crowding. He did not find you but Lysanna was rushing through the crowd to be seated at the table. Rhaenyra had wanted to ask Lysanna where you were but Alicent got to her first. She whispered into her ear and after gaining a response from Lysanna, she looked relieved.

Lysanna made her way to sit next to Lucerys, the young boy quickly became flustered after receiving a smile from her. “Liz, where is the Princess?” Rhaenyra lightly whispered across, not wanting Jacaerys to hear so he wouldn’t panic, but he certainly would not react at the mention of you.

“She’s arriving soon. She had asked me to not wait on her, and went back to her chambers for something.” Lysanna answered truthfully. Rhaenyra was worried, Viserys was about to start his speech right about now.

Everyone had finally seated, once they had all sat, Viserys weakly got up and began his speech. But before he could even speak a word, you came in through the doors in a much different dress than the one you were previously wearing. A lavishing off-shouldered blue gown with ruffles lining across your collarbone, a lighter blue cape connecting around your sleeves, the patterns on the dress seemed to be in favor of House Velaryon and as well as the pearl jewelry that were around your neck and pinned between your ears. You wore the rings given by your father.

“Princess Y/n of House Targaryen, The Realm’s Beauty and the future Queen Consort.”

The knight announced your presence loudly, while everyone had got up from their seat once more to honor you. You had received the most happiest grin from the King and Rhaenyra’s family while you received a surprised look from your step-mother. Your betrothed’s eyes lit up for a moment once you had entered the hall, surely they all expected you to show up in your house colors but tonight you were here for Jace and only Jace. But he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be contented, the Queen who never was certainly pleased to see you show support to her and her husband’s House.

You climbed up the stairs and as you made your way to sit next to Jace, you placed a sweet kiss on his cheek while they all clapped. The King declared for everyone to be seated once again.

“As we all join together for another celebration. Tonight, we celebrate my grandson, the future heir to the Iron Throne, ten-and-fourth nameday.” Viserys announces loudly, to that, they all clapped once more. You gave Jace a warm smile—received nothing but a firm nod. Taking a sip from your glass, you almost felt all of your confidence drain out of you when he barely acknowledged you. “Not only we celebrate his nameday, we celebrate yet another betrothal between House Targaryen and House Velaryon, united once more. With my grandson, your future Queen’s heir— whom to be your future King, and with my second eldest daughter, your future Queen Consort. Let us celebrate!”

You gently clapped your hands and smiled towards your father who remained his eyes on you and Jace. As everyone all clapped again, music began to play, guests beginning to dig in their meals while you sat there, looking throughout the Hall until you were interrupted by a noise and saw Jace held his hand out for you.

Oh. The first dance of the evening.

Quickly you took his hand and was lead to the floor. Hesitating to take the lead, from your lover’s stance, he was much more confident to lead. As the music danced around you both, you cleared your throat and whispered towards him:

“We must talk.” you muttered as he circled you before you both appeared behind each other with your arms out.

“There’s no reason for us to talk, Auntie.” His words seethed with venom, you grimaced at the way he called you his aunt— not what you were used to. You both continued to dance away from each other and reuniting once more in the middle.

“I understand your anger, Jace,” you pleaded, you were desperate to make amends but it was not looking so good. “I realized my mistakes and I want to apologize.”

The dance was coming to an end and he harshly grabbed you, “You’re not forgiven.” He whispered down into your ear, lifting you in the air as you dropped on the floor before everyone clapped for you and Jace. He left you on the dancefloor by yourself until Lords and their Ladies crowded you. Watching him walk back to his seat without a care, you never felt so rejected and afraid until now. It shattered your heart as he changed his demeanor when he started talking with Baela. This was your fault, you must fix it. You were feeling defeated but snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a nudge on your shoulder,

“May I have a dance with the Princess?”

You wanted to politely refuse the young Lord but soon you realized it was not a young Lord, when you turned around you were facing the Lord of the North, Cregan Stark. Lysanna was watching with excitement to see you with her brother, she was so happy to hear from him that he would be attending. In a matter of seconds you begun dancing with him. Stealing glances over to him, you noticed how handsome he looked (though you could never admit that out loud.) He towered over you so easily— feeling rather short when next to him. His defined and mature looks, his furs that were draped over his shoulders made him look more masculine than any of the men that were in the Hall. The confidence in his stance was just the icing on the cake, everything about this man made you weak in the knees.

Recovering very soon from your ogling to the Lord of Winterfell, “It is a pleasant surprise to see you here tonight, my Lord,” you muttered, lifting your head after giving him a small nod out of respect, the older man gave you a light laugh from how you forgot your position. Grasping his hands around your waist, you let out a surprised gasp from how gentle he held you as he lifted you up in the air.

“It was my sister who asked of me.” He stated his reasoning, he helped you from the air to land you on the floor. That’s right, Lysanna had wrote many letters each month to her brother on any events happening and what was happening in her life, currently. It was a big surprise to see House Stark show up to any celebration that was held in King’s Landing due to them being in the North, it takes over a month to just travel here.

“Liz has always mentioned you, you are admirable, Lord Stark.” you were soon to be growing your confidence back, you were happy to be able to find comfort with a new friend you had made with the Lord Stark. Hoping he was enjoying your company as well.

Unknowing to you or the Lord of Winterfell, you were being watched not just by Lysanna but by your betrothed. Jace clenching his jaw as watched you enjoy the newfound company as you continued to dance with Cregan and laugh with him even though the dance floor was changing partners. Jace didn’t want to admit it, you looked like a divine goddess, he was mesmerized by your beauty that he almost forgot he was unhappy with you. But his grumpy mood soon came back after watching you dance with the Warden of the North while knowing he was an old potential suitor of yours.

It appeared that partners were changing soon, truthfully, you did not want to split up. You liked the friendly atmosphere you were able to make with him. “You honor me, my Princess. Please refer me as Cregan.” In awe at how he already wanted to be on first name basis. Before you could split apart, he gave your hand a kiss out of respect, “Congratulations, your betrothed appears to already be a strapping lad. Winterfell awaits for your arrival.” His manners made you shamelessly stare while being split up from the change of partners, grumbling once you realized Lord Baratheon became your partner, excusing yourself to return to your table. Happily eating the lemon cakes and toffee puddings that were offered.

“Sister! You must see the gift me and Daeron had prepared for your wedding.” Helaena quickly came up to you with Daeron by her side, holding a neatly rolled art piece that was collected specifically for you. You laid your eyes upon it with content, they knew how much you were into collecting art pieces, especially ones that were historical and ancient. You couldn’t wait to hang it up on your chamber walls with the rest of your collected art pieces.

You placed the art piece by your side and gave a genuine smile to your siblings for their sweet and thoughtful gift. “It is an amazing gift, my sweets. Thank you..”

“We had it exported from Essos,” Daeron explained, you assumed so since the paper was more softer than any art from Westeros. Your brother was explaining more in-depth with where the art piece came from. Helaena was telling you how happy she was when she got her hands on it as Rhaena asked to look at the art, handing her the paper, she looked so mesmerized by the colors.

You bid them off with a tight hug and a sweet kiss on their cheeks. Watching them sit back down at their seat, conversing with one another. Your gaze was soon locked with your young brother, Aemond. While Aegon, had run off to drink away and stare hungrily at the servant maids, making a complete utter fool out of himself. Your brother watched you from the side of the long table, your eyes began to sadden as you realized this was the first interaction you ever had with Aemond since two years ago, after the scary incident. He finally tore his gaze away from you and quickly your mood was ruined, once more. This is was a different kind of rejection, rejected by your betrothed and now rejected by your sweet brother, whom was the closest brother to you since children.

How could this night be so cruel to you? This was supposed to be a feast of celebration for Jace’s nameday but you could not hold your happiness anymore. As you’re drowning in your sorrow, Jace was drowning in his as well. He gave you a quick look before turning away once you noticed, you opened your mouth to say something but immediately closed it. Let him celebrate his nameday in peace, you thought, let him have no more worries for the rest of the night.

Your gaze was shifted to Lysanna, who was dancing with her brother and Luke, they all looked so jolly and contented.

Oh how you wished you were feeling those emotions right now.

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I made this chapter longer than the others because I felt bad for taking so long to update😔 I’m sorry! But omg we get sm angst, muahahahahaha😈 yes I love angst, it’s amazing and horrible at the same time. Anyways shoutout to Cregan writers, YALL ARE SAVING ME IN THE CREGAN X READER TAG!!🙏‼️

taglist (woohoo!): @sigynxlokiwifelover @l-3-e @audigay @urmomsgirlfriend1 @cold-v0dka @cookielovesbook-akie @theoriginalwife000 @xoxovenusquinn(would not let me tag u:( @ghalakgx (would not let me tag:( @neenieweenie @classysassynabitsmartassy @generousbearwolflight @gariben @si1versamurai @deltamoon666 @aemondssiut (would not let me tag u:( @thelastemzy @ryantryan6969 @topazy @starogeorgina @infinitleyethereal @speedypeter @dramaroomrat @potatolady189 (would not let me tag u:( @zzz000eee @parkchaeyoung1997 @jaehyunyah

[offtorivendell]

On Elain, Gwyn and their apparent romantic worthiness.

TW: mentions of death, violent or sexual assault, infertility and pregnancy/childbirth related trauma. Please do not proceed if these topics bother you.

Disclaimer: please, please engage with this post with kindness. I promise I am not writing it to stir the pot, but because I - and many others - are fed up with seeing hurtful and harmful rhetoric spewed by the fandom, yet having no back up when dealing with it. Word vomit incoming, I'm sorry. This has been bothering me for a while.

My love to everyone who has been hurt by things they've read in this fandom. 💜

It's 2024 and I cannot believe we are still seeing posts, almost daily, about both of these women; all giving reasons why they cannot possibly be with Azriel. And I don't mean the debatable but utterly harmless discussions about Elain not looking good in black or Gwyn blabbing to Merrill when asked not to. Whatever, go nuts. I mean the truly horrific takes based around things these two women have had no control.

Now, my post history makes it very obvious where I stand in terms of ships, and yes, I'm well aware I've spoken before about the inherent power imbalance - that I perceive - which would exist if Azriel ever became involved with any of the priestesses in the women's shelter he is charged with protecting (to be clear, that's not me suggesting that Gwyn and her story isn't powerful, or powerful representation to those who see themselves in her, nor is it personal to Gwyn, or indicative of any of the sheltered priestesses and their ability to heal; it's purely a function of Azriel's position of authority over their sanctuary). I want to reiterate that my stating my feelings about this was never done with the intent to shame people who do ship them; we all ship who we like, and real world ethics should rarely come into it.

That being said, the following, in my opinion, is one of those times.

Firstly, I just want to say that lived experience informs how we interpret fiction, so please let me clarify something: the people who have said that they don't think Gwyn is ready for a relationship yet, and that NSFW fan art of her with anyone makes them uncomfortable, are not in any way in the wrong. They're simply the other side of the coin to those who find it empowering, and both are valid responses, often related to personal trauma. The problem lies with those very few who say that Gwyn could never have a romantic relationship, and call those who talk and/or post about it "gross." Some have called her "damaged goods." This is absolutely wrong and whoever is doing it needs to stop.

The entire fandom, even those who find romantic or NSFW content involving Gwyn uncomfortable to consume, frequently acknowledges that her trauma doesn't define her, and of course she should be able to enjoy love whenever she feels ready for it. Those who say otherwise are readily condemned from all corners. I've seen it happen and called the people out myself, as have many other Elriel shippers when necessary. However, Elriels are still very regularly and very publicly blamed for the actions of a few (some of whom I truly believe are burner accounts wanting to cause chaos, with their Elriel themed usernames and no post history), despite our largely collective action to call them out when we see it.

Could we do better? Absolutely, but so can you!

Because, on the other hand, I've noticed that, whenever I or others have tried to explain why the pliable bones "theory" - which attempts to reason that Elain could never be endgame with Azriel, as she and any baby would die during the course of pregnancy or childbirth - is equally as harmful, we are met with people publicly and wholeheartedly refusing to understand why (especially recently). Some horrific comments have been made to my friends, not to mention all of those I see well after the fact, which are never widely condemned by any but us. People will argue back that we're wrong, and have even suggested we're weaponising infertility! On Mothers' Day, of all the fucking painful days to say that.

Some of the push back I've seen recently includes:

"Nobody has said Elain is infertile."

No, nobody has, and that's not what we're saying or have ever said. We know you don't think this, as the Elucien fandom loves to write and draw Elain and Lucien's hypothetical future children (which is super understandable, as this is a romantasy fandom after all - no shame, enjoy your warm fuzzies).

What we are saying is that, if it's true that Elain's anatomy wasn't changed as Feyre and Nesta's was - and to be clear I cannot stand that entire plot, I wish SJM had chosen literally any other reason why Feyre's pregnancy was dangerous, as it is simultaneously degrading and doesn't fit with her previously established lore - then Elain and Azriel, together^, would be functionally infertile. Yet it's only ever framed as Elain's body not being able to work with Azriel's, never the other way around.*

^Why didn't the bat boys have to sacrifice their wings to keep their wives/mates safe? Why did the women have to change their anatomy? Because it would make it harder for them to be all powerful? Well Nesta sacrificed her powers! Why not just have Feyre be cursed by an enemy or something, and Nesta found a way to use the Dread Trove to save them all. Ugh. I love SJM's books, but this was such a miss.

*HOSAB/HOFAS SPOILER: funnily enough, this was never said about Ruhn and his eventual mate, even though he actually did think he may be unable to father children, thanks to the Oracle's prophecy. People shipped the hell out of him and a couple of different women throughout the CC series, despite the chance he could never get them pregnant.

"People haven't called Elain damaged goods, so it's not the same. We're allowed to not like her."

My faerie porn* lover in christ, what the fuck do you think the pliable bones "theory" is actually doing? It is suggesting that Elain's hypothetical inability to survive having children with Azriel, and for those children to also survive childbirth, is impaired. Ergo, she's damaged.

We don't care if you don't like Elain, we're allowed to have different preferences in characters and ships. That has never been the problem.

*I use this term with affection as a great lover of the genre.

But "damaged" vs a functionally "impaired" uterus? It's the same damn thing, and sorry, it's misogynistic af, not to mention ableist and homophobic at a minimum. In the same breath you are also reducing your favourite to her apparently functional uterus (even though the pliable bones argument is medically inaccurate, by the way - this is really damning of the state of health education across so many countries).

"Hahaha/lol."

Yes, I have seen people laugh and treat this as a joke. As recently as tonight, in fact. It's disgusting.

Regardless of your lived experiences and shipping preferences, both of these takes about Elain and Gwyn are equally degrading and horrific and need to stop, but if you're only calling out the comments that hurt you/your friends/your ship and not the others, then you should maybe attempt some basic self reflection and analyse those double standards you're carrying.

This entire fandom needs to do better. I'll say again, for the umpteenth time, to any of my fellow Elriels that if you think mocking Gwyn's past is funny, then you're not mature enough to read an adult series. But this works both ways, and if you think mocking infertility is funny/use it as a win, then you're just as immature. I would really and truly appreciate it if we were not left alone to argue over and over again why discriminating against someone who couldn't "have a man's children" is wrong, and why many, many people in this adult fandom - that is largely comprised of women! - might find such a theory, and the resulting discourse, incredibly upsetting.

Infertility hurts; not having a kid when you want one can be viscerally painful. Besides that, I know very few people who have given birth who don't carry around some sort of emotional or physical trauma from doing so. Treating a character's hypothetical infertility with one man as a joke is gross.

Please don't call Gwyn "damaged goods" or suggest that Azriel would choose somebody else over Elain because she couldn't have his kids.

They are the same thing.

It's not hard to be kind. Pain is not a competition.

We should all do better, and take care of each other.

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hi!! May I req a fic where the boys accidently say something that upsets the gn!reader causing them to cry(like how they arent home now or something about them failing,etc), how would Malleus,Riddle, Vil and Azul react?

Hi, thank you for the ask! Oof this one's gonna be a bit of an angst. Short fics for these characters too, hope you like them!

Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Azul x reader: Let the Tears Fall

Malleus

He didn't mean to cause you any harm, that was the last thing he wanted to do while you were with him. He mentioned briefly that he was happy you were with him, in Twisted Wonderland of course, saying that he doesn't "mind if you were stuck here." He meant it in the most literal sense, that he would love for you to stay with him forever, never to return back to your world because he loves you so much. But that translated into possessiveness, something you didn't want in your relationship. Malleus laughed a little when he saw your pale face, he asked what was wrong, and you didn't say anything. Instead, you sat there, looking down at your knees as the winds caused the leaves to rustle in the forest. "Did I upset you?" Malleus asked, trying to reach for you but you just shook your head. You smiled, trying to hold the tears in, looking off into the distance as if to focus on something far away. "No...nothing I just...miss my world a bit...this place sort of reminds me of it," you said. A tear slid from your eye, and you were quick to wipe it off before he saw but the fae didn't miss it. He felt a chill run down his spine, he didn't think he could ever be a source of sadness to you. He never wanted to be such a thing, not when you always made him feel warm and loved. "Y/n, I'm...I'm sorry I spoke out of line," he said, wanting to take back his words. You tried to reassure him that you were fine, but your eyes still seemed hurt. Malleus would have a hard time forgetting that.

Riddle

"Once again, rose I told you it's not written in this way," he sounded pissed. Riddle was never patient with anyone, but when it came to you it seemed like he was a bit better at holding his temper. That was until today rolled by, a week before your exams and you were studying with him. You flinched as he slammed his notebook down and walked over to a chalkboard to demonstrate what he meant. You wrote down exactly what he wrote, listened to his words, but his tone kept making your heart race not in a good way. It was a panicked rhythm, something like you knew you were in trouble. This was your boyfriend for Great Seven's sake, what was going on? Riddle shouted your name again when you didn't answer him as you were lost in your thoughts. That was the last straw, you mumbled out the answer, knowing it was incorrect but not wanting to test his patience anymore. "L-look, I don't think I can do this anymore," you whimpered, and that made Riddle stop. His eyes widened, he realized what he just did. He yelled, yelled at you out of all people. He was acting like his mother, the person whom he despised so much yet ended up becoming a reflection of in this moment. "Y/n, I didn't mean to shout like that, I'm so sorry," his voice softened, he quickly went to you to take you in his arms. But you were limp, your eyes glistened with tears. While no words left your mouth, the small drops that fell onto your notebook was enough for him to understand the horrible mistake he had done.

Vil

A perfectionist at heart, he didn't let anyone escape his scrutiny. Even you, whom he always praised as being perfect in heart and body. He didn't care if you didn't have his exact look, as long as you were confident in your fashion choices he loved it. But this time, he wasn't feeling too much like himself, he had seen too many manager texts in a day, a lot of stressful classes, and now you were doing everything but taking care of yourself. You were up late studying for a test, causing not only physical health problems but also mental health problems. He wanted to tell you kindly to stop but he didn't have the energy. Grabbing your books, he snapped at you. "Get to bed, what are you trying to do sabotage yourself? I thought we went over this last week, how quickly do you dispose of my advice?" What he didn't realize was that you weren't doing that well either. You were sick, you were stressed, you were getting over a lot of hardships about being literally teleported away from home. This was the last thing you wanted to go through, and all you could do at that moment was..."Y/n? Are you crying?" Vil reached his hand to your face, lifting it up so he could see you. You tried to look away, but the tears slid down your cheeks and you made a small whimper. "I'm sorry, I don't want to cause trouble but...it's been a hard week," you try to explain. You think Vil would scold you, but instead, he looks at you with wide eyes, almost a look of fear. "No, I should be the one to apologize, it was rude of me to act this way," he wrapped his arms around you. He let you cry on his shoulder, tell him everything you wanted to tell him. Vil wouldn't let you bundle up your emotions anymore.

Azul

Azul didn't have anything against you, but he was quick to make grudges. He could cling onto random actions or phrases people said to use against them when he needed. It just so happened to be one of those cases. You were already in a tense environment with him. He didn't speak to you for a few days, and you were busy dealing with homesickness along with all of Ramshackle's issues. He casually had to bring up how you weren't helping him at the lounge, nor were you checking up on him as you usually did. What a selfish dorm leader, but you didn't have the energy to fight back. "Look, I'm just saying that as long as you're here, and Crowley remains as the headmaster, you won't be going home. Might as well toss that out the window," he said as he walked back into his office, leaving you in the lounge to clean the bar by yourself. This was the last straw for you, the one thing, the one hope you had was home and he had to jab at it. You tried to calm yourself down, but the tears just started. Soon, you were wiping the glassware while letting the tears fall all over the counter. Azul wouldn't have heard you because he usually listens to music as he's in his study, but this time he left the door open to see what you would do. Hearing slight whimpers and sniffles caused him to jump out the door, a worried and panicked look on his face. There was no way he just said something that hurt you, no he was better than those kinds of people. He went through hurtful words, he shouldn't be repeating that! "Darling, is something wrong? Was it something I said?" he asked, carefully approaching you. "Ah, it's nothing," you shook your head, trying to hide it but he wrapped his arms around you. "No, no it's absolutely something I should know. It was what I said wasn't it?" this caused you to cry harder. He started to feel tears himself. As he told you how sorry he was, he wiped your tears away and told himself he would never throw words at you.

[yupuffin]

No but I'm actually so salty about just how deeply entrenched amatonormativity is into our society, about the tendency to underestimate just how harmful it is to aroace people, and about how widespread the misconception is that simply being queer is enough to combat it when the process is really quite a bit more active than that.

There are so many financial, social, and other privileges I'm effectively locked out of due to being aroace -- something entirely out of my control -- even in a primarily queer social circle.

I have to work a strenuous full-time job, to the detriment of my health, in order to make ends meet, due to not having a spouse with whom I can split most costs of living and/or who is willing to help cover some essentials (such as unexpected medical bills) so that I can afford to dedicate less time and energy to employee work and more to (potentially monetized) hobbies.

Socially, I will never be any individual's "default" or "go-to" person, as that position, from an amatonormative standpoint, is reserved for spouses and significant others. Even if I did take matters into my own hands to fight amatonormativity and personally delegate such a person for myself, that relationship would be inherently unequal, balanced against me, so long as that person also subscribes to amatonormativity, even if they aren't currently partnered. My bids to socialize are subject to the availability of the other party, dependent on whether they've already committed to a significant other they will, by default, prioritize more -- and because I'm not part of their in-group by default, anything I want to be included in for certain, I have to expend the time and effort to assemble the plan myself, which is not the case for anyone who can count on being included on anything their partner plans for or with them.

These are just a few of the countless impacts of amatonormativity on my daily life -- and the thing is, on their own, as numerous as they are, they're not particularly harmful. As an aroace (and possibly not yet schizoid) adolescent with no desire whatsoever to find a life partner, I was optimistic, figuring it wouldn't be too much of a problem so long as I maintained a robust network of platonic relationships to serve as the equivalent of the material and social safety nets enjoyed by those with partners -- and in theory, this works excellently. In practice, though, such a situation is exceedingly rare and difficult to execute; in my adolescence, I gravely underestimated the sheer abundance of people who are either partnered or actively seeking partnership, or who misunderstand that combating amatonormativity, like other forms of allyship, is a process that must be conducted actively and deliberately, rather than something that can be done simply by existing and maintaining the status quo, so to speak, even as an aroace person. As an adult, I struggle greatly to locate, much less form a relationship with (assuming we're even compatible, platonically speaking), anyone available and willing to invest in to the relationship to the degree that our priorities will be effectively mutual.

Being aroace and unpartnered in an amatonormative world, thus, is a paradox, as I'm less financially and socially available than those with dedicated life partners due to lacking support I would typically get from such a partner, to which the system operates under the assumption I have access.

Exacerbating the isolating effect of amatonormativity is the tendency to be often labeled and thereby dismissed as merely petty, jealous and/or insecure, implying that the obstacles I experience due to being aroace and unpartnered are entirely internal and simply need to be overcome, rather than direct effects of an amatonormative society with tangible detriments to my quality of life -- implying that, were the emotional aspect resolved, the aforementioned practical disadvantages would likewise disappear on their own (they wouldn't).

And now I'm pondering the relationship between placement on the aroace spectrum and schizoid personality disorder, because whereas the former is usually listed as a symptom of the latter, I'm starting to think that, in reality, the relationship is more reciprocal than that. For example, I think it's fair to say that I choose social isolation and solitariness as a result of being schizoid to about the same extent that I'm isolated into a schizoid lifestyle as a result of being aroace, for the reasons listed above.

[yonemurishiroku]

Ok, let's see. Luke and Nico both have:

Lost their mothers to the women's efforts of protecting them (mentally in Luke's case)

Been homeless.

Had strained relationships with their fathers despite the truth that the gods pretty much love them.

Their fathers failed at parenting at some point.

Abusive, manipulative mentor figures (Kronos and Minos, respectively)

Whom they defeated themselves, btw. bravo to the boys.

Have a sword that can harm both mortals and mythological beings.

Enjoyed Camp -> Left Camp in awful scenarios -> the Camp didn't like them -> Done something heroic and now Camp liked them again. Huh.

Had a rather amicable relationship with Percy

And then back-stabbed Percy (Nico did it unintentionally. still counts tho) LMAO.

Manipulated Percy PLS HAHAHAHA----

Attempted to murder a demigod (Luke sicced the scorpion on Percy, Nico succeded with Bryce akdsjakd who's the monster now, huh??)

Have abundant motives to become an antagonist.

Kindness that enables them to do awful, unimaginable things.

I can literally write a whole AU out of this.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Do I support the Met Gala? Fuck no. Do I think the media is using it to take public attention away from Palestinian genocide? Absolutely. Do I think anyone who went to that gala deserves to explain to a Palestinian parent who just lost their child to a conflict they should have no part in why they chose to spend $75,000 on a ticket instead of using their platform and money to amplify what’s happening in Rafah and donate to help the innocent victims? Without a doubt.

Do I think that Sebastian Stan has never looked better? Yes. Did I need to take a minute to calm down because holyshit he’s so pretty? Also yes.

Sebastian at the 2024 Met Gala

You're right that the Met Gala and other frivolous expenses and flashes of material wealth often done by celebrities are a distraction. Intentionally and unintentionally, depending on who you're discussing. They always have been--it's what keeps capitalism burning. The world continuing on while Rafah is invaded and Palestinians are slaughtered is the reason the genocide is still happening. Stopping everything to aid would shut it down way faster. Seemingly, though, no one in power wants to see what it really is or wants to aid those actively in peril, actively dying.

But you're also right that Sebastian looks good. And you're hinting at something beyond Sebastian that's important, too. It makes me think of Peter Staley's (an American political activist, most known for his HIV/AIDs involvement) words, which I will paraphrase--show me an activist who is always angry and I will show you a useless activist.

You can't be outraged and mad as hell all the time, you'll sink into a spiral where everything is too much and you're harming yourself more than helping anyone else; you can't swing completely the other way, either, and turn a blind eye, being blissfully ignorant forever because that too will eat at you and you'll help no one. What you, me, and everyone needs is balance. It's hard to find, but take it where you can get it. Rage at the politicians whose job it is to intervene and be our voice but have done nothing of the sort, fight where you can, and yet at the same time rejoice with your friends, your family, and the people to whom you have a parasocial relationship with (like Sebastian) when good or exciting things happen. Feel everything, rage and love, to know what's going on. If you don't know anger, how can you know peace?

Free Palestine.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Things that are true at the same time

1) Romantic relationships are presented as the be all and end all of human relatonships, especially to women.

2) Given how other animals pair up, there is probably also a biological drive to find a mate.

3) Humans have proven time and time again that they will risk anything to have a chance at a romantic relationship, including external violence (for interracial relationships, homosexual relationships, relationships outside of marriage, any other relationship not approved of by family or the state) or internal violence (thousands of women are killed by their current or former husbands or boyfriends each year).

4) However, it is entirely possible for a human to have a fulfilling life without a romantic partner, and plenty of people have done so--women are at their happiest in their mid 80s, which is after the life expectancy of men.

5) Danger due to external violence and internal violence is not the same.

6) There is no social pressure to specifically be in a homosexual relationship while plenty exists specifically for a heterosexual relationship.

7) Opposite-sex-attracted women will often be shamed for their choice in relationships but it’s not to do with their opposite sex attraction.

8) Same-sex-attracted women will often be shamed specifically for their same sex attraction.

9) Even though OSA women are often shamed for having sex with men that people in their lives disapprove of, they are also shamed for not having sex with men, and lesbian women are shamed for not wanting to have sex with men at all.

10) When the risk is of external violence, it is the society that must change to accept relationships that are not inherently harmful (homosexual, interracial, etc.).

11) When the risk is of internal violence, the options are limited: A. have high standards and watch for red flags and hope you get lucky, or B. just don’t date.

12) Telling people to just not date regardless of the reason is not likely to be listened to.

13) That doesn’t mean it should never be said.

14) A small group of people on the internet telling you not to date someone with whom there’s a risk of internal violence is not the same as being threatened with external violence if you date someone.

15) The external societal pressure on women to date men far exceeds any “pressure” in radfem circles not to do so.

16) Telling you not to get a pet bear isn’t the same as telling you not to get a pet cat or dog. The latter might make it more difficult to find a place to rent (external). The former will literally be the one to destroy your home (internal).

17) Using misogynistic language isn’t cool, no matter who’s saying it to whom.

18) It’s also not nearly as commonly used in radblr as people are saying.

19) It doesn’t excuse homophobia or more misogyny as a response.

20) It is okay to take a break from this site sometimes. A lot of people here who are at odds would have a perfectly civil and productive discussion in person (not everyone, but a lot). Please take a walk outside, and put what you see here into context. No one on this website has any control of your life decisions.

Full disclosure: I am a heterosexual woman, I had sex with a man over the winter holidays. He is very likely the last man I will have any such relations with, but I trust him with my life and I will continue to have a handful of such encounters with him each year unless I feel I can’t trust him or he wants to stop. Nothing I read on radblr is going to change that. I had sex with him on Thanksgiving weekend too. And on the week I took off in the summer. I’ll probably have sex with him some time this spring. What radblr has done is validated my not feeling safe dating anymore men after my rape several years ago. My standards have raised considerably and I feel no shame for having them. I accept that I may never find a romantic life partner or have any children but realize a fulfilling life is still possible.

Take radblr as a balancing act: liberal men tell you to have sex with lots of men (and some women too as long as the men can watch) and that you’re a prude if you don’t, conservative men tell you to have sex with one man only and that you’re a slut if you have sex with more than one. Both tell you it’s wrong not to have sex with men at all (even nuns are called brides of Christ). Radblr simply says, hey, whether it’s one or it’s many, men are dangerous and it’s safer to not have anything to do with them. Difference is women in radblr have no power, external or internal, to enforce what they think you should do. Men do, both external and internal, and they use it frequently.

You can have sex with men if you want to have sex with men! You can date men and hope to find your unicorn, I hope you do too! But it’s no bad thing to hear, in what is a small space on the internet, “Hey, consider not doing this risky thing” in a sea of “Do this risky thing this way or else” and “No, do this risky thing this way or else”. It’s okay. It’s literally okay to be told “We don’t think you should do this” and still do it. And if the day comes where you don’t want to anymore, at least you know you have a--again--small place where people won’t shame you for that decision.

[madame-fear]

*ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 .ೃ࿐

.·:¨༺ [ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟐 | 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 ] ༻¨:·.

— summary : (y/n) Velaryon is Lucerys' aunt, Laenor's close cousin, and Vaemond's daughter. Lucerys nurtures a deep love and admiration for her Velaryon way of being, making him fall hard for his aunt, unaware his feelings are mutual. But how will their relationship be shaken when her father tries to claim himself as the true heir of Driftmark? — requested? : yes, by my beloved @faces-ofvenus ♡ — word count : 4.2k

— pairing : lucerys velaryon x velaryon! aunt! reader — genre : fluff.

TW | mentions of incest content (aunt-nephew mutual crushing), and some minor cursing.

ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter One ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Two ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Three ೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Fourೃ⁀➷ Read Chapter Five

The blazing sunrays vividly shone through the grand windows of your guest chamber, making you shut your eyes even tighter, and protect yourself from the striking light by sleepily placing a hand in front of your face as to cover it.

The previous night, after returning from the beachside and Arrax's dragonpit with Lucerys, was quite nicely spent with the members of House Targaryen and eating dinner together; one Rhaenyra had especifically prepared as a special welcoming for your arrival to Dragonstone. Though, you had suffered some intense lack of sleep — making the nighthour were you were supposed to be peacefully in a deep slumber be mostly spent by you laying on the bed and staring through the window, and having a full train of thoughts about... a wide variety of things, actually.

Most of them included your concern of the knowledge you had regarding your father, Vaemond, wanting to claim himself as the true heir of Driftmark, rather than Lucerys being the heir, and future Lord. Your father always questioned Lucerys' legitimacy as your cousin's son, and even if deep down you couldn't complain about his doubting, you knew your cousin, Laenor, would've done something if he didn't want Luke to be the next heir to Driftmark's throne; and even if you were absolute certain that your father wouldn't be accepted as the next heir, the possibility of succesfully claiming Driftmark and somehow harming the Velaryon boys frightened you like no other thing did.

As your hand protectively covered your face from the intense sunlight, your eyes slowly fluttered open, your eyelids feeling heavier than you ever felt them. You sat on the bed, and quietly sighed to yourself a bit tired — though, as your eyes scanned your surroundings, your mind reminded to yourself that today was a rather important day for you... and Lucerys, as a fact, as the previous day you agreed with your own fleet to come back to Dragonstone so you could teach Luke about navigation, and help him out with the seasickness you knew he had. And of course, as both of you left Arrax's dragonpit, you informed him about such special moment you'd have together, and he seemed keen about it.

At the thought that you'd get to spend some time by yourselves — and your fleet —, your previous concern and worries rapidly washed away, becoming a smile dancing around your lips, and your heart to pound faster at your chest with a certain anxious excitement, if that was even possible. The overwhelming excitement was able to make your sleepy, groggy self quickly disappear, and made you finally leave your bed, and prepare yourself for the day by, for example: changing your clothing, and brushing and braiding some strands of hair.

Once you were fully prepared for the day, you swiftly opened the grand wooden door, and made your way out of the guest chamber, beginning to walk through the large, grey corridors, occasionally greeting some maidens whom respectfully bowed to you on your stroll through the halls as you searched for your nephew Lucerys. But instead, you encountered Rhaenyra, whom walked through the halls much like you were doing.

“Morning, Nyra.” with a polite smile, you greeted her, receiving the same type of smile. “Morning, my sweet. How was your sleep?” she replied back, lovingly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. As honest you wished to be with her — and you knew you could be —, you didn't wish to bother her, or even worse, make her concerned as well with your worries; as she already had her own personal concerns in her life, and you wouldn't possibly want to add another one. You sighed, but remained your kind smile towards her. “I slept excellent, like a baby, almost.” you lied, and Rhaenyra could see you had small dark bags beginning to form under your eyes, but she didn't want to make you uncomfortable asking things that, perhaps, you wouldn't want to respond to — so she simply broadly smiled, and placed your hand behind your back as you both began walking side by side together.

“That makes me joyful to hear, my dear.” as both of you walked together, she spoke softly. “I am aware that today your fleet will be visiting Dragonstone once again so you can sail with Luke, am I correct?” her voice was low and kind as always while she queried, briefly looking into your eyes. In response, you nodded. “You are. And I pressume they'll be here soon.” the previous kind smile that was on your lips when you greeted her appeared once again as you mimicked her actions and placed your hand in her back kindly. Now, it was her who nodded, as she guided you to the dining room.

A soft chuckled escaped her lips. Her eyes glinted with a certain joy at noticing the pretty relationship you both had, even if deep down inside, she suspected there was something more "intense" going on between you two — something that reached beyond simple admiration from Luke to his aunt. “Ah, I am certain he will be thrilled with the sailing. He seemed far more excited when talking about navigating with you than he usually is when we have to sail.” she retorted playfully, causing a light shade of pink form on your cheeks, and chuckle as well at her comment.

“But, before you sail, you have to eat some breakfast, sweet one.” entering the dining room, you observed as the servants finished serving plates with freshly baked breakfast and some fruits in the large wooden table. “The boys already had some and are currently attending High Valyrian lessons with their maester, but you will have enough time to prepare for navigation.” both of you made your way to the table, and you looked at her, nodding in agreement with a kind smile.

After all, she was right. You knew you'd probably have quite a day navigating through the sea waves with Lucerys, and you had to be well prepared to have such a nicely spent moment with him.

🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊🐉🌊

A short while after you both finished breakfast, you were able to greet a good morning to both boys quite joyfully, and help Luke prepare himself for sailing with you. Of course, he was a bit nervous, but it was needless to say he was more than keen and willing to navigate across the tides with you. About an hour and a half or so, the guards had informed Rhaenyra that large, notoriously Velaryon ship had moored outside the castle, which was your sign to leave to your short travel.

As you got all left the castle and got on the ship, you introduced Luke to your fleet rightfully, and taught him about the rank that each one of them had. Once you were all prepared to sail, you waved goodbye to the family of House Targaryen with broad smiles — and they all seemed quite proud for him, and for you to get him out of his comfort zone.

Currently, shortly after you began your sailing, Lucerys rocked himself on a chair you offered him to leisurely help him get used to the movement of the sailingboat traveling across the waves, until you could help him get up, and approach the full end to the boat as to be able to admire the ocean. His fingers tapped lightly his mouth, plus his flinching expression indicated that surely he must've felt sick of the stomach — and it wasn't hard to notice.

As you approached him with a cup of hot ginger tea, you scoffed to yourself, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get yourself to throw up, Lucerys?” his hazel eyes turned to look at you, and scoffed at your comment. “Because if you are, it will surely work in... a rather short period of time.” sitting on a chair that stood right next to his, you joked lightly as to distract him a bit. His eyes then then turned to curiously stare at the cup you were holding, and extending towards him. “It's ginger tea.” you began, “It helps with seasickness, trust me. It worked for me, I can reassure you that. Camomille tea helps as well.” as you spoke, his eyes went from staring down at the cup and gently taking hold of it, to looking at you attentively with a gentle smile placed upon his lips.

“Thank you, aunt.” he shyly managed to mumble as you leaned closer to him, and placed a loving kiss on his cheek — immediatly turning into a deep shade of crimson at the feeling of your lips. “No problem, my sweet one.” you retorted lowly, and your hand found it's way to grab his free one, giving it a slight reassuring squeeze with a smile. “Drink it before it gets cold, and try not to focus on the sickness, otherwise you'll feel worse.” and without replying anything, he rapidly nodded and took a sip of the ginger tea you especially had asked to be made for him as you rubbed his hand with your thumb soothingly, knowing it work just like it worked for you when you were his age.

The wind was soft, and delicately hit your faces as you could admire the sun beginning to slowly disappear from plain sight — leaving a rich, vivid orange colour in the sky, accompanied by a deep pink of clouds. You took a deep breath, taking in the fresh wave of air that flew along the smell of the sea, and turned your head once again to stare at Luke lovingly, whose facial features had softened a bit, and didn't seem so... sick, as they were previously. And that comforted you, in a way.

“You know,” as you spoke up once again, interrupting the silence, his eyes now focused to stare at you. “Facing the direction the boat is traveling to and fixing your eyes on that point helps to soothe seasickness.” the way you had so much knowledge regarding the topic was rather impressive to him, and something he admired fondly of you, as he took a few more sips of the warm ginger tea. “Does it work for you?” you inquired, genuinely curious — and with a soft smile that clearly appreciated your concern, he once again nodded. “It.... it works just perfect, aunt. Thank you.” the way you lovingly stared at him with your pretty eyes made him certainly feel overwhelmed with joyful feelings, and make him forget about the motion sickness.

As to avoid having you notice his increasing scarlet blushing — even if you could still see it on his face —, he turned once again to face the horizon. “I insist, you should be the Lady of Driftmark.” his voice was low, yet vehement enough. A snicker escaped your lips, as you turned to face front like he did, while you shook your head in notorious disagreement. “No, no. I really shouldn't. As much as I love our legacy, I wouldn't be able to accept such important role.” you began, as you continously denied his statement. “I wasn't born, or trained, to be the heir of Driftmark's throne.” while you spoke, your eyes shifted to his again.

No, no. For him, you would be the perfect Lady of Driftmark. In his perception, you were as if the Seven themselves blessed you with grace, wisdom, and strength — you were so incredibly admire, and suitable to be the one who would honour the true name and legacy of House Velaryon. And if you kept denying about you being perfect to rule Driftmark, he'd make sure to make you his Lady of the Tides; he just had to find a way to convince you to rule by his side once he was Lord... or perhaps, he already had a certain idea on his mind for the future.

“But you were, and you will make an excellent Lord, you will see. I wholeheartedly trust you'll know how to keep our House and it's fleet as powerful as ever.” you complimented, as he finished some remaining sips of the ginger tea, and his green eyes looked at you with a rapturous glint; not only because of how your sweet words never failed to make him flustered, but at the feeling of your hand leaving his, and ascending to cup his cheek tenderly as you stared at each other.

“Now, if you feel like it, I will take you to the full end of the boat, and you will face the horizon.” you said, as you stood up from the chair you were sitting, eager to see his response. “Besides, you will get a good view of the ocean waves being reflected by the sun.” a broad smile appeared on his lips, as he enthusiastically nodded and stood up from the chair beside of yours, placing the cup of tea right on top of it. Your hands then grabbed his, and you guided him to the end of the boat, where he would be able to face the front direction of where the boat was going to, and that would help him feel better.

“It indeed is a pretty view.” he murmured, enough for only you to hear, and you chuckled. “I told you.” you retorted, quite pridefully, as his eyes were fixed on the horizon just like you had adviced him to do. The sound of the waves rising and descending were soothing enough for both of you, as you could hear some birds cawing in the background. “It will surely take some time for you to get used to this, but you will eventually.” your hand reached his shoulder, and you rubbed it gently, causing his head to turn around to look at you briefly, and smile. His eyes seemed to notice how pretty yours looked under the blazing twilight sun, and he could feel a small pinkish tint forming on his cheeks.

Before any of you could speak anything else, a member of the fleet, whose name was Eryn, approached you, with a folded letter on his hands. Hearing the soft footsteps behind of you caused both of you to turn around, looking at him with a kind smile.

“My Lady (y/n), Prince Lucerys.” Eryn greeted politely, as you gave him a single bow with your head to greet back. A long, tired huff escaped the fleet member's lips. “May I talk to you in private, (y/n)? It's... a matter of urgency, if it can be called that way.” his lips turned into a thin, straight line as he fidgeted with the letter on his hands. You furrowed your eyebrows a bit concerned; your eyes lowered to curiously stare at the note, and then stare at Lucerys with notorious confusion, but you rapidly nodded. “Yes... yes, of course.” you spoke, looking at him. Briefly, you turned to Lucerys and patted his shoulder. “Excuse me for a second, sweet. I will be right back, wait for me.” Luke nodded as he watched you leave a bit far away from him with the fleet member. You both walked together, and the fleet member guided you slightly far away from Luke so he wouldn't hear.

“What's the problem?” your voice tone seemed to anticipate that you'd probably get stressed from the matter, noticing his facial expression seemed worried. Without any response, he simply extended the letter to you — which, you immediatly took it from his hands, and began unfolding it. “It's from your father.” he mumbled lowly, causing you to look up at him. “I, of course, have not read it — but I'm afraid it might be something rather important.” a long, dreading sigh escaped your lips as you finished unfolding the raven-sent letter, and fully opened, attentively reading it.

“For Seven Hells — fuck me.” you cursed in a low voice so Luke wouldn't hear you, as you read how your father wrote that he'd be travelling to Kings Landing to claim himself as the rightful heir of Driftmark, and that he'd discuss Luke's legitimacy as a true Velaryon. Of course, as much as you appreciated your father, you also loved Lucerys, and it's his right to be the true future Lord of Driftmark! And as soon as your eyes finished attentively reading the note, you rapidly folded it back, and held the paper tightly on your hand.

“Shit! B-But– My father... no—” words stumbled upon each other as you tried to rearrange your thoughts, merely to speak something that would be coherent. Your hand flew to pinch the bridge of your nose as you walked to the side of the sailboat, and you lowered your head to look down at the ocean, trying to think of something. The tight grip you held on the letter began making the paper wrinkle, and Lucerys — whom stared from afar —, could see the situation, and hear you cursing; making him feel concerned for you, wondering whether he should go and ask you or not.

“It's not his right to do so! My cousin would've done something if he didn't want Luke to be the heir to Driftmark!” you half-shouted, a bit nervous. But, you were only nervous of the thought that if your father indeed got to claim the throne of Driftmark, which you doubted it would happen, he'd try to do something to Luke — such as harming him, in any possible way. The fleet member's lip remained straight, as he lifted his sight from you, and noticed Luke carefully approaching the two of you. Hearing the soft footsteps and feeling his presence, you turned around, encountering yourself with your nephew, whom was notoriously concerned.

“I... I will leave both of you, now.” the fleet member continued, “Lady (y/n), Prince Lucerys.” Eryn greeted goodbye, as he gave you a single bow by lowering his head briefly, and then turning around, and walking away to the rest of the troop. Luke gave him a single head bow as well, and his hazel eyes then went back to you — noticing some small dark bags under your eyes, as you kept pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to think of what would happen next, and what were you going to do, or respond to your father's letter.

“What's the matter, aunt?” his soft voice inquired gently, and it didn't fail to make you feel a bit comforted. A long, exhausted sigh escaped your lips, as you fidgeted with the now fully wrinkled paper on your hand, and your eyes darted to gaze at him as you shook your head lightly. “It's... I— It's nothing, just...” you wandered a bit around your words, debating whether to tell him about the note, or not. You preferred to keep such things to yourself, but you knew this was important enough for him to know, and be warned about it — even if you didn't want to worry him too much.

“It's my father, Vaemond.” you began, while still rearranging your thoughts, another sigh escaping your lips. “I... I've received a letter from him, saying he'll be traveling to Kings Landing, as to...” a brief pause was made as you rapidly licked your lips before continuing. “As to try and claim himself as the rightful heir of Driftmark, and question your legitimacy.” as the words came out from your lips, you tightened the grip on the letter, and his green eyes widened with shock. Some stuttered words came from his lips before he paused, and properly tried to rearrange his speech without constantly stumbling upon himself.

“Wh-What? When will he be traveling to Kings Landing?” Luke began, continuing to stammer lightly, as he could feel nervousness rising — he didn't want you to be involved in anything unnecessary solely because your father thought of him as a dirty bastard. You sighed, still fidgeting with your father's letter on your hand. “This moon, he said.” your voice seemed weary, already exhausted at the thought of having to deal with this very specific topic, and deep down, you were frightened of what your father could try to do as to claim the throne of Driftmark.

“To... claim himself as the heir of Driftmark? B-But— No, wait, does mother know about this?” his eyebrows furrowed, creating a small crease in between them as he kept trying to process the situation. “I doubt it. She might get sent a raven informing her to travel back to Kings Landing in these days yet to come,” you sighed, shaking your head a bit in disbelief. “or perhaps I'll inform her myself when we return to Dragonstone.” without saying much, you placed the fully wrinkled letter in the pocket of the trousers you used to sail, while he though a deep breath. “A-And what will you respond to your father's letter?” he inquired, his eyebrows remained furrowed.

“I don't know.” looking into the distance at the ocean, noticing the lands in a distance, you briefly maintained silence while thinking a response for your father's letter. “But, you shouldn't worry about this matter, my princeling — I will try and take care of this all by myself.” turning around back to stare at him, whose eyes stared at you genuinely concerned, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and rubbed it very lightly; and leaned closer to him, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek.

“We shall now focus on the navigation while I think of something to respond, yes? But please, don't worry too much.” you raised both your eyebrows as you reassured him you'd take care of it while you stared deep into his hazel eyes, whom internally hesitated to let you deal with such weight by yourself — but, Luke assumed it would be better to agree, and focus back on the activity you were previously doing together, then try to shift your attention to the more important matters once you returned back to the Dragonstone castle. A sigh — that was nearly a huff — escaped his lips, and nodded in agreement, which meant he still wasn't fully convinced in letting you deal with this by yourself.

“Alright, aunt.” he replied, as his eyes gazed intensely into yours, nearly mesmerised at how pretty your eyes had several shades of (e/c). A weak, but broad smile — that was only for him — appeared on your lips. “Good. Let's get going, Luke.” you signaled for him to follow you. “I will now teach you about the ranks of the fleet, and what each member is supposed to do to control the ship.” while you walked towards part of some member quarters in the ship, Lucerys followed you from behind like a lost puppy, eagerly nodding.

The thought of your father traveling Kings Landing to deal with the matter of Driftmark's heirs and discussing it with Lucerys grandsire, King Viserys the first, remained wandering on both you and Luke's mind for a while — though, you easily distracted those thoughts off Luke's head by talking about the fleet members and how to navigate through the sea, as his eyes glinted with excitement and admiration at your incredibly extended knowledge, and how passionate you sounded while talking about such topics. He could feel how enthusiastic you were, and he was keen in knowing more about everything you told him.

For Lucerys, being given the opportunity to spend time with you by your side and listen to your gracefully precious and soothing voice talking was like a dream to him... a nice dream, in fact. A very, very nice one that only happened in his mind, but not anymore, as he now was able to personally experience it. And for you, having mutual feelings for him much like he did for you, it felt like a dream as well — but since the love you felt for Luke was rather intense and strong, you could never fully distract your mind from your father's letter throughout the remaining time left sailing.

Time passed, and the ship sailed back to the Dragonstone castle. Both of you waved goodbye and deeply thanked your troop for allowing you to wander around the sailboat so you could teach your nephew several things about traveling through the tides, and how to navigate. Fortunately enough, he didn't feel as sick as he usually did when traveling on sailboats and ships — making you feel a sense of pride on you at the thought of it.

While you did get to forget a bit about the topic of your father wanting to claim Driftmark, soon after you arrived back to the rocky castle of Dragonstone, your mind kept torturing you internally with it — after all, you had to respond something to the informing letter your father had sent you, and not only that, but you had to find a way of telling Princess Rhaenyra about it, in case she hadn't been yet told.

You hoped that by the time the matter was discussed, it would be rather quick and painless... but, how wrong you were. You clearly had no idea it would be discussed in the most heated manner.

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[therainscene]

Ah, the age-old question: is Vecna really the puppet master, or is all that string imagery proof that he was the puppet all along?

This question is always framed in terms of who is really manipulating whom, and even interpretations which see him and the Mind Flayer as a team tend to assume there’s going to be an inevitable betrayal in which one will rise as The Ultimate Big Bad.

But personally, I don’t see it that way; I think they have a more symbiotic relationship than that.

To see why, let’s take a look at another villain from the show:

Jason is a charismatic leader who knows how to rally groups into action, and this skill allows him to amplify his personal mistrust of outcasts like Eddie into a full-blown, town-wide witch hunt.

By the end of S4, the hysteria he whipped up has gained so much momentum that not even his nor Eddie’s death can stop it. The Hawkins Satanic Panic becomes something greater and more powerful than himself -- but crucially, it also could not have existed without him in the first place.

The Mind Flayer is much like Hawkins: not a single entity, but a collection of them. It was a formless cloud of particles before Henry got his slimy mitts on it, and the show has strongly hinted that these particles are the mechanism by which the Upside Down’s hive mind exists.

So Henry can be thought of as the charismatic leader of the hive mind. His ideas are the ones that drive the mind’s actions, but like Jason, that doesn’t necessarily make him a puppet master -- more of an inspiration. I don’t think the hive mind had any inherent agenda of its own before he came along, much as the people of Hawkins didn’t have an agenda beyond simply existing before Jason gave them a misguided cause to rally around.

This is the true horror of the Mind Flayer: it’s a reflection of how easily bigoted attitudes can become entrenched in a society of well-meaning individuals, and how overwhelmingly difficult it is to resist those attitudes when you’re targeted by them.

But conformity isn’t the only theme being reflected here. To complete our understanding of the bond between Vecna and the Mind Flayer, let’s turn our attention to one more villain:

Billy is a survivor of abuse whose anger led to a sense of entitlement to abuse others in turn. It’s classic cycle of abuse stuff, and very similar to Henry’s backstory.

But where Billy differs from Henry is that he seems to be aware that what he’s doing is wrong. Not that this helps much -- the best idea he can come up with to mitigate harm is to beg his victim for compassion, which is a great way to assuage his guilt, not such a great way to mend the damage he’s done to her.

I think it’s significant that Vecna and the Mind Flayer are used as metaphors for Billy’s urge to perpetuate the cycle of abuse, as their relationship is a very cyclical one:

Henry was abused, which led to the creation of the Mind Flayer, which led to Henry abusing Billy, which led to the creation of the fleshy Spider Monster--

Billy attempted to stop the cycle here, but as with the sauna plea, his efforts were dead in the water and the cycle continued:

--Max developed survivor’s guilt, which led to Henry abusing her, which led to her death, which led to Henry having free reign to continue abusing to his rotten little heart’s content.

This reflects not only the abuse that occurs between individuals, but also abuse on a society-wide level: bigoted societal attitudes beget internalized attitudes, which in turn lead to behaviours that perpetuate the original societal attitudes.

To me, a more interesting question than “which one is the real Big Bad?” is “how will our heroes stop the cycle?”

In real life, bigotry is defeated when outcasts and their allies band together and forge their own movements to spread messages of truth and positivity.

So I think it’s interesting that our core trio of protagonists consists of a charismatic leader who never wields his skill selfishly...

...and a powerful pair of survivors who are too full of love and kindness to perpetuate their own cycles of abuse.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Infinite trust and responsibilities?

Trust and responsibility are composed differently based in the contexts from which they emerge. They can be conceived as a set of questions, including the capacity to selectively extend trust across the divisions of race, class, sex, gender, colonization, ability, age, and other forms of oppression and division.

There are good reasons why trust may be difficult. Distrust is often based on experiences of abuse, violation, or being used or taken advantage of. A lot of women, genderqueer, and trans folks don’t trust cis-gendered men; people of color are often wary of white people, and Indigenous people refuse to trust settlers. These are not ideological prejudices, but strategies of survival.

Moreover, to talk about trust and responsibility can sound naïve or just plain stupid in a world in which individual responsibility is callously imposed and so much violence happens to trusting people. At the same time, we want to recognize that people are constantly building trust across these divisions, in ways that open potentials for new relationships. In this sense, a crucial component of joyful militancy is a collective capacity to build, maintain, and repair trust, which may entail taking responsibility for harm, disrespect, or complicity with Empire in ways that we may not have anticipated. Richard Day suggests that many anti-authoritarian currents today are animated by what he calls “infinite responsibility”:

This means that as individuals, as groups, we can never allow ourselves to think that we are “done”, that we have identified all of the sites, structures, and processes of oppression “out there” or “in here”, inside our own individual and group identities. Infinite responsibility means always being ready to hear another other, a subject who by definition does not “exist”, indeed must not exist (be heard) if current relations of power are to be maintained.[122]

In this sense, the questions of what we are responsible for, whom we are responsible to, and what we can be held accountable for are always open, ethical questions. This does not mean that they will be completely revised at any second, but that they are never completely fixed, held open by an ethical responsiveness. Responsibility is infinite in the sense that it is unbounded: we can harm each other in unforeseen ways, and infinite responsibility gestures at the potential of remaining responsive to this. As a way of furthering this line of thought, responsibility could be broken apart into response-ability. Writer and facilitator Zainab Amadahy writes,

Responsibility in this sense is not a burden but something that actually enhances our life experience. The word literally means “ability to respond.” In the relational framework we might understand responsibility as the ability to respond appropriately – that is, for the common good. In this sense, responsibility is seen as preferable to individualism, which doesn’t really exist.[123]

This “common good” is not an abstract good based in Western morality. For Amadahy, it is based in attunement to human and non-human relationships and the capacity to support them. Following this line, responsibility is ethical rather than moral. As soon as answers to these questions become permanent, the ethical moment is gone, and one cannot be responsive to relationships in motion.

Like all common notions, trust and responsibility are not guarantees that things will go well, or that oppression and violence will not happen. Trust, hospitality, and openness are precious and important precisely because they entail incredible courage and risk, especially in the context of Empire, with its many layers of violence and control. For this reason, Esteva and Prakash write that “nothing is more treacherous than that which violates hospitality.”[124] To be open and vulnerable entails the risk of being hurt and betrayed in ways that we cannot be if we are on guard or closed-off. Pointing to the need for openness is not an injunction to remain open to everything. Instead, it is another open-ended ethical question about where, when, with whom, and how to be open and trusting.