#instead of sitting down and examining their beliefs

[crazysodomite]

it truly doesn’t matter if youre a good person or if you try to improve yourself... the only thing that matters is your social skill and social abilities

[csuitebitches]

Fearless Social Confidence: Strategies to Live Without Fear, Speak Without Insecurity, Beat Social Anxiety, and Stop Caring What Others Think - Patrick King book notes

Socially confident people:

expect to be accepted. When they meet strangers, they expect to make a good impression. They never approach situations thinking, “What if they don’t like me?” Instead they think, “I hope I like them.”

evaluate themselves positively. Socially confident people are encouraging, positive, and accepting of themselves. They give themselves leeway not to be perfect and don’t beat themselves up too harshly when they are not.

feel comfortable around superiors. Socially confident people feel comfortable because they don’t feel threatened, or that their flaws and vulnerabilities will be highlighted by the other person’s qualities.

With a lack of social confidence, you are usually choosing the thought that is cruelest to yourself.

when navy SEALs recognize that they are feeling overwhelmed, they regain control by focusing on their breath—breathing in for four seconds, holding for four seconds, and then out for four seconds, and repeating until you can feel your heart rate slow down and normalize.

Core beliefs: 

Steps in a thought diary entry can be arranged in the easy-to-remember A-C-B format—

Activating Event. Note down the event/ situation. This is simply the origin point of your emotional change. It’s whatever caused your emotional status to change from calm to agitation (a memory, a song, etc).

Consequences. In this step you identify the specific emotions and sensations that arose. These could be simple feeling words— “anxious,” “unhappy,” “sickened,” “panicky,” “melancholy,” “confused,” and so forth.

Beliefs. This is where the action begins. How do you link the activating event with the consequences? What unconscious narrative or story about yourself was told to achieve the consequence? (“What was I thinking?”  “What was going through my head when this happened?”  “What’s wrong with that?”“What does this all mean?”  “What does it reveal about me?”)

Now you’ve gotten to the bottom of your situation and figured out what your core beliefs are.

The first step is writing down one of the core beliefs you’ve just uncovered. Ask yourself what experiences you’ve had that prove your core belief wasn’t always true. Generate as many experiences as you can and be very specific about what happened.

Write down the core belief you’re examining.  Think of ways that you can put that belief to the test. These are actual tasks that you can perform.  Then, write down what you expect or predict will happen after conducting these tasks if your core belief was true.  Perform the tasks.  Write down what really happened after you completed your task.  Compare and contrast your predictions with what actually happened. Finally, document what you learned from the task and come up with a new, more reasonable core belief that goes in line with your discoveries.

Bushman’s results imply that sometimes the best course of action after being provoked to anger is to just sit quietly and let it pass.

There’s a direct link between social anxiety and negativity. A 2016 Australian research study showed that “elevated social anxiety vulnerability is characterized only by facilitated attentional engagement with socially negative information.” Obsessing over negative details—including by constantly talking about one’s problems—only reinforces one’s social fears and does nothing to inspire real confidence in a social setting.

Personalization is the mother of guilt. In the cognitive distortion of personalizing, you feel responsible for events that cannot conceivably be your fault. While it is admirable to take responsibility for your actions, there are things completely out of your control: the subway schedule, other people’s actions, and a million day-to-day factors.

Common cues of overgeneralization are “always” and “never.” When starting a sentence or a thought with “always” or “never,” consider whether you have the experience or evidence to back up the statement.

Other people aren't only what they are showing to the world. Most people put on a good show. But do you really know what might be going on in their private life? Take comfort from the fact that while there will be many people who are better at certain things than you are, there are also most certainly things that you will be better at.

If you are self-conscious and worried that people will judge you if you say something stupid or “off,” there's an easy workaround to that. The best approach is simple preparation. Create answers to predictable questions and conversations. Run that mental videotape in your mind about your past 10, 20, or 30 social conversations. I guarantee they are not all that different from each other.

Figure out the general questions that people will ask and the topics that will come up in normal conversation and be prepared with story-answers. For example, How was your weekend? What are you doing this weekend? How was your day? What do you do for work?

How can we ease ourselves into social confidence little by little? 

List the social situations you avoid. Ask yourself what kinds of gatherings or circumstances you steer clear of and write them all down in a list. Your list should include both physical situations—parties, family gatherings, work presentations, and so forth—and personal experiences that you don’t want to face.

Give each situation a SUDS level from 0 to 100.

Plan your goals.

Build your goal stepladder. You’ve planned a goal and have decided to start work. Remember, situational exposure is a bit-by-bit process.

[imaginedanvrs]

encrypted relations

part 10 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of previous abusive relationship, physical and mental trauma recovery

a/n: happy valentines ig <3 thank you all for your comments and support, here's the final chapter :)

The steady beeps and flow of your breathing through a mask seemed loud in Yelena’s ears as she sat by your side. She had hardly moved in the days you had occupied the hospital bed, even pacing outside the operating theatres for the long hours you spent in there. The blonde had been told by nurses, doctors, Natasha and Kate that it would do her a lot of good to go home and get some rest, that you would be closely monitored when she wasn’t there. Yet Yelena couldn’t bring herself to so much as leave the ward. 

  “She’s stable, but right now our main concern is what her mobility will be like when she wakes up given the damage to her legs and back. It’s hard to predict at this time,” the doctor told Natasha as the pair stood outside of your room. 

  “When will she wake up?” The redhead asked as looked through the window to where Yelena had fallen asleep on the chair. Her neck would be sore when she woke up. 

  “Whenever she’s ready.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Natasha nodded, understanding that there wasn’t much more they could do for you at that moment in time apart from administering the right medication. The rest was down to you. 

  Natasha winced as she watched her sister suddenly jolt awake from her brief sleep. She rubbed the side of her neck as she brought her chair slightly closer to your bed and examined the monitors for a few moments for anything different. The redhead had been trying to give Yelena some space in the previous days given that she wasn’t accepting anyone's company except for yours, but Natasha knew it wasn’t healthy to let her sister carry on alone. 

  She knocked on the door gently before she entered, giving Yelena a small smile she didn’t get back. Natasha pulled up the spare chair next to the blonde, sitting in silence for a few minutes as she took in your state. You were better, though the damage was still prominent. 

  “Kate wants to come and see her,” Natasha finally said. 

  “No one’s stopping her,” Yelena was quick to say. 

  “You don’t seem to like anyone else being in here,” the redhead commented. Yelena didn’t respond. It was somewhat true. “You can’t shut everyone out, Yelena.” 

  “Why did you not want us to be together?” The blonde asked as she watched the steady rise and fall of your chest. Natasha followed her eyeline, knowing Yelena was going to ask that question sooner or later. 

  “It’s not that I didn’t want it to happen, I just wanted you both to be careful,” Natasha sighed. “You’re new to relationships and y/n’s only seen the bad side to them. That doesn’t make you incompatible but I thought you both would’ve seen the sense in going slow instead of skipping straight to sex.” Yelena listened carefully to her sister, understanding her point. It made sense in hindsight, as most things did, though at the time there had been a part of both of you that knew it too. 

  “And besides, I thought you guys would tell me about something like that. I never expected you to think you had to sneak around and hide it from me. You should never have to keep something like that a secret, especially from your sister,” Natasha explained clearly as she looked at Yelena who nodded slowly. 

  “I wanted to tell you,” she whispered. 

  “I’m your sister but I’m her friend. I should’ve been looking out for both of you,” Natasha admitted. 

  “You’ll have the chance when she wakes up,” Yelena stated adamantly, not allowing anything to shake her belief that you would be okay. 

  “Yeah,” Natasha agreed. 

  “You recognised Ruslana,” Yelena started slowly. “But not from the red room and not by her name. Who was she to y/n?” She asked, the question had been weighing on her since their meeting. 

  “As much as I wish it wasn’t true, she’s who she said she was,” Natasha said honestly. “It wasn’t a healthy relationship by any means, she had y/n do the hacking for the red room - not that anyone knew that at the time,” she explained. 

  “She never told me that.”

  “She never told anyone.”

  “I am glad I killed her,” Yelena said after a steady sigh. 

  “I’m glad you did too,” Natasha admitted. “Even if it was reckless,” she added. Yelena rolled her eyes but her sister didn’t miss the smile that settled on her lips. “I’m going to get you some lunch,” Natasha told her as she stood up. “I’ll get enough for Kate too.” Yelena nodded and pulled out her phone to text the young archer. 

  “I miss you,” Yelena told your sleeping form. “I wish I knew about Rae, maybe it would have helped. But I understand why you didn’t tell me,” she said. You took several supported breaths. “I wish I was more honest as well,” she admitted. “But we’ll have time for all that when you’re awake,” she said adamantly, though the continuous beeps from the machines attached to you worked to dig doubt into Yelena’s mind.

  “Please wake up,” she whispered, her voice breaking as her eyes clouded. “I missed you so much, please don’t stay away much longer.”

*

The light was the first thing your brain registered when you woke up. It was far too bright, a painful contrast to the blanket of darkness you had rested under for the past week. You kept your eyes squeezed shut as you allowed the rest of your senses to adjust and take in your surroundings, the steady beeping next to you being too loud for one thing. The bed you were on was far more comfortable than your last one and the room was pleasantly cool, as though someone knew that was your preferred sleeping conditions. 

  The pain was the next thing you experienced and it made the discomfort of the lights jump to the back of your mind in comparison. It was everywhere and seemed to extend right into the centre of your bones without pity. Your skin felt as though it was tearing with every slight movement and the whimper you gave only scratched at your dry throat as you grasped at the bedsheets and stumbled upon a warm hand resting on your bed. You forced your eyes open just as Yelena did, meeting the grey orbs that you had hardly left your mind in your time apart. Your breath hitched as her features brightened at you. 

  “Hi,” she said as an anxious smile flickered across her lips. 

  “Hi,” you whispered, your throat protesting. Yelena grabbed the jug next to your bed and poured a glass of water, not hesitating to bring it up to your lips to aid you to take the water with steady sips until you had enough to ease the ache in your throat. “Thank you,” you said, unsure of how to even start on everything else you wanted to say. “Have you been here long?”

  “I haven’t left,” she told you. 

  “How long has it been?” You frowned. “You must be tired.” 

  “I’m sure it is nothing compared to you,” Yelena said, noticing your pain. You glanced down at your covered body, unsure if you wanted to see what lied beneath. “I will get a doctor,” she announced but the moment she stood up you reached out for her wrist and held it tightly. 

  “Wait,” you said, not wanting to wait any longer to fix the regrets you had become all too aware of during your last consciousness. “I’m sorry,” you started but Yelena cut you off as she sat back down. 

  “Don’t say that,” she insisted, though it sounded like a plea. “I know you didn’t mean what you said at the party.”

  “I just want to explain,” you winced. 

  “I read the letter,” she told you. 

  “Oh?” You remembered that letter vividly. “Right,” you nodded, recalling how it had ended. You hadn’t written that letter with the intention of recalling it to the blonde word for word, it was meant to be a guide to help you navigate your mind. You hadn’t planned for Yelena to be on that journey with you. So where did that leave you?

  “Can I take you out some time?” Yelena suddenly asked with an air of uncertainty that you weren’t ever going to be used to seeing on her. Despite the pain, you smiled. 

  “I would like that,” you told her and saw her shoulders instantly relax. She shifted her wrist so that she could hold your hand in hers, a gesture that hadn’t lost any of its perfection. “Where do people usually go on first dates?” You asked with an easy grin that Yelena mirrored.

  “I was hoping you would know,” she countered knowingly. 

  “Maybe a cat rescue centre?” You suggested. Yelena rolled her eyes and dropped your hand with a huff.

  “Screw you,” she said, though it was clear she was suppressing a smile. You chuckled at the sight and felt a bloom of pain arise in your chest. “Can I get someone now?” You nodded, letting her go under the certainty that she would return. 

  You rested your head back and tried to focus on anything but the increasing pain across your body, remembering all too vividly how you had come by your injuries. You didn’t want to think about Rae, especially now that Yelena’s role in your life was finally beginning to feel more concrete, but your past had caught up to you in a way you couldn’t have ever anticipated. 

  Rae was a widow and nothing you ever had was real. You were just a means to an end for her to use to support what Yelena and Natasha had suffered from. You frowned, refusing to let yourself fall into that spiral of guilt that never did any good for anyone. Sure, you had indirectly caused harm, but with S.H.I.E.L.D and Yelena, you had played a significant part in helping the heroes and the later acts had been your choice. That was enough. 

  “Miss, l/n,” a doctor greeted as she stepped into the room with Yelena close behind. “How are you feeling?” She asked with a genuine smile. 

  “Bruised,” you undermined slightly in the blonde’s presence, not wanting her to know how bad the pain really was. 

  “We’ll increase your dosage so that you can be more comfortable,” she told you as she read your vitals and the information written out on the board above you. “Your body’s been through a lot,” she informed as she began to explain the numerous operations you had gone through and how your body was expected to recover, given the chance and what condition it was in at that time. “Could I ask you to raise your left leg?” She asked. You felt Yelena shift next to you as you strained to lift the heavy limb and succeeded, after several moments' effort, to get it a few inches above the bed and repeated it with the other. You were unable to raise either of them as high as you could prior to your injuries, but you were well aware of how lucky you were to be able to move it at all.  

  “That’s good to see,” the doctor told you honestly, withholding from the fact there had been great apprehension as to whether or not you would be able to accomplish the movement. “Can you try and sit on the edge of the bed with your feet over?” She continued though that proved to be harder. Your back burned in protest as you twisted it and you had to use your hands to help drag your legs across the mattress until they fell over the edge and you suddenly felt very unsure of your ability to support yourself. You gripped onto the bed as tight as you could while Yelena stood by your side with her arms outstretched ready to catch you should you fall. 

  “Now when you’re ready, see if you can stand up.” You breathed out and peered over the side of the bed with some apprehension. You suddenly felt quite high up. Tentatively, you pulled yourself closer to the edge until your feet hovered just an inch from the floor. 

  “I’ve got you,” Yelena reassured. You smiled at her with little confidence and finally pushed yourself off with a soft pat on the floor. You didn’t let go of the bedrail as you steadied yourself, leaning the majority of your body weight on the bed instead of your own two feet until you let go. You stood for several seconds unsupported until the muscles in your legs gave out beneath you. True to her word, Yelena caught you just as you toppled, hooking her arms underneath yours and immediately guiding you back to the bed where you sat in defeat. The doctor mentioned something about physiotherapy, but you weren’t really listening. Your legs were numb again, but it proved difficult to be too disheartened when you felt Yelena rub soothing circles on your waist as she listened to the doctor intently. 

  “And we’ll monitor your progress to see if you need any additional support,” the doctor said, noticing that she didn’t have your full attention.

  “Like what?” Yelena enquired. 

  “Leg braces can be of great help.” You nodded absently. You didn’t want a brace. 

  “Thank you,” you muttered towards the nurse, wanting the meeting to end. She seemed to take the cue and departed with a sympathetic smile. Once she closed the door behind her, you looked at the blonde and patted the space in the small bed behind you. A smile graced Yelena’s lips as she moved to the other side of the bed and you hauled your legs up again, settling on your side as she slipped in beside you. You didn’t waste a second in stretching your bandaged arms out around her as she did the same. It was easier to ignore the pain when it meant you were able to hold the blonde again and a small price to pay to feel her steady breathing above you. 

  “I will help you walk too,” Yelena told you with a certainty you always associated her with. 

  “Tomorrow,” you replied. “Let's just stay like this for now.” Though Yelena wanted to help you get better as quickly as possible, she couldn’t decline the offer to stay with you in the way she had been craving. Instead, she rested her chin on top of your head until you both fell into a peaceful slumber like you had numerous times before.

*

“Oh my god,” Kate rushed out once she stepped into the room. 

  “Hey,” you smiled at the sight of your best friend and sat up slightly. 

  “I can’t believe you did that!” She exclaimed. “That was so dumb!” She continued, giving you the same frantic look she did after drinking a dozen red bulls in order to get through a twenty four hour stake out. “That was so so dumb and I’m so mad at you,” she told you as she enveloped you in a tight hug and clambered onto the bed beside you. You chuckled with a wince you didn’t want the archer to see as her hands caught the edge of the strike on your back. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said as she held you tight. 

  “I won’t be if you keep squeezing the air out of me,” you told her with a grin. She pulled back with a start and gave you a sheepish smile. 

  “Sorry I just…you scared me,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m so-”

  “Don’t you dare,” you interrupted. “It was my choice to leave. It scared me when I thought they had you,” you pointed out, seeing the comfort Kate drew from your words. “Worthit though.”

  “Really?” Kate frowned as she glanced at the different bandages across you. 

  “Yeah. The way I see it, I tried to save your ass so now you owe me so much pizza,” you shrugged and Kate began to grin.

  “Except you didn’t really save either of us,” she said matter of factly. 

  “I still almost got turned into minced meat for you!” You huffed. Kate was beyond glad that you were still able to make light of something that could have destroyed other people. She knew you were still hurting, but it was good to see you hadn’t been entirely broken by what had happened. 

  “Not just me,” she smirked. “I heard Yelena’s been in here a lot.” You hummed simply, suppressing your smile. 

  “I sent her home to have a shower.” Kate chuckled at that. 

  “Are you guys good?” She asked except the way she was looking at you indicated that she already knew the answer.

  “We’re going on a date,” you informed with a grin that Kate quickly mirrored and launched forwards to give you another, lighter hug. 

  “Finally,” she beamed. 

  “Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed with an eye roll as she pulled back. 

  “I’m happy for you,” she told you with a sincerity that made her eyes glimmer. “For you both,” she added. 

  “Thanks, Kate. For everything. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” you told your best friend. 

  “Somewhere really lame I bet,” she shrugged and pulled up a chair next to your bed to give you some space. “So I know you’re happy with Yelena and all that sappy stuff,” she began. “But you do realise that as best friends we’re obligated to discuss this latest addition to the whole crazy ex thing.” You knew that there was never any genuine pressure to discuss the most recent events that had unfolded with Rae, but you were done trying to pretend like anything to do with her never happened.

  “Well for starters, she’s a widow,” you said. 

  “Dude, what the fuck?!”

*

“You’re doing well, y/n,” the therapist encouraged once she helped you up from the heap on the floor. You bite your tongue as you clung to the bar to prevent yourself from snipping that it didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel like you were making much progress at all despite working your leg muscles as best you could in the past few days. “I think we should call it a day for this session and pick it up again tomorrow,” she suggested. You didn’t want to stop. You wanted to keep going but you knew the physiotherapist had a lot of other patients to attend to and you couldn’t take her attention away from them. 

  Yelena emerged from where she had been watching from the sidelines and brought your wheelchair with you to help you into it. You almost swatted her hand away to do it yourself, but you needed the support and you couldn’t brush her off. You went back to your ward in silence as Yelena commented on your progress, apparently sharing the belief that you were making good progress. You still couldn’t walk unsupported and you could only take several steps at a time before falling. Yelena and Kate were amazing for being so supportive, but it had always been Natasha who had taught you skills you needed the most. You hadn’t seen her since that night at the party and you were beginning to believe it would be a while until you would again. 

  “We don’t have to wait until you’re walking, we could go to a restaurant that is wheelchair accessible,” Yelena rambled as she helped you back into the bed. 

  “You’re not getting tired of waiting on me, are you Belova?” You quipped. 

  “I’ve been waiting a long time,” she muttered back with a fond smile. You hummed in agreement. “I’ve done some research to see which restaurants would be best,” she continued. Of course she has. “But I want to visit them myself to fact check,” she told you matter of factly. “Because sometimes it’s not as good as they say and-”

  “I love you,” you said suddenly. Yelena’s eyes widened as she took in your words. “Sorry, you don’t have to say it back and I know you kind of already knew it because of the letter and if history has taught us anything I probably shouldn’t be moving so fast anyway but it just felt right to tell you because-”

  “I love you too,” she cut you off confidently. “I think I have loved you for a long time,” she added. You pulled her forwards slightly and she took the cue to lean down and kiss you softly, cherishing the moment’s intimacy that you had both waited so long to display. It was new territory for you both, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world. “And I would like to go on a date sooner rather than later,” she smiled. 

  “Just don’t stay away for too long,” you replied, still holding her hand as she pulled away. 

  “Never,” Yelena promised, leaving your room with a glowing feeling in her chest that she was allowed to embrace for the first time in her life. She owed that to you. 

  Similarly, you lay with a content grin on your lips for a while as you reflected on every moment you had with Yelena and couldn’t help but anticipate what was to come. Though if she was constantly willing to go the extra mile, you should be too. With that in mind, you dragged your feet over the side of the bed and braced against the sides as you raised yourself to your feet, unaware of the emerald eyes that watched you from the hallway. 

  You took a supported step as you clung to the bed, feeling your legs shake in protest but unwilling to back down just yet. You carried on regardless and successfully reached the end of your bed so you could set your target on the window just two steps away. Two steps was nothing, right? Wrong. The moment you advanced towards the window the numbness took over both legs in their entirety and you toppled to the floor without Yelena being there to help you up. Someone else was though.

  “I thought you were only supposed to do that with a nurse around,” Natasha stated as she appeared by your side. You looked up at her with a badly concealed surprise as she held her hand out to you. You took it, knowing you were unable to get up on your own.

  “As if you would follow that advice,” you muttered, uncomfortable at the tension that filled the room. 

  Natasha didn't reply to that. “They said you’re doing well,” she said instead as she helped you sit down. She didn’t pull up a chair, opting to hover by your side with her arms across her chest.

  “Apparently,” you shrugged, glancing down at your lap. You had never found yourself struggling to make conversation with the redhead before, even though there was something you both needed to talk about. 

  “Yelena said you guys are gonna go out some time.” You kept your eyes glued to your lap as you swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. 

  “Yeah, is that…yeah,” you said slowly, wanting to ask for her approval but too afraid to hear her reject it. 

  “I’m glad-” she began but you cut her off before you could take in what she was trying to say.

  “I’m sorry, Nat. I know you told me not to date your sister and I never thought we would actually- I mean I didn’t expect that she would even want to- or that we would end up getting so-”

  “Y/n,” Natasha cut off as she sat down next to you. “I had no right to ever tell you Yelena was off limits and honestly, if I had known how you felt about each other before I saw what you did with each other, I never would have stood in your way,” she said firmly. “I would have had some issues with the order you two were working in,” she continued and you finally let yourself smile in relief, “but that’s only because I want the best for both of you. Now I know what that is.” Without another word, Natasha tilted her head to rest against yours and you didn’t waste another second in leaning in to wrap your arms around her, feeling the immense safety that always came from being in such proximity to either Russian. 

  “I promise not to hurt her again,” you whispered. 

  “I’ll spare you the lecture,” she chuckled. 

  “I’ve heard enough of them,” you told her as you remembered the hours Rae had spent at your side.

  “You’re safe now,” Natasha said with all the assurance you needed to hear. “I told you I’d find her.” You hummed faintly.

  “I never doubted it. Now there’s nothing holding me back.”

*

Six months later

  “Just a bit further,” Yelena encouraged as she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You glanced up at the last stretch of the hill, knowing it was going to be the hardest. It would be worth it though. “Do you want to stop for a bit?” Your girlfriend asked as she watched you struggle to persevere.

  “I got it,” you told her even though your legs were burning, adamant on getting to the top without any assistance. Yelena stuck close to your side as Marty peered up at you from the other, giving a bark of encouragement too. “Thanks, bud,” you told him as the last few metres drew closer and you finally hauled yourself up to the top where you collapsed in an exhausted heap. Your burning legs were numb but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you gazed out across the cliff. 

  “Are you okay?” Yelena asked, concern written over her features as she crouched down in front of you. You merely smiled up at her and placed your hand to her cheek, only needing a moment of that contact to ease her worries as she sat down next to you to admire the view and grab some water from her backpack for you all. 

  “It’s even better in the summer,” she commented as you sat up, resting your head on her shoulder. You hummed in agreement and craned your head slightly to gaze at Yelena. 

  “Beautiful,” you muttered. 

  “We should camp out here next time,” she said, too caught up in the view to notice your subtle admiration of her. 

  “I like that idea,” you told her, although what you really liked was the idea that there would be a next time and no doubt many more after. “I think they do too,” you added when you noticed Marty and Fanny looking at you both with great interest. Yelena chuckled and rested her own head on yours. 

  “You think you will be up for it?” The blonde enquired. 

  “I think so,” you said. “I hope so.”

  “You’re doing well,” she told you, knowing how frustrated you had been over your slow healing progress at the start but how, despite the odds, you had made it back onto your feet.

  “So are you,” you said. Yelena kissed your forehead softly, knowing what you meant. 

  “It’s easy loving you,” she said simply. You grinned, feeling your heart elevate in your chest as you wrapped your arms around your girlfriend and sat content under the knowledge that you never had to doubt it. “It always will be.”

The end.

[public-trans-it-deactivated20240]

i was a trans man until after a lot of build up of doubting myself, i finally realized that we are putting ourselves further into boxes by not accepting that we are the biological sex that we are and we can do WHATEVER we want at the same time.

clothes and makeup and certain interests do not equal gender.

and not liking being a woman is an unfortunately natural symptom of puberty and/or experiencing society’s deeply ingrained misogyny. and everyone deserves support for those problems.

but we can all fight together against gender social constructs in a healthy way without prescribing people hormones and invasive cosmetic surgery to make them more like the sex they “should” be according to… social constructs…. and help them be comfortable in who they are

Alright. Its been like 9 fucking months that I have been staring down this ask. What better time than to give TERFs some nuance than right in the middle of a fucking hate campaign going on where people (well... singular person probably) are calling me a TERF. This wont backfire.

This post arrived in my inbox shortly after I made another post about gender, and just how fucking weird it can be, and how I genuinely believed every single person on this planet has a fascinating relationship with gender, and so much nuance and personal identity in theirs. Even cis people. Even TERFs. In the tags, I even begrudgingly encouraged TERFs to talk about their gender on that post if they wanted. I genuinely think that TERFs do have really cool relationships with gender. As I mentioned in those tags, the quickest way to explode a group of TERFs is to get them to start talking about their own relationships with gender, and see how vastly different it is, and watching them stab each other in the back over it. So I told them to ramble away about how they view gender, as long as they stayed the fuck away from the rest of the blog WHICH THIS ANON CLEARLY FUCKING IGNORED.

But... this anon does bring up another topic I want to talk about.

Detransition.

Read More

I am a huge supporter of detransitioning. This is... surprisingly... not a very common stance in the trans community, and it breaks my fucking heart. Like, I get it. I understand why. A LOT of detransitioners, like the person in this ask, end up weaponizing their feelings of gender against other trans people.

My support of transition comes from the intersection of two very central beliefs of mine:

Everyone should explore their gender without feeling a need to commit! This is a pretty common belief in the trans community! Damn near universal in fact! We even have a fun little term we use for people who decide to play around with gender, only to end up a bit closer to where they started and being perfectly happy with that: Cis+. Someone who is cis, but at least put in the work to understand the trans experience, and actually CHOOSE to remain Cis instead of just defaulting to it with societal pressure. Many trans people are much more comfortable around 'Cis+' people, because they know these are people who have taken the time and put in the work of being an ally. Self examination isn't easy, especially not publicly, and doing so is genuinely one of the strongest ways a Cis person could ever show their support.

It is never too late to transition. This is also a pretty common belief in the trans community! It is... sadly not quite as universal though. But it is something very important that needs to be said. You could be 80 years old, sitting in a retirement home, and go "You know what? I think I'd rather wear a dress and be treated like a lady. I don't want to be buried as a man." And I think every single trans person should have that freedom!

I was discussing this with @thydungeongal the other day, far more paraphrased than this post, and she said something incredible that has been knocking around in my head ever since.

"Gender is an ongoing process"

Those five words they said to me sum up my feelings far more than this entire post could. Gender IS an ongoing process. My gender has changed SO MUCH over the past three decades. From the straightjacket of assigned gender that I was once forced into; to the very stylish and still lovable finely tailored suit of femininity that grew a little too stuffy to wear constantly, even though I do still enjoy it and try it on from time to time; to the wonderful and freeing losely fitting clothing of being aegogender, finally feeling free to be myself and just act naturally and feel natural without having to keep up an appearance!

And I think, there is no length of time you can try out being trans, and trying out new genders, before eventually coming to the realization you were cis all along. Even if you started HRT. Even if you got SRS. Heck, I don't even think you should have to call yourself trans to do either of those things in the first place, why would I be upset that someone did them and then realized they weren't trans? No single moment in your life should EVER lock your gender in place into some unchanging, set in stone thing.

So I support detransitioners completely, with my entire heart. They deserve just as much support as every other 'Cis+' person out there.

So anon, while many people may hate you and lash out at you for detransitioning, I want you to know, that I am not one of them. It sounds like your detransition might have been forced by peer pressure, which is heart breaking to hear. No one should ever force their own gender expectations on another. I hope that wasn't the case. I hope you came to the decision yourself, after realizing whats right for you. I will never give you hate for your detransition.

I WILL ABSOLUTELY GIVE YOU HATE FOR BEING A FUCKING TERF THOUGH. YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE WITH GENDER DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO POLICE THE GENDER OF OTHERS, FUCK OFF. GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!

[jenoslutie]

pairing: chenle x reader x renjun

wc:500+

warnings: renle are kinda mean, oral (m recieving), thigh riding, pet names (readers: pup, chenle: sir, renjun: daddy)

a/n: this is for my baby @hall0ween-twn i hope u like it my love

The men before you could almost laugh at how pathetic you look, struggling to take all of Chenle's cock in your mouth. Your teary eyes looking up at Chenle as he pushes your head further down on his cock. He was big and he wasn't gonna miss a single chance to make it known. Meanwhile Renjun watched the two of you, constantly making mean comments that were enough to have you dripping onto his bed.

"What a messy girl, was so desperate to have us but can't even take him now? such a shame" Chenle could only chuckle at how much Renjun's words affected you, pulling you off his cock to look you in the eyes. "What do you want pup? Tell me, Daddy is too mean" he pouts at you almost mockingly.

"'Sir..." You looked into his eyes, full of lust and desire for you. His gaze enough for you to admit what you've been whining about. Making both of the men in the room chuckle at your desperation. "My poor pup, You're horny? how cute, come show me how you get yourself off on my lap and we’ll decide if we’ll fuck you or not”

Your jaw dropped at that, "Daddy...?" looking over at Renjun who’s sitting in only his boxers on his desk chair not far from where the two of you are on the bed. He just shrugs at you with a smirk. “Either that or we get off and you just get to watch us”

You knew better than that so immediately, you got to work. Climbing onto Chenle’s thigh, your pussy making direct contact with his bare leg before you began rutting your hips against his thighs. The friction being more than anything they’ve given you tonight so you were grateful for whatever they gave you now.

“You can do better than that pup. You wanna get fucked or not?” You looked up at where the voice came from, Chenle was looking at you with the same smirk he always has when the three of you are in these situations. You whimpered at the feeling of you clit rubbing against his skin so good. You placed a hand on Chenle’s arm to ground yourself, needing to hold onto something before it got too much for you. The whole situation was turning you on beyond belief but you knew you had to do good in this if you wanted to get fucked tonight (which you did).

Not soon after, you felt the familiar feeling in your stomach, your head getting dizzy and before you even got the chance to ask for permission to cum, your body came to a sudden halt, feeling hands all over you holding you in place.

“Gonna cum without asking? you’re getting ahead of yourself aren’t you puppy?” Renjun quipped, pulling you off Chenle to examine your dripping cunt. Puffy and wet from moments prior.

“Was gonna ask! I promise!” The two of them could almost scoff at your pathetic cries, trying to justify what had happened but instead, Chenle opts to pinch your nipples, making your body jolt and a yelp to sound in the room.

“Come on pup, get on all fours and show us the good puppy you are”

a/n: wrote this all very fast today sooo pls enjoy :)

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Chapter 29 of 'Artificial wingman'!

For the full story on ao3, click Here!

Enjoy!

---

Damian let the door shut quietly behind him, flipping the lock before he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Outside the bathroom, he could hear Jasmine and Danny playfully arguing about something mundane, their voices somewhat pleasant in terms of background noise. Jason had left not long ago, having said something about having some business that needed to be taken care of while he waited for their order to be filled.

He had sat in the living room, Danny's bag resting beside him, when something had caught his eye. Only now, alone in the bathroom, did he dare to take the pilfered object out of his pocket. a soft golden light engulfed his hands the minute he pulled it out, casting his face in a yellow glow when he brought it closer to examine.

The cure, a potion that cancels other potion effects on a person. In any other situation, he would find such a thing remarkable. Even now, he couldn't help but wonder if it would work on other magic-based effects, slightly in awe of how versatile it could potentially be. But that awe was tempered by the knowledge of what this jar was for in the first place.

He stared hard at the golden liquid, observing the way it swished and swirled in the jar, trails of what looked like a cross between glitter and stardust tracing hypnotic patterns in the thick solution. 'I could drink this right now,' the thought came unbidden, his fingers digging into the ridges on the lid slightly. Part of him wanted to. Wanted to twist the cap off and drain the contents. Wanted to prove, once and for all, that his feelings weren't just because of the potion.

Another part of him wanted to drop the jar like it had burned him. To throw the jar and watch the potion splatter uselessly onto the wall. Or swirl down the drain of the sink, any possible traces of it washed away by water, like it never existed. It couldn't have the chance to prove him wrong if it was gone, after all.

Damian did neither of those, instead sitting the jar down gently on the counter. Sighing, he allowed himself to drop his facade of calm and collectiveness. His shoudler's drooped with tiredness, his head dropping into his hands as he tried to sort out his feelings. Coming from an emotionally dysfunctional family didn't help him much when it came to feelings, but he tried his best not to fall back on his training.

He knew fear, it was a garantee to feel it at least once in a human life. But for a child assassin? Fear is something one becomes intimately familiar with. Maybe not his fear, but the fear of others. So he had little trouble identifying the fear that pushed forth the more... destructive ideas.

The determination and confidence that directly contradicted that fear were as much of a hindrance as they were helpful. Wilfulness is something that Damian had always displayed, even when he was loyal to his mother and Grandfather in the League.

Mother had always said that it was a trait from his father, a will of steel that kept his resolve for justice strong. Having lived with his father for a few years now, that wasn't hard to believe at all.

And now, in the midst of his conflicted feelings, he couldn't help but to fall back on that belief once again. It was different from suppressing his emotions, to instead focus all his being into the way he wished for things to turn out. If his will was half as strong as his father's, then Damian would have nothing to worry about. A little bit of fear wouldn't change thst.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head from his hands and stood. The teen had no idea how long he had been sitting there on the edge of the tub, his legs tingling with the pins and needles feeling that always accompanied a loss of blood circulation. The apartment outside the bathroom had fallen quiet, only the chatter of the TV and the occasional shuffling of movement telling Damian that the siblings were still out there.

Picking the jar back up, Damian let his gaze trace the swirling golden patterns once more. He could drink it now, and be done with it. He could throw it and damn the consequences his actions would surely bring. But now was not the time for rash decisions. The most logical thing to do was to wait, and not force results. So for now, he would find a way to slip the jar back into it's poor hiding spot in Danny's bag, burried under the prizes from their arcade date, and enjoy the time he was given to spend with Danny. Because no matter if the potion worked or not, Danny would have to return home.

A knock on the bathroom door startled Damian from his thoughts, the teen fumbling with the jar as it slid from his hands. Heart pounding, his quick reflexes helped him re-capture the jar before it could smash on the tiled floor.

Breathing heavily, Damian stuffed the jar back into pocket and twisted the lock, throwing the door open. On the other side was Todd, his fist raised to knock again. The man blinked at him, lowering his fist to rest on his hip in a way that Brown would refer to as 'sassy'.

"There you are. You doin' okay, Demon brat? Danny said you'd been in there a while." Jason gave him a quick lookover, not moving from the doorway as he searched for possible hidden injuries.

Damian scoffed. "I am perfectly fine, Todd " He sniffed hauntingly as he shoved past the man, heading towards the living room.

"Alright, alright!" Todd tossed his hands up in the air in an exasperated manner following him down the hall. "Just making sure. It would suck if you died on me and left your boyfriend here all alone." Despite the teasing tone, Damian could detect the slight bit of serious concern radiating from him.

Before he could come up with a response that would calm his most volatile brother, Damian found himself in the living room. Danny turned around at the sound of their approach, a smile stretching his face and showing off a flash of those enticing fangs. "Robin!" He chirped excitedly. "Come sit down! Jason brought food back. I already put a vegetarian plate together for you."

Sure enough, as soon as Damian had settled onto the couch, Danny was shoving a plate of mouth watering food into his hands. The teen gave the plate an expiramental sniff before taking a bite, pleasantly surprised by the flavorful mouthful.

The teen couldn't help the small smile that quirked up his lips as he watched Danny dig into his own plate, his a mixture of both vegetarian and meat-ladened sides, though mostly vegetarian, with gusto. 'Yes,' he thought, taking another bite of his food, 'it was a good decision to hold off.'

The jar doesn't make to it's bag that night. Damian told himself that it was because Danny was too observant, that he would notice right away that something was out of place, no matter how meticulous Damian was with putting everything back. In reality, he ignored the fact that it was his own reluctance that kept the jar stashed in his pocket.

----

Back at the manor, Cass and Stephanie had begun phase one of 'Distract Dick, no matter the Cost'. Personally, Steph really liked the plan's name, but Cass insisted that it was a placeholder for the true name, still pending.

Steph crouched in the shadows, sight of her blocked by the wall she leaned against. The batcave itself was empty for the moment, Cass and Alfred having managed to spike Tim's decaf with melatonin and lead the boy up to one of the family rooms for a nap. But she knew her target would be here any minute

Sure enough, after ten minutes, Dick came Striding out of the locker room, nightwing suit snug across his chest as he made his way towards the corner she was hiding behind.

Taking a deep breath, Steph pulled her bowl away from her chest as she stood. Faking a jog, she waited until Dick began to round the corner before she struck. Purposely running into him, she let the bowl tip towards the man and slid from her fingers, dousing the blue and black of his suit in the most eye catching shade of pink she could whip up.

She let out a convincing shriek of surprise, forcing her feet to slide instead of catching herself. Landing on her butt, the girl was treated to the most amazing sight, a dumbfounded look on a bright pink Nightwing.

"Oh, god! Dick!" She stuttered in her hasty movements to get back up, selling the whole 'horrified Surprise' act even further. "I'm so, so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going, and I was just gonna dye my hair in the sinks down here, 'cause Alfred threatened to make me scrub the upstairs sinks if I stained any of them bright pink, and- and- oh, I'm sorry!"

Her rambling apology seemed to snap him out of his stunned state, the man looking himself over for the fist time. "Hey, Steph, it's okay!" He grimaced when he saw the color, but tried to put on a calming smile as he reassured her. "It was an accident. We can just wash it out, m'kay?"

Steph almost couldn't believe how easy this was going. "Yes!" She exclaimed, tugging the man back towards the locker room. "Go and change out of it, and I'll get it clean in no time!" She didn't give the man much of a chance to protest, shoving him into the locker room and shutting the door behind him.

A few minutes later, and he had returned. Donning a t-shirt and jeans, he held out the costume for her to take. "I'll swing by later to pick it up, but for now I have to go and talk to some people." giving himself a once over, he nodded to her one last time before he made his way to the elevator.

She waited a few minutes, making sure that he was actually gone, before she took the elevator as well. Stepping out from behind the broken grandfather clock, she made sure the coast was clear before hurrying up the stairs and to one of the unused guest bathrooms.

Closing the door behind her, Stephanie turned and faced the silent girl that was already waiting for her. "Got it!" She smirks deviously, holding up the pink monstrosity that she had created. "How about you? Did you get the goods?"

Cass grinned back at her as she grabbed something from behind her. Turning back around, she proudly held up two complete nightwing suits for Steph to see.

"Nice!" Steph couldn't help but to laugh, already imagining the look on his face when he found all of his spares missing. "And you locked the storage room too?" Cass nodded her affirmation, miming a key locking before giving a thumbs up. "Perfect! Now that step one is done, I think we can safely move on to step two!"

Carefully, both girls peeked into the hallway, looking back and fourth for any wandering souls before declaring the coast clear. Moving with quiet efficiency that only a bat could accomplish, the pair made their way to a laundry room on the second floor. Honestly, Steph had no idea it was even here before, and would have just used the one down stairs, if not for Cass. Apparently, this laundry room was so seldom used that it was one of the places she went to when the hustle and bustle of the manor became too much.

Once the girls had reached their destination, Steph waisted no time in throwing the nightwing costume in the washer, purposely going against the washing instructions for their suits. Cold water instead of warm, a healthy dose of bleach, and about half a cup of the detergent that Alfred had told her was for their lounge wear only, instead of the one m0ade specifically for the kevlar- laddened fabric. Confident that the suit was probably done for now, she left her handiwork to finish on it's own. They still hand one last thing to do.

Turning to her partner in crime, Steph let her mischievous grin turn slightly more sinister. "Okay, now. Where can we hide Nightwing suits where they won't be found?" She asked, tucking the two spare costumes under her arm as she let Cass take the lead.

Walking confidently, the two wandered the mayor's maze of corridors, taking so many turns that Steph was sure her head would spin trying to remember them all. It's times like this that the girl is reminded how easy it would be to get lost in this place. How anyone could live gere without maps on the walls telling them where they are, Steph will never know.

After a few minutes of walking, they finally came to a stop in front of a closet. It looked like every other hallway closet they had passed, oak door with a shiny copper handle waiting to be opened and used as storage. There was nothing special about it, besides the fact that islt resided in a part of thr manor that usually went unvisited by anyone besides Alfred. And Cass, Steph supposes, because why else would she lead Steph halfway across the house when there were several perfectly usable closets on the way here?

She opened her mouth to ask the question on her mind, but Cass beat her to the punch. Pulling open the door, the raven haired girl crouched down and began to feel along the floor of the closet for something. Steph stepped closer, watching curiously as her fingers found purchas in a groove between the floorboards. With one swift move, she pulled upwards, the floor lifting with a low creak to reveal a small cavity hidden beneath.

Stephanie gasped in surprised delight, dropping to her knees beside Cass to examine the little hole. It was about three feet long, and two feet wide, forming a cute little cubby that ran only half a foot deep. The small space was empty, save for a few dust bunnies and a lone mothball rolled into the corner. It was perfect.

"Awesome find!" She praised her friend as she dropped the spare costumes in, letting Cass gently lower the panel back into place. Step two complete.

Standing back up, the girls dusted off their hands and knees before turning to head back to the laundry room. Their timing was amazing, as the washer cut off just as they passed the threshold.

Opening the washer, Steph was greeted by a bleach-splotched nightwing costume. None of the pink from the hair dye mixture surviced the wash, sadly, but it did an amazing job, turning the blue bird on the chest purple. Paired with the gray and tan-ish splotches decorating the shoulders and back, Steph was confident that it would be tossed into the storage room to gather dust with Discowing once this was all over.

Tossing the ruined costume into the dryer, Steph hopped up onto the slowly warming surface, kicking her legs happily. "How mad do you think Dick is gonna be when he finds out that this wasn't an accident?" She asked concersationally.

Cass brought her hand up to her chin, rubbing it contemplatively as she mulled over the question. Shrugging, she signed 'Probably not too mad. Not when he finds out it was for Damian's love life.'

Steph snickered, nodding. "Yeah, Dick is a huge softy. He'll probably forget all about this as soon as Damian tells him why. He always qets excited about these little milestones little Dami hits." She giggles again, the image of Dick fake swooning in front of Damian too funny for her.

Cass giggled quietly too, silently thinking about how Dick might get them back for this. While he would get distracted by Damian's love quest, he was not one to forgive and forget such actions. Sooner or later, the man would get his revenge on them, probably in an extremely embarrassing manner.

Cass couldn't wait.

---

(There might be some spelling/grammar mistakes, but it's okay because I tried my best!)

To all the lovely people who follow along, and the awesome person who made the prompt for this story:

@halfblackwolfdemon @manapeer @xxwintrynightzxx @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @blu-lilac @academicpurposes @secretdestinywerewolf @passivedecept @naluforever3 @postit-nope @spiteismymiddlename @2t-productions @plague-daisy @feet-achy @bubblecookies16 @thesapphiredragon13 @justwannabecat @magicalcollecter @adeniumdream @amuseofminds @lupagrim @readerkayden @dr-syko-pharm-4 @ladythugs @angelheartgamer @markthespot68 @kyrianclawraith @michikoy-yuki @servasvictoria02 @your-emo-nightmare @vala-dreams @scarlett-green-rose @t1dwarrior-of-earth @charlie-the-frogie @akikoyuii @mysticalcomputerdetective @roseuniverse999 @im-totally-not-an-alien @thefearfullone @weird-droplet-309 @jaytriesstuff @raventao @jacquelynwinchester @dragongoblet @tlise21 @longlivethefallen @the-archer-goddess @temple-of-jalebi @adepresseddwightsblogofjunk @plainly-colorful @the-legalHe-shipper @49saltpeppershakers @igotafewbadideas @tumbling-darkling @sparklygardenbouquet @sarcastic-yami @blueneko9314 @starscreamlover @liedboutmurder @do3y @roze-realm @some-mildly-happy-human @yinari-uchiha @azuera @chaoticmistake @altairsarts @kawaiikenna @heartsong18 @thetoyboxs @tricksovertreats @mnemovoid @lim4b3ans @horribly-lost-and-gay @keimiwolf @dryeraseslime @joey394

[pelorsdyke]

ronancetober - day three: horror movie au [happy death day]

Nancy’s head is throbbing beyond belief, her mouth drier than she’d like, and she can feel an arm draped over her back. She’d never really been a “party girl,” not until the last semester of senior year of high school, when her entire life had exploded.

She’d stopped fucking Steve shortly thereafter, at least, and it’s that that makes her carefully open up one eye to try and assess the situation. As long as she isn’t in his dorm, Nancy can’t find it in herself to care whose goddamn room it is.

It isn’t Steve’s. Small victories.

There’s a few film posters on the walls, a record player balanced carefully on the desk amongst stacks of books and papers, and Nancy examines it all from her spot on the bed. There’s something familiar about it, but for the life of her, she can’t place what it is, and it irks her. It’s not until a soft huff sounds behind her that Nancy realizes exactly where she’s landed.

“Nance?” Comes the sleep-heavy voice of Robin Buckley, her philosophy 101 classmate. Nancy takes some relief in the fact that Robin sounds just as confused as she herself feels. Her classmate’s arms are warm and comfortable, a respite from the pain of Nancy’s hangover, but now that’s she more awake and aware, her instincts kick in. Nancy runs.

“Hey,” she says, aware of the placating note in her voice, “I have to get going— early morning and all. See you in class, alright?”

Robin is still blinking up at her when she slams the door behind her.

Her mother is calling— that’s not something Nancy is remotely interested in dealing with at the moment— probably to wish her a happy birthday, but the call will, as usual, quickly devolve into some condescension about how Nancy never calls. She directs it to her voicemail.

Nancy hates her birthday— it’s part of why she’d gotten so wasted last night— and how it always reminds her of spending the day with Barb, back at home. She’s not planning to celebrate at all today, honestly. She’s got no plans, despite the bill of goods she sold Robin as she ducked out. She might as well go distract herself and hang with Jonathan, at least see if that’ll stop her brain from hyperfocusing on her terrible life.

—

In the end, much as she loves him, spending the day with Jonathan does little to reset Nancy’s bad mood. Instead, she ends up lost in her head for the majority of it all, working herself up despite his best efforts. He offers to have her come back to his dorm, trying to entice her with the offer of a joint he’s stashed in his dresser, but Nancy can’t find it in herself to take him up on it. She tells him to enjoy himself, manages a wry chuckle at his lopsided grin as he assures her he very much will.

There’s something fitting about shuffling home to her own dorm alone, in the dark. The campus is quiet, save for a few sparse groups of tipsy co-eds, and Nancy feels herself finally relax for the first time that day.

And then she hears it: a scream.

Immediately, Nancy breaks out into a run. She’s lost a lot of her own sense of self-preservation, but she’ll be damned if she leaves someone else hanging out to dry.

No one is standing there— or laying there, in the fetal position, or anything— when Nancy rounds the corner. She cautiously takes a few steps further into the darkness, moving toward the sound. “Hello?” She calls, hearing her footsteps echo around the campus’s tunnel. On second look, while there may not be someone there, there’s certainly something— a small ceramic figurine, sitting in a sliver of light. Nancy squints. It’s a birthday party scene.

“Okay, this isn’t funny!” She calls, stepping further into the tunnel. “Steve? Carol? Tommy, this stinks of your shit.”

When she gets close enough, Nancy kneels down before the figure. It’s fucking creepy. Baby-faced figures sit around a cake, party hats pale and pastel in the way only old ceramic can ever be. “Jesus Christ,” she mutters, but as she reaches a finger to touch it, Nancy’s heart jumps to her throat.

There’s someone behind her. She’s certain of it.

She stands, staring down the figure as she turns to face them. They’re masked, a black hoodie covering the majority of their figure, and Nancy feels a small shiver go down her spine. The mask is that stupid fucking baby again, the horrifying mascot of the college.

“I’m not scared,” she says, loud and certain, though there is some private part of her that disagrees. “Whatever this is, some kind of joke or something, it’s not fucking funny or scary or whatever you’re aiming for. Just go home.”

The figure remains still.

“Did Tommy put you up to this?” She asks, falling back on her best guess once more. “Tell him you accomplished your goal, whatever the fuck it was, and leave.”

There’s another beat, and then the figure, as if agreeing with her, disappears around the corner.

Satisfied, Nancy continues her trek through the tunnel, assured no one is actually in danger. She can still feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up, though, and she finds herself turning every few feet, waiting for the baby-faced stranger to come running back into the tunnel. Nothing happens, and it strengthens her resolve some as she reaches the end of the path. A noise catches Nancy by surprise, but as she turns one more time to assess the situation, the only thing in the tunnel is still that stupid birthday figurine. She wants to kick it into pieces. Still, she turns back, determined to just head back to her dorm.

She feels stupid for not considering it sooner. The sound of two feet landing on the ground is Nancy’s only warning before the stranger is on her, not at her back, but face to horrifying cherubic face. It’s got a knife, Nancy realizes, and the best thing she has is the tote bag she tossed her wallet and keys in on her way to see Jonathan. Still, Nancy scrounges up some remaining amount of self-preservation from wherever it’s hiding in her body, and runs.

She runs like she’s never run before, but she’s neglected to do the math on how difficult it is to navigate a campus full of trees, fences, and random bulletin boards in the pitch black. Nancy’s foot catches on a ring of rocks around some plants and she falls. The college’s blue emergency lights taunt her from her position on the ground. She looks desperately around, but the assailant is nowhere to be seen. Nancy has only a moment to wonder if that’s better or worse before a stick cracks just behind her head, and she peers up to see the terrible large eyes of the mask staring back at her.

There’s something about the position that makes her so immediately, achingly aware she’s about to die. She barely has time to scream as the knife comes crashing into her.

Nancy jumps out of her skin at the sensation of a familiar pillow pressed beneath her cheek. What the fuck? She sits up immediately, pressing a hand to her chest where the knife slid between her rib bones. It’s not until she hears grumbling behind her that Nancy becomes aware, once more, of the shape of Robin Buckley at her back.

“Nance?” Robin asks, and her voice sounds just the same way it did yesterday. Last time. Whatever. Nancy flinches. “What’s wrong?” She adds this time, gentle and achingly sweet.

“Nothing.” Nancy hurries to reply. “Bad dream. That’s all.” Still, she follows her instinct, rushes out the same way as before. “I have to get going— early morning and all. See you in class, alright?”

Robin is still blinking up at her when she slams the door behind her.

[gatheringbones]

["Suddenly I can't lie beside you another moment. Tears from nowhere stream hot down my cheeks. In the bathroom I leave the light off, sit on the edge of the bathtub, double over in the moonlight. I rock against my confusion.

Anger. How dare you throw my universe into disarray! Just when I think I finally know myself! When I think I know you!

Fear. This is too much to ask of me. I can't bear this weight. It is impossible. I feel insane!

Betrayal. Who are you? Are you a butch only because there was no other choice? Am I really a lesbian? What does this mean? How can I be a femme if you are a man?

I want to scream at you. Hate you. Instead I stifle my crying in a towel until at last the tears come silent, flow gently. In the morning you find me curled on the couch in the living room. You hold me. Your eyes are so sad. You tell me how sorry you are.

For what? For being true to yourself? I don't want you to apologize for this. I don't know what I want!

I let you hold me, and it does feel better. But I berate myself for being so angry. For hurting you. I wish I could just get to the other side without going through the pain.

Every day I feel different. I drift in and out of anger and pride, excitement and fear. I grapple with monumental theories and insignificant— but suddenly important— consequences of your transition.

My greatest fear is of how this might affect my own sense of self. "Just don't ask me to be straight," I tell you. "It took me too much pain and time and struggle to come out queer, lesbian, and femme-proud. I can't go back." But you never step on or dictate my identity and for this I am grateful beyond words.

Instead you inspire me to look with courage at my self-definitions. I see how they are true to me. I also see how they sometimes limit me. Though they have often given me security and a means to self-awareness, I notice other parts of myself I have suppressed: the attraction I once felt for men, the desire I feel now for other femmes, the need to examine my own "othergenderedness."

Some days I feel very alone in the world, like the biggest "freak among the freaks," and I turn old internalized hatred upon myself. Other days I feel like part of an ancient, unspoken tradition, as one who is particularly "wired" to partner a transperson. I feel almost sacred.

Months pass quickly. Every time you bleed, you feel a little more insane, and I feel less able to be your safe harbor. We go to meetings, get to know other transmen and their lovers and wives. We search the Internet for surgeons. We figure out which credit cards can hold the weight of this surgery. Time eases pain, it is true. I love your breasts, but now I release this part of you so beautiful and mysterious to me. I am changing. Part of me beings to address this surgery with a note of erotic anticipation. I notice that much of my desire is linked to the disparity between your gender expression and your body. When you bind your breasts, pack a dick, when you wear a suit and tie, T-shirt and boxers, when you shift before my eyes from woman into man, I am aroused, excited beyond belief.

I relish the way you construct your gender despite the dictates this world links to your body, which further manifests your particular gender."]

Sonya Bolus, from Loving Outside Simple Lines, from Genderqueer: Voices From Beyond The Binary, edited by Joan Nestle, Clare Howell, and Riki Wilchins, Alyson Books, 2002

[clangenrising]

OMG, I am so so so sorry. I don’t mean to offend you. I understand now. Thanks for answering anyhow. Have a wonderful day/night.

It's okay. If I was offended or not isn't actually important here. This was a discussion about censorship, it's not about if I was upset. I'm having a hard time articulating why, but it feels to me like being worried if I'm offended more so than that you might need to rethink some things is tied to the same thing that led you to say the word "sex" was inappropriate without actually examining what that word is doing in my work or what my work is saying about it.

This isn't to bash on you (and I also urge my followers to not harass this person), I don't want you to feel attacked or shamed. I just think you may not have actually examined your beliefs, instead simply conforming to a new standard someone has set before you. I don't want you to just agree with me cause "not agreeing with me is wrong" or anything, I want you to actually sit down and ask "why do I believe that? Why would that be a harmful thing to believe? Should I believe something differently?" And thats something you do in private over a longer time period. Don't feel like you need to perform repentance, this isn't a space that demands repentance. I simply wanted to invite you to look at things from a different perspective.

[linkspooky]

CHOUJIN X, CHAPTER 35 THOUGHTS.

Chapter 35 shows Tokio’s separation from his friends, and the themes of nihilism Ishida weaves into his manga. The central conflict between Tokio and his best friend Azama early on where one of them is referred to as the vulture and the other the lion is a reference to Nietzsche’s philosophy. The lion in particular is one of the three metamorphoses Nietzsche lists in Thus Spoke Zarathustra. In this chapter, Tokio is embarking on his journey through those three metamorphoses which symbolize the three stages of life and development. 

1. The Wilderness

Thus spoke Zarathustra is a work in which Nietzsche expounds upon several of his key concepts, including the superman, self-overcoming, and nihilism. The main theme of Thus Spoke Zarathustra is the portrayal of values as either creative and life-affirming, or ascetic and conformist. 

The basic idea Nietzsche puts forward in his work is that all ideology, rules and morality of any given society are created rather than inherent. Which means morals and laws and commandments don’t come from gods, they come from human beings. They are the inventions of human beings and enforced by human beings. 

Nietzsche’s idea that there’s no inherent morality isn’t suggesting that morality doesn’t exist, or that there are no rules therefore you can do whatever you want, but just that you should not blindly follow the rules. Nietzsche refers to Christianity as the “old morality”, which someone has to shed away in order to be someone who can create their own morality. 

Which is why Choujin X primarily being a superhero manga, where characters with super powers fight villains, follow the law and save people as heroes of justice is such a good place for a Nietzschean dissection of morality. 

From the start Tokio is identified as a character who basically has no ideals, he begins the manga making no decisions for himself, and just copying whatever Azama does. 

Azama is a believer of justice unlike Tokio, who puts a lot of work into studying and martial arts because he believes in his own personal justice. Azama’s introduction in the manga is even the classic saving a woman from a thug attacking her scenario that’s featured in many comic book superhero stories, but what’s important about that scene is TOkio is the one who stumbles upon the woman in trouble and even though he knows he should do something he just sits there and watches waiting for Azama to come help. That says a lot about Tokio’s character, he has no morality or ideals he fights for he’s just a shallow copy of Azama’s ideals.  

If the central theme of Choujin X is what Choujin do with their superhuman powers, then Tokio despite suddenly being given power and more power than Azama. Yet, Tokio stays the same old pathetic and indecisive person. 

Which is why Tokio needs to go through these stages of metamorphoses, because up until this point in the manga he still had not developed any ideals of his own and instead borrowed from both Ely and Azama at the same time. He was still following the old values. Which makes sense why his separation from Ely and Azama is necessary for his growth into his own individual. 

Nietzsche’s three metamorphsoes parallel in Thus Spoke Zarathustra follows three stages. The camel, the lion, and the child. The first stage begins with the camel is suddenly burdened. Nietzsche gives several examples of what those burdens are, but it all boils down to self-examination.

“Why is it heavy? So asketh the load-baering-spirit; then kneeleth it down like the camel, and wanteth to be well laden. What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh the load-bearing spirit, that I may take it upon me and rejoice in my strength.” (Thus spake Zarathusra). 

 It’s hard to think for yourself, and it’s easy to follow others. This is the state Tokio was in just before he was told of his potential destiny as the one to stop the destruction of Yamato.

He’s still chained to another person’s belief system. Which is why while Tokio disappearing from Azama and Ely’s life is a little bit selfish and hurtful, it’s also something that was probably necessary for Tokio’s development as an individual. 

Nietzsche states the thing that camel does to move onto its next development is to separate itself from others and retreat into the wilderness. 

“All these the heaviest things the load-bearing sprit taketh upon itself; and like the camel, which when laden, haseneth into its wilderness.”

(Thus Spake Zarathustra)

Which mirrors the necessary journey that Tokio akes this chapter, to venture into the wilderness and separate himself from others so he can become strong and independent enough to carry his own burdens. In response to Tokio suddenly realizing that he has great power and potentially a great destinty to save Yamato as a choujin and because of that he needs to become someone responsible enough to carry those things.The next phase is the lion. 

Which is most likely the stage Azama is at right now. At the stage of the lion , you begin to create your own morality. 

All values have already been created, and all created values - do I represent. Verily, there shall be no “I willl” any more. Thus speaketh the dragon, My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of burden, which is renounceth and is reverent? To create new values - that even the lion cannot yet accomplish: but to create for itself the freedom for new creating - that can the might of the lion do. To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay ecen unto duty;for that, my brethren there is need of the lion. 

(Thus Spake Zarathustra)

Therefore, Azama who already has his own convictions and idea of justice was already at this stage, whereas until this point Tokio was only ever playing catch up to him. 

We see the chapter end with Tokio’s journey into the wilderness, because he needs the might of the lion to begin to create his own values and think for himself. The third stage would be child, where Tokio is essentially reborn as a new person, his own person rather than a shallow copy of other people. 

Which is why the ultimate goal in this manga is to become a “Choujin” (the direct translation of this word in Japanese is superman), which relates to the nietzschian idea of the ubermensch. 

Nietzsche puts forward we follows these stages of metamorphosis i order to create the ubermensch or superman. Having gone through an old morality, creative spirits can shed the influence of others and ultimately create a new way of being in the world. Such a new being would involve not only a new perspective, but a new set of values with their own rationale. 

“There was it also where I picked up from the path the word “Superman” and that man is something to be surpassed. THat man is a bridge and not a goal - rejoiciing over his noontiedes and evenings, as advances to new rosy dawns.”  Thus Spake Zarathsutra

Tokio’s journey into becoming the superman has nothing to do with becoming the smartest or the strongest, but learning to be his own person and think for himself without following others. 

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Challenger’s Puzzle

Prompt: Puzzle

Au: Pokemon Au

Characters: Hatake Kakashi & Sai (yes i know i forgot to give him his name but it’s sai i promise)

Words: 1,495

@kakashiweek

3 minutes and 22 seconds. A new record.

Kakashi had never seen anyone weave their way through his gym maze and locate Chimecho in her chosen hiding spot in such a quick amount of time.

There was just one problem with it.

“Do it again,” he spoke firmly, barley looking up from his book as Jolteon lay across his legs happily napping.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do it again,” he repeated as he flipped to the next page. “And this time take out your pokemon.”

“Take out my pokemon?” Kakashi expects anger. Every trainer to date who had to be given those same instructions always yelled at him for suddenly adding a new requirement, even though there was a warning at the front of the gym stating that the challenge had to be completed with their aid of one of their pokemon. What he gets instead is Confusion.

Complete, genuine confusion.

Lowering his book he examined the kid standing in front of him. Tall, dark haired and so pale that Kakashi could swear he could disappear into snow without issue.

Not the usual hot headed trainer he found at his gym doors.

“There’s a sign at the front door,” waving his hand to the side, he watched as the kid narrowed his eyes. “Says the gym challenge is to be taken with one of your pokemon. It can be your first pokemon, or a pokemon you’ve bonded with more than any other. I don’t really care which Pokemon you choose but you need to choose one of them.”

“Why?”

Kakashi stared at the kid, weighing his next response in his kind. He could go the usual cold, aloof route but this didn’t seem like a question that was being asked out of malice or anger.

It was genuine. His challenge had somehow confused the kid and a proper explanation was required so that is what Kakashi would give him.

Snapping his book shut he set it off to the side and gave his full attention to the challenge for the first time since he’d walked through the gym doors.

“The challenge is to work with your Pokemon to find Chimecho,” hearing her name, Chimecho floated toward Kakashi and settled around his shoulders, he ribbon curling loosely around his neck. “You’re meant to let your Pokemon lead the way. To shoe you where to go and listen to anything they may try to tell you with movement or noise.”

not everyone was able to understand the assignment, but Kakashi didn’t need his challengers to get it perfect. An honest effort at teamwork was all he really wanted to see. As long as that effort was there the actual teamwork could be improved upon.

“But i-“

Kakashi held up a hand to silence the kid. “You found Chimecho,” he confirmed, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips when Chimecho rubbed herself against his cheek. “Without the aid of a Pokemon. You would have been told at the entrance that you needed to do the challenge with the aid of one of your pokemon, correct?”

“Yes.” The challenger answered without hesitation.

“Yet you chose to keep your Pokemon inside of its ball and do the challenge without it?”

“I didn’t need it help with the challenge.” there’s a confidence in his words that sets Kakashi on edge. A confidence that he has heard before, long ago when he was still a brand new trainer himself working on his gym challenge. Squinting, he could almost see Yamato standing in the kids place with wide bright eyes and a head full of terrible beliefs from his so called ‘guardian’.

Closing his book he used it to gently bonk Jolteon on the head and smiled when she glared up at him. “Sorry, I need to get up,” with a huff and a slight roll of her body, Jolteon plopped down onto the floor in front of Kakashi and splayed herself up with her belly exposed. “Ah, yes. Of course.”

Rather than getting to his feet as he had originally planned, Kakashi shoved himself up just enough so that he was sitting on the tips of his feet and placed a hand on Jolteon’s belly. “You may not have needed help,” he spoke, his eyes focusing on the challenger while he gave Jolteon her much desired belly rubs. “But the point of the challenge is to complete it with your Pokemon.”

His words were met with a blank stare. There was no argument, no anger, and not even a hint of annoyance. Just an expressionless face that stared at him as if waiting for further explanation.

“Let me guess,” he gave Jolteon one final pat on the stomach before finally standing to face his challenge. “Pokemon are a tool, not a friend?” hearing those words from someone else’s mouth was bad enough, but saying them himself made Kakashi want to wrech. They were vile, cruel words that he always hoped he’d never have to hear again but always found himself listening to at least once a year when the newest batch of Pokemon trainers found their way to his gym.

He wasn’t sure why, but his gym seemed to attract some of the worst trainers. They weren’t bad because they were weak, since it would be impossible for them to even challenge his gym is they were incapable of beating the seven other gyms ahead of him.

No, they were the worst because of their beliefs.

Pokemon were meant to be their friends. Their companions in their journey, helping them achieve their goals. Anyone who considered such lovely creatures as a ‘tool’ was scum in Kakashi’s mind.

“Fine,” he glanced down at Jolteon. “You can have a battle.”

Surprise crossed over the trainers face for a second before settling back into that same blank expression he’d worn since he first entered the battle area. “So, I don’t have to go back?”

Waving away the question, Kakashi turned his back to the kid and began making his way towards his side of the battle field. Every step he took Chimecho rang her bell, cheering him on in her own special way. “Someone like you isn’t going to learn anything if I just send you back out there and force you to take out a pokemon,” that was a lesson he’d learned the hard way. “You get three Pokemon.”

“So a Three Vs Three battle?” Kakashi couldn’t help but laugh at the question. “Is something funny.”

Stopping, he pointed down at Jolteon. “I’ll have one,” he clarified. “You will have three.”

“That… doesn’t seem like much of a challenge.”

Taking the final few steps toward his spot, Kakashi turned back towards the kid and smiled. A small, warm smile that he remembered offering to Yamato the first time they properly faced each other in battle. There had been a lot more on the line in the battle, as Yamato had decided to use the venasaur Kakashi gifted him to ‘prove’ that Pokemon were tools to be used, but it wasn’t any more important than this one.

“Every Pokemon is precious,” he explained as Jolteon took her place on the field. “A trainer who views their Pokemon as a tool can have the best strategies available to them, and they’ll still lose to a trainer who treats their Pokemon with the respect that they deserve.”

“Yet, here I stand,” the challenge argued even as he took his place and selected one of the Pokeballs noff of his belt. “I have all seven previous gym badges to prove that I have beaten every gym leader before you.” Kakashi laughed again, this time a bit brighter. It was a funny thought to him, a kid thinking that he had beaton Yamato and Gai when they were going all on a match. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he answered, his smile only growing when the kid narrowed his eyes. “They were going easy on you.”

It was their job, after all. As Gym leaders they were meant to test new trainers, not beat them so badly that they never wanted to battle again. It was the one thing that everyone could agree made Kakashi a bad gym leader.

He had the skills of a gym leader and the patience required to teach new trainers who wanted to learn from him, but unlike the others Kakahsi didn’t hold back. He didn’t go all out, but he often didn’t need to. A new trainer with less than five years of experience was unlikely to present him with any real difficulties in battle.

Thankfully there were actually more than Eight gyms in the region, because otherwise the yearly league would be rather boring because of Kakashi’s refusal to go easy on new trainers.

“One vs three,” he repeated, holding up each of his hands with the respective number of fingers extended for emphasis. “You think you can handle that?”

“Easily,” his challenger confirmed before throwing his Pokeball out. “Smeargle, I choose you!”

[jenconnellysshybellybutton]

True Detective: Shadow Land

Part 2: The Tired And The Hurt

Tw: everything, child death, r@pe PTSD

Also on my ao3!

August 3, 2024

Liz always works on Saturdays. She had nothing else to do but paperwork and telling the folks in jail to shut up and they’ll be out in no time, and to be honest she could never admit it, but she enjoyed it, doing paperwork. She really liked peace and quiet. Except when it isn’t, and the case is fucked beyond belief. Danvers was a hard person to navigate. The only things keeping her sane were Leah and Evangeline.

She was finishing writing up a report when Leah came into her office upset asking questions Liz did not have answers to. “I don’t know Leah! We don’t have any idea why it’s happening. The feds don’t get here till Thursday for whatever reason!”

“Well actually do something instead of writing up shit!”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get in trouble. I ain’t losin’ this job, Leah-”

“You do unlawful shit with Evangeline all the time?!”

“Go home Leah!”

Leah slammed her office door which made everyone including Pete to look into the office windows. This wasn’t uncommon for their relationship to be like this but it was very much more critical than anything, even the pollution of the mines. Children were missing. Native children, and the entire town seemed to hate her, for a good reason, the affairs and all, but that didn’t mean she doesn’t know how to do her job.

Liz opened her door and made a hand gesture to Navarro who was sitting on one of the chairs in the lobby part. Looked back at everyone who was staring at her. “Stop looking at me and get back to work!”

Navarro came and sat down without a second thought.

“Find anything?”

“No…our examiners are still going through each one of where the kids were last seen. Although I got something for you.” Liz smiled, opening up the one drawer of her desk. “Stand up.”

Navarro didn’t need to be told twice. “Do I want to know?”

Liz held out a badge from the department towards her. “This is for your outstanding dedication from the Tsalal case, Sergeant Navarro.”

Evangeline took it into her hand, running her thumb over the insignia. “Liz, why? You’re going to get in trouble for this-”

“Ange, don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do. You deserve it. Plus I know how miserable the trooper position can be okay?” Liz put on her black uniform jacket and walked towards the door. 

“Liz-”

“Just go with it. We have missing kids for christ sake. Get your shit and meet me in the car outside.”

Navarro went to the supply closet and Liz went over to Pete’s desk. “Anything?”

“I was just about to tell you. You’re right about it being pure hydrogen peroxide. It was most definitely used to clean up the blood, but they said they have no idea how much there was. No cameras, no nothing from the community.” Pete handed her a chunky manila folder. “This is everything on the registered sex offenders within that 15 mile radius, if that's what you're thinking.”

The gears in Liz’s head were turning. “Send some folks to go knock on houses. Ask if they saw anything. I’m going to check out more of that Lawrence house, see if there’s anything. Did they take anything from it?”

“Shouldn’t of, because we have limited space to hold evidence.”

Liz grunted and grabbed her keys. “These people could have gone anywhere in the state, the probability of them being within that 15 miles is low. Or maybe they aren’t even in the state…”

“Ask the right questions, Liz.”

Liz hit his shoulder with a fille folder. “You don’t get to ask the questions with me you little shit.”

“Alright alright! Oh…Evangeline ate your sandwich earlier.” Peter smirked.

“Of course she did.” 

***

Liz started the car and tossed the empty sandwich bag into the Sergeant’s lap. “I promote you and you eat my fucking sandwich? I fed you last night, right? You're not helpless.”

“I threw up last night.”

Liz paused and turned to her, feeling bad about the comment. Navarro’s face was pale like she saw a ghost. Liz made sure she was giving her full attention to her. “Why didn’t you tell me? Was it the food-”

“I had a vision a few nights ago Liz…”

“So, just nightmare shit? I’m not trying to minimize it just…”

“No, my nightmares never get this bad. I was looking for Clark again, except, this time when I went outside, you were leaning against Clark's body, just there in the snow…just motionless, breathing in puffs. There was blood…” Navarro leaned her elbow on the window and held up her head, her voice cracking. She sniffles.

Liz's eyes grew bigger, she didn't know how to react.

“So much blood…” She let her tears fall. “You looked at me…you were holding your own heart in your hand, Liz.”

The woman stared at her with tears forming in her ducts. She gulped. Her teeth gritted together. She turned away and started the car, put it into drive, and drove out onto the dirt road.

“I don't have time for this. This fucking bullshit. I moved on! Pete moved on! I moved on- w-why can’t you, huh? What happened at Tsalal was fucking terrible but at least I have the balls to fuck off and put it behind me!”

Liz sped down the dirt path not even looking at her partner for a while. Eventually, Evangeline broke the silence, whipping the wetness from her eyes.

“Not everyone takes the darkest shit that happens to them and shoves it deep down instead of taking care of the issue, Danvers! Yes, it took you a decade to let Holden go but you did get there and you’ve been doing better because of that.”

“How would you know? You weren’t fucking there. I waited a little bit each day thinking one day you’d show up with something good to say. Instead, I get news there’s missing Native kids all around this fuckin’ place.”

“Holden loved you Liz and you know that.”

“Leave him out of this or I swear I’ll punch you right fucking here-”

“Do it. It won’t make your problems go away. He’s watching you, Liz. He sees you like this.”

The other woman pulls to a stop, not even going over it. Liz’s face was pale, her pupils bigger than normal. She tried her hardest not to let her emotions get the best of her, but she failed. A single drop ran down her cheek. Navarro wanted to get rid of it for her. Instead of going to do that, Liz turned her whole body to her, giving her the full attention that was needed. She gulped and spoke through her thin lips, the corners being pulled with defiance.

“I failed him. He would not want the person I became after.”

Liz took off her two layers of gloves on her left hand and reached over to brush against Navarro’s cheek. She knew she could continue when the younger woman didn’t flinch. Navarro stared into those beautiful blue eyes of hers, they always had a shimmer to them but at this moment the sparkle was clouded by the pain from her heart that still held onto Holden. Liz’s hand was warm on her face, her thumb rubbing her skin repeatedly. Navarro yearned for Danvers since the beginning, but with the constant fighting and dominance over cases over who does what, their mindsets being drastically different, it never took off.

“You’re who I wish I was.” Liz said gently with a soft smile. Her hand lingered on the younger one’s cheek. “And more.” She gulped and when she went to remove her hand, Evangeline put her own on top of hers.

“You’re all you need to be. You just need help picking yourself back up. Just because you’ve done bad things, doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Navarro let Liz take her hand away. Liz made an “o” shape with her mouth and took Evangeline’s hand, kissing her fingers and breathing hot air onto them. “You’re my heart.” Her face lit up with a cute smirk.

“Aren’t you a smooth talker?”

“You’re freezing. Let’s check out our places, huh?”

When they arrived at the scene. They separated. Danvers went into the forest with the entire APF, while Navarro stayed at the Lawrence house with Gavin’s mom. Liz was drawn deeper and further into the sea of trees as a voice called her, which led to the voice showing her Gavin’s already decaying body. Liz was 2 miles out from the house, and the atmosphere grew dry and cold. She hyperventilated as she spoke into her walkie strapped to her coat.

“This is Chief Danvers, 10-55d. Oh god-”

The longer she looked the worse her body reacted, she was practically dry-heaving by the time they arrived at her position. Her thoughts raced as images of the corpse didn’t leave her head. She’s seen dead children several times, including her own, and it always hit her the worst.

Danvers watched from behind the double-sided mirror, watching the autopsy right before her eyes. She wiped up the tears right away trying to not relate the situation to Holden’s in any way.

“He seemed to suffer from Hyperhidrosis right before passing. Extreme bruising on the collarbones, which both are broken. Fellatio was performed on the boy’s anus-”

As Liz listened to the static words that came from the other side of the barrier between her and the autopsy. She felt nauseous, even though she, out of all people could not handle it. Danvers looked away and walked at a quick pace to the door.

“When it’s over and done with, send the info to everyone at the station. Tell Seargent Navarro she’s dismissed for the day.” She said to the officer standing next to the doorway. Liz yanked the metal door open and rushed past the several medical personnel, and officers from the station. They wanted answers and looked at her like she had them. The corners of her lips twitched and her breathing grew uneven. She exited the building and went straight for the SUV, not caring that it was pouring like crazy. She slammed the door shut and watched her breath ease out into the cold atmosphere. The hurt woman sobbed into the steering wheel.

“Where’s Danvers!” Navarro raised her voice at the guarding officer.

“Ma’am, once again, I cannot give out that information.”

“I am the Chief’s partner. You tell me where she is or I’ll have you suspended. Choose wisely.” The man sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know where she went but people are saying she went home, also she told me to tell you you’re dismissed for the day. She looked like shit and I think she’s sick-”

Evangeline sighed and rushed out the door. Putting her hood on, covering herself from the harsh rain that soon turned into sleet. Cold and wet. She slammed on the gas and went down the highway. Even at the wiper’s fastest speed, the sleet still disrupted her vision of the road. She thought of every possible thing Liz could be doing right now. She didn’t know which one of those things she would end up choosing but either way, Liz would be fucked.

If there was one thing Navarro wished for, out of everything, was to take away Liz’s pain if she could. Wanting to rid her of that terrible weight left a dent in both of them at the end of each day. Navarro didn’t know if she regretted disappearing or not, she enjoyed being away, but not from Liz. Liz was her person. A single star in the dark night sky. Evangeline didn’t want that light to die out.

Navarro turned off the engine and exited the vehicle. There was a soft warm light illuminating from Liz’s windows. She had to be home because her car was there. As she went up to open the door she noticed that it was cracked open for anyone to come in.

“Liz?”

“Here.”

Navarro could tell she was tired by her voice cracking. She was presented with a musky smell when she entered the dimly lit house. She saw Danvers’ discarded clothes leading her through the hallway. Liz was slunched over on her sofa naked as a baby pouring another glass of vodka.

“Liz what the fuck!”

“Why are you here?” She asks acting slap-happy.

Navarro tosses her the discarded shirt. “Everyone was alarmed because of how you left the fucking place and I have nowhere else to go- can you cover yourself up?”

“Sorry, wasn’t expecting visitors.” She laughed. Her hair looked wet and filthy.

“How much have you had.”

“Mmm…I don’t know.”

“Okay, you’re done-”

“Take it away and it won’t be good for you.”

“How can I convince you?”

“I don’t fucking know. Give me a reason.”

“Leah.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m dead serious, what if she walked in here and saw her mom drunk and naked-”

“Fine. Turn around.”

Navarro complied. “ I heard what happened.”

Liz scoffed. “Then you can figure out how much I’ve had…I can’t even think about it. She headed towards her bedroom where she changed into some sweats again. “It’s worse, physically, than what happened to Annie K…”

“Do I get to listen to the tape?”

“I wouldn’t let you do that to yourself under good consciousness. If you truly want to-”

“It’s my job, Liz, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“I’m not going to force you to do anything. It’s all up to you- but please, the photos they’re-”

“I understand.”

Liz flopped belly-first onto the mattress and turned over to see Navarro. The taller woman standing over the edge of the bed. “You’re staring. I know I know I’m so irresistible.”

“You’re so fucking drunk.”

“I am for sure I guess but at least I’m a functional alcoholic.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes. “That’s not- Goodnight Danvers!”

“Wait.” Liz reached for her wrist and held it gently. She didn’t want her to go. For neither of them to be alone again all cold and scared. “…stay, please, if it’s no trouble.”

Somber memories of them came into Evangeline’s head. Back to shaking Liz, praying she would stay awake. Holding her head like a baby, each tap she gave her frozen face reminded her of the time going by each second. Evangeline took her hand and rubbed the top of it with her thumb. She didn’t even bother changing, she just removed her coat and boots and laid on top of the covers with Liz. They faced each other and locked eyes for a while. “I have no one.” A minute goes by with them looking at each other in silence. “You’re everything to me…”

“I’m scared of losing you too. You’re still a pain in my ass sometimes but…you’re a part of my family, and whatever happens on this case going forward- just- we know it’s not going to go well. Shit is definitely going to happen to us. Let’s just, take care of each other okay? You check up on me…I baby your drunk ass?”

Liz thought she was so beautiful, she was jealous in a way, mostly admiration, smooth youthful skin, everything. She compared her to a blooming flower in her head. Its pedals so vibrant. Liz chuckled. “I haven’t had one drink since the beginning of June so I think I’m doing well all things considered. What about you?”

Evangeline loved Liz’s face, her neck, the wrinkles from a long life wearing it proudly. Her crow’s feet by her soft eyes. She was a tough cookie for sure, but during times like these, she was as delicate as paper-thin glass. The slightest pressure and she could break. “Not since a week ago.” She smiled back to giving her full attention to Liz’s ice blue eyes.

2:07am

First, she couldn’t feel her face. When she walked out into the long bright dark that was the first thing she felt. Searching for her partner, she felt shitty enough for the whole thing. Now she knew if she chose to do anything she would be guilty for the rest of her life, carrying that guilt on her back.

“Navarro!”

Nothing, no answer, no one in sight. When she blinked she instantly found herself under the ice, taking water into her lungs and feeling them get filled up, no hole in the ice. Not being able to kick herself higher. She gave up trying, there was nowhere to go anyway. She stopped moving, letting the earth take her anywhere. She opened her eyes to take it in only to find Holden under the water with her kicking and struggling, she tried to get over to him, the darkness eventually taking them deeper and deeper into the void, getting to hold him one last time before it all went dark.

Liz woke up with a shake being given to her shoulder, gasping when her eyes opened and she was back on the ground in reality.

“Liz! Are you okay?”

Liz grunted, shifting herself to be on her back. Navarro’s hand still lingered on the soft olive-patterned skin of her forearm. She sat up throwing her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. She sniffled. “I’m fine…”

“Liz…”

“I’m fine.”

Evangeline knew she couldn’t pry anything out of her. The only thing she could do was maybe with a little poke get into her mind. They both had nightmares but Liz never wanted to admit it or talk to anyone about them. “You were saying things, Liz. You were scared.”

“Go back to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

***

Liz wiped the cold water dripping down her chin from the glass of ice she was drinking. The back of her shirt was stained with sweat. She was overheated and couldn’t get Gavin out of her head. Evangeline walked into the kitchen looking at her leaning against the counter. “You want to tell me what’s going on since you clearly aren’t sleeping worth a shit?”

Liz scoffed once again. “It was Holden again. I was back outside searching for you. I called for you. Ended up back under the ice, something holding me down. I was okay under there. I let myself go because I couldn’t pull myself up. It was peaceful. Then Holden was there, I tried to save him. I could feel him again…I held him-”

Liz placed the glass down and sniffed again. “I lost him 12 years ago it shouldn’t crush me like this. I can- I can feel too much but I wish it’d go away-”

The younger woman walked over to her and embraced her with a tight hug, she towered over Liz, one hand holding the back of her head, her thumb rubbing the nape of her neck gently. Liz breathed in the homey scent from her t-shirt.

“There are things that are weighing you down. You need to befriend them.”

There was a minute of silence shared. Just holding each other in comfort. Liz’s breathing settled down after a bit. She looked up at Evangeline. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me.” She twitches her nose. “You stink.”

“I know.”

[blackjackkent]

"Did you enjoy our little demonstration?" the sa'varsh asks with a cool smile as the boy's body is dragged away. "A mere taste of the power Vlaakith commands."

Rakha raises and lowers one shoulder in a half-shrug. She did enjoy it, yes - or at least that dark thing that lives inside her did - but she doesn't feel the need to explain that to this man. "Why was the boy refusing to fight?" she asks instead.

It's a serious question - her usual hunger for facts to build up an image of the situation, piece by piece - but the sa'varsh hears something else in it, for he stiffens defensively.

"I have no interests in whatever delusional beliefs the boy harbored," he snaps. "The illithids infecting this region are not to be reasoned with. They are to be exterminated. If the boy was too stupid to realize this, his death is a mercy for the warrior next to him."

Rakha thinks this over in silence as the sa'varsh walks away. The words don't quite mesh in her head with the question she asked. Delusional beliefs. As near as she can tell, the boy only did not want to die - which is perhaps cowardly in gith culture, but delusional?

He mentioned something, though, just before the sa'varsh sentenced him to the duel. A word, or perhaps a name, clipped off and interrupted. "Orph--"

There is something more here she does not understand. The boy believed something counter to his sa'varsh's teachings, and that is why he refused to fight - and why he died.

She walks over to the boy's body where it still sits in its own blood at the edge of the training hall. No one seems to care when she bends down and examines the corpse. There's a small piece of githyanki slate in his pocket, like the ones carried by the patrol out in the pass. Tir'su, Lae'zel called it. Githyanki writing.

"To the Inquisitor at the creche," Lae'zel insists impatiently. "The zaith'isk's failure must be reported."

Rakha snaps back to herself. She realizes she's been sitting there next to the boy's body for some minutes, lost in the smell of the blood and the curious mystery of the slate. She straightens abruptly and stands up.

Ask Lae'zel about the disc from the creche.

Narrator: The disc appears in your mind's eye. Lae'zel sees it too and considers the vision.

(A/N: This is designed so that you could have the conversation without having Lae'zel have been there for the initial acquisition of the slate but it's pretty funny in context here because Rakha you could definitely just GIVE it to her. Maybe this is part of Rakha's ongoing campaign to convince everyone that slurping the worms is a good idea. "See, you get VR versions of all our loot acquisition!")

"Tir'su markings. Ancient. I recognize them, but I can't make sense of -- no, wait." Lae'zel's eyes narrow in concentration, focusing on the image of the slate in her mind. "The texts are enciphered, but there's a Commonspeech translation beneath, carved in a different hand. It's a story about- about Orpheus."

Narrator: Your head buzzes in concert with Lae'zel's, but it hardly matters. Even without the connection, you'd recognize her discomfort.

Rakha watches Lae'zel's expression carefully. The young warrior is still flustered and angry at the explosion of the zaith'isk - and, Rakha is sure, still suffering significant pain from what it did to her. But this slate the boy was carrying has troubled her in a different way.

Rakha doesn't want to care. Part of her is still angry at Lae'zel for how this has all played out. She's furious that all the confidence Lae'zel displays has been misplaced, and humiliated that she bought into it so without question.

But... she does care, regardless. It bothers her that Lae'zel has that troubled look on her face. This doesn't make sense, but it is so, all the same.

"You look uneasy," she mutters gruffly. "Are you all right?"

Lae'zel stiffens irritably. "I am fine," she mutters. "The slate is not. This text is heresy. I can hardly bear to read it, let alone speak it."

Heresy. Something relating to Vlaakith, then - or to an enemy of her. Is that why the boy did not want to fight on the sa'varsh's orders? He follows an enemy of Vlaakith?

This already tells Rakha more than she knew previously. There are factions, then, of the githyanki. Lae'zel's intense devotion to Vlaakith is not universal.

"That's fine," she says with a slight shrug. "I'll read it on my own time."

Lae'zel shifts her weight uncertainly; for a moment Rakha thinks she wants to discuss it further, in spite of her reservations. Then she shakes her head and turns away. "If you must," she says. "Nothing good can come of it."

[regicidal-defenestration]

Mechtober Day 30 - Death/Endings

@mechtober2022

"Captain Reeve of the SS Ursa Major speaking, log number 43, standard date 30/2/97.

"All supplies are at good levels for our current progress, algae production is a little under quota but M. Jackson assures me we still have enough for our fuel. Various minor repairs have been carried out to moderate success, but the lights will actually switch on now so I'm not going to complain. Crew in better spirits than last week, or at least they're not threatening the food stasis chamber anymore. Reports of my joining in on the threats have, ah, probably been exaggerated but I can't say I'll be upset when we touch down planetside and finally get some fresh vegetables. Have tasked M. Ness with increasing the efficiency of the engine and that seems to be working at keeping xem out of trouble.

"Then there's the matter of our, uh, newest passenger, she's currently present as I record this. Joined us on 21/2/97, refer back to log number, uh, 41 it'll be.

"Crew have taken to calling her Borealis, from the system we found her in. Still hasn't spoken, though she evidently understands us since she communicates in other ways, albeit rarely I admit. Two days ago she agreed to Dr. Lora carrying out a full medical examination, results of which show a clean bill of health. Nothing out of the ordinary for a human in her later twenties.She will stay with us until we next touch down planetside or…"

Reeve pauses, rubbing his eyes. She glances up at the woman sitting opposite, the one the crew have call Borealis. 

Part of him reaches a decision.

"Skies- okay fuck it, I'm sorry, I can't keep up the professionalism anymore. And if some pencil pushing desk jockey is thinking of writing me up for this- well- just hear me out, okay?"

She looks over at Borealis, then motions to the voice recorder. Asking if Borealis wants to tell her own story.

Borealis just shakes her head, making what Reeve assumes is a you go on gesture. He takes another moment to gather his thoughts before continuing:

"Okay, yeah, alright, because the thing is, Borealis got a clean bill of health, yes? Great, good, we like not having medical emergencies on board. 

"But that leaves me to ask, how the fuck can someone float - entirely exposed! - in the vacuum of space, for however long it was before we picked her up, and come out of the other end perfectly healthy? And when I say perfectly healthy I, uh, would like to note that this is excluding the blood test results, which just showed mercury. Not, not mercury in her blood, I mean mercury instead of."

A heavy sigh. She's had to rethink a lot of her held beliefs about how the world works recently.

"Look- look okay yes, I know how this sounds. You're probably sat there at your little desk thinking “skies above, she's lost his mind, he needs to be removed from active duty before she fucks something up fatally”. But Lora's medical files are all here. Read them. Or, get someone with higher security clearance to read them, and ask really nicely for the summary.

"Because I am not even in the vicinity of fucking around right now. We have, on board, an otherwise perfectly normal, alive, human who has pure liquid mercury in her veins and survived in space for-"

"Nearly 78 years," Borealis interrupts.

Reeve yelps in surprise.

"Well fuck me! You can talk!"

Then she grimaces.

"Ah, sorry. You surprised me. Uh, so, for the benefit of the log, that's Borealis who just spoke. Wait- what's your name?"

"Nastya."

He offers B- no, Nastya- a smile he hopes is reassuring.

"Then it's nice to meet you properly, Nastya."

A pause.

"Can I, can I ask…?"

"You are wondering how I can survive, yes? You will have to content yourself with not knowing."

"But-" Reeve tries to protest. Nastya interrupts her before she can get any more out.

"No. Was it a mistake when Carmilla brought us back? My opinion changes still."

That last part was quiet, like Nastya had entirely forgotten Reeve was there. For a moment, there's a faraway look on her face, before she jolts back to the present.

"But I do know this - the secret of what she did should die with us. And I am dead, that is all you need to know."

Reeve blinks. 

Dead?, he thinks.

"Dead?", she says aloud. "But you're here, speaking, breathing, the all of it!" She gestures at Nastya. 

"You're - this is gonna sound so rude I do apologise - you're unnaturally alive."

She makes a maybe gesture.

“Yes. And no. I… felt my blood slow and solidify in my veins, and I knew I was dying. When we wrote ourselves immortal, the universe believed us, and when I wrote myself an ending it believed me then. I think, I think I believed myself too, for a bit.”

The pause lasts forever.

“So I took the last memory I had of my love, and I cast myself into the void. And there I floated, systems offline, until you found me. I am alive, I breathe, and yet - for all intents and purposes - I am dead.”

Either that was an elaborate metaphor - which Reeve never could get the hang of - or she was telling the truth, which would be exponentially worse.

"You faked your death?" he asks, not a bad guess considering. "You’re not on the run from the authorities or anything?"

“I’m definitely wanted by the authorities, but that is another point entirely."

Nastya laughs at his gobsmacked expression.

"Don't worry about it. Let’s say though: yes, I did fake my death. I lied to the universe in its entirety that I was dead, and got away whilst everyone was distracted.”

Huh.

It didn't make sense, per se. You couldn't get a fake death notice to trick the abstract concept of "the universe".

Then again, it was a big world out there. Skies only knew she'd seen some weird shit out in space.

"So you’re gonna just, what?, stay on the run? Will no-one notice that reports of your death were greatly exaggerated?"

Nastya's laugh is genuine.

“No. I’m going to find some forgotten corner on some backwater asteroid and camp out there.. If I live a quiet enough life, then there will be nothing to sing about. The universe will look over me in search of something more interesting.”

There's something unspoken there. A quiet life, a life alone. Lonely at the end of space, maybe to end when Nastya died, or maybe she never would now, and would keep living until the stars gave out.

It sounded nightmarish.

Didn't Nastya have someone though? Reeve is sure she mentioned-

"You- didn't you say you had a lover? Maybe if-"

“She's dead.”

There's grief in Nastya's voice, but a quiet acceptance too. It must have happened a long time ago.

Reeve makes a fist, pressing it to his heart.

"I’m sorry."

Nastya offers an almost-smile. When she speaks, her voice is small.

“She… she died one piece at a time, until one day I looked into her eyes and saw no trace of the one who I had loved. The bonds between us faded and broke one by one. It's a terrible thing to love someone like that. When the one now bearing her body and name is not the one you fell in love with."

She stops, wiping at her eyes with a sleeve.

"Sometimes I dream that I'll find her again, on the other side of the horizon. At the end of everything."

Nastya is deep in her memories now, saying nothing. Reeve reaches over, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.

It's as cold as the grave.

They sit there as the silence expands around them. Reeve wishes she could say something, but this is grief on a timescale he can't even begin to conceptualise.

Maybe it's a long time before Nastya next speaks, or maybe it only seemed like that. She squeezes Reeve's hand in return before taking hers back.

"Look at me," she says in a thick voice. "I'm sure you have more important things to do than listen to an old lady's sorrows."

Old? Reeve almost asks, but figured Nastya was right. She'd content herself with not knowing.

"Not too much, honestly," she says instead. "I'll finish this report log an-"

“Report?”

There's a sudden sharpness to Nastya's voice.

"Yeah, uh-"

"No. The music is broken, okay? There is no more music, no more story. There is no-one pulling my strings, there is no-one writing out my actions. I am dead, I have ended. The universe moves on without me and this is the freest I have ever been."

Desperation creeps in.

"Please, let me stay that way."

And Reeve wants to, skies he wants to. But lying to Central is unthinkable and not sending a report at all is even more so. Besides - it wouldn't just be his job on the line. Her entire crew could go down with her.

"I- Central- Central policy states I have to make these logs, twice a week minimum," he tries to explain. "Doctors reports, maintenance records, observations. I’m sorry, I don't know-"

A beat.

Then Nastya's pushing herself up and away from the desk, half-running out of the door. 

Reeve lets her go.

He sighs, burying her face in her hands.

"Yeah," she says quietly, in a way that doesn't make it all alright.

"Yeah…"

"I guess this is Captain Reeve signing-"

And that's when she cuts herself off. He watches the light on the recorder flash its steady rhythm. Waiting for her.

"Fuck it."

She almost laughs.

"Recorder, delete that entire log. Get up all of them since the 21st too, they need editing. Oh, and call in Lora too. There's something important we need to talk about."

[scorching-passion]

@hyperionswrath​ asked: “As awful as it sounds, money is power, and power is magnetic.” ( can use my FFVII verse for this :3 ) The Inheritance Games Book Series Rp Meme - ACCEPTING

You proclaim this fact to be awful and yet you speak with a smile on your face.” The remark lacked any sort of cynicism despite the knowing grin tugging at his own mouth contradicting his tone to a fault. 

Arms folded across his broad chest, Roche proceeds to examine this self-proclaimed knight, pondering which proverbial monarch he chose to wield his blade in favour. Seifer Almasy didn’t seem the type to merely bow down to social rule, preferring instead to break moulds as opposed to slot into them. 

The Third could very well get onboard with this level of idealism. 

But the pursuit of money… for this Roche honed some opposing beliefs. 

“Not that I’m one to judge, but tell me, Seifer Almasy, what will you do with all of this power when you’re in the ground, hm? Money and power surely is a breeding ground for fear which, of course, would manifest obedience and control… a false sense of security for those who sit upon proverbial thrones.” Roche would lift a single hand then, inspecting fingernails hidden beneath the leather of his glove if only to drive him his utter contempt for the coveting of wealth. 

“... could you settle for a lonely funeral~?”

[cafeleningrad]

alright several rambly drafts later, I still try to formulate my thoughts on a show I haven’t watched yet but I think the show is doing Alicent a good service not only for fleshing but also highlighting the Targaryen belief in their own superiority as their ultimate downfall.

The show uses the narrative threat of misogyny to stitch together the events from Fire and Blood but I also think that naming the show “House of the Dragon” isn’t coincidental. The Dance of the Dragons is a highlight of misogyny fueling Westerosi society, the framing of a family drama highlighting possible paths and dead ends of women in such a society.  But I’m not here to talk about the themes of misogyny and it’s many layers but the theme of the Targaryen beliefs in their own superiority which will lay the foundation of Rhaenyra’s downfall, later Aerys. So yes, Fire and Blood was written in the narrative of a character who’s part of guild strongly biased against the Targaryen as well as magic, trying to examine different highly subjective historical records and anecdotes. Still, I think there’s a good reason why in the later record of the Dance of Dragons does not so much focus on personal motivation like when characterizing the family rift before the war. Instead we get very gruesome accounts of the destruction and war crimes committed in Tumbletone, King’s Landing, and the Riverlands, the aftermath of the was still causing destruction, the Iron Men having become the genie out of the bottle, only highly traumatized children left behind. I don’t think the the themes of misogyny and critique of monopoly on power (namely the power monopoly of the Targaryen’s) are mutually exclusive, actually the dance of the Dragon highlighting misogynistic machinations can occur due to Rhaenyra’s birth. No other family has so much power, not only in loyalists but in terms of weapons of mass destruction in the shape of dragons, so the highlight of misogyny couldn’t be so apparent. The frame of a family drama allows for a close, intimate characterization about women navigating a misogynist society. Outside of the frame of a family frame their personal drama causes war crimes, destruction all for the race for power. In that sense I found the scene in which Alicent accuses Rhaenyra to “do as she pleases without sacrifice or duty” very interesting. As many analysis broke down is it a telling characterization of Alicent being trapped in her societal role, I think Alicent correctly points out a flaw of Rhaenyra’s if not in the the Targaryen’s doings. Alicent does everything by the book, giving birth to many heirs, looking beautiful as society expects of a woman and still she’s dubbed Alicent Hightower in Fire and Blood, she remains an outsider even though doing everything expected of her. While, yes, Rhaenyra having an active love life, having bastards like many otherwise respected Lords, is no indication of her political abilities (the narrative of Fire and Blood alludes to her being much better suited than Aemond or Aegon II), she does seem to only allow her actions for herself because of her inherited name. Also partly because she grew up with Viserys letting a lot of things for which larger society judges her slide. What I want to get at, outside the family frame, Rhaenyra is still a Targaryen, seeing her actions for her sake as justified. Lately I stumbled upon a post speculating that the fact Rhaenyra not being able to establish female inheritance as new law against her counsel is a hollow victory, as Rhaenyra would be the only woman temporarily winning in a conflict originating in misogyny. I could neither agree nor disagree to this prediction because the show does thematically rearrange and reframe book events, which is seems to do very thoughtfully, the books narrative certainly opening up this possible reading but... in the continuation of F&B the narrative speculates Rhaenyra to narrowly focus on her sitting on the Throne, focusing on her victory. Then there is also how she actually does as she pleases but judging others for the same things or if they are beneath her. There’s this excellent post about the possible symbolism of Nettles which got me considering the Targaryen mindset in the first place. Rhaenyra’s first three sons are obviously bastards. When they are accused of being bastards she sends out Daemon to kill Corlys’ nephew, even Viserys ushers punishments against those claiming Rhaenyra’s sons to be bastards. Rhaenyra committing social infringement is treated by her and her father as untouchable. Yet the bastards of the Dragon seed are the first to receive unfavourable treatment. Character flaws aside, Ulf White and Hugh Hammer are treated as tacticle figures to be used, their promised rewards getting constantly delayed despite the undeniable advantages they bring towards Rhaenyra’s warfare. And who gets suspected of treason after White and Hammer switch sides? Mouse’s bastard sons. The linked post already said everything so well about Nettles, but all in all Rhaenyra loosing dragon riders, i.e. strong warfare assets is due to her narrow view on who could be seen worthy of trust due to their birth, her believing Daemon remaining loyal because she looks down on Nettles for so many classist and racist reasons. If nothing else, there’s the death of the dragons by the angry mob in King’s Landing. Rhaenyra believes so strongly in her dragons, the source of power and symbol of her house being untouchable that the angry population of King’s Landing killing them comes to an absolute shock. In that sense, the still outsider of the family Alicent, the woman who’s marrying into the family without any previous family ties, who can’t get into the family dynamic, she and her children are the ones seeing the freedom the Targaryen family members can enjoy without barely any consequences while she is not given such freedom not only because of societal expectations for women but also because she isn’t actually let into the Targaryen circle.  I neither like nor dislike Rhaenyra I’m just super interested in the shift in perspective in how the Targaryen’s race for power, focus on themselves, causes their downfall, kills their source of power (dragons) but also looses them allegiances from those they look down upon, and act as if their flaws are untouchable but judge others for them. The family had to invent an entire doctrine of their exceptionalism, propagated by faith, yet the later F&B records lend an ear to the civilians dying, causing the downfall of Rhaenyra’s side, a barely known woman killing Dalton Greyjoy who terrorized the Western coast, undermining the narrative the Targaryen’s of almost godhood the Targaryens cultivate for themselves.