#self-serving bias

[usunezukoinezu]

''...the availability bias can lead into the false consensus effect. Whoever deliberates on a question can easily recall their conclusions (they are available). The person wrongly assumes that these findings will be as readily available to someone else. The self-serving bias also influences the false-consensus effect. Whoever wants to present something in a convincing manner does well to tell themselves that many (maybe even the majority) share their view and that their ideas will not fall on deaf ears. Philosophy deems the false-consensus effect “naive realism”: People are convinced that their positions are well thought out. Whoever fails to share their views will see the light if they reflect and open their minds sufficiently.''

-Rolf Dobelli, The art of thinking clearly

[squelchbug]

proud practicer of Caine nepotism

ALLL POMNI DESIGN CREDS -> @weedsmokingbfs . ooo hypnosis that makes you follow it for more based takes🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

[cheeseandbretboy]

writing is not making up a character from scratch; you find some lonely soul in ur brain and make them live through utter hell, kill off their loved ones, degrade them, make them dissociate constantly, beat them up, emotionally manipulate them, and say wow this person is so broken, then accidently use a religious metaphor for one sentence and realise that they have religious trauma and feel stupid for not realising that earlier

[the-most-humble-blog]

Taint Misbehavin’: The Gender-Neutral Tragedy of the Human Gooch

You’ve been lied to your entire life.

Not about taxes. Not about calories. Not even about the clitoris.

No — I’m talking about the taint.

That glorious, forgotten slab of flesh. That unclaimed demilitarized zone between the promised land and the chocolate factory. That thin, sweaty strip separating birth from exile.

Let’s set the record straight:

Women. Have. Taints.

And the fact that society pretends otherwise is the greatest act of anatomical erasure since we collectively agreed that “muffin top” was a nice term.

🧠 What Is a Taint?

Also known as:

The perineum (if you’re a doctor)

The gooch (if you’ve owned a PS2 and body odor)

The grundle (if you’ve ever dated a drummer)

The Devil’s Slip-N-Slide (if your festival record is sealed)

Technically: “The perineum is the area between the genitals and the anus.”

But spiritually?

It’s the unspoken pause in God’s sentence. The hallway between the temple and the abyss. The place where gender, shame, and chafing meet.

🔍 Who Gets One?

Let me be clear:

Whether you’re packing heat or holding space, Slanging meat or curating petals, Carrying a baby cannon or a soft serve dispenser—

You. Have. A. Taint.

And if you’ve gone your entire life without realizing that, Congrats: society’s gendered body-shame campaign worked.

😤 But Isn’t “Taint” a Male Word?

Historically? Sure.

“Taint” was born in locker rooms. Raised by Xbox parties. Educated in Reddit threads. And baptized in the sweat of men who didn’t understand the purpose of a washcloth.

It was linguistically colonized by testosterone.

But anatomically?

It was always co-ed.

🚺 The Untold History of the Female Taint

You think the patriarchy invented oppression?

No. The real villain is linguistic erasure.

Because while men gave their taints nicknames, stories, and occasional bar soap— Women got radio silence.

Your undercarriage has been:

Ignored

Unlabeled

Uncelebrated

Unclaimed

You’ve spent years exfoliating your thighs and waxing your peach… …but no one told you there’s a full-blown diplomatic zone beneath it.

A biological Bermuda Triangle. A tactile twilight zone.

Your taint.

📉 Let’s Break Down the Cultural Bias

Body Part Coverage:

Boobs – Over-celebrated

Butts – Literally worshiped

Clitoris – Found in 1998

Labia – Misunderstood poetry

Taint – Ghosted

Why?

Because it’s funny. And neutral. And sweaty.

You can’t put the taint in a perfume ad. You can’t put it on a billboard.

So they buried it.

💀 What Makes the Taint Powerful?

Because it’s:

Genderless

Timeless

Politically neutral

Sensually charged

Biologically disrespected

It’s the only body part that:

Isn’t sexualized

Isn’t sacred

Isn’t politicized

Isn’t aestheticized

Isn’t protected

It just is.

Unbothered. Unbranded. Unapologetically indifferent.

And that makes it sacred.

📚 Linguistic Justice: Let’s Rename It Properly

Unisex taint aliases, rebranded for the equality era:

The Fleshbridge

The Forbidden Fajita™

Undercooch

The Sin Tundra

Devil’s Hallway

The Emotionless Alley

The Oathbreaker’s Strip

The Nether Yawn

Purgatory Patch

The Biblical Buffer Zone™

Choose your fighter. Reclaim your stripe. We’re not asking anymore.

🧼 Taint Hygiene: No Gender Exemptions

Let’s get raw.

Your taint:

Sweats like a liar in court

Collects funk like it’s in a blues band

Suffocates in yoga pants

Smells like the ghost of mistakes past if ignored too long

Male or female — it don’t matter.

Your taint will betray you unless:

You lather.

You exfoliate.

You show it the respect you pretend to give your “self-care routine.”

The taint is the final frontier of bodily respect.

Ignore it, and it will out you in summer.

🧪 The Psychological Impact of Owning Your Gooch

Let me be dead serious.

When you finally accept your taint:

Your shame collapses

Your ego softens

Your sex becomes better

Your humor becomes darker

Your subconscious literally trusts you more

Women who accept their taint become dangerous. Not because they’re wild — but because they’re free.

💥 The Taint Test: Feminist Edition

Ask your friend with the “Divine Feminine Energy” tattoo:

“Do women have a taint?”

“Can I call mine a gooch and still be empowered?”

“If you ignore your perineum, are you really body positive?”

Watch her hesitate. Watch her blink. Watch her glitch.

Because the truth is hilarious. And hilarity burns the shame right out of you.

🧘‍♀️ If You’re a Woman Reading This…

You now have no excuse.

That strip of skin between the peach and the abyss? That subtle runway between entrance and exit?

That’s your taint.

And it deserves:

A name

A scrub

A shrine

A Wikipedia page

You don’t need to gender it. You just need to own it.

🤯 TL;DR

The taint is real

The taint is universal

Women have taints

The patriarchy ignored it

But your loofah doesn’t have to

This isn’t just anatomy. It’s resistance.

💣 CALL TO ACTION

🔁 Reblog this before someone calls it “cisnormative perineum propaganda” 🧽 Send to the friend who forgot to wash hers today 🍑 Share if you’ve ever worn tight leggings with no idea what’s happening underneath 🫧 Save this if your taint is a neglected spiritual quest waiting to happen

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is satire, anatomy education, performance art, cultural rebranding, locker room theology, and biological diplomacy.

It is protected by the U.S. Constitution, the Geneva Convention of Postmodern Memes, and the sacred covenant of shower-based self-respect.

If you’re offended: Wash deeper. Laugh louder. Reclaim your gooch.

Because if you can’t name it — the patriarchy still owns it.

And that is the real tragedy.

[entity56]

Tips for Cluster B Anger

~ coming from someone who has BPD and a psychology special interest Have you been feeling like your anger is completely uncontrollable and all encompassing? Do you feel like your anger controls you more than you control it? Me too! But here are some things I've found to be helpful: - Taking notes. Write down triggers for what causes your anger episodes (as well as other episodes e.g sadness or paranoia) once you come down from it and start looking for a pattern. Not only will this help you to slow down and self reflect, you can begin to either avoid those triggers or find ways to regulate the effects. - SLOW DOWN. If something is making you want to hurt someone else or yourself, slow the FUCK down. Push against the grain, step back and let yourself have a good cry or scream into a pillow. Do whatever you can to (healthily) process the emotions, no matter how long it takes, before making major decisions. - Avoid self harm, substances or unhealthy habits like disordered eating or emotional self harm. It's so tempting, believe me, but it will only serve to make things worse. You might feel like you want it to get worse now, but in the future, you WILL regret it. If you start feeling these urges, refer to the urge surfing diagram below this. - Get outside advice. Think you're splitting but you can't tell? Run the situation by a close friend or loved one and see how they feel about it. Try to relay it with as little bias as possible and see if they agree with the decision you're about to make or if you perhaps need to reevaluate some things. - Take care of your heart. I know this is cliche, but a good sleep schedule, hearty food consumption habits, hydration, exercise routine and mental health care go a long way in helping you succeed in the above tips. You are struggling with an illness, and ill people need as much care as possible. Become your own parent. This works for anger in all Cluster B personality disorders, as well as with autism spectrum disorders! Urge surfing:

[cheriecelestial]

Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Pt 2

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated. 

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature. 

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.  

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard. 

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off. 

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author 

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black. 

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated] 

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise. 

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ? 

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying. 

“Son ? Can you hear me ?” 

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?” 

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

 [System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just�� trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: Mommy issues, Hair Stew, spicy blood, and some vague art advice from a guy with no formal art education.

Been a minute since I did one of these!

Thank you all for your messages and for your patience, as always I'm incredibly sorry that I can't reply to all of you!

DU drow saved Arabella in act 1 and obviously helped her out in act 2. He's surprisingly soft on (most*) kids and always has been, even as a Bhaalist (though he did consider them all Murders In The Making back then).

Arabella is no different. He thought her efforts to stop the druid's ritual were comically charming and appreciated how much Arabella seemed to successfully look after herself. They got along really well while she was around, though she probably spent more time with the more "approachable" party members at DU drow's own insistence.

And he is just biased towards less domesticated animals! Dogs are fine but DU drow appreciates cat's knack for self-sufficiency more. Also, they are pretty and elegant creatures - both things he enjoys in animals as well as people.

As for favorite cat, Malta. Easily.

First of all, interesting question!

It's a mixture of both. I draw conclusions from stuff I observed (Astarion's ass grabbing and confidence during sex, The Dark Urge's entire characterization, the obvious oral fixated vampire connection, Orin's barefootness) and more minute stuff that's already based of off personal headcanons I have - but of course, its all pretty limited to things I can personally stomach. I'm not necessarily into the same things they are, but I can get them, if that makes sense.

And thank you so much!

How dare you. He's clearly a Foetus man.

I'm really glad you like her!!! I honestly love that scenario even more than I thought I would and have a lot of plans to draw more of it.

And potentially! I honestly hadn't thought about that, but I think female elves do tend to be a little shorter than the males, so she might shrink down to 5'8, 5'9 or something. Kind of a negligible difference because I would still like for her to be a pretty tall woman.

The epilogue party isn't really a "canon" event to his story, since it wasn't out when i finished the game and - and while very satisfying from a gameplay POV, I don't find it narratively interesting.

BUT his epilogue party would look pretty full save for Halsin, Karlach and Lae'zel. We'd have a God Gale, a Selunite-ish Shadowheart and a Blade of Frontiers Wyll - as well as Spawn Astarion, obviously. I Haven't given it much thought, admittedly! And there isn't much reason to do so since A Novel Experience serves as the Actual epilogue to me.

He puts the blame for Yenna's death wholly on Orin. It's one of those things he avoids reflecting on entirely and Yenna's name will probably never leave his mouth again. Considering he allowed her into camp and personally failed to convince Orin to spare her life at the temple, I think it's a guilt too difficult to circumvent, were he to entertain it.

Because he has a father figure already, which left room to fantasize about an idealized maternal one. It's also his bias towards femme people.

Hello!

Unfortunately I can't give you an easy answer for this one. I have drawn a lot and for a long time, and I've always enjoyed dynamic poses and put a whole lot of effort into capturing motion in a way I'm satisfied with - and often I STILL feel as if certain aspects of my art are stiff!

I think working on being a little "looser" with one's art and playing with lineart weight helps tremendously. Understand things like foreground/background division can also help to give your art dimension, and inevitably that movement you are looking for. Unfortunately, I'm self taught and not very educated on the matter myself 😅 I can do it, but explaining or teaching it is something else entirely.

It dips in his stew 😔

The usual pet names! Darling, Lover, Sweetheart, he's been known to let a "baby boy" slip out. DU drow is more known for the literal name-calling.

.... And neither of them is a "daddy" person, for sure.

He has no idea and he thinks that's pretty damn funny. He likes how his dick looks, and he is kind of glad that he gets to enjoy it without having any memory of how it got to be that way - he's definitely assuming Bizarre Sex Accident, though.

He will eat whatever is available without complaint if he has to for survival, but he does enjoy a nicely prepared dish! From rustic home-cooking to the gourmet dining. He's most definitely fond of onions - as well as meat, fat, and heavy seasoning. I don't know what that means for the way his blood tastes, maybe it makes it specially hearty... Which Astarion might like, based on his Spicy Food comment in act 1.

Either way Astarion does not feed on him after the campaign is over, so that's not something they have to worry about!

He's.... Okay with Minsc. He definitely doesn't take him too seriously but they've had fleeting moments of meat-head-like understanding between the two of them, not that DU drow would ever admit to it. He kind of sees him as Jaheira's beefy pet.

He is profoundly suspicious of Boo.

This ask was a little buried in my inbox, so I hope you have been able to secure work since then! Patreon subscription completely aside.

That's a tough question because there is definitely a degree of luck involved. I'd say find your niche - be that a genre, character, or fandom - and then find the niche within that niche you feel comfortable in and where you can meet people of similar interests, and who might be interested in your art. Don't go in making selling pitches, obviously, actually try to make friends and lift each other up.

At that point, if you're both persistent (-in your craft, NOT in chasing after validation!) you will be able to sell a few commissions or get a few bites on patreon or a similar platform! After that, its a matter of letting your work speak for itself.

This is very simplified of course, and a summary of a process that usually takes many many years to develop unless, once again, you get very lucky. But I do think persistence and passion tends to reward folks who stick with it!

I know some artists use advertisement and reel trends on instagram to get more eyes on their work as well, and I've seen a few get a lot of success from it, but unfortunately I don't know anything about that side of things.

[clare-875]

Would you be willing to do One Piece characters with a reader who has a bunch of tattoos? And maybe if a person insults them or treats them differently because of it. I wore something with my tattoos visible and wasn't allowed into a business, I thought it would be a cool read 😂

Tattooed Hearts (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: His reaction to someone treating you differently or being rude because of your tattoos. Warnings: Hurt, Comfort & Fluff, Female Reader A/N: I'm so sorry that happened to you, tattoos are such a beautiful form of self-expression and no one deserves that treatment!! I decided to do the monster trio for this fic, I hope you like it!! <3 [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

Luffy absolutely adores your tattoos and thinks the unique ways they cover your skin are the coolest. Of course, he does. You were already a badass girlfriend with the courage and strength to stand by him as he became the Pirate King. But the patterns and ink that adorn your skin spark his curiosity as much as they perfect the image of you.

That's why when you are both wandering the streets of an Island, he may not initially notice the treatment you receive because of your tattoos. Luffy is already quite an oblivious person, and so does not pick up on the subtle ways food vendors and shopkeepers look at you and your skin purposefully. He is simply in his head again, joyous about the prospect of trying new foods and embarking on an adventure.

However, if there is something Luffy can pick up on easily, it is when you are uncomfortable. He turns to you when you seem a bit quiet and you haven't been chiming into his idle words. He observes the way you keep your head lower than usual, your tension as you squeeze your hands tight and subtly look around you. His first instinct is to look for danger, but when he sees none he simply goes to the second best guess: that you were hungry.

So, he would unravel one of your clenched hands in his and beam widely. "Come on [y/n], that place looks nice!" You would feel uncertainty fill you as of course as you have noticed the unfriendly stares you have received. "Wait Luffy, I'm not sure that's such a good idea-" But your boyfriend as usual has dragged you to a food vendor before you can finish your words.

Almost instantly, your concerns are answered, as the man who runs the shop takes one look at you and frowns. He turns to an eager Luffy and instantly cuts off his abundance of orders. "Sorry, we don't have any food on offer today." Luffy's confusion is almost immediate as he turns to the vendor and then to the food that fills his stall. "What are you talking about, there's so much food there, stop being stingy!"

The vendor sighs and then turns to you, your lips downturn, knowing whatever he has to say to you won't exactly be a compliment. "Fine, we might be able to make an expectation for you, but don't think we're serving anything to your lady friend." Luffy's eyes spark dangerously at his words, impatience brimming as he finally starts to realise the bias the vendor has against you.

"Why? We're both hungry!" The man grimaces, turning away from you and ignoring Luffy's angry words. "Are you sure you can even afford this, with all that ink on your skin?" It only takes about a beat of a second, and suddenly instead of going to give the man a piece of your mind, he had disappeared from view: Luffy had punched him to the floor without even a second thought. "Lu-" you start, eyes wide at the sight, but Luffy's face is of a rage you only see in battle.

"Hey, old man. Stop being rude to [y/n]. We just wanted some food, if you're not going to give us that, you're a waste of our time."

- Sanji -

Sanji loves you, and your tattoos are one of the things he absolutely adores about you. The way they so intricately cover your skin, and the intimacy he finds when you tell him what they mean and why you got them provokes such love in him he can't describe. It feels like you are letting him in, and showing a part of you from your past, it feels like he is learning more about you; the person he loved. He loves running his hands over them, loves the way they almost perfect the image of you in his mind.

He wouldn't be able to believe if you ever told him you were treated differently because of them. It might honestly break his heart if he hears you have been insulted or refused certain things just because of the art form upon your skin. They were so perfect and beautiful, how could anyone think otherwise? How could anyone treat you that way? Unfortunately, however, you have already started to notice the sparing looks of the locals on the island you are both wandering, tinted with looks of displeasure.

Your boyfriend is of course too lost in your gaze to notice at first.

He only seems to notice when your rapid words have faded into unsure sentences, and your body language screams of discomfort he curses not to have recognised earlier. "Love, are you okay?" He asks, concern brimming in his eyes, and gaze darting around you, seeing if there was a danger he had yet to notice. He only then seems to see how some of the people who walk the streets are looking at you more than he would've liked. "Love if you want we can leave-"

You find yourself shaking your head, not wanting to be a bother to your boyfriend but also not being able to form a smile reassuring enough for him. "It's okay love, I'm okay. We can keep exploring, I know you still need to pick up groceries." Sanji looks to you, and struggles to believe your words but ultimately nods hesitantly. "Okay love but if you want us to leave you know I'll be happy to-"

It is at that moment, that Sanji catches the words of a man passing by and talking to a woman who nods at his words.

"Tattoos are for people who don't know better, she'll regret them soon enough."

Your heart clenches at his words and the woman's incessant agreement. They look to you purposefully and knowing that you can hear them. However, what they fail to notice is that Sanji is filled with a sort of rage he had never felt before. He freezes but his legs are aflame and the man who walks by him stops, as Sanji lets go of you gently and steps in front of him. His anger is almost untameable, but honestly, what would anyone expect when someone insults his girlfriend?

"Say that about [y/n]-san again, I dare you."

- Zoro -

Zoro would be lying to say he didn't think your tattoos were just perfect on your skin. Though not very open in his compliments, you can feel his adoration in late evenings, his favourite thing being lazily tracing the patterns on your bare skin before you fade to sleep. You were just so hot and he has to sometimes compose himself - cursing himself for acting like the idiot cook - when he sees your more subtle tattoos peak from beneath your clothes.

He could not fathom thinking any other way about the ink on your skin, more like he had never thought too much about it. Your tattoos were as part of you as much as your limbs were and he couldn't have it any other way. That's why he struggles to notice when people treat you differently because of the art on your skin. The two of you had been wandering around a town on the new Island you and your crew had docked when the incident occurred.

Zoro, as usual, had somehow been getting lost despite you telling him to stay by your side, and after the hundredth time reprimanding him, you had decided to hold his hand in yours. Zoro had surprisingly been silent when you took his hand in yours, and you grinned when you saw the light blush on his cheeks. "Aww is the big swordsman embarrassed." You tease and he looks down to you, glaring but not removing the hold you have on his hand. "Sh-Shut up woman!"

You had been rambling on as always and Zoro had been humming as you did, entering the conversation and adding his own quips when he deemed it necessary. It was a wonderful time until of course, you had let a silence take over when you noticed some of the women who walked the streets staring at you strangely. You are confused at first unsure of why their eyes are trained on you, until you register the words of a few girls who pass by.

"She'll regret them in a few years, trust me."

"Yeah, do you think her boyfriend will leave her then?"

"He's hot, he's probably regretting dating her already. I mean who wouldn't going out with that-"

Suddenly, there is a sharp shinging sound and in front of the girls who had just passed, there is now a very familiar sword making them come to a very sudden halt. Their frightened eyes travel upwards and to the very annoyed man holding said sword who looks at them with dangerous intent. You are surprised to see that Zoro had noticed, but of course, he had. He was very observant when it came to you, and immediately realised when you stopped talking, baring a look of discomfort as you watched women stare at you strangely.

There are many things that Roronoa Zoro may tolerate, but disrespect towards you is one of the things he would rather die than abide by. His face has taken on a shadowed expression and even the women who had stared at you along the streets have frozen in place and looked on with shock.

"Care to share more of your foolish thoughts? Oh, what's that? Suddenly I don't hear your annoying mumbling."

[joejhang]

fanon neil vs canon neil

god i am so FUCKING done with the aftg fandom mischaracterising neil i'm literally writing fucking ESSAYS about it and pacing circles muttering about it under my breath it's driving me up the goddamn wall so i am going to word vomit brain dump yap about all of it in an incoherent tumblr text post. spoilers ahead continue at ur own risk

i've said it before and i'll say it again I HATE FANON NEIL. istg this fandom LOVES to mischaracterise neil and ykw i think i know why. they take the smallest most unnoticeable parts of his personality and then exaggerate them to disproportionate and unrealistic levels in order for him to fit their idea of a conventional, stereotypical and desirable main character. they smooth out his jagged edges and prick at his "insecurities" to make him more likeable, more acceptable and more conventional of a narrator/main character and in doing so erase so fucking much of his personality and draw as a character that he loses just about all of the flavour that made me love him in canon. and also especially within the andreil dynamic this fucking fandom just loves to tweak neil's character until he's basically unrecognisable just so they can cram andreil into some preconceived socially acceptable clichéd ship dynamic. because andrew is perceived as the typical mysterious, moody and grumpy love interest therefore neil just has to be the sunshiney smiley blushing cute softboy in exchange. yeah because all gay ships have to be grumpy-sunshine and black cat-golden retriever dynamic. i raise you: andreil's dynamic doesn't work because of their differences it works because of their similarities. if u think about it andrew and neil are honestly very similar people in the way they think and process emotions and events and that's what allows them to connect and understand each other. andreil would not work if neil was super sunshiney and a blushy soft mess and andrew was the stoic, never smiling, unemotional stone of a guy the fandom loves to make them. just accept they do not fit into the conventional boxes laid out by booktok for what gay ships look like. i fucking digress.

neil is also just insanely mischaracterised on his own. people love making him very jittery and insanely oblivious and easily flustered with a generous serving of self-esteem issues. i hate to break it to you guys: neil josten is not insecure. i don't think there's a single instant in the series where neil is actually insecure about anything. as a narrator, person and character, neil is very realistic, pragmatic and logical. ruthlessly so. i'd say on this, neil is even more cerebral and unemotional than andrew is. neil is very straightforward and realistic abt himself in his narration and i'd honestly say his opinion and views about himself are one of the only things in the story that isn't affected by his narrator bias. if neil is anything, it's self-aware. i'm now going to present all my fucking evidence.

neil doesn't have a sexuality crisis. literally in the entire series never once does he even question his fucking sexuality. it's implied he's already figured out he's aspec/demisexual from the moment nicky questions him about his sexuality. neil says "i don't swing" and follows up in his narration: it wasn't quite the truth, but it was close enough. and later when he starts his relationship with andrew he doesn't ever question the nature of his feelings towards andrew or even anyone else and is pretty clear about it when andrew breaches the topic: "kissing you doesn't make me look at them any differently" so yeah neil is pretty certain and aware of his sexuality.

neil isn't insecure about his appearance. i feel like this is gonna require a bit of work to explain but hear me out. it is mentioned several times that neil has a complicated relationship with his appearance because he looks so much like his father/abuser. this is obviously understandable; you wouldn't want to look into the mirror and see the man who gave u all ur scars. that being said, neil doesn't have a lot of strong emotions regarding his appearance. most of his feelings of panic tied to when r*ko dyed back his hair is because of how it would be a lot easier for his father to discover him now that he has his original colouring back. i'm also pretty sure neil knows that he's cute. like it's never explicitly stated but i've reread aftg maybe fifty times and trust me i can read between the lines. neil explicitly says that he has a "love-hate relationship with his reflection out of necessity" and while the "hate" part of that statement is obvious: he doesn't like that he resembles his father, i've sort of just accepted that the "love" part of it is that he knows he's kinda fine. it's not brought up by him at all bc neil as a person is not one to linger on people's appearances almost at all. i think the only people to get a decent amount of lines dedicated to their appearance in the narration are allison and andrew. but yeah i genuinely don't think neil thinks he's ugly or unattractive and he's probably definitely been told how cute he is by others enough that he doesn't harbour any delusions about how he looks. regarding his scars, he never expresses any insecurity towards them and how they look, he just doesn't like them on display understandably bc of how acutely they point to his past and childhood that he's trying to hide.

neil is actually very very confident in his own and other people's abilties. this is esp regarding exy. he knows he's good at the game. like he knows. the most distinct example i can think of for this point is when kevin tells neil that he was at castle evermore to try out for the perfect court when they were younger. neil doesn't even doubt for a fucking second that he would've made it onto the perfect court. never does. he skips over the second-guessing and doubt part and just straight up starts daydreaming about the future he could've had playing with kevin and r*ko. like that really got me bc it's easy to assume neil would be super unassuming and have low self-esteem but no like neil doesn't doubt for a fucking second that he deserves to be perfect court. it's just that he doesn't believe in r*ko's delusions enough to play along with it by the time he gets the tattoo. he's also insanely confident about the foxes and their abilities and also kevin by the end of the series. at the beginning he takes a pretty realistic vantage point and says that with the way things are, the foxes will never beat the ravens. but even with that pov he still has the gall to challenge r*ko on LIVE TV and i doubt he's lying when he declares so boldly to everyone that if the foxes were united they'd be an unstoppable force (and guess what he was fucking RIGHT). and by the end, when the foxes are united, he has no more room left for doubt at all. some guy tells neil to kick the ravens' asses and neil just replies with zero hesitation "that's the plan". like he's so fucking on board with it. and he never once doubts that kevin is the best striker in the game. like literally never. at first he considers r*ko and kevin on par with each other (possibly, it's never stated outright) but by the end he literally has no doubts when he says "kevin is the best striker" like goddamn the amount of confidence neil has is so underrated.

neil is a very unemotional narrator. it actually gets me all the time how logical and ruthlessly pragmatic neil's narration and inner monologue is. some of the only strong emotions portrayed in neil's narration are anger, irritation and occasionally grief, which is only ever triggered by major trauma-inducing events (e.g. dr*ke). almost all of his inner monologue is analytical and observing others and dissecting either other people or the situation he's in. and almost all of his decisions and actions are made based on impulse and instinct. neil is a very instinctive person. this is outright stated in the way he plays exy; in theory, he can't give u a lot, but in the heat of the moment he's at his best. this applies to practically all facets of neil's life. he never plans his moves or what he's gonna say (except like that one time when he planned out what half-truth he was gonna tell andrew post-columbia). he's super quick and on the ball and literally does whatever the fuck he wants at any given moment. he's also insanely good at compartmentalising. like it's difficult to explain but while his priorities are obv hilariously skewed, they're also very clear in his mind. things he considers unimportant he simply just doesn't think about. what others look like and what they think of him don't factor into his internal monologue or his thoughts at all he literally just files them away in the back of his mind until they do end up becoming useful or important to him. he barely comments on andrew's appearance at all until andrew becomes someone worth staring at and admiring for him. the only reason he describes allison and renee in the detail that he does is because it's important in understanding how and why he reacts to them the way he does. this man was literally about to lose his goddamn mind at the fall banquet but he specifically reserved his mental breakdown for after the banquet so he could spend his time roasting the fuck out of r*ko. bro fully locked in and was like "clock riko now break down later" and i respect it.

neil doesn't actually have a martyr complex. it's funny because almost all of aftg is him being the absolute fucking opposite of a martyr. he wilfully sticks around the foxes knowing he's putting himself and them in danger. he doesn't "sacrifice" himself until he's absolutely forced to by his father's people. by then, he's already told himself he can't and won't run and he's smart enough to know he'll never get away anyway. and going to evermore wasn't about self-sacrifice or martyrdom it was about protecting andrew and those two are pretty fucking different. he knew he was coming back from evermore and he knew that he wouldn't die there, despite all the shit he went through, so i don't think that can be counted as "self-sacrifice". he was doing what he had to do to protect andrew, the same as andrew would've done for neil or aaron or kevin or anyone else he'd sworn to protect. the kidnapping in baltimore was the culmination of neil's character arc, which isn't really about learning to be selfless and self-sacrificing, it's about learning to stand his ground and stop running. those things r crucially different: neil not running in baltimore wasn't about selflessness, it was about courage. yes, part of it was obviously inspired by the foxes and motivated by not wanting them to be hurt but i truly believe it ultimately was about neil learning to stand his own ground and make his own home and have it be something he's willing to die for. call it whatever u want honestly i just don't think neil is as much of a martyr/sacrificial lamb as the fandom makes him out to be.

[thalthanmadanus]

Draco is THE antagonist of the story and I'm lowkey sick of people diminishing his character's importance in the story and to Harry's character development. so I'm writing an essay about how Draco as a character is fucking important especially his antagonistic arc

💅

1. The crumbs:

First of all, and this doesn't get mentioned often, Draco is the first magical kid Harry meets his age.

Not only that, he is our first glimpse at two major upcoming conflicts in the series: Blood Supremacy, and Hogwarts houses.

Draco plays the important role of the narrative foil to Harry. (even wikipedia references them in the "foil" page)

Draco's main function as a character is to showcase Harry's best traits, through being his most worst. Unlike, Snape and Voldemort, Draco is more concerned with creating internal conflicts for Harry than external ones.

He is the character that says mudblood the most, with the frequency decreasing every book. He is the character that plays with/teases/bullies the psychological vulnerabilities of the trio (specifically Ron and Harry). He is one of the few characters that give rational criticism (against Hagrid, calling out the trio dynamic..) that, taken outside the keyframe imposed by the author, can showcase the flaws in Harry's views and his bias. He is also the only character that shows moral self-reflection that isn't motivated by either a reward or "love", which not only serves as character development for Draco but for Harry too who grows to sympathize with Draco, a small breakup from his fixed binary morality.

Draco is also a very active character. His actions and choices affect the plot. The majority of the first book literally happens because of his dumbass. In the second book, he is our first introduction to the word mudblood, he's also the main suspect to the two main mysteries. If Draco wasn't such a bitchass, would buckbeak gave been in said place for Harry to use him to save Sirius?

He is important narratively but what interests me is his importance to Harry's arc.

What separates Draco from other antagonists is that he creates internal conflicts that stem from his personal conflicts with Harry, because of Harry as a person. Not because Harry's the chosen one standing in his way, not because Harry's lily or James's son. Because Harry's Harry. and this exchange is mutual.

Their personal dynamic is set up in their first meeting. Harry, upon hearing two sentences from Draco, reacts negatively because of deeply personal issues (Dudley). I don't think Harry reacts personally to any other characters the way he did with Draco? Considering that Draco wasn't even hostile in his first sentences.

While Draco targets both Harry and Ron, there's a clear difference in how Draco bullies them both but also how Harry and Ron perceive Draco.

Draco is crueler on Ron. And his bullying doesn't feel personal, just apathetic, humiliating and mean. It feels like Draco is more cruel on Ron because Harry chose Ron over him and it shows by Draco coming back every now and then searching for Harry's compartment, trying to egg him, to look for a way that will make Harry regret rejecting Draco.

About Harry & Ron perception about Draco, it's showcased in the second book by the two main major events Draco was suspected in

1. Opening CoS. It was Ron who suspected Draco for this, not Harry. Ron suspects Draco for an action that affects everyone in the school.

2. Sending Dobby. Harry suspects that it was Draco that sent Dobby to prevent Harry from coming to school. Harry suspects Draco of an action that targets him specifically, and his reason of suspect? "because Malfoy hates me". It's personal.

Another instance of Harry making every issue personal with Draco: In the fifth book, after the sorting hat's song about houses unity

'And it wants all the houses to be friends?' said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table,where Draco Malfoy was holding court. 'Fat chance. '

I'm also pretty sure the reason why Harry chooses not to be in Slytherin was 50% because Draco got sorted into Slytherin. the other 50% being Hagrid telling him that Slythering are eviiil. Btw a conversation that wouldn't have happened if Draco hadn't brought up houses in their first meeting.

Like I said, most of the plot in the first book goes back to Draco.

My main point is that the relationship between Harry and Draco as characters is beyond goals, motives, obstacles, moral causes bla bal bla, and is on the spectrum of "I took that personally".

2. the main plate:

Draco transitioned in the sixth book from an antagonist to a "side character" with a life. His role as character no longer functioned by his connection to Harry.

and this is where a flip of dynamic happened, where Harry became the antagonist to Draco's arc.

He's the one following him. He's the one egging him on (in the first 5 books,it was always Draco starting conversations with Harry, but in the sixth book, it's mostly Harry who started conversations with Draco) He's the one hurting him (Sectumsempra) (even on accident). He's the one trying to create obstacles to Draco's goal.

and why is that? why was Harry so obsessed with Draco?

If it were because of a moral righteousness, then why not focusing on Snape who's probably more suspicious? like who cares about Draco.. yeah he's sus but Dumbledore says it's not important..

This line of thought is more Ron and Hermione because they don't share the kind of deep personal issues towards Draco like Harry does.

so why is harry so obsessed?

"Harry, knowing and loathing Malfoy, was sure the reason could not be innocent."

This line in the sixth book explains it. Harry knows and loathes Draco with more emphasis on *knowing*.

Harry admits that he knows Malfoy, of course the fruit of labor of staring at Draco for five years, but why does he even stare in the first place? Because Harry is curious about Draco.

In comparison with Snape and Voldemort, our other antagonists,  Harry doesn't show the same enthusiastic curiosity for them. At least not the same way he does with Draco. Most of what we know about Snape and Voldemort are shown through external ways. Either their memories of memories of other people about them. Their character arcs happen outside Harry's vision,  either in the past or in a memory. It's not Harry who seeks those information. They come to him.

Draco, on the hand, most if not all of his character development happens in front of Harry. From his bullshit in the five years to him crying in the bathroom, him lowering his wand, him lying in the Manor. even the visions that Harry sees through Voldemort about Draco torturing Rowle, are happening in the present. Draco's character development is laid bare in front of Harry. 

but back to his obsession in the sixth book, it's because Harry knows Draco so well that not only he's right about him being a DE, but "Malfoy being up to something" is not something new to Harry, it's actually a normal thing that kept happening for 5 years of his life. Malfoy was always up to smtg. It's this idea of a normality that fuels like a new purpose in life for Harry after being wrecked by Sirius' death. Not only the mystery tingles his detective neurons, he knows he's right about Draco which only fuels his persistence. Draco being a person he hates also downplays the guilt/shame Harry could feel while stalking him. like I'm sorry but Harry was shameless and embarassing the whole year. The way Hermione and Ron looked at him sometimes so funny, also Hermione distancing herself from Harry when he talked to McG about Draco like "idk this person". Harry was kinda giving pre-HBP Draco vibes lowkey.

This shows that Harry himself is motivated by personal feelings (though negative) as an antagonist to Draco's arc himself.

And the important point here is the flip of dynamics. Draco is not just a mere side character in Harry's life. If anything, the moment he tries to become a side character with his is own arc, Harry is forcing himself in it. Because they're both foils to each other. It doesn't work on just one side.

The dessert:

The dynamic completely evolves again with the end of HBP as Draco gains a moral sense and Harry watching Draco's character development unfolding gains a more nuanced view than his old black/white one.

In DH, Draco and Harry are not antagonists anymore to each other. Draco and Harry are kind of heroes to each other?? as they both try to save each other like two times.

A lot of people downplay Draco's lie in the Manor, comparing it to Dudley's "You're not a waste of space" as "character development" moment.

bruh.

Dudley said that after Harry saved him. Draco literally was the one who took the initiative to lie, expecting no reward, literally had more to lose by lying, he was literally acting against his own interests, his family's life was in danger!!! Harry saved Draco after Draco saved him.

also Draco's character development started with him lowering his wand.

but back to being each other heroes. Our other comparison is Ron who is in both situations where Harry saves Draco but he's the one reacting negatively and complainig about them saving Draco, not Harry. Which is funny because Ron says "we saved you" but in both cases it's Harry who's doing the saving and Ron is  just there witnessing, and again I don't think he still realizes what was happening since the sixth year. He thinks his hostile feelings towards Draco are the same ones Harry has. That they're similar. Ron.. Harry literally almost risked your life to save Draco.

It also speaks of character development from Harry that he's not reacting negatively anymore towards Draco. He grew out of it. Like Draco also was starting to grow out of his toxic ideologies.

They're both growing up simultaneously.

And Draco was The first wizard kid Harry talked to (with no precognition or insidious motive)

Draco was the first character who he flew with

Draco was the first character who he dueled with

and so in DH,

Draco was the first character who tried to help Harry with no selfish motive

Draco was the first character that flew with Harry on the same broom (at least I think so?)

Draco was the first and only character whose wand Harry dueled with against Voldemort and won.

I wish I could write more. About Sectumsempra. About wand connection. but I'm tired.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cognitive Bias

Cognitive Bias - a strong, preconceived notion of someone or something, based on information we have, perceive to have, or lack.

These preconceptions are mental shortcuts the human brain produces to expedite information processing—to quickly help it make sense of what it is seeing.

The many types of cognitive biases serve as systematic errors in a person’s subjective way of thinking, which originate from that individual’s own perceptions, observations, or points of view.

There are different types of bias people experience that influence and affect the way we think and behave, as well as our decision-making process.

Examples of Cognitive Bias

Confirmation bias. This type of bias refers to the tendency to seek out information that supports something you already believe, and is a particularly pernicious subset of cognitive bias—you remember the hits and forget the misses, which is a flaw in human reasoning. People will cue into things that matter to them, and dismiss the things that don’t, often leading to the “ostrich effect,” where a subject buries their head in the sand to avoid information that may disprove their original point.

The Dunning-Kruger Effect. This particular bias refers to how people perceive a concept or event to be simplistic just because their knowledge about it may be simple or lacking—the less you know about something, the less complicated it may appear. However, this form of bias limits curiosity—people don’t feel the need to further explore a concept, because it seems simplistic to them. This bias can also lead people to think they are smarter than they actually are, because they have reduced a complex idea to a simplistic understanding.

In-group bias. This type of bias refers to how people are more likely to support or believe someone within their own social group than an outsider. This bias tends to remove objectivity from any sort of selection or hiring process, as we tend to favor those we personally know and want to help.

Self-serving bias. A self-serving bias is an assumption that good things happen to us when we’ve done all the right things, but bad things happen to us because of circumstances outside our control or things other people purport. This bias results in a tendency to blame outside circumstances for bad situations rather than taking personal responsibility.

Availability bias. Also known as the availability heuristic, this bias refers to the tendency to use the information we can quickly recall when evaluating a topic or idea—even if this information is not the best representation of the topic or idea. Using this mental shortcut, we deem the information we can most easily recall as valid, and ignore alternative solutions or opinions.

Fundamental attribution error. This bias refers to the tendency to attribute someone’s particular behaviors to existing, unfounded stereotypes while attributing our own similar behavior to external factors. For instance, when someone on your team is late to an important meeting, you may assume that they are lazy or lacking motivation without considering internal and external factors like an illness or traffic accident that led to the tardiness. However, when you are running late because of a flat tire, you expect others to attribute the error to the external factor (flat tire) rather than your personal behavior.

Hindsight bias. Hindsight bias, also known as the knew-it-all-along effect, is when people perceive events to be more predictable after they happen. With this bias, people overestimate their ability to predict an outcome beforehand, even though the information they had at the time would not have led them to the correct outcome. This type of bias happens often in sports and world affairs. Hindsight bias can lead to overconfidence in one’s ability to predict future outcomes.

Anchoring bias. The anchoring bias, also known as focalism or the anchoring effect, pertains to those who rely too heavily on the first piece of information they receive—an “anchoring” fact— and base all subsequent judgments or opinions on this fact.

Optimism bias. This bias refers to how we as humans are more likely to estimate a positive outcome if we are in a good mood.

Pessimism bias. This bias refers to how we as humans are more likely to estimate a negative outcome if we are in a bad mood.

The halo effect. This bias refers to the tendency to allow our impression of a person, company, or business in one domain influence our overall impression of the person or entity. For instance, a consumer who enjoys the performance of a microwave that they bought from a specific brand is more likely to buy other products from that brand because of their positive experience with the microwave.

Status quo bias. The status quo bias refers to the preference to keep things in their current state, while regarding any type of change as a loss. This bias results in the difficulty to process or accept change.

How to Reduce Cognitive Bias

Even though cognitive biases are pervasive throughout every system, there are ways to address your bias blind spots:

Be aware. The best way to prevent cognitive bias from influencing the way you think or make decisions is by being aware that they exist in the first place. Critical thinking is the enemy of bias. By knowing there are factors that can alter the way we see, experience, or recall things, we know that there are additional steps we must take when forming a judgment or opinion about something.

Challenge your own beliefs. Once you’re aware that your own thinking is heavily biased, continuously challenge the things you believe is a good way to begin the debiasing process—especially when receiving new information. This can help you expand your pool of knowledge, giving you a greater understanding of the subject matter.

Try a blind approach. Especially in the case of observer bias, researchers conduct blind studies to reduce the amount of bias in scientific studies or focus groups. By limiting the amount of influential information a person or group of people receive, they can make less affected decisions.

Biases make it difficult for people to exchange accurate information or derive truths.

A cognitive bias distorts our critical thinking, leading to possibly perpetuating misconceptions or misinformation that can be damaging to others.

Biases lead us to avoid information that may be unwelcome or uncomfortable, rather than investigating the information that could lead us to a more accurate outcome.

Biases can also cause us to see patterns or connections between ideas that aren’t necessarily there.

Logical Fallacy vs. Cognitive Bias

Cognitive biases are often confused with logical fallacies.

A cognitive bias refers to how our internal thinking patterns affect how we understand and process information.

A logical fallacy refers to an error in reasoning that weakens or invalidates an argument.

Cognitive biases are systematic errors in a person’s subjective way of thinking, while logical fallacies are about the errors in a logical argument.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[usunezukoinezu]

“...you also want to get the self-serving bias out of your mental routines. Thinking that what’s good for you is good for the wider civilization, and rationalizing foolish or evil conduct, based on your subconscious tendency to serve yourself, is a terrible way to think.”

-Charles T. Munger, Poor Charlie’s Almanack

[spicy30]

Echoes of a Stolen Fate 2/2

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targ!Reader

cw: Blood, Bastardry stigma, infidelity, classism, regionalism (regional bias), childbirth

Rating: 16+

tags: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, the reader has anger issues, reader is depressed reader takes issues against bastards, reader does not like the north, reader acts like a princess (discriminates against those who are not like her (gets it from her mom tbh, have you read about Rhaenyra?)), Reader has traditional Targaryen features (Hair and eyes, skin color nor body specified), Dino Dragon is named Acrocanthosaurus because I'm not original, Reader is assumed to be true-born due to traditional Targ features

(Not Proofread)

Bold text noted to be High Valyrian

First part: 1/2

Indulgence is based on this post. Inspo Dino Dragon is Acrocanthosaurus.

WC: 13.2K

You felt like you were withering as the weeks passed by here in the North, the same thing every day. You’d wake before your husband in the cold room, groom yourself until you were presentable, and then you would dress in simple clothes such is the Northern fashion, skip breakfast, and go to the cold Gods Wood to ‘pray’. Then you would begin your duties as Lady of Winterfell; planning meals, overseeing finance, delegating resources, planning events, preparing for the long winter cold that the Starks never seem to shut up about, planning the staff's daily doings, going to the Maester for your daily check in. They seemed eager for an heir for Cregan. Then and only then would you eat your one meal of the day, then get up once again.

You wrote daily to your brother and uncle for updates, and then you wrote letters to the alliances you secured through the possibility of marriage to you but as you are married now, they seemed to pull away. Those letters only served to infuriate you, so after a healthy dose of daily hitting the cold stone wall so no one would hear and toss their letters into the fire watching them burn, you would get ready to meet with whatever ladies you were set to entertain today.  

Then afterward, you made it a priority to go greet the commons of Winterfell, though you had to fight the urge to scowl when they smiled at you. Their ugly teeth greeting you, and commons touching you with their dirty hands. The only good thing about the North is the cold stifled the disgusting smell this place would surely have, but when commons got too close or spoke to you, you’d smell their rotten breath and their putrid scent. It was disgusting and every time you went out, you felt like running away, far away from here forever because Winterfell was oh so dull, gray, and cold.

Then after your daily nightmare of interacting with the commons of Winterfell, you’d go back home only to be badgered by the servants of Winterfell seeking guidance. Every day, every single damned day of your existence here in this cold desolate place called Winterfell felt like monotonous hell.

Then finally as the day comes to a close, you’d go to the dinning room only for your husband to bore you with his attempts at conversation. After your husband finishes eating, you’d both go to your shared chambers where you’d do your duty always having him finish fast never bothering to catch your own high then sitting still as you felt his seed sit inside you. 

You’d pretend to sleep until he slept, and then you would wake and sit on a nearby chair that was always cold, and stare at the map of Westeros. It was horribly dreadful as you wallowed in your own self-pity watching your allies dwindle.  

Truly a sad sight of you sitting there in a chair, bare as the day you were born with a sticky feeling between your legs looking at a map for hours never moving in this cold room. Then you’d stand up sometimes and just look at yourself in the mirror and at the nasty scar that was forming on your calf. Sometimes you’d stare so long that you’d hallucinate your face and body beginning to morph ever so slightly into the woman you wished you were. A woman with a crown on her head in the warmth of King’s Landing, a woman who was not wasted on simply being a lady of a cold household. 

Then you’d go to sleep for a couple of hours only to restart your pitiful day all over again. 

It was unbearable some days. On those days you considered simply flying off to the warmth of Essos and never turning back or just flying to King’s Landing and burning everyone in the Red Keep. Though sometimes you’d think you would just be content with burning anything or anyone, the heat would feel nice. 

So on those days, you’d take Acrocanthosaurus and fly him high, high above the clouds, and have him breathe fire and destroy the clouds around you as you relished the feeling of fire around you. You’d pretend he was burning the grimy eyes on you, the Northern accents that grated your ears, Aegon, Aemond, Alicent, Otto, and sometimes you even thought about burning your Grandsire. 

However, as the weeks went by, those days that used to be rare were now becoming all too common. Days where you felt your blood boiling at the desperation of your situation were becoming too frequent for your own good. 

So today as you made your way out to God’s Wood for your daily ‘prayers’ for the first time since you got here, you knelt. You knelt in the God’s Wood but in front of the tree, but in front of Acrocanthosaurus, and simply held him. You felt the warmness contrast the cold of your damp clothes and slowly you began to cry, anger that made you cry, uselessness that made you cry, an emptiness that made you cry.

“There is something wrong with me.” You whispered in a broken voice as tears fell from your eyes onto his snout. “I hate feeling like this, so pathetic. I wonder if anyone else can see me for how I truly am. I had everything, the gods were generous with me but now they don’t even answer my prayers, no matter how high I fly to see them.” Your body shivered from the cold that seeped into your bones. “I don't know why. What did I do? What is wrong with me?” You looked into the eyes of Acrocanthosaurus. “Please just tell me so maybe I can be better. I don't want to end up like my mother, fighting for people to simply accept me. I wanna be loved, I want to be supported like Aegon is, just for simply being born. I simply want to be.” 

…

It had been weeks into your marriage, Cregan had taken you several times, left his seed in you several times, left marks on your body several times, had touched you where no one else ever would, in all except one place, a place that he yearned for more than anything. 

Your lips.

Every time you’d avoid him, you’d never deny him any other part of your body, just your lips and it left him frustrated. What kind of wife does not kiss her own husband? It was all he needed from you. The very thing you denied him. Perhaps you did not feel comfortable with him? So he tried to give you gifts, they were always received and worn, but never once did you kiss him in thanks, he praised you for your work in Winterfell but never once did that ever result in a kiss, he talked to you during your shared dinner or more so his dinner as you never ate, and even then it did not make you any warmer when he took you once more. 

You were simply impossible. Never did you go out of your way to talk to him, touch him, hug him, kiss him. You were hard to talk to, only simply giving him those dismissive hums he was growing to hate. Despite the bed you both shared meant for sleep, he never really did sleep next to you. You gave him nothing on your shared nights or at any time, the only thing he could feel from you was a heartbeat.

Yet despite you only ever completing your obligation to him he never did find himself ever wanting to stop, because the only time he ever really got you to open up was when he got you undressed, and even if it wasn’t the way he wanted you to open up for him, this was still good enough, for now. 

Weeks passed and Cregan watched you, he watched you when he felt the bed shift from when you got up like you did every night after he’s marked you. He watched you sit in the same chair every night and simply stare at a map. He watched you become so lost that you never noticed that he watched you, every breath you took, every time you blinked, every time you shivered from the cold, he’d watch the tips of your breast harden then after a while soften only to harden again when you shivered as if suddenly noticing the cold again. He’d watch from the bed as you sometimes stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror, never noticing him in the same reflection as your mind drifted elsewhere. He watched you as you crawled into bed and slept beside him though the sleep never rejuvenated you. 

Cregan would always wake up as you left your shared bedroom. Cregan would always watch you, your practiced smiles to everyone, or the way you rode your dragon away from here. He always watched you, never understanding why you would not let him in. That night, that first night you told him: 

“I’d rather not share something so intimate.”

Those words haunted him, day and night. Never once did you let yourself be intimate with your husband and Cregan was starting to break. 

He didn’t know what they meant, there was no way you would have known about the kiss. There were only three witnesses and two of those witnesses had good reason to not tell and the third was a dragon who could not speak. You vexed him, vexed him, and frustrated him. You elicited reactions from him no one else has. Soon you were the only thing on his mind and it began to drive him insane. 

So he watched you and watched because it felt like that was the only way he could ever be intimate with you. Not when you were bare and your bodies connected but when he watched you.

He knows you don’t love him, not yet at least. He hopes you will, because it feels like he already loves you. You’re all he thinks about, but he can never tell you, not as you are now. It almost feels like a joke to him. One big joke, a joke he tries to gain insight into by watching you. 

Today when Cregan wakes and he looks over, he sees you, still in the bed beside him. You hadn’t woken up yet. Today he’d watch some more trying to understand. He watched your eyelashes flutter sometimes, he watched your hair become disheveled from moving, he watched your chest rise, and he watched every time you moved.

He reached over and brushed your hair back. It is shined with the light of the fire and your skin reflects the light. He was entranced watching you sleep. His hands traveled along the side of your face stopping on your lips. He touched them, and they were so soft and smooth. He pinched them softly and watched them turn a slight red and only then could he imagine how red your lips would be if you allowed him to kiss you. 

He moved closer to you, to observe every part of your face. He simply lay beside you, his hands never moving from your lips. 

Then you moved and he shut his eyes like a boy who was caught staying up late. He kept them shut pretending he was sleeping. He felt you stir more and finally he felt you take his hand in yours. He relished the feeling of your warm hands against his, though it was only to move his hand away from your lips. The he felt you stand and leave the bed. 

He opened his eyes slightly watching you get ready for the day before you walked out. Cregan quickly got up and put on simple clothes before following after you as quietly and quickly as he could. He watched you walk slowly through the walls of Winterfell as your calf held you back. He watched and followed you to God's Wood. He watched from behind a tree as you knelt, but not in front of the Weir Wood tree, but in front of your dragon, which he has told you to keep out of these woods. 

He watched you as you seemed to pray to your dragon, as you hugged him. He watched you shiver from the cold but felt the warmth your dragon exhaled. It seemed like you were saying something, but he couldn’t hear.  

He watched as your dragon then narrowed its eyes on him and for a second time stopped. He watched you turn your head slightly in his direction. He watched as you ignored him and instead grabbed onto your Dragon. 

He didn’t know why that rubbed him the wrong way.

You ignored him like you didn’t care that he was there. 

You didn’t care.

Cregan watched you fly away and you didn’t care that he was there. 

When you came back from wherever it is you went today, he didn’t greet you like he usually did. 

You didn’t care.

He didn’t talk to you during dinner.

You didn’t care.

He didn’t take you that night.

You didn’t care

For days he did this hoping you would do something, pleading that you would show him something, anything!

You didn’t care for it or his act. 

He did his best to ignore you, though he didn’t last long. How could he? When the Maester had just given him such great news. You were with a child, his first child with you. Something only you could give him, so how could he ignore his wife?  Damn the Wall and damn the South, all he could think of was his wife. 

However, the way things are would not do for him and the future child born between the both of you. There had to be something he could do to remedy this. He will be the first to admit that the game he is playing with you is childish. But he can’t help himself. He feels like a spoiled child crying and whining to get what he wants. He hasn’t acted like this since he was a child, yet this is what you have reduced him to, a little boy playing silly games vying for your attention hoping you’ll notice him and notice how desperate he is for you. 

Another gift perhaps? Surely it would be better than starving himself of you. 

You seemed to express a want for Arra Norrey to raise your children. He’d rather her far away from you, but if it is what you wanted, who was he to deny you that? 

Pulling out fresh ink and the seal of the Starks, he wrote to House Norrey. 

…

As you cried on Acrocanthosaurus, he breathed out steam that warmed your body. You looked into his eyes and saw them looking behind you. You looked over your shoulder and saw no one, however, it was clear someone was there watching you. Acrocanthosaurus reached his claw to you and you climbed onto it as he lifted you to your saddle. Not bothering to look deeper into who was hiding, you set off into the skies, hoping that maybe if you pray up there, the gods will hear you this time. Perhaps you’ll even fly to Old Valyria if you become desperate enough. 

Acrocanthosaurus flew and flew higher and you laid back on him. 

You sighed looking up. “It doesn't change anything. Nothing changes no matter how high I fly.  The Gods will never hear my prayers. I've lost everything. No matter how many times I pray, no matter how many times I plead, it's never coming back, Acrocanthosaurus.” 

You lift your hands to look at the simple clothes you have on. “And I’ve done this for what? For a man whose alliance was already secured? For a man who so clearly does not want me!? For a man who only seems to see me as what the world does already, a womb and nothing more?”

You crawled forward onto Acrocanthosaurus's neck as you held on tight. “Can't I just be loved? Be loved by the realm as they seem to love Aegon? Be loved…” Your voice lowered as you held onto Acrocanthosaurus trying to crawl forward as he made noises.

 “By my husband? Maybe if I had been born of love…” You trail as you finally reach the head of Acrocanthosaurus looking into his green eyes watching you as he flies. 

“You love me, don’t you Acrocanthosaurus?” You heard him make a deep rumble that you felt vibrate your body before he swung you high in the air. You screamed as he caught you with his snout. You sat as he continued flying and you hugged his face, holding on breathing fast.

“I hope that was a yes.” You breathed out as you held onto him. “Yeah, just you and me…forever. Maybe we could stay alone, just me and you, together.” You rested your head against his. 

You felt the rumble of his roar in the depths of your bones. “Yes, and while we're at it, burn the whore’s house down.”

…

After hours of riding and deciding against the idea of burning down the Norrey House, you flew back to Winterfell to a strangely quiet husband. He did not greet you, nor did he talk to you during his dinner, or even take you that night. Though it was all the same to you, one less person to talk to. 

It was all the same to you until it wasn’t. When you saw the coat of arms that held six green thistles crossing through the gates of Winterfell. For days Cregan hadn’t spoken to you, nor marked you. It wasn’t you missed it but he was still your husband, and the nerve of him to invite her to Winterfell. For what!?

Walking as fast as you could with an occasional limp and burst through his door interrupting his study. You saw him lift a brow and you swore you could see the smallest smile. 

“My lord.” You gritted out. “Why was I not told of the Norreys visit?”  He sat in all his glory, the gray stone walls surrounding him, his fur pelt, and the chair of Winterfell. He sat there with what you swore was a smirk and it aggravated you. 

“It’s not a visit.” He spoke as if it was the most normal thing. There were very few things that got under your skin and even fewer people who managed to bring out a resentful side of you. Yet this man here did it all without even trying!? 

Cregan Stark; the bane of your existence.

You spoke trying your best to hide your annoyance. “No? Then why are they here?”

“It is only one person. Arra Norrey.” He responded cooly watching you with eyes that seemed to drink up every expression you gave. 

“Why?” You walked forward looking at him leaning forward with your hands on the desk. 

“On the day of our wedding, you had told Arra Norrey you wished for her help to raise our children.” As Cregan spoke you felt your patience thinning.

“And?” Of course, the Northern brute did not register sarcasm, damn all these Northers who you swear will turn your white hair gray. 

You watched as Creagn stood and walked behind you taking you in his arms as you felt him inhale your scent. You watched as his hands intertwined with yours and finally had them settled on your belly. 

“Now that you are carrying our first child, heir to Winterfell, I figured you’d want her here.” As you listened to Cregan speak you felt your heart drop. Suddenly the feeling of his hands rubbing your stomach felt confining. The heir of Winterfell he called it. You felt as if he had just stabbed you through the heart. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It hurt to know that you were his excuse for bringing back his whore to Winterfell, and while you labored to grow this child, his heir as he called it. Cregan would be off fathering bastards, like his father did.

You knew the men of the realm did not see value in women, but it hurt a little more to know you had married one of them. A tie to your name and to your blood. 

“The Maester told me the news a couple of days ago-” You stepped out of his grasp, cutting him off. You took a second to recompose yourself. You turned and faced Cregan and smiled. 

“I was not aware of the news. Such grand news. However, I must make haste to prepare for Lady Norrey’s arrival.” You spoke in the calmest tone you could muster before dismissing yourself leaving Cregan in the dull, gray, cold room. 

…

The last thing Cregan wanted to do was to greet Arra. After what had happened between them, he never wanted to see her again. Guilt always pooled in him when he saw her. The day you became his wife, the day he was unable to take his eyes from you was the day he decided that what happened under the Weirwood tree was the biggest mistake of his life. 

Arra did not make him yearn. Not even after he kissed her, he did not yearn for more. He did not spend that night thinking of her. The night and days after his wedding only consisted of thoughts of you. In fact, in these past few weeks, the only time she has ever crossed her mind was when he thought that perhaps he should confess his mistake to you. Arra Norrey was only ever was brought up in his mind as a negative thought and in correlation to you. 

Arra Norrey in Cregan’s mind, never stood alone. 

Despite this, he put on his best face and gave a greeting that reflected his position, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. 

He watched as the Norrey guards held out their hands for Lady Arra. She walked with a big smile on her face as she greeted him first then you. As they welcomed her inside, she would not stop singing praises for Winterfell and how wonderful it felt to be invited back, this time as a lady-in-waiting for the Lady of Winterfell. Cregan watched for a reaction, a sign to assure him that he had done well. 

You gave him none. In fact, you seemed the opposite of pleased, you had recently gone on dragon back and had only come back an hour ago. Perhaps….the feast thrown in your honor would please you. 

Cregan felt nervous at your lack of enthusiasm. You were the one who wanted Lady Arra, were you not?

He would try once more to please the soon-to-be mother of his child in the coming days, try and have you lighten up as he prepared to share the news of your pregnancy.  

However, over those days, every time he stepped into your presence for something even as minuscule as holding his hand to your stomach, Arra would be there to ruin the moment. Never could he get you alone, and even then when he seemed to enter the same room as you, he felt Arra’s eyes on him. He had been the one to send the letter requesting her presence, but he did not invite the looks she would give him. Longing looks. Looks he did his best to ignore. Worst yet, you seemed to broil in anger every day since Arra’s arrival. 

Every day you would disappear for hours at a time leaving Arra with his half-sister Sara and consequently in his presence for all those hours you were gone for. Cregan found himself frustrated with your behavior and frustrated because he did not want to face Arra and what he had done on the day of your marriage. 

You were the one who held his hand so eagerly when speaking to Lady Arra about your shared children. How excited you had seemed, but now you detest being around him. Before, at the very least, you would give him dismissive hums, but now all you responded with was your eyes and the movement of your eyebrows, the rest of your face always set in a permanent scowl. 

He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He is trying, he really is. Trying to meet your every need and every want any lady could ever want. 

Sighing he pushed back his hair from his face as the background noise finally set. You had left once more early in the morning despite the Maesters advising you not to, leaving him alone with Sara and Lady Arra as they spoke of the upcoming banquet today in your honor.

Cregan figured that if he could not please you or Lady Arra, then perhaps Sara could, her talkative nature made it easy to become friends with. 

“Lady Arra, could you give my sister and I a moment alone?” Cregan spoke without looking up. He often tried to not look towards Lady Arra. 

He heard her obliged and stepped out. 

“Brother?” Sara spoke as she sat in front of him. He lifted his head showing his defeated expression.

“What do you know of my lady wife Sara?” He asked her with a sigh.

“Not much brother, on the day before your wedding I attempted to talk to her, though she seemed in a sour mood only giving me a smile before she left,” Sara spoke as she observed her brother. You had given him such a hard time, though Sara had seen your duties, you had even gone so far as to take what she usually did, giving her the excuse that you did more as Crown Princess and the work in Winterfell paled in comparison.

“Yes, she and her brother, Prince Jacaerys, were at odds that night.” Cregan rationalized.  

“In her days in Winterfell, I have not gotten the chance to speak to her much other than the greeting which she returned. The lady has such structured days that it is hard to find a time when she is not working on something. I believe the only time she spares is for you, Cregan.” Sara offered with a smile. 

Cregan nodded. “She does not seem fond of Lady Arra, though she had-” 

“I would not be fond of the company of Lady Arra if I was your lady wife either,” Sara said, cutting Cregan off. 

Cregan looked at her eyes slightly wide as his palms felt clammy. “Why?”

“Well if my lord husband invited the woman who he was supposed to marry and his childhood friend to be my lady-in-waiting, I would not be pleased either. Why would you even want to invite Lady Arra back to court?” Sara looked at her brother incredulously. 

Cregan felt a little sigh of relief, glad his sister did not know of what happened between Lady Arra and him under the Weirwood tree. However, this information should be unknown to you, how could you have come to find out? “Lady Arra and I were not promised to each other, my wife should not know of that.”

“Well, brother I may have…told her?” Sara mumbled as she watched her brother give her a bewildered look. 

“I did not expect you to invite her back to Winterfell!” Sara defended herself against the incredulous looks her brother threw at her. 

Sighing, Cregan rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Today, during the banquet, you will keep my wife company and try to remedy this…misunderstanding. She needs a friend here that is not someone who was supposed to marry me.”

“Are you asking me to put in a good word you brother?” Sara gave a small teasing smile at her brooding brother. 

“No. I am asking you to fix this. My lady wife seems to always be upset these days.” Cregan spoke as he looked towards the window. Your dragon seemed to return, going back to land in God's wood. 

“How do you know? She seems as she always is. She is silent and does her duties. She still goes to greet the commons of Winterfell. She is doing well brother.” Sara reaches over for her brother’s hand as she looks outside to see your dragon give a loud roar before disappearing out of sight as it lands. 

“She only ever goes riding when she is particularly upset or displeased with something,” Cregan says, giving his sister’s hand a final squeeze before retracting her own hand. “She is pregnant now, Sara. The Maester says such harsh movement such as dragon riding is not good. Sara, she is angry all the time, I can see it every day on her face.”

“She is the blood of the dragon Cregan, of course, her blood runs hot and consequently; her temper. However, she is not in her home, her home is in the South, you know as well as I do, that the North is not welcoming to outsiders, especially Southerners from King’s Landing. It is only natural that she should find comfort in her beast. ” Sara reasons Cregan. 

She watched Cregan give an exasperated sigh. “Fret not brother, tonight, I will be her friend and give a good word.” Sara smiled before excusing herself. 

Cregan watched his sister leave before standing up himself to go to the God’s Wood. Ever since the wedding Cregan has avoided going due to the dragon that now resided there, and the guilt that would build up in him as he looked at the Weir Wood tree. However, if he decided that if he truly wanted this to work, he would not be bullied out of the place his ancestors had been going to for solace by a dragon or guilt. 

Getting closer to God's wood, it felt warmer than the rest of Winterfell. He felt nervous, yes he is Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, but that does change that a dragon is a dragon. Dragons do not care for names or titles, only for blood, Valyrian blood, blood he does not possess. Despite this, he pushed forward into the new warmth of the woods. As he walked deeper he saw the growth of flowers he had never seen before. The more small life grew, the closer he went to the Weir Wood tree. Eventually, it was so warm he took off his coat and sat down on the bench near the Weir Wood.

This had been the place where he kissed a woman who was not his wife, in front of the ever-gazing eyes of the Weir Wood tree. Looking into the black water, which was so black it could work as a mirror. While looking into the black mirror he saw a figure moving across the pond. 

A large head reflected and Cregan simply looked at the creature through the water. The head was long, low, and narrow. Its eyes are big and green with black slits for pupils. The outside of its upper jaw up to its nasal bone looked rough and textured. Long, low ridges arose from the nasal bones, running along each side of the snout from the nostril back to the eye, where they continued onto the tear duct bone. As Cregan kept looking at the large dragon through the reflection, the dragon looked towards him. It did not bear its teeth but yet Cregan counted nineteen curved serrated teeth protruding from its mouth.  

From the pond Cregan watched it stand taller showing off its stocky body covered in scaly skin. It stretched itself seemingly intent on going towards Cregan now baring its teeth. Cregan looked up from the pond standing from the bench ready to back away if need be. Though despite the fact he had just spent the last couple of minutes looking at the dragon he never noticed you standing next to your dragon. 

It wasn’t until you stood in front of it stopping it from crossing the pond. He watched as your dragon nuzzled against you, more specifically towards your belly, blowing smoke, and even from the distance Cregan could feel the heat. It was hot, scalding hot, and he began to sweat. 

He began to worry that perhaps it may be too much heat for the child you carried, however, before he could say anything he was blinded by the large puff of smoke your dragon exhaled. His eyes burned from the heat and it wasn’t long before his skin felt like it was boiling. 

It hurt and he could hardly breathe, he panicked, but not for himself, but for you. What about you? What about the child in your womb? He found himself trying to yell your name, coughing with each breath he took. He yelled, coughed, and tried to find his way to you through the smoke. As he coughed he nearly fell tripping over a protruding root from the ground. Though suddenly with a large gust of wind, the smoke fell away leaving Cregan alone. You were nowhere in sight and your dragon was lying down ignoring his existence. 

Cregan stood up straight and wiped the tears away that had gathered from the smoke. 

“Cregan!” He heard a voice shout. Turning he saw Arra walking towards him. She was the last person he wanted to be seen with. Not with your dragon now opening an eye and looking at them both, where weeks ago he had committed an act that should never be repeated. He doubted whatever you had told your dragon would keep him at bay should Arra attempt to bring up what happened that day, or if she did anything he reckoned. 

“Lady Arra.” He spoke in a monotone voice. 

“Are you alright? I saw all the smoke and your shouts for the Lady, I rushed over as fast as I could.” Arra spoke as she came closer to him, seemingly trying to wipe soot away from his face. 

Cregan backed away, keeping a distance from her. He watched her face become confused before quickly giving a respectful smile. 

“I am alright, I was simply looking for my lady wife, have you seen her?” 

Arra nodded and stated that she had only recently entered your chambers to prepare for a bath. Content with the answer he left, hoping Arra wouldn’t be foolish enough to remain in the God’s Wood alone with your dragon. 

…

“The dragon’s blood runs hot maester. I assure you I will not burn if you increase the temperature.” You spoke feeling the water which was lukewarm. 

The Maester spoke to you trying to reason.“You may not burn my lady, but the child you bear has Northern blood-” 

That title, ‘my lady,’ it irked you. Something that came along with this cold place, something you were not used to when all your life you had been called ‘your grace,’ it was your proper title and to have someone speak to you in such a manner, it irritated you. You were still a Targaryen, you did not take the Stark name, a noble woman never take her husband’s name. Especially not a royal one who was set to inherit the Iron Throne. You were born a Targaryen and would remain one for the rest of your life. Your mother was born a Targaryen and even when she married your father, Laenor Velaryon, she remained a Targaryen, when she bore you, you took your mother’s name, Targaryen. The child you had growing inside you would also bear the name Targaryen, by right, your child was a Targaryen.

“The dragon’s blood runs strong within me, and it will run strong in my child. I am a cold maester, I have been cold for weeks. Can I not have one hot bath?” You countered cutting him off. Winterfell rarely saw the sun and you could not enjoy the warm rays of sunlight you had in King’s Landing or on Dragon Stone. The only warmth you ever found was near Acrocanthosaurus or hot baths.

“When you are not with child my lady, you may have the water as scalding as you’d like, however, until then, this is the warmest I will allow.” You felt the slightest twitch at the title as the Maester finished. He seemed determined to not let you have your bath. So finally, desperate for some alone time, you agreed and dismissed everyone.

As you disrobed and slipped into the bath, you relished in the slight warmth it provided. It felt good to rid yourself of the scent of dragon. You loved Acrocanthosaurus, you really did, but it didn’t change the fact that dragons didn’t exactly smell the best. 

You cannot say how long you remained in the bath as every part of your being soaked in the scented oils of the bath, your ears plugged from having half of your head submerged, your hair stuck to your forehead and your hand subconsciously resting atop your stomach which now protrude outward ever so slightly. While you were born and given the name Targaryen, as was agreed upon when your mother married your father, it seemed that your father still resonated with you heavily. You always love baths and the weight the water takes from you. Weightless, a feeling that only the seas and skies can give you.

However, the peace broke when you heard someone enter. Giving out a deep sigh of annoyance you rose from the water and you felt warm water fall out from your ears as you watched Lady Arra lay out the dress on the bed. It was the dull colors of the North. You had just about enough of all these dull colors. You wanted vibrant colors for your house, bright crimson colors or deep azures from House Velaryon. 

“Take it away.” You spoke as you sat properly in the bath and drops of water cascaded over you. 

“My lady, this is traditional wear of the North and it is in honor of the next heir of Winterfell…” Lady Arra spoke as you pulled up the dress trying to show off the minimalistic design. As you listened to her, you lifted a brow at the title. The assumption of your child being heir of Winterfell and not heir of the Iron Throne grated you. 

“I don’t care. Take it away and bring me….” You told her to roll your eyes again. “One of my Southern dresses, a red one, with dragons embroidered.” Your child may be fathered by a Northern brute, but you were Southern through and through, and so would your child. 

“Such tight corsets would not be good for the babe you carry, my lady. Southern dresses are also not good for the North, you will run cold.” Arra told you as she walked closer with a robe to help you get out of the bath.

There was that title again, ‘My Lady.’ A title that insulted you. You felt your annoyance grow every time Arra spoke to you.

“I am the dragon’s daughter, my blood runs hot. Now fetch me the dress.” You spoke with an absolute tone. They would not claim your child as a Stark, you will show your alliance with your name. Your child would be Targaryen, as were you. The throne will always belong to a Targaryen.

“My lady I don’t think that would-” 

“Nobody cares…what you think.” You cut Arra off as you stood in all your glory, steam radiating off of your body as you stepped out of the tub and standing in front of her, your eyes met her plain ones You took the robe from her and put it on before looking her up and down unamused. “So bring me my red dress with dragons embroidered.” You spoke in a slow tone as if trying to dumb it down for her. 

You watched her look down before nodding and excusing herself.

…

As you walked into the great hall of Winterfell, you felt all their eyes on you. Your deep crimson dress contrasted the dull grays and blacks of everyone else and your elaborate Southern hair-do stood out from the boring plain ones that Northern ladies wore. 

You were made for the limelight, born for others to look to, born to rule. That was your purpose, a heavy one to carry. 

As you sat next to Cregan, you nodded allowing the feast to begin. From the table you watched everyone scarf down the food and you felt your eyebrows crease in disgust. You felt sick when your own food was placed in front of you. The white meat was glistening under the candlelight and the smell wafting in your nose nearly made you lose your lunch. As you pushed the plate away you drank water, content with only that. You rested back drinking while looking upon the people of the North. The Northerners who thought you were bearing their heir. This was your child, your heir, not theirs, not anyone but yours. 

Just like that, you found yourself standing with your chalice lifted in the air giving a forced smile. You waited until it was silent and everyone watched you, the candlelight casting a dark shadow over you. 

“I’d like to make a toast, as the newest Lady of Winterfell and the alliance this marriage between my lord husband, Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, and I, your Crown Princess.” You smiled as you reminded them of your position. “We hold this banquet in honor of the babe Cregan has gifted me.” You looked down at Cregan with the softest smile you could conjure, though it was an empty one. He looked up to you and as he nodded towards you then faced his men, and you swore he sat up a little straighter. 

“Who will be born Targaryen, as I was, and will be my heir to the Iron Throne as I am to my Mother, your Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.” You felt your smile widen into a grin as you saw the people in the hall make the realization that you had every intention of taking the Throne, making you first and foremost, their Crown Princess and then Lady of Winterfell.

“So I toast to the future heir of the Iron Throne.” The cheer they gave was loud as they drank. You gave a small sip. “And should the Gods be generous, Cregan will give me more children who will then bear the name Stark.” With a promise that the Stark name would live, the cheers increased in volume, though the only person you looked at was Arra Norrey who had a neutral face on, which amongst happy flushed places, looked misplaced. She met your eyes and you greeted her with a smug smile. 

Cregan was your husband, for better or worse.

Finally sitting down keeping your eyes on her, to drive your point further, once more, as you did on your wedding day, you took Cregan’s hand and held it near your belly, which now carried your heir.  

As you sat happy, you felt the hand that held Cregan’s being lifted. You looked and watched as Cregan brought your hand to his lips and gave a long soft kiss. You looked deep into his eyes and for the first time, you realized just how gray they were. Never had you really looked towards Cregan as you did now. The forming creases on his face from stress, his long brown hair, but he was handsome, more so now as he looked up at you mumbling a “your grace” acknowledging you as his Crown Princess. 

For the first time since you had met Cregan, since you had married him, since you had been with him, a genuine smile crept on your face unwillingly, forgetting the sin he committed against you. He looked like perfection at that moment. Such gray eyes you had never seen, a sharp nose, a nicely sculpted face. If you had a son, you desperately hoped he inherited his father’s handsome and manly looks rather than the beauty Targeryens were known for. 

“More children, may the gods bless us.” He murmured against your hand which was still resting on his lips. You felt a pulse of desire hearing his Northern accent. Never had you wanted to hear the damned Northern accent more than right now. You could imagine it, hearing his rough voice and pronunciation whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he gives you another babe. The mere thought made you take a deep breath to calm yourself. You felt the warmth of his soft lips leave your hand and you felt almost deprived of his touch. His lips which you had forbidden yourself from touching. 

Why? 

At this very moment while looking at your husband who had done so much for you, giving you expensive gifts, accommodating your every want, giving you the warmest room in Winterfell, excused your leaves with Acrocanthosaurus, putting up with your attitude all without complaining, and giving you an heir for yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember why you would deny yourself such a man. 

You looked into his pretty gray eyes and then down at his perfect lips. You felt yourself lean closer into him seeking him out. For the first time in weeks, you sought him out. As you came closer and felt his breath, which smelt of sweet wine, you grew eager to taste him. Taste the flavor of the wine which was surely left on his tongue. 

Cregan reached his hand to cradle your face and you leaned into the rough calloused hand. Despite the fact that he is a Northerner who came from the cold North, you swore his hand was the warmest one you’ve ever felt. A warm hand to comfort you in the never-ending cold Winterfell seemed to produce. 

Just as your lips touched his own you turned away as someone called for your attention. As you looked up, you saw none other than your lady-in-waiting. 

Lady Arra Norrey. 

Suddenly the cold reality came crashing down on you. Your refusal to share something that should only be yours reminded you of why you treated Cregan Stark, the way you treated him. What he represented to you. The loss of your home, your throne, your place next to your mother as you both fought for your birthright. As you drew your face away from him and his warm hand you looked up towards the woman who stole what was yours. 

Your eyebrow quipped up in annoyance as you looked at her. To your side, you heard Cregan give a sigh, it appeared you weren’t the only one who didn’t want her presence anymore. You didn’t want to see her ever. She too was a constant reminder, a reminder that she ruined something for you. 

As you tuned out her little ramblings you simply looked at her to see what she had that you did not. She wasn’t prettier than you, you spoke better than her, were probably better educated than her, you had a dragon and she didn’t. Why would Cregan want her? Suddenly you felt very annoyed by her. Annoyed by her presence as you had been these last couple of days. Annoyed that she caused you to doubt yourself. Annoyed that she would forever remain a stain on your marriage. 

“My Lady, I am grateful for you and I am also thankful to Lord Stark for extending the invitation.” Arra finished as she bowed and excused herself.

My Lady. She had called you my lady again. Insult after insult she gave you. You wanted her gone. 

Permanently. 

You kept your eyes as she went to converse with other Northern ladies. Ladies you never bothered to entertain. You watched her for as long as you sat, it wasn’t until the bastard of Winterfell tore your eyes away by tapping you. You looked at her with a perplexed look. The nerve of her to touch you. You watched as she smiled at you and as she was to open her mouth to speak, you stood up and excused yourself with a flat smile before she could get a word out. You could care less about what a bastard had to say.

As you made your way through the crowd to the corner where Lady Arra and her friends talked and laughed. You approached behind Lady Arra and the other ladies around her quickly fell silent. 

“Lady Arra.” You spoke and you watched her give a small yelp. 

“Oh, my lady, I was simply speaking to them about how wonderful it is to be your lady-in-waiting.” She gave a smile. 

Once again she insulted you and you felt your eye give a small twitch. You watched her take a breath and open her mouth again to speak. Before she could you raised your hand telling her to stop. She stayed silent. Then you looked behind her at the ladies whose names you didn’t bother with giving them a lifted brow. No doubt you’d have to spell it out to them to leave you. Luckily at least one of them had common sense and left. The rest followed like sheep. 

You looked Arra up and down with disgust and annoyance present on your face.

“That day in the GodsWood. You did something you weren’t supposed to do.” You spoke with a blank smile. You watched as Arra’s face fell. “Keep your face girl.” You were reprimanded. “That day you angered the dragon, my dragon. Who nearly burned Cregan alive, because of you. What do you think will happen when I’m not there to stop him? If he was willing to burn the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell. Do you think he would think twice about burning an insignificant girl, from a minor useless house that annoys me?” 

You watched her look away from you and towards the ground before looking back up at you with pleading eyes. “My lady, I never meant to annoy anyone!”

“But you are.” You stressed anger boiling threatening to spill over and cause a scene here in the middle of a banquet. “You’re annoying me right now. Every breath you draw in my presence annoys me, everything you do within these walls annoys me, so here is what I want you to do. I want you to leave my presence. Leave Winterfell right now and go back to whatever part of the North you belong to where they use pinecones as money.” You gave her an annoyed smile struggling to keep your face neutral. 

“My lady, Lord Stark, Warden of the North has-” You cut her off having enough of being called a lady. “Your Crown Princess is telling you to leave Winterfell. Whether in a carriage or a casket, I will be merciful enough to let you have that choice.” You watched her face drop at your implication. “So…are you going to try and wake the dragon who has already decided to burn you alive for your insolence against me, or will you appeal to me? Who’s still mulling it over?” 

You smiled as she bowed, mumbling a small ‘your grace’ before leaving the banquet. A smirk grew on your face as you watched her leave. 

Content with your work and a small smile on your face you went to walk back to your seat next to Cregan and on your side, the bastard of Winterfell. Despite the clear insult, you were happy with your work today. 

“Your grace, you are the eye banquet!” A cheerful voice sang next to you and you felt your smile nearly falter. 

The bastard of Winterfell stood next to you with a wide smile. Sara Snow. The same Sara Snow who had thrown a small look towards your brother Jacaerys during your wedding. As if a bastard would ever be worthy of your brother. Your brother was recognized by the crown and was named heir to Driftmark. This bastard had nothing to her name and only lived at the mercy of her brother. 

“Well, I am a Targaryen.” You give a smile as you look at her from your peripheral not bothering to even face her as you speak. 

“I am happy that you have taken well to your duties here in Winterfell. Even more so now that you have taken mine.” She spoke with such enthusiasm it hurt to listen. However, when she hugged your arm you looked down in shock that she would dare touch you. However, you kept face and kept that same practiced smile on your face. 

“I know my brother can be difficult at times and he can make such rash actions, but he means well. He has gone through so much in his youth. You must understand. However, you should not fret sister-” The moment she said sister you turned her out. You were in utter disbelief that someone who was not your family would touch you so casually.

 A bastard nonetheless. 

A bastard who was making excuses for her brother. She was an annoyance to you. A shame and right after you had just rid yourself of one. 

Breathing in you smiled towards her facing your body slightly more to her. “Who are you?” You asked with an unfaltering smile. 

“I’m sorry for your grace?” Sara looked towards you with furrowed brows and a smile on her face.

“Who are you Cregan?” You resisted rolling your eyes at her. You stood in front of her to block her face from Cregan who you could feel staring towards you.

“His sister,” Sara spoke in low tones as her grip around your arm lessened.

“Half-sister no? You have a different mother, yes?” You corrected her. She needed to learn her place. A bastard had no place talking to you or even a seat at the main table.

“Yes,” Sara spoke in even lower tones as she stared down in shame, feeling your burning eyes and unforgiving smile on her.

“Did the late Lord Stark remarry after Cregan’s mother?” You feigned confusion as tilted your head to the side slightly.

“No…” This she whispered out as you felt her hands start shaking a bit. 

“So that makes you what?” You lowered your face to her level as you leaned in with a mocking smile and fraudulent innocence. 

“A…” She couldn’t even say it as you saw tears on her waterline. It pleased you to know that you were the one to properly educate her on the place of bastards in society. 

“Bastard.” You finished for her as you lifted your hand which she had cupped in both of hers. “Even a common true-born is higher than a bastard.” You kept your smile as you peeled her hands off of yours. Finally, as her arms dropped and you forced her to look you in the eye your smile dropped revealing an unamused disgusted face.  “You ever presume to touch me or call me sister again, I will have Acrocanthosaurus burn your already average-looking face off. Nobody wants to marry a bastard, much less an ugly one.” 

You watched her give you an incredulous look. “And don’t ever make excuses for your brother in my presence again, do you hear me?” A futile effort on Cregan’s part to justify what he did on your wedding day. Your face twitched slightly as you watched her nod. Deciding you’ve had enough, you gave a flat smile and turned away from her, walking towards Cregan to inform him you were retiring for the night. 

…

Cregan watched you walk away. The Southern crimson dress contrasted the dark walls of the Great Hall and the clothes of everyone else. The Southern up-do of your hair, elaborate with jewels, twists, and braids. Gold dripped from your fingers and your neck. You were regal, and it was all he could bother to pay attention to, even if his sister came back with a solemn face and Arra had left after you’d finished talking to her. 

You had made a promise to him. More heirs, made by you and him. It was all his mind focused and soon his pants felt tight on him. He watched you until the doors of the Great Hall finally closed, your figure leaving his sight. He replayed the memory over and over in his head. His lips are on the back of your hand. Your eyes looking into his and a small smile on your lips. Lips that he was so close to kissing tonight. His hands are on your face tonight, when before, he was only able to touch you when you slept. The weight you pressed on his hand when you leaned into him. Everything about it was perfect. You were perfect, and tonight he was so close to tasting it. 

However, it is ruined when Lady Arra interrupts. A shame, though he supposes he could ease you tonight, as you seemed in a rather generous mood. To carefully undo the laces that held your Southern dress together, he’d hate to ruin such a dress that looked so pretty on you. The golds around your neck and on your fingers. It all served as a stark reminder of where you were from, and where he is from. Polar opposites. However, opposites attract, don’t they? 

The feeling in between his legs was beginning to hurt. So while he would normally ask his sister what was wrong with her, his mind was only clouded with one thing. 

You. 

So ignoring his sister, he stood and left the banquet, chasing after you.

When he entered you chambers he found you bent over placing your golden jewelry in a chest. 

He loved Southern dresses.

He raked the room finding it filled with your Southern ladies-in-waiting, and luckily for him, no Arra Norrey. 

With a look, the ladies bowed and left. He watched you look at him over your shoulder and he heard a sigh. 

Seems he would have to ease you just a little back into the woman he had in his hands hours before. Walking behind you he hugged you, praising himself. Northern dresses tended to be thick, better for insolation and keeping the women warm. These Southern dresses were thinner, let him feel you. Cregan would make sure to have more Southern dresses made for you. 

Inhaling your scent he pressed soft kisses against your exposed shoulder and like always you gave him better access to your neck. His hands traveled up your front side against the hard corset you wore until one of his hands cradled your face and the other lay on your stomach. He tilted your face towards him intent on finally claiming your lips after weeks of agony. 

As he went to kiss you, he felt your head tilt down and he instead made contact with your forehead. He sighed and closed his eyes in annoyance. 

“I am already with child Cregan.” You spoke in low tones as he rubbed your belly though he could only feel the hardness of the corset.  

He let your face go and buried his face in your neck. 

“Why do you deny me my wife?” He mumbled against you. He felt you shudder under him. Then he felt your finger massaging his scalp and you rested your head on his. 

“Why don’t you understand?” Cregan heard you mumble and he lifted his head looking towards you. You looked at him with unmoving eyes, a tired look on your face. 

“What is there to understand? Every night you deny me.” Cregan walked in front of you cupping your face with both hands looking down at you. “I have played your game, wife, what more can I give you?”  

“What game Cregan?” You lifted your hands holding onto his wrist, perplexed by his answer.

“I have tried to give you everything! I have respected your space, I have tried to understand you, and I have done more than what anyone else would do in my position!” His grip hardened on the sides of your face as he looked trying to decipher you. 

“It is truly a shame, I thought you were an honest man.” You pulled your face away from his hand as you pushed him away, narrowing your eyes at him. “You don’t think I know of your whore!?”

“What whore? I have been faithful to you, I have never needed anyone but you.” There was no way you would’ve known about the kiss, and in any case, you were not married to him yet. Though Cregan knew they were excuses. To kiss someone under a weird wood tree. Any Stark knows that only oaths are sworn under that tree.

“What happened that day? The day where you were nearly burned?” You finally asked him, your patience had run out. You watched him as he avoided your eyes and stayed silent. 

You scoffed and an unbelieving smile on your face. “You cannot even face yourself! I would’ve never thought it of you. You didn’t seem the lying kind, had it not been for my dragon, I would’ve been none the wiser.” You shouted at him while he stood in silence. You walked closer to him, your eyes narrowed in anger and betrayal. “And you never would’ve told me. You’d be happily prancing around with her, behind my back whilst I labor?” 

“Fine! Yes, I kissed her-” Cregan admitted, but never did he ever think of taking her as a mistress. 

“At the very place where you and I wed!” You cut him off. You didn’t know what to name this feeling. It was humiliation and something else. Something for which you did not know the words for, and it caused you to doubt yourself. What did she have that you did not? 

“It was a mistake, one I will spend the rest of my days atoning for it! I do not care for her!” Cregan spoke desperately trying to make you understand that Arra means nothing to him.

“And this!” You made a gesture towards yourself and him. “What a waste! This is such a waste!” Your hands covered your face as if trying to hide you from the ridiculousness of it all. “This marriage could’ve been so much more! If you had just- IF YOU HAD JUST THOUGHT WITH WHAT IS IN BETWEEN YOUR EARS AND NOT WHAT'S IN BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!” You screamed at him, it was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him. Raise your voice at anyone in Winterfell. 

“It was a mistake and I am sorry, truly!” He gripped onto you trying to keep you still as he reasoned with you. “You are the only woman in my life! Never once did I ever think of Arra once you and I married. Not another woman has held me as you have! I do not ask for your forgiveness, not yet, but I ask for understanding. I ask that you know that you are the only woman I will ever love, the only woman I will ever give children to. You are the mother of my children. You are all that matters to me!” He held your face and you tore away from him

“You have disrespected me, Cregan! Humiliated me in front of someone who doesn’t compare to me in any way. Yet you…” You breathed before looking at him with an accusatory look.

“You made me doubt my worth.” You spoke in low tones as if confirming it to yourself. 

“Do you know how much I was worth before I married you?” Your voice rose as you pointed to yourself. “I secured crucial alliances all with the possibility of my hand! Not even a promise, but just a possibility that my blood, the blood of the dragon, would flow through their family line!”

Cregan watched you and though you yelled at him, he felt pity for you. All you saw yourself, all your worth was from your name. From what you stood to inherit.  

“I am worth a thousand of your men and twice as many noblewomen because of my blood! There is not a power that can hope to stand against the House of the Dragon if it were united!” You yelled your chest oscillating as you attempted to catch your breath. Your hair was loose as golden trinkets fell on the floor. 

Looking at the gold that fell, you pulled out another piece and threw it at Cregan who had just been standing there, giving you this…a look you couldn’t describe but it irked you.“Do you see this gold? All of it means nothing when compared to me! Others wear gold to elevate themselves in the eyes of others. When I have gold, the gold wears me. I elevate anything I touch and you make me doubt myself! And for what? A lady of a lower house!? Nearly common!?” You yelled. That woman was nothing to you, yet he saw fit to degrade you to her level. It was unthinkable. You were heir to the Iron Throne, the blood of the Dragon. You would always be worth more than anyone else. 

You watched as Cregan stepped closer, and as he did you stepped back. For every step you took backward, he took one forward. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for this man. Someone who did not see your worth. Someone who had you questioning everything about yourself. Suddenly your back hit the warm rock. You had never noticed the walls being warm. They always seemed so cold to you. 

Cregan’s warm rough hands cradled your face once more. You tried to move but his grip was firm. He had never used this force with you, always letting you tear yourself away from him, but now, you were caught between a wall and him. 

“Let me go.” You hissed out looking away from him. 

“That is not what you are worth to me,” Cregan spoke in a low voice. 

Your eyes turned to look at him with confusion. “What?” It was a small whisper that came out a bit muffled with his hands on your face. 

“The blood of the dragon means nothing to me. I did not agree to marry you for the blood you carry.” He spoke as he watched your face morph into a puzzled look then into a defensive one. Your hands came to hold his own while they held your face. “You are to be the mother of my children. You simply are yourself to me. That in itself is worthy enough. Your blood was not the one that captured me when you first kissed me, even if it was not where I wanted you to kiss me.”

You felt disappointment pool in your stomach as he spoke. “I only matter because I will be the mother of your children!?” 

Cregan sighed as his thumb caressed your cheek. “You matter to me because you are my wife. If you were not, then you would matter to me because I made an oath to you. You matter to me not because of the worth you carry, but because you are mine and I am yours. There is no one else.” He rested his forehead against yours.

As you felt his skin against yours, you wanted to rip yourself away. Your entire life has been defined by one thing. Your blood. Blood of the Dragon, Blood of the Seas. It had been questioned, your worth had been brought into question. All your life had been spent telling you how important you were because you were your mother's heir. Always had to act the part, always had to look the part because your it was your blood’s worth, your worth was always called into question. For someone to tell you this, for the very man who had managed to make you feel as if you lost all your worth by marriage, for him to tell you this, it was like poison to you. No one can live with such poison. The hope that it gives you, the hope he gives you. It is a poison that anyone could become addicted to. If taken away, it would kill you. 

You shook your head refusing to accept the poison he was feeding you, but as much as you shook your head, you tilted your face upwards, closing your eyes, a yearning that should not be there. 

You felt his lips brush yours. A slight roughness to them, and before you could register, you found yourself pulling his hands away from your face desperate to kiss him.

However, he lifted his face upwards instead of kissing your forehead. 

A pang of humiliation hit you hard as you looked down. Even now he humiliated you, even as you gave in to him.

You felt his hands cradle your face again and made you look up. But your face was a shade of red that no matter how hard you tried to push down, it wouldn’t leave. This room that had once been so cold, now you felt as if it was burning your skin. 

“I swear to you, my Crown Princess. Your grace, now and forever, till the end of our days. I will always tell you the truth, truths about yourself, and truths about myself. Never will I give you a reason to doubt me. I will not let myself have you until you accept your worth to me.” Once more he leaned forward and you let yourself close your eyes not having the will to say anything back. 

You felt his soft lips against your cheek before he let you go. 

You stood there as he let you go. You kept your eyes closed as you felt the cold air hit your face when he walked behind you, his body no longer shielding you from the cold. 

You felt his hands on your hair, taking out the gold pieces and undoing your braids. Then you felt his hands undo the laces on your dress. As he took your arm pulling out from the sleeve of the dress, then doing the same to the other. Until your dress fell down leaving you bare, safe for your undergarments. 

Despite that, you felt awfully vulnerable as his hand went to take yours. You had been bare in front of him many times before, but this time, you felt like hiding away from him. Your hand went to cover your breasts as he sat down on the bed facing you. 

Cregan took your hand and pulled you to him. You fell onto his lap as he laid back. You hid yourself in him. He fixed himself on the bed bringing you with him as you stayed hiding within his chest. You both stayed like that. His hands wrapped around you holding close to him as his fingers traced symbols on your back, and you relished the safety of being able to hide away and the warmth he provided. In the same room where the cold had been unbearable, you now took cover from it using your husband.

…

You cried out shaking your head begging. “I can’t, I can’t! Make it stop! Please! Please make it stop, I can’t, I can’t!”

“You must push!” The Master spoke as the wet nurse cleaned the sweat from your brow. 

“No! No! No, I can’t!” You cried as you felt the excruciating pain between your legs. The child refused to come out, and you couldn’t anymore. It was too much. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” It was all you could say and only stopped to gasp for air. 

“It’s too much, it hurts, it hurts. Please just make it stop” You continued to cry. 

Cregan stood by you watching as you struggled. He watched the Maester stand as Cregan followed.

“Help her.” It was a command. Cregan had watched you struggle for hours, but the child simply wouldn’t come. The Maester looked at him with a helpless look as your cries continued in the background. 

“I do not think the child will live like my lord.” The Maester spoke. 

“Will my wife?” A child, they could make another, but you? After these past months, everything he’s built with you? There was nothing that could replace you. 

“Possibly, at the expense of the child my lord.” The Maester spoke with such carefulness. “We can extract the child and it will live…however it would cut into the mother’s womb directly-”

“No, save my wife.” Cregan rejected the idea immediately. There would be too much blood loss, he would lose you and that wasn’t an option for him.

“If the child does not live, there is a possibility that she will become infertile.” The Maester tried once more. “Save. My. Wife.” Was all Cregan said before returning to your side as you cried. 

“They're going to take out the baby, it’ll be over soon.” Cregan watched you nod as tears spilled from your eyes. 

He watched the Maester as you gave one final push.

“The child! It was crowned! Push once more! Once more, the child will be out!” The Maester urged and gave it all you had, you pushed and you heard a cry. 

Cregan furrowed his brows. The Maester had said only one of you would live. Cregan stood up leaving you to carry your newborn. 

“What did you do?” Cregan asked in a low tone, narrowing his brow at the Maester. “I did nothing, I swear it. It was your wife. She persevered.” The Maester assured him.

Cregan looked back at you, a gleam of sweat on your face as you held your child. White hair on the top of its head. 

“A boy your grace.” The wet nurse smiled. You looked towards Cregan and gave him a smile and he returned it. 

Cregan walked to you and kissed your forehead as he looked down at his son, your heir. “He looks like you.” 

“A shame, I wished he took after his father.” Cregan gave another smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“Hold him.” You told him as you handed him off to your husband smiling, feeling the warmth radiating off your husband. Though you think the window is left open, because even as you felt Cregan’s warmth, the cold air seemed to overwhelm it. You shivered a bit as you looked towards your child and Cregan. 

“A Valyrian name. He was born Targaryen, as his mother.” Cregan leans against you, warming you. 

“Meaximus.” You whispered out smiling. “Meaximus Targaryen, my heir.”

Cregan went once more to kiss your face, but before he could process it, you moved yourself so that you would be kissing his lips. Your lips fit perfectly against his, moving in perfect motions as if this was your millionth kiss when it was your first one. The first kiss was shared with your husband. 

As you broke off the kiss to breathe, you gave him a smile. “You are my love,” You kissed him again. “My joy.” Once more you kissed him cupping his face. “You are my refuge.” Kissing him as if it were the last and he returned your eagerness. “And the truth of my life.” Once more you kissed him hoping to feel the warmth you had spent the last months basking in.

However as you kissed him, the warmth that he once filled with was overwhelmed by a cold. As you pulled away from him shivering and giving a smile you pulled the sheets up trying to keep yourself warm. You had never felt this cold, the fire in your blood, never allows you to run this cold.

But here you were, shivering. “P-perhaps they should…close the window no? It’s cold Cregan. He could catch a cold.” 

Cregan furrowed his brows. There were no windows open, in fact, this room was the warmest in all of Winterfell. He had made it so, knowing you much preferred warmth. He looked back toward the Maester whose hands were coated in blood. A slow shake of his head made Cregan shiver. He looked back at you, the flush of your face that always seemed to be there was now gone, and instead, your teeth clattered and your eyes looked tired. 

“Come!” Cregan spoke in desperation trying to keep you warm. “Just come,” You listened and cuddled close to Cregan, fingertips touching the cheek of your son who flinched away and made a face as he began to cry. 

“I’m cold Cregan.” You spoke as your hands touched his face. You were trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist. 

Cregan felt your cold hands draw him closer and once more he kissed you, but your lips were no longer warm, instead, they were cold and he felt them chapped. He leaned back. He watched you give a small smile as you began to cry. 

You looked up at him, then down to your son and as you did a lone tear escaped your eye. You didn’t want to die. Not yet, not now. Not when everything was going so well. You wanted to live, to have more children with Cregan, give him an heir. To see your son grow and you hope that he inherited his father's rugged handsomeness and not the beauty from the Targaryens. To see your little brothers meet your son. To see your mother rise to the throne and bless your son. You didn’t want to die. Not yet. However, it didn’t stop the black dots from taking your view. 

“Please…” You heard it faintly being spoken, like prayer or more so begging and you faintly registered a feeling of something on your lips. Closing your eyes you leaned into the kiss. A final kiss from your husband.

…

“He is beautiful,” Rhaenyra whispered as she looked at the boy whose beauty was unparalleled by any other child she had ever seen while tears escaped her eyes. She watched as Cregan nodded. The son between you and Cregan would be beautiful. A beauty that would transcend time and be sung about in ballads hundreds of years from now. 

Your son, your heir, your legacy. All that remained of her firstborn child. Her first and only daughter had lived with her. Try as she might, Rhaenyra could not stop the tears from falling. Her daughter, her heir, lost to childbirth as her mother was. Your dragon, Acrocanthosaurus, stood off to the side ready to burn you when commanded. Cregan had been kind enough to bring your body back to her to be burned like how all Targaryens left. 

Once more, she was made to burn her own family. As she tried to move forward, she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to burn her daughter. Not her daughter. So she stayed still watching what remained of you in his father's arms. 

“Dracarys!” Rhaenyra heard and she turned her head to find Jacaerys with that same look she once had when she had to burn her mother. Rhaenyra watched her sons, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey look at their sister as she burned. Little Aegon and Viserys in Daemon’s arms as he watched ahead with an unmoving face. 

Then she looked over to see your son who did not look upon your burning body but instead looked up towards Acrocanthosaurus. A wobbly smile grew on Rhaenyra’s face as she began to sob. 

The only thing that remained of you, it would only make sense if your blood once again reclaimed Acrocanthosaurus.

Notes: Jon Snow would hate to see reader coming. She does not fw these bastards 😭

Took inspo from Cerslay of Cuntly Rock (this edit pushed me to finish it)

All credit to tik toker: moonqsnat

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑/Gen Masterlist

[fangedhorizon]

I absolutely love the idea that Claudia’s actress change between s1 and s2 is also because of Louis as an unreliable narrator. While yes, it can be said that it was due to Bailey Bass going to work for avatar, I think it also does wonders for the story.

Through the interview, Louis is beginning to piece his memories into a more full, coherent picture. He is losing some of the bias from emotion and inconsistency from memory as he relives his past. Therefore, the change of Claudia between seasons could still be relevant for the plot.

In the first season, Bass’ Claudia looks more like their child. Of course, interracial couples can have kids of all different shades (I am mixed myself), but it’s interesting to consider this Claudia as an unreliable construction within his memory. This Claudia, the one he reminisces during his ‘golden years’ before everything went downhill, looks like she could be their love child if biology allowed it.

As the fruit of the disaster that is them, the peeling band aid holding together a dying marriage, it wouldn’t surprise me that Louis remembers Claudia as looking like both him and Lestat. She is both the best and worst parts of them, sharing a mental connection with Louis (literally) and an emotional one from his coddling. Yet, she inherently acts like Lestat as well. Much to Claudia’s dissatisfaction, she cannot escape his likeliness, cannot help but think like him. She uses this to her advantage at the end of season one, but knows he will return because of Louis’ fragility.

After being turned while grieving Paul, all Louis knows how to do is love, and protect. But he cannot protect Claudia from her fate, which Lestat tries to tell him. By possibly envisioning her as a more traditional mix of the two of them, perhaps Louis is trying to offload some of the blame and guilt to Lestat, while simultaneously knowing subconsciously that he still played a major role in her doomed existence. Claudia is the byproduct of two broken hearts desperately trying to heal, which the dark gift does not allow.

It was never about her.

In the second season, she resembles him more as he comes to terms with his involvement in her death. Or, she has taken on a less biased appearance as Louis becomes less unreliable. Or, the memories are so vivid that no amount of self-preservation could alter her, leaving Louis’ guilt to construct her image. Perhaps he sees himself in her, or sees his family in her, sees Paul in her. He couldn’t save her, just like he couldn’t save Paul.

His nurturing nature within his retelling is thrown into question as he experiences neither her birth nor death, yet Lestat witnesses both. Louis is blinded by his pain, the ache left in his heart from his inability to protect, whilst Lestat must watch as the child he loved and detested (not in equal parts, I will die on the hill that Lestat loved Claudia in his own fucked up way, one that he learnt from Magnus’ torture) be birthed without her consent and die without her consent.

He must watch on as his fledgling achieves what he never could - true love. He must watch her sing, still serving a performative function in her last moments. She is nail glue for their dying relationship, then she’s a crowbar from a shitty marriage, she is a weapon to protect Louis from the world and himself, only to be a doll, positioned on stage as the crowd puppeteers her demise.

Claudia was never her true self in Louis’ retelling, nor will she be in Lestat’s. Even in death, Claudia only serves a function for storytelling, unable to give us her side of the story. But how could she?

It was never. about. her.

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

finding a lover ౨ৎ

this are some general readings focused on what could be blocking your path towards finding romantic love. sometimes we want something we are not ready to be responsible for, this happens in all aspects of life but we are less aware of it when it comes to love and relationships, as we are usually made to believe we are single because we are unworthy or incapable of love. everyone is worthy and capable of love, but sometimes we are not all that sure about what love itself means or what ways of loving are the best for us.

pick a pile...

pile one. pile two. pile three.

dividers by @aquazero

꒰ঌ ✦ scroll down for the results ໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

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°❀⋆Pile Number One.ೃ࿔*:･

In your case, I see that love will find you whenever you begin facing that the person you are now, does not align with the ideas of love you’ve had in the past. I see you are in the process of deconstructing old beliefs that are keeping you tied to old ideals and values that no longer serve you, but are still present on your unconscious bias. It is understandable that you might be having a hard time to conceive new notions of what love means for you, as you might be more comfortable clinging to what’s comfortable, yet this comfort doesn’t come exactly from a state of wellbeing, but it comes from stagnant routines that are predictable. In order to have an easier time finding romantic love, you need to embrace and accept the emotions you fear whenever it’s possible by focusing on being grateful to yourself for the life developments you were capable to achieve on your own. It is important that when you think of your higher self, this version is coherent to your true essence, which is exactly what will bring love to you once you find a genuine way of channelling it out. I think you are in a moment where you will become more magnetic to love, but also material abundance, if you find where your intuition is leading your journey.

°❀⋆Pile Number Two.ೃ࿔*:･

I see here that logical thinking and an intellectualization of all feelings in general is obstructing your ability to connect deeper with people. I believe that sometimes you find value in your emotions only if they make sense to your logic or if they seem rational in regards to your context. In your case it’s key that you have the patience and the willpower to nurture the emotional landscape that you might be limiting due to anxiety in regards to “keeping it cool” or keeping your emotional responses “under control”. It’s almost as if love has to make sense all the time. As if you won’t allow yourself to feel good unless it’s from something that you are able to over analyze and find no illogical imperfections to it. I think you understand what you want from romantic love but only in a way that’s lead by your intellectual needs and a need for control over yourself and your surroundings, not in a way that includes your emotional needs or development. I see there’s a need for peace of mind, and romantic love doesn’t quite favour that since you are naively approaching as if it was something mechanical, which is not. The key for you is to accept that certain parts of the human experience are quite absurd and that doesn’t mean you need to fix them in order to be happy, you are smart, too smart to not allow your mind to find peace.

°❀⋆Pile Number Three.ೃ࿔*:･

What I get from these cards is that you are so ready to feel defeated, that you lower your expectations and/or self sabotage to avoid the responsibilities and demands of accomplishing the things you deserve, but are not ready to accept and take care of yet. I get the feeling you are aware of all your virtues because other people tell you about them, but you are not seeing them in yourself. It is okay to be ambitious, what’s not okay is that you might be always looking for the best next accomplishment in ways that are not coherent to what you already have achieved. It’s almost as if wanting everything to be perfect is stopping you from imperfections that aren’t actually all that negative, or not negative at all. Romantic love will come to you when you are ready to create a relationship that’s meaningful even if there are things that are not completely perfect. I think it’s amazing that you have high expectations for yourself and sometimes for others, but I need you to reflect on what a high expectation is and what an unrealistic one is, especially with yourself. I get the feeling you are attracting people who are not exactly what you need or want, but this will stop once you are truly aware of how deserving you are to be proud and confident in yourself

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Some thoughts on Gino.

I’ve been reading PP Novel and I have been thinking about his character. I noticed that it is quite easy to forget that he’s even there, because S1 Gino’s struggles are internal. We see characters like Kou, Akane, Pops etc because their struggles are external. We see them taking action or behaving for/against the system.

Gino is a complex character bc he doesn’t want to doubt the system. He believes that the system is perfect, and he has issues with his father for going against the system. I notice that he puts pressure on himself to be the ideal citizen, who hides all their stress and keeps their PP clear while serving a demanding job of an Inspector.

Gino excludes anything that ‘doesn’t fit in his system, or in Sibyl’. It includes behaving harshly with Ko, Pops and Akane. His internal emotions of betrayal and the feeling that everyone is leaving his side surface as lashing out and criticism of those around him.

In the novel I find out that he was bullied as a child due to his father’s job, all the way to high school where Kogami defended him from his bullies. Kogami was the only one to reach out and accept him despite him being a child of a latent criminal. Gino thought Kogami was his best friend and it was Gino’s dream to become an Inspector and Kogami ends becoming an Inspector on a whim. There’s also a point in the novel where he thinks their friendship was one sided and that Kogami did not care about him. Gino often deals with feelings of jealousy against Kogami (PP Zero) as Sasayama observes and is often working under Kogami’s shadow, since Kogami is popular for his intelligence and proactive approach. Due to which I think most viewers/readers underestimate Gino’s true intellect.

I cannot really talk about Gino without involving Kogami, Akane and Pops. His relationship to them is fundamental to how he sees the world. I noticed that Gino was trying very hard not to become like his father. His outward rejection of Pops, was like a rejection of a part of himself. He wanted to deny the side that would eventually suspect the system, and he was self critical to the point of it being detrimental to his mental health.

He often judges Kogami for his close ties with other Enforcers (Sasayama becomes a huge bone of contention between the two in PP Zero). Gino repeatedly warns Kogami not to get too close to the Enforcers and eventually ends up feeling betrayed and alone after Kogami becomes an Enforcer. I wonder was Gino’s warning wrong? It’s easy to dismiss him because of character bias, but was his precaution and his careful approach towards Enforcers wrong?

I must highlight that even Akane ends up letting him down. I believe that when Akane joined the PSB, Gino thought he would have a partner that would help him manage the Division with his vision in mind. Akane however ends up going against Ginoza when she gets too close to the Enforcers and this is something that Gino disapproves of because he doesn’t want Akane to become like Kogami or his father. He worries a lot about Akane and we notice that even she disregards him and is not concerned about the impact her actions would have on him.

Gino worries about everyone, but no one worries about him. Pops tries but Gino doesn’t want to acknowledge him. Kogami is too wrapped up in chasing Makishima. Akane is too focused on her values and ideals of the Law. And Gino’s Psycho Pass keeping going up dangerously but no one notices the impact that their actions have on Gino. As a senior Inspector Gino fails to command the respect of his Enforcers or even his peers. It’s not a nice situation to be in.

Inside him there is still that child that felt neglected when his father became an Enforcer, and he had to take care of his mother who was sick due to Eustress Deficiency.

Gino wants to be an Inspector and he has the ability to solve crimes and enforce the law. He is a brilliant detective like his father. He wants to advance in the Ministry of Welfare. But after 8 years of his term, Kogami leaves the PSB. Gino’s PP rises and after his father’s death it is irrecoverable. He becomes an Enforcer. It’s not a bad ending because he’s still working with Akane but Gino’s life makes you think that if the Sibyl System owes an apology to one person it would be Gino. I definitely classify him as an innocent victim of the system, where he really did nothing wrong. He didn’t rebel. He didn’t argue or question the system. He was the citizen that the System failed.

And if a system keeps failing its law abiding innocent citizens should such a system be protected?

Honestly my heart aches for Gino, I think he deserves a happy ending.