#Tumblr really offed this whole post

[factsilike]

I also saw the drama first, and I quite disliked it. Aside from pretty actors, admittedly gorgeous music and unnecessary plot details, it doesn't have much appeal. Why would I prefer the drama which erases the entire beautiful and romantic development of Wangxian's relationship over the course of WWX's lives including the lengths LWJ went to protect WWX and do the right thing because of censorship? And it's fine if you disagree, but the cql is actually not canon? It is an adaptation, like the donghua, from the source material that is actually the novel. The audio drama is the one that comes closest to the novel in terms of correct characterisation and events. And it's also fine if you prefer drama JC, but in doing so you're also acknowledging that JC in canon is actually much worse.

And I'm sorry, but those hugs and visits to Cloud Recesses post canon never happened in the novel. And I agree that maybe writing about relationships that have a lot of angst potential is more fun, but that doesn't mean that those healthy relationships are not worth writing about just as much. Don't we all love fluff and comfort and happy fics?

Writing fix-it fics about their relationship is of course fine and as I said in my post, I am not bashing people who write them😒. All I said was that I wish other underrated sibling relationships in mdzs were given a bit more love and appreciation, as well WWX's relationships with people who actually love and support him and care for him.

The thing that actually rankles me about all these reconciliation fics post canon is that they give off the idea (at least the way some of them are written do, I literally saw one whose premise was that post canon WWX went back in time, throwing away his happiness and future with LWJ solely because JC was angry with him and they weren't on speaking terms anymore) that WWX needs JC in his life to feel happy and content. Like no WWX is already incandescently happy with LWJ, traveling by his side, teaching the juniors and solving mysteries on night hunts. He doesn't need anyone or anything else, especially not the man who whipped him the way his abusive mother used to, with her spiritual weapon, who dragged random people to his home tortured them in his paranoia over demonic cultivation, who led a siege against innocent war prisoners including a granny and a toddler, who ignored his debt to people who saved his life and replaced his core because it was inconvenient to him, just off the top of my head.

Controversial maybe, but I don't understand why people give so much preference and love to JC and WWX's non existent "brotherly" relationship (their relationship was more akin to a sect leader and his subordinate, or a master and his servant. Jiang Cheng certainly thought of him as so, however different he may have claimed him to be). JC in the novel not once called WWX his brother, and I don't think he ever said a word that wasn't harsh or critical to him either.

Why not show some more love to the actual loving and healthy sibling relationships in mdzs? Where both siblings loved and supported each other? There are plenty and they are so underrated!

Wen Qing and Wen Ning. (I don't think I need to elaborate on how sweet and cute their relationship is. Wen Qing being all stern and strict one moment and then all doting and fussy over her younger brother. Wen Ning being all meek and mild in nature and in awe of his big sister, and he's obedient and looks up to her so much. I'll never forget the impact the first Qiongqi path massacre had on me when Wen Qing, exhausted, starving and terrified for Wen Ning, faints upon learning the sheer tragedy that happened to her brother, and WWX had him seek bloody, brutal revenge on his own behalf.)

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji. (Probably the most healthy sibling relationship in mdzs, imo. They're supportive of each other and quite close from a young age. Lan Xichen being one of the only few people who could read Lan Wangji and his emotions, awwww. His understandable rage at thinking WWX was playing with his brother's feelings led to an angry outburst that was quite unlike his usually mild, gentle temperament.)

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian. (This one is adorable and sweet and so heartwarming! Jiang Yanli is the only other person besides LWJ WWX lets himself be silly and goofy with, because he knows she'll fondly indulge him and laugh with him! The way she firmly stands up for him and declares him as her brother in front of the Jin sect! The way she has stated all her life, by her everyday acts of service towards WWX, that he's her family!)

Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang. (Theirs was a bit of a complicated relationship but they still loved each other, and Nie Huaisang all but abandoned his morals in his quiet quest to avenge his brother's death.)

I'm not hating on people who love JC and WWX's relationship and write reconciliation fic after fic, or saying that they're wrong to do so. I'm just tired of seeing so many people portray their relationship this way as if it's canon, when JC and WWX in the novel have severed ties and don't want to be in each other's lives anymore, when the character development JC goes throughout the novel ends with him finally learning to leave well enough alone and let WWX live his life in peace with the one he loves, when there are actual sibling relationships that this fandom is sleeping on, when Jiang Cheng is canonically homophobic and will certainly never hold a wedding for WWX or anyone in Lotus Pier.

[cruyuu]

The real reason why I left twitter was because I got tired of seeing sukuita shippers bashed over the same old 'omg u like incest/problematic content' argument. I got real tired of explaining myself that I like problematic content in fiction and not in rl so here I am! Free to rant without someone screaming about what's wrong and what's right into my ear. Also, partly, because Tumblr's much better to use for rants or analysis posts.

I thought the uncle reveal was hilarious, actually. It was supposed to add another reason to the growing list why liking them together is wrong. To throw everyone off the boat. To brand them as a big no-no. "Oh look, it's wrong to ship them now! It's incest."

It backfired. It just made them more interesting. It made whatever they have going on now extremely important to the story. I'm going to explain why below the cut because this got long.

Let's be honest, they've already been considered a problematic ship, so this really didn't sway most (as it shouldn't). Gege adding relation into the mix not only worked for the narrative of jjk, but also added more spice and depth to their relationship.

It's become undeniable now that– hate them or love them, ship them or don't– sukuita is the plot. This doesn't come as a surprise to me because the story literally began the moment Yuuji swallowed Sukuna's finger and if there's one thing to expect, it is that everything will– logically– end with them considering it began with them.

The fact that Sukuna's and Yuuji's souls are now proven to be intertwined and that they're connected indirectly via the soul which never saw daylight because of Sukuna's greed... is something. His twin brother managed to be reborn even if he was so weak that he got offed before even being born and Yuuji is an offspring made out of love that came from a soul Sukuna devoured.

It's poetic karma at its finest. Sukuna's twin brother comes back and has a child which will be his doom.

Not only that, but Yuuji is a total contrast of him, despite the fact that their appearances match. While Sukuna's selfish, Yuuji's selfless. He's a yin to his yang. A half which was lost, killed off, and consumed but it got reborn and brought Yuuji into the world. It survived. Why? Because of love.

And yes, I know Sukuna's twin brother isn't reincarnated into Yuuji but rather into his father— into Jin. Still doesn't matter because they're practically twins. Yuuji's appearance eerily matches Sukuna and even throughout the story, they start resembling each other more and more.

Yuuji being a suitable vessel is given much more meaning. Megumi couldn't fight back against him, yet Yuuji could control him easily. He can handle Sukuna because he is, technically, a product from the other half of him. Indirectly, they're two parts of one whole. So thanks Gege! This is very fucking romantic of you.

[dalesramblingsblog]

In honour of an episode that seems consciously about the construction of narratives around fundamentally meaningless aspects of the universe, a Twitter conversation with one of my last remaining mutuals to survive the Muskening, lightly repurposed to serve as a singular, narrativised Tumblr post in a way it was never designed for.

Who says art is dead?

73 Yards was strange and haunting and not entirely comprehensible in a way that Doctor Who seldom manages.

I suspect it's one where personal tolerance for that sort of thing will make or break the episode, but I certainly think that, knowing this was Gibson's first filmed episode, she did a phenomenal job.

It was also, for me at least, a more generally successful invocation of the kind of eldritch horror implied by the Toymaker or the Maestro, largely by virtue of it giving itself room to be ambiguous.

I've seen the complaints about stuff like the PM being a blank slate, but I do rather feel like that might be the point. It's an episode all about perception and projection and narrativisation of a universe that can be cold and hostile and incomprehensible.

(And frankly, I'm starting to suspect that the whole of RTD2 might be about that on some level. "We see something incomprehensible and invent the rules to make it work" and all that. It's audacious and bold in a way that Doctor Who hasn't been in half a decade.)

And as someone for whom those themes really hit home a lot of the time, yeah, I loved it. I know I probably sound like a broken record but I am genuinely just having a blast with this latest series.

The worst thing Doctor Who can ever feel like for me is an obligation that I only keep up with out of a need to stay relatively current in writing about it, and that was what the Chibnall Era often boiled down to for me.

Part of the reason, in hindsight, I poured so much of myself into my book reviews was that the show itself was simply failing to excite me with the level of regularity necessary to keep me engaged.

Knowing that I can put on Doctor Who on a Saturday night and be reasonably well-entertained and intrigued is, frankly, enough for me, but I do think there are enough aspects of genuine quality that I'm not just blindly worshipping at the altar of a false idol or w/e.

I dunno, I think at the end of the day I'm just a big sucker for TV that makes sense to me on an emotional rather than logical level. It's why I'm a big fan of Twin Peaks, or the second season of Millennium, or hell even Masks over on TNG.

The episode had the general feel of one that will be quite important to the overall themes of the season, so I can't imagine it will linger in *complete* ambiguity forever (though honestly if it did I would kind of love that).

Like I wouldn't be surprised if we're building up to a similar time loop reveal wrt Ruby's general existence. The fact that we've now got at least three instances of her timeline being haunted by mysterious old women cannot possibly be coincidence.

(Well, it can be, but that way lies goblins, as we know.)

IDK, there's a strangeness to Davies' acknowledgments of mediality here that goes even beyond Moffat's usual tricks. Casting a recurring actress by the name of Susan Twist while conspicuously mentioning Susan for the first time in forever feels so on the nose that while I initially suspected we might be building to the return of Susan, I now feel like we're instead headed for something much weirder.

There is so much going on and so much to unpack and frankly I don't have any idea how it could possibly tie together but I'm fascinated.

And again, the fact that this episode was almost explicitly about the process of fans theorising as to what the hell is going on with the season makes me further suspect a rebuttal of theory-focused cult fandom is in the offing.

When I first watched Once, Upon Time in 2021, I commented that it felt like Chris Chibnall's attempt to do a big, bold, incomprehensible piece of television, something almost in the vein of Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 8 but for Doctor Who.

But it's revealing that the only thing he could really think to do was dump a bunch of Doctor Who lore and simply edit things out. He's a mystery writer in the most tediously literal sense of the phrase, creating gaps that feel like they were made with a hacksaw rather than feeling like any sort of deliberate lacuna.

And I'm sorry Chibnall fans, there are some Thirteen episodes that I do like, but when I look at an episode like 73 Yards... whatever its faults may be, and I'm pretty confident I don't actually believe it to be perfect, it is bolder and weirder than anything Chibnall ever wrote. This is the kind of television I want to watch, and I make no apologies for that.

It's a rare piece of Doctor Who which comes close to capturing that sheer, terrible splendour I felt watching a slow zoom into an atom bomb explosion while being serenaded by the Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima. And sure, it's still very far out from being quite that strange, but it retains a curious power nevertheless.

What a show.

[espoopee]

Okay so I'm back

It's been a couple of years since I've decided to actually use Tumblr for any other reason than to look at aesthetic stoners making pretty bowls with their crystal bongs or whatever.

The truth is, I'm once again in a pretty dark place in my life because I just had a 5-year relationship end pretty terribly, and not even of my own fault (objectively!!!). This is pretty much the only place I can talk about it because my ex would see the reactions and emotions I post on other social media and he would, for whatever reason, retaliate by blocking/unfollowing/whatever and just generally punishing me for being open about how I feel.

I'm not good. I feel so beat up and I even just got a new job that I really can't fuck up because it'll spell out the rest of my career for me. I really don't know why, but I really just crave some sort of apology or show of remorse from my ex.

For context, we broke up because... at this point, IDK. My ex said it was because at the time, I had no job and he was tired of opening his wallet for me for dates. Fine, that's totally valid. He wouldn't give me a chance, and I couldn't get a say. Bad. But the thing is, we never talked about this in person. He broke up with me via chat. It's one of the things that I quickly learned I shouldn't take lightly and I have to demand a proper breakup from him, especially since the circumstances weren't even that drastic. He refused, and kept avoiding me. He was kinda scathing to talk to when I could, always bringing up the reason for us breaking up. When I bring up that I no longer care why he broke up with me (since we're no longer together) and that I care more about the way he treats me post-breakup (since we have 5 years of experiences, many of which are good), he freezes and it's so obvious he feels some sort of guilt and he didn't think that far ahead. I just wish I was smarter in taking advantage of that.

It's been almost a month since it happened. At first, I didn't even know we broke up, because he didn't say anything. I had to go look at his twitter bio and see that he removed me without even telling me or warning me, and that's when it actually happened.

I just don't really know how to move forward, since this whole thing was pretty much forced upon me. I get that I have the option to accept it, but the way it happened is obviously gonna affect the way I feel and do things. I didn't get a proper breakup, of course I'm gonna feel some rage. I didn't get closure, so I'm gonna be constantly confused. I didn't even get to say goodbye, so it's gonna take a long while to realize that we're really no longer together, and that any form of reconciling isn't on the table.

I'm just in disbelief that a person can be that callous. How in the world can you leave somebody behind so hurt and confused? He always said he was hurt too, and stressed or whatever. I never really knew what to do with that information, because being hurt and confused doesn't make you immune to responsibility.

I don't even know where to begin when I tell people what happened. I know it's kind of selfish, but I really want someone to have my back when I tell them how much I've been hurt. He had his immature friends bully me during the breakup. It's wild, but I kinda wish I didn't have "mature" friends who think it's best if I just let them be and move on. I guess I'm looking for justice for myself, when no one else would.

If for any reason you Tumblr lovelies are still reading this, be assured that I'm fine, and don't have any plans on offing myself any time soon. I mean, I guess I did two weeks ago, but I was quickly reminded of what a terrible idea that is. I'm trying my best to cope and keep busy, despite my situation being stuck at home for the meantime. I might use Tumblr more often as a sort of journal/diary. The more I talk to my friends, the more I realize they just listen and don't do anything else, so if it's any consolation, I'll just use Tumblr to let ALL my thoughts out, no matter how negative.

[greatprotector-if]

Just popping in to say that I really like your writing style. I really really like how it not only makes you feel things, but also LETS you feel things — if that makes sense. (it doesn't, but anyway.). I like how the narration is just a tiny bit unhinged and WILL make you laugh. I like how despite that, it doesn't sugarcoat or downplay the very real flaws and fears that follow every character.

Like, yeah, the world is tiring and people are tiring and you kind of just want to lie prone facedown on the ground Forever, but also. The narration (or, well, the MC) WILL snark literally Everything in sight to hell and back. You will have a heart to heart with someone deadset on getting that "MC's #1 Pain in the Ass" t-shirt and they WILL, quite literally, fly away when the conversation gets a little too honest; you are allowed to take your ire out on a pile of twigs. Presumably. You stare into a chicken's Not a Single Thought Is At Home eyes and someone WILL vehemently come to its defense if you slander it. Pillows will fwoomp pathetically to the floor. Everyone's sort of got their own wet cat thing going on. But also everyone is lovely. (And some people just suck, but they can wait their turn this isn't about them). You're allowed to feel angry. You're allowed to feel sad. You're allowed to feel a strange mix of everything and nothing. You're allowed to feel spite. You're allowed to be kind. You're allowed to be complicated and frustrating and flat out vexed with yourself. You are a person; you are a person. Those who surround you are also people — strange or vexing or supernatural they may be. The world is alive. You are alive.

Anyways. Yeah. :D I gotta clarify that this isn't about choices or variables and all that IF stuff. This is about your writing. It's just how it makes me feel. It's how your worlds and characters and everything make me feel. They are very dear to me. Thank you so much for sharing them. I love reading everything you show us, and I'm so glad you're writing.

Sorry for terrorizing your inbox with this Very Long Thing (I'll probably do it again). Once again, thank you, and good luck with everything!! 🤺🤺🤺✨✨✨✨

[P.S. Also, I typed a Very Long Thing in my tags for a certain post of yours but tumblr cut the whole thing in half when I posted it 🗿 I was like, "THE AUDACITY" and took off to your inbox so I could tell you what I meant to say in the tags (most of it is in the first paragraph of this ask) but now I'm kind of glad that tumblr offed my tags like that. It's allowed me to convey Everything to you in a.... somewhat more coherent manner, at least 🐓✨]

THJFN D. FHJFJGKGKVJVNFNVNGMV. dude WHTA THE HELL you are too too kind thank you so much?!?!!???!!??!!!!?! , , ,,, thank you for takingthe time to write this...... and even coming to my inbox when your tags cut off DJFJSKF SERIOUSLY i appreciate this so. immensely i'm ):

i won't lie i am struggling a lot with trying to convey this in a way that's satisfying with the IF format but the characters are what i consider to be among if not The Most Important thing in my writing and that includes the mc, so injecting little quips/opinions/human things into narration is my jam. if they don't feel real then what's the point!!!!!! it's hard with player choice and variables and it's definitely been a steep learning curve for me (which is part of why it's taking so long to write lol oops) but. i just. people are complex. and i want to make room for all sorts of people if i can. & i'm so glad that my writing makes u feel things. wven kust in general because THAT'S ALL WE WANT AS AUTHORS. LIKE. THANK YOU

ok i have no idea what i'm saying at this point this is so stream of consciousness no clue if it makes sense but THANK UOU AGAIN. WAGGJHH. I SEIFOFK. i am going to think about this ask every fuckign day for the rest of my life. this ask is my NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT?

[just-some-random-blogger]

LKAHSFL'H I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT REBLOGGED THIS YET LAKSFHLKASHFL'HASFHASF ASF YOU MUST FORGIVE ME I DONT WANT TO CLOG THE DASH WITH A REBLOG OF THE SAME CHAPTER YA FEEL ILY ILY

first of all, almost crying during a nail appointment is honestly such iconic behavior HAHAHHAHAHHAH LOLOLOL. im kinda sad you stopped reading ): you should have cried during the nail appointment AHHAHAHAHAHAH LOLOLOL JK

CARGYLL TWIN SCREENTIME GO BRRRRRRRRRR RAHHHH. i would never take erryk or arryk for that matter from you <3 I WISH THEY HAD MORE SCREEN TIME IN THE SHOW FR THEY FUCKING KILLED THEM AND TRAUMATIZED ME AND FOR WHAT???????????

and viserys yeah 😬😬😬 T_T i love making people have sympathy for him even when hes disgusting 😁 because thats the whole point of this story (: i love my barbies. i wish him a very much rot

STARK OBESSION GO BRRR. tumblr notified me you posted something and I RAN COS I THOUGHT IT WAS AN UPDATE but it was just a reblog of your fic 🙄 WHICH IS FINE AND IM NOT PRESSURING YOU AT ALL TO UPDATE. job and robb are hot fr but i wanted benjen THEN THEY FUCKING OFFED HIM 🤬 also HE PROBABLY HAS ONE HAS ME GAGGED.

[...] Older me can now see Ned's appeal too. He probably has one, with how much Catelyn loved having his babies)

I WAS ABOUT TO ASK 'HAS WHAT' then i realized you mean APPEAL T_T he probably has APPEAL T_T CRYINNNGGGGGGGG. i cant help but think about all the boromir memes (cuz you know sean bean) and how his dad would react to this MY SON HAS APPEAL 🤬 HAHAHAHAH LMAO. honestly, i feel catelyn. if i was married to a stark id have 10000 babies too AHHAHA LOL

The scene where she lost the babies hurt me physically. I now get what you said and why you laughed when I hoped the baby was valyrian to spare her the pain, you cruel, cruel woman.

its ok i love you

DAEMON GROVEL ERA IS A NEED. dont worry about spam liking i love it when that happens

[...] making Viserys and Alicent's marriage be all about him [...]

YOU KNOW WHAT YOURE SO RIGHT. HE THINKS HES THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE FR OMLLL UGHHH EWW

HERES TO HIM BEING JEALOUS AND SUFFERING FOREVER FOR LIFE

ALSO MY GEORGE FIC WEEE I THINK IT WAS REALLY CUTE! i was honestly gagged that i struggled to write fluff 💀 all because of this series 😀 BUT THENI GOT MY GROOVE AND IM MAKING A GEORGE ANGST NOW BECAUSE IM INSANE HAHAHHA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Tormented Spirit | 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.

At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.

Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.

"Daughter." "Sister."

These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.

Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."

Your face drops as you turn to her.

She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.

Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."

Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."

Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"

You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.

The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"

He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"

You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.

"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."

You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.

You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.

You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.

"What?" you knit your brows at him.

"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."

He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"

Your maester nods, "highly likely."

You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."

You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.

"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.

It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."

Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."

Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"

"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.

"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."

Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"

"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"

This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."

Corlys sighs, "as I was-"

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"

Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"

Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"

Daemon whips his head his direction.

"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."

Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"

Daemon clenches his plate

"And she never mentioned thi—"

"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.

Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"

"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.

Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.

"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!

He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.

He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.

He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

He's read enough.

Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.

You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.

Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."

You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"

"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."

Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."

" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.

"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."

You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.

He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."

You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."

"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."

Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."

He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."

"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."

Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.

"Continue!"

He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"

"He is," you scratch your eyes.

"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."

You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.

"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."

You feel sick, sicker.

"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."

You heave as you continue walking around.

"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."

You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.

"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."

"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.

He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."

"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"

He is taken off guard when you shove him back.

"Even you are against me!"

Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."

You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"

His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.

"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"

"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"

"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"

He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.

You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.

Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"

"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"

He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"

"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."

His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."

You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.

When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.

He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.

You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."

His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.

The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.

He frowns.

"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."

He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."

You huff, "I am her older si-"

"But for your babe."

You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."

"My princess."

"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"

He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.

The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.

The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.

Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.

"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."

Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."

The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."

You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.

Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."

You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.

Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.

You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.

"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.

You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.

Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?

As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.

Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."

You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.

"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."

You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.

"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."

His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"

You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."

He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"

"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."

Viserys turns to you.

You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."

He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."

You find no comfort in his words.

"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."

The thought nearly makes you flinch.

He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"

You begin to feel sick.

"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."

Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.

"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"

"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."

"Eadan—"

He grins and points, "little fire."

"—and Alaeric," you huff.

"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."

You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."

He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."

"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."

He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"

"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."

Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"

You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."

"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.

Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.

"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"

Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.

Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.

The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.

It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.

Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your but, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

Your scream makes his stomach curdle.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

The thought is gutting.

You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."

Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.

Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.

Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.

You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.

Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"

"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."

Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.

You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."

She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."

A tear fog your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?

She wordlessly agrees.

You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."

A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."

"They're perfect, are they not?"

She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."

You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maester's see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.

You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.

Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."

"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve."

You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."

"My princess, I-"

"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"

He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."

You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.

Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their vows.

Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully take it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"

"I..." he start, about to explain it is inappropriate.

"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."

"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.

All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.

You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.

Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.

Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"

You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.

"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."

The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.

He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"

Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."

"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"

Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"

"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.

The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"

"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"

"Please."

The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."

"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."

Arryk turns to Erryk.

"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.

Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.

Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.

"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.

The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.

Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"

Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"

You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.

You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

[soujjwalsays]

The year was 1950, the young nation of India celebrated it's first Republic Day.

India’s first Republic Day began with C Rajagopalachari proclaiming India a Sovereign Democratic Republic at the Rashtrapati Bhavan.

Today, for the first time in our long and chequered history,”he said “We find the whole of this vast land brought together under the jurisdiction of one consititution of one union which takes over responsibility for the welfare of more than 320 million men and women who inhabit it.”

- Dr Rajendra Prasad taking the oath as India’s first President

The chief guest on occasion was Indonesian President Dr Sukarno. On Nehru’s request, Delhi University had organised a special convocation to confer an honorary PhD on Sukarno. One moment to be remembered from this ceremony was the riveting role reversal between two of Asia’s charismatic leaders. It was common practice for Nehru to conclude his speeches by shouting Jai Hind. Then, he would say “Louder!” and the crowd would satisfy his demand.

A cartoon from HT published on 24 January showing Chairman of the Drafting Committee (and later Law Minister) B R Ambedkar holding an infant Republic of India while Mother India lays in bed exhausted from labour. Around him stand Dr Rajendra Prasad and Nehru, looking anxiously.

A 31-gun salute welcomed Dr Prasad to the first ever Republic Day celebrations. Dr Prasad proceeded to take a round of the amphitheatre, this time in a jeep, while saluting the 3,000 armed forces that had gathered there, after which he hoisted the tricolour, our national flag for the very first time. Another memorable speech by him was in the offing.

Nearby, in Connaught Place, people of all age groups thronged the streets and crowded restaurants; shops remained illuminated through the day while the Rashtrapati Bhavan lit up at night, marking yet another first of a custom followed till this day. The atmosphere was electric and the spirit of freedom, infectious. India was the first Commonwealth country to have entirely come into its own; it was the biggest national ceremony of the 20th century.

P. S. Guys I really don't know if this goes with algorithm of Tumblr but as an Indian I believe, completing 74 years of republic & democratic dominion is a great milestone and as a proud indian and true patriot, I loved making this post.

So,

HAPPY 74th REPUBLIC DAY 🇮🇳

७४ गणतंत्र दिवस की हार्दिक शुभकामनाएं 🇮🇳

[emluvsevermore]

this post is a depression rant. tw for mention of suicide and s/h.

i don’t have a terrible life.

i really don’t.

i have a lot to be grateful for.

and for the things in life that do suck,

i’ve found ways to cope with it.

are these methods always entirely healthy?

no fucking way.

but thats not the point here.

the point is that,

i’ve finally found a pretty healthy method of working through my trauma, which is the root of my depression and anxiety. my kin characters and hyperfixations help me map out the shit storm that is my mind and help me understand why i am the way i am.

for the first time in my life, i’m trying my best to heal and figure myself out. and no one in my life fucking gets that.

they make fun of my hyperfixations and make me feel stupid for liking the things that are keeping me from offing myself.

i told one of my best friends that my comfort character is the only reason i got out of bed that morning and she said “that’s not good”.

LIKE BITCH I KNOW THATS NOT GOOD. THATS THE FUCKING POINT. IM NOT OKAY.

i feel like i can’t bring up my current hyperfixation anymore (which is something that the whole friend group enjoys on at least surface level) because i know i talk about it a lot and i know it annoys them.

even my sibling, who has depression and trauma issues as well, is visibly annoyed whenever i bring it up.

it’s like, i have a support system, but they only know the bare minimum of whats going on. my mental issues are a raging river. i need a dam built to slow things down; my friends and family hand me a twig and say “figure it out”.

i’m two weeks clean today and no one outside of tumblr knows. i’m so close to relapsing and the only thing stopping me right now is pure spite. i want to tell my close friends but that will open too many doors and i already have enough shit on my plate. i want to ask my parents if i can go to therapy and start antidepressants or something but it’s the fucking depression itself that’s saying “no, suck it up, you’ll be fine”. not to mention, my parents are one of the causes of my trauma and i’m not ready for that discussion.

in conclusion i feel like i have no future and one of the only things stopping me from ☠️ is the fact that sebastian stan may not be around in my next life and i haven’t met him yet.

[ilkkawhat]

Any tips for first time writers? Specifically any tips and tricks for writing CSI stories and the Nick/Greg ship? Trying to stay in character and make the story interesting like a show episode instead of a boring text procedural is hard.

lmao as someone who is forever insecure about my own writing when it comes to keeping the characters in character, I think something to keep in mind is that you may view a character differently than someone else--and sometimes those views align with others, and most of the time it's better than what's presented in canon, and it can be really difficult to get confident about that, but I think that creating anything, even if it's not just writing--drawing, giffing, photo edits, etc, you do know and love that character enough to bring them to life under your hands and it's something that's just so like, poetic about keeping these characters alive, even if the show offed them or the show is cancelled, in these works (honestly the song "poet" by bastille says this best imo) and you may end up discovering parts of yourself as you explore these characters in depth, you'll learn more about them, too, and the more you write, the more confidence you will gain

but be weary of the validation trap (says someone who falls into it literally every time I post a fic)--do not rely on comments and feedback to let you know you're doing it "right." the fact that you're getting thoughts into words onto paper is good enough, and you are good enough and even if you don't end up sharing it, you still did something special that nobody else has done before, and that, is amazing!

I'm not gonna lie, a huge weakness of mine that I feel I've known ever since I started writing CSI fic is that I really don't do well in making cases for the CSIs to work on--and even when I do, the case is usually forgotten by the end of the fic and I end up just kinda focusing on the emotions between the characters and describing their feelings and actions the best I can and unfortunately the plot sometimes suffers because of that.

I guess it really depends on what you want out of your story--do you want a really intriguing case and basically make an episode of CSI, or do you want to kind of bend out of the procedural drama, and just write something fluffy like Nick/Greg going on a roadtrip or something actiony like them getting into some sort of trouble? (as I often do lmao)

Something that does always help me when I do decide I want an actual like, "plot" to the fic beyond just playing around with the characters and making them do things or experience things is that I'll make myself a very flexible outline--which I will admit, at times, does kinda drain the fun out of the actual writing part but I found that I'll try to write chapters/fics in segments in this way, like I'll have the start of a fic, and then when I feel like I need to break but want to write what I got going next, I'll have something in brackets like: [Self deprecation at home/drinking, evil Nick in the mirror?] (for agony), and sometimes maybe a bigger summary, and sometimes less to just kinda remind myself of what I wanted to accomplish with a fic

BUT know that there are gonna be things that pop up sometimes. twists that come to you halfway through a fic--or if you're lucky, you'll find that your reader friends will kinda give you a twist to add in (my fic Last Breath is the greatest example of this--I originally was gonna do like, 12 chapters but then @dannilea said "HEY MK GIVE NICK AMNESIA" and then the fic got doubled in length lmao) so don't feel confined to any sort of outline. go with the flow, go with what feels right for you.

I know it's a lesson I'm still learning myself, but do not pressure yourself with these sorts of things. there are no deadlines. you're not doing anything wrong. if you don't like something you wrote? don't delete it (i've deleted so many things--fics, my entire blog, old art and gifs I did and it's one of my biggest regrets that I carry with me and god...it just hurts) but don't be afraid to tweak, re-write or rework if you need to--I know ao3 has an option where you can even say something is a "remix" of another work if you write a fic and then somewhere down the line, decide to expand on it or change it up? (I think it's meant for that at least, I haven't done that sort of thing....yet)

and that's another thing--you'll always be learning new things as you keep writing. I've been writing since I was like, twelve years old. Had a long ass depressive gap (though I did still write some things, just not...as intensely as I used to) before I came back to the CSI fandom (which I never felt I contributed to before, when I joined tumblr I posted some caps but that was about it, it really wasn't until 2018 that I started giffing and writing and three years later lmao here we are!) and there are just hard lessons you do learn--like I said, the validation trap and pressure and all of that

but motivation wise, something I've been (trying) to do is write at least 100 words per day. Doesn't have to be a specific fic, doesn't have to be anything I intend to make a fic, but just...getting the words flowing. But again, no pressure, because I recently had another depressive bout and went 33 days without writing and it climaxed to me having another mental breakdown swearing I was never gonna write again and damn near deleting everything and giving up.........only to start writing again the next day (and full disclosure, I did have a friend helping me literally every day with that and if they read this, I hope they know how forever grateful I am that they convinced me to keep going and I would not actually be here without them)

You will need to recharge, you will need to be mindful of outside stresses that may be impacting your creative energies. And sometimes, you can try doing things not relating to writing at all. Make a playlist of songs that make you think about the fic; if you can, draw or make photo edits of the fic. find a friend to bounce ideas off of--so many of my fics were enriched by that, I can't even begin to list them all lol.

But above all, again, just know that what you're writing is unique to you, nobody else will be able to write the way you do, and that is just...so special. writing can be difficult, it's exhausting, it's a thankless job at times but when those words start clicking together and your fingers just keep typing/writing, you'll just kinda get this like, rush like nothing I've ever been able to match.

and lmao I know you said specifically CSI and Nick/Greg and feel like I got sidetracked--but the great thing about CSI is I feel like you'll have excuses to put them in situations given their line of work, but like I said before, you can bend out of the genre a little bit. Have Nick and Greg go on a vacation, or make an AU (even something as wild as a sci-fi AU--honestly Specimen Stokes is the most fun I've had in writing the past three years) or if you do want to stick to canon, and don't want to make a whole new case or elaborate on the details--play with an established episode. If there was a Nick focused episode, what was Greg doing and vice versa? Did they talk about things afterwards, or did something happen leading up to the episode that made them act a certain way around each other?

I'll honestly find inspiration also just watching the episodes--something I've been doing in these past few months of my rewatch is making little ficlets about the episode, like I wrote one about Nick and Greg post 6x02 elaborating on the breathplay that Greg hinted about earlier in the episode, or I made a revenge fic for 14x12 where that douchey abusive husband went after Nick, etc. So sometimes it helps to dive back into canon and play in that sandbox too

I hope these tips can help get you started and honestly, don't feel obligated to agree or do any of these things I listed above. We all have different ways of going about writing, and it is just one big learning process and something I don't think I'm ever gonna perfect or master in any sort of way--(not to say I think I'm the worst writer in the world but I just...try to humble myself and not believe I'm the best or better than anybody else cause that's part of the validation trap, you get those ideas in your head and then it can destroy you when you realize you're definitely not)--and there will be times you get heavily discouraged, but...you just gotta keep going. keep pushing. find outside encouragement, but don't rely on it. practice a lot of self care and don't pressure yourself to finish or share or write more than you think you can. just...let it come, and enjoy the ride

I honestly feel like I'm one of the least qualified to say all of these things, but I really do hope it helps and hey, you already got one cheerleader, me, who will be excited to read whatever you share!

[thermaboo]

Happy Here || Villain!Reader X Shoto Todoroki

Warning: Reader is yandere, Noncon, recording, HEAVY Angst, Degradation, Slapping, verbal abuse, kidnapping, reverse noncon, very NSFW

All characters are 18+, and you have to be too to read this.

Word Count - 3.6K

a/n: If you follow me, you’ve probably seen this post 900 times because tumblr has been struggling to upload things properly, if you’re seeing this in the tags, hello~~~ Anyway, lmao nothing smacks harder than breaking in a strong character bruh and thats that! I typed this like a woman possessed so if you see a mistake mind ya business lmao.

He looked into the abandoned building, getting a reading that there was an energy source in the area. The sidekicks in his agency scoured the bottom levels and he went straight to the source. Today was supposed to be his day off, he really didn’t want to be out at this time. It was your 3 year anniversary, and he had to see it through without you.

It’s been 14 months and 23 days since you’ve gone missing.

If he had known that final call would be your last. He would've stayed on the phone with you longer, he would’ve talked about something else besides work, he would’ve told you not to go out. So many would haves and should ofs, none of them brought you back home.

His mind returned to the present, his feet had carried him to where he needed to be without the consciousness to follow it. It was useful for work, but otherwise a sign of his emotional disturbance. The floor was empty, a few broken windows illuminated the dirty flooring with a late evening orange. There were some glass bottles in the corner and pieces of trash strewn about. It looked properly abandoned, but the pulsating radar said differently. There was something in this room, but absolutely nothing at all.

He walked around the room, noticing a faint difference in temperature in a certain spot in the room. He walked through it a few times just to make sure he wasn’t making it up, but the last time he did it the temperature difference vanished. In an instance a rope like material surrounding him, leaving him in an upright but uncomfortable position.

“Hello love, I’ll be a bit late again, please don’t wait up for me.”

“It’s okay hun, I’m going out with a friend tonight.”

“Please be safe and enjoy yourself. I know I’ve been really busy but just in case you make it back home before me, I have some wonderful news to tell you.”

“Oh! Don’t leave me in suspense Sho, I’m gonna be thinking about it all night!”

“It’s a surprise, you’ll love it, I promise.” He glanced at the small jewelry box on his desk, hoping that you love it just as much as he loves you.

“Okay” He could hear your pout even through the phone. “Well I miss you okay, take a break if you need to. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

A figure walked into view from the dark, taking him out of his thoughts once more. A mask obscuring your face, whirring in the darkness with a faint glow. It illuminated the body underneath, a light green glow against your figure.

"Who are you", he shouted, trying to seem confident. He was a pretty powerful hero, he wasn't used to being so easily caught. There wasn't any response on your end, you simply tilted your head and stared at him through your mask. The whirring and the sound of his teammates running around confused being the only thing in the room. He rocks against his bindings, sending out a distress signal to notify the others of his location. You both hear the pings echo across the floor, the door slams open. Izuku looks around confused.

"Todoroki?"

"I'm here!" he calls out, watching his friend whip around confused. Izuku sighs and quickly leaves, assuming it was a mistake and all the machinery was acting up.

What's happening.

You laugh, voice aggressively distorted through your mask. He's still not frightened, not letting go of his hope that he can escape this. He tries again to activate his quirk to no avail, the bindings are quirk proof.

You continue laughing at him in the vague encroaching darkness of the room. "Who ARE YOU" he shouted a little louder. An explosion went off in the distance, the building groaned at the nearby pressure. Any heros currently in the building rushed towards the sound of destruction, realizing that this was a distraction.

The small device next to you fizzled at the tap of your foot, emitting a large energy pulse before turning off. You pulled out a scanner of your own to demonstrate how that mysterious ping on it before is suddenly gone. Curious.

You walked up to the man in front of you, his heterochromic eyes stared at you intently, trying to figure out who this mysterious woman was. You still said nothing. You didn't think it was possible for him to get any stronger but he looked bulkier since you've last seen him. A little darker, maybe not as nice to others, cold, frigid. You imagined what his interactions were like now in days. Did he try seeing anyone else, did he still hang out with friends? Did he even miss you? Your partners only showed you so much before leaving, all you’ve seen of him in months were through short videos and pictures, and he seemed so happy that you were gone. You stroked your hand up his chest, feeling around your old stomping grounds, trying to test the waters of your guilt. See if there's still any left.

All you felt was hatred, pure, unbridled hatred. You held his head delicately, patting his frayed hairs away as you thought about how much you missed his head. How he would lay in your lap and let you play with his hair and tell you about his day. Days you had ripped from you, days he seemed to forget. The pro hero was shaking in your grasp, you're not sure if it was from fear or the uncomfortable positioning of the ropes, but either was fine for you. You grabbed him by his hair and forced his vision up, you got your answer. It was fear.

"What was that explosion? What are you doing." He lets out in slight trembles.

"Oh, just a few friends. Don't worry about them, you can't do shit for them anyways."

“Why is this happening?”

“Because I can Shoto, because

can. They can handle that without me, but here, here is where I’m needed.”

He had no clue what you were talking about, the fear was starting to get to him. Usually there’s some kind of motive behind these sorts of things, but this seemed entirely too personal. He can’t help but notice how familiar you look and a thought crosses his mind.

You let one hand roam downward fiddling with the zipper of his hero costume. Giggling under her heavy breathing. "Stop.”

You keep going. Slowly.

"Please."

Slower.

"Ple-" a smack lands across his face, he doesn’t bother to move his face back, he just leaves it there. He isn't weak by a long shot, but right now there wasn't a single fight in him, he just wanted to run.

His mind replays the moment of panic. When her friend called to see if she simply didn’t leave your shared apartment.

“Hey Todoroki, I know she said you were at work, but do you know if she left the house.”

His whole body paused, “Yes, she left, she was walking when she last called me.”

“I-”. The sound of traffic and wind blew through the call. “She never showed up. I’ve called her and text her a dozen times and she didn’t respond. I don’t want to worry you I just-. I don’t know what happened.”

“I will call you back.” He hung up and immediately called you while running out of his office, call after call after text and nothing. He left a few panicked voicemails, hoping that you just had your phone on silent and was busy. His mind reeled at the possibilities, trying his hardest to think the best of the situation. Yeah, he’d arrive home and you’d be asleep on the couch, wrapped up in your favorite blanket, Tv cycling through Netflix shows. Maybe you realize you didn’t want to go, and forgot to tell your friend. Maybe-

The door to your apartment opened, silent, cold, nothing. He ran through the apartment checking everything, even underneath the pillow hoping there would be some kind of sign of you. All that was left was a funny little drawing you left for him on the whiteboard near the door. “Don’t forget to eat! There’s some Soba in the fridge, I won’t be gone too long!”

He rang the police and then your friend. “She hasn’t responded to any of my calls or text, and she’s not at the apartment. I’ve called the police.” The both of them continued the call in silence, hoping to say something that would reassure the other but nothing came to mind.

"Awwww, look who came to visit."

You poked at the forming bulge in his pants. "You're fucking sick, you know that?".

He cranes to look down, unaware that his body was reacting without his mind.  "Let me fucking go,” he strains against his bindings, desperate to escape whoever this was torturing him.

You squeeze his dick, and laugh again. "Or what? Where are you going to run to? Who's gonna hear you? You're in my world now." He tries to move away from your touch and you just persist. "Do you get this hard for every villain that touches you or just me?" He pushes against his restraints and looks at you with murderous but fearful intent. "You still don't know me? I'm hurt." His brain hurts trying to figure out who this woman was, wanting to figure out anything that can vaguely put some kind of understanding to this situation. He couldn't think of anything but-

Was it?

Who else had that quirk.

Images flashed in his head to you two holding hands in a crowd, he watched as the world continued on without any notice of their presence. The cars drove straight through them, people walked right by them, they were there and weren't all at once. "See, it's neat I guess but I can't go much further than here. One layer below this and it's pretty much the same thing with less people. One to the left has a weird saturation to it."

"I think it's amazing Y/n"

"Really?" You ask, unsure of how to feel. He was very confused at your insecurity, you were just not trained, but pocket dimensions were surely a powerful quirk. He wondered just how many of these dimensions there were?

He came back to his senses when he felt his dick pop out of his boxers. His memories fade into the darkness of his reality that keeps calling him back when he so badly wants to escape. In his mind he still has you, you’re safe, and this isn’t happening to him. For a second, the thought passes by that whoever this is may kill him, and he may get to see you again. He quickly shakes the thought away, you were alive, and he was going to find you one day. He mentally berated himself for even entertaining the thought of this being you or death.

"Shotooooo, I'm trying so hard to get your attention? Why do you keep leaving me?” You lift your mask slightly to accommodate his length in your mouth, you almost forgot how much you enjoyed this. Almost. Your lips bop up and down paying close attention to his cute pink head, it was always so pretty. Lucky for Shoto, it was always prettier in your mouth. You drag your nails around his thighs, making sure to draw blood on your way back. He arches, hating himself for responding to your actions

His dick leaves your mouth with a sickening pop, “How's my little Pro Hero? Think about how many people needed your help while you were here, you didn't even clock out for this.” You rest your head on his thigh and lazily stroke his cock, “you couldn’t even save your girlfriend.”

“Shut the fuck up you don’t know a thing about her.”

“Oh, really struck a chord there. Didn’t think you cared about her that much, especially because you’re gonna cum to some villain you can’t even recognize.” You begin to pick up the pace, precum coating your hand and filling the air with a wet gliding sound. “Or can you hold it in? Can you do it for her? Her dead body is in a ditch somewhere, and here you are, about to come on some other chick's hand.”

He said nothing, you could tell from the faint light that was left in the room that he was crying. Oh god did you love seeing those tears. You felt a familiar tensing underneath you and you prepared for what was going to happen next and placed your mouth over his cock again. His groans mixed with his sobs and he came in your mouth, you swallowed quickly and smiled upwards at him.

“I think she’ll forgive you for cumming, after all, the conditions weren’t entirely fair.” You stand up and turn on a lamp next to you before activating a button to readjust his ropes. He hit the floor with a thud and you could hear him groaning behind you before the bindings quickly tightened to their new position. You turn back around and take your place on top of his thighs, your hands reaching upward to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“Sho are you okay?” He wasn’t sure if that was the memory or the woman on top of him, quite frankly they’re both starting the sound the same.

“Babe you’ve been so silent, are you okay? You sat across from him, holding his hand. You two were at a Diner, it seemed very late.

“Yes, I’m alright, I’m not sure where I went.”

“I understand, you smile at him and squeeze his hand.” There is only one cup on the table.

Izuku walks between the tables looking concerned.

“Midoryia, nice seeing you, we were just waiting for our food.” The green haired man stares at him sympathetically and puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Shoto, I think you need to see someone.”

“Why?” He looks in front of him, no one’s there. The seat is empty. It dawns on him that he’s done it again, went off on an adventure like he used to do with someone who wasn’t there. He paid the tab and quickly left, making sure to ignore the concerned faces of people who recognized him and must’ve seen him talking to himself.

“Izuku.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think she’s dead?”

Reality welcomes him back and he sees the top of your head laying down on him. You’re very warm, it sounds like you’re muttering something to yourself.

You snap up, glossy eyes connecting with his heterochromatic ones. “I was worried you might have died.” There wasn’t an ounce of seriousness in your voice. He continued to say nothing and you could feel him tremble again. He must have noticed that you were no longer wearing pants or underwear. The sound of burning in the distance still emanated in the air. This was all so horrid, well, for him at least.

You pull off the mask hiding your face and he begins to struggle underneath you wildly. You hold on to the sides of his hip and let him thrash about.

“No no no no NO NO NO!”

“Shhhhh It’s okay, it’s me.” You crawl upwards to be closer to him, you watch him, wild and confused underneath you. He looks like an animal caught in headlights. “I’m gonna make this all so much easier for you.” You glide back down him, hand reaching first for his dick. You give him a few good strokes and hover above him, seeing if he’d move on his own.

There was nothing.

You know, I don't know why you idiot Heros have big cocks if you're not gonna use it. You plunge all the way down him, earning a delicious whimper as he twitches inside of you, clearly feeling overstimulated by what's happening. "Awwwww, I forgot you were a virgin. I’m not anymore, but I was thinking about you every time they touched me.” His insides felt like liquid, he hated this. He wanted to lose his virginity to you, but not like this. He still sees you as the soft girl he met at a bakery, he sees your smile as you giggled in the rain underneath your umbrella, he remembers all the times he's confided in you, and the memory can not merge with who you are now. Corrupted, violent, dark.

You continue bouncing on his dick, watching him writhe underneath you. You wonder where he is right now, he looks at you so betrayed, so lost, but you can't tell if its painful or in lust. At this point, it doesn't matter and it all becomes a muddled mixture of everything.

"Y/n, p-please. This isn't you."

You slowly lift your bottom half, making sure to keep eye contact with those beautiful eyes, waiting to see the moment when he loses all his composure.

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me." You slowly go back down on him, making sure it feels like blissful hell. "Where were you Shoto?"

You slammed down again. "I needed you." Slam. "And you weren't there." Slam. "You weren't there for so fucking long." Slam. "But you're here now."

"I'm sorry I didn't save you. I won't leave you again." He's crying a cry you’ve never seen before. It should invoke worry in you, bring out the motherly instincts you always had for him, but instead it made you crave to see him broken like this again and again. You look at him tenderly and stroke his cheek. He seems like he’s on the verge of losing it.

“You're a good boy shoto, always have, always will be. And I can't hate my good boy.” He can’t escape to his head anymore, you were here, you were finally here with him.

You buck down on him, one hand leaned back on the concrete other on your phone's record button. You pull your mask down in order to distort your voice. "Show me you’re sorry". He bucks up into you, completely blissed out. His rhythm is sloppy and desperate, he can’t really think straight anymore. All of his thoughts are of you, and you were happy like this. He just wants to make you happy.

The light from the camera is blinding him, he should be covering his face, he should be doing something but he can't bring himself to fight against you. He smiles back at you and all he can manage out is a weak "I love you."

You look at him through your screen and he looks absolutely beautiful like this. Sweat plastered to his face, deep in a breakdown that you're sure he'll never recover from. You feel yourself going ragged against him, slapping his face as you near your end. He can't even form words anymore. Not an ouch, not a stop, just groaning and incoherent words. He's so close.

You slow your movements and grab him by the throat, just tight enough for his dick to feel it, but not tight enough for him to not be able to talk. "You're fucking worthless you know that right?"

"Yes."

"You're nothing without me."

"I'm nothing with or without you."

You pause and smile underneath the mask, surprised that you broke him down that badly in such a short time span.

"You're a fast learner. Now, smile Princess." You set your sights on the end and continue riding him with all the strength you had left. He obliges you, smiling with exhaustion, up at the light. You position your body at the right angle so his cock hits everything at the right angle, and you feel yourself flying over the edge of your orgasm. Your body spasms violently, your sure the camera is probably disoriented. Your hips continue to meet with his as you ride out your orgasm. He shortly met his own, moans and sobs echoing throughout the abandoned room.

You hope you caught that because you sure as hell couldn't see it through your own orgasm still burning through you.

You stopped the recording and laid on his chest in silence. A sticky liquid continued to drain down your legs, a lot of it actually. You tried not to focus on the feeling of his cum in you, it could probably get you going again and you definitely didn't need that. You instead listened to his heavy breathing, it felt so nice to be home.

He watched you type something away on your phone before you looked up at him. "This is gonna be everywhere in probably....20 minutes? Maybe even less. Your father will probably try to have it taken down but you know how the internet is." He continued to breathe on the ground, still feeling waves of his pleasure mixed with shame. He knows his Hero career is essentially over, but maybe it's better this way. You were the only person to ever understand him, and if he couldn't show you his love through saving you, he'd show you his love this way. Even if you never love him again, even if he can only see you smile by being below you. He just wants to be your hero, even if that means he has to be the world's villain.

You ran your finger through his hair, he cuddled further into you silently. He must've seen the news reports about his disappearance. It’s been weeks and it’s still on every station, his father is probably pushing hard to get him back but you know better than that. Besides, everyone loves his videos, every time you post it blasts to the top of trending before being “removed”. He should be happy to know his son is still alive. Your captors, well, coworkers let you keep a pet and you’ll be damned if anyone takes him away from you. "You're happy here right Sho?"

He says nothing, he just clutches into you further, his breathing increasing with every moment. That familiar tremble began to accompany his breathing, he was going to cry again.

"There there love, there there."

[gisellelx]

For the writer's ask game: 16, 30, 36, 41?

Thanks @running-awayy! 💖

16.  How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project?

SO MANY. So, so many. This is one of those things that has gotten much worse over the years. I remember in high school and college, revision seemed so onerous but I had some teachers who really made us dig in deep and do it. And now it’s just a deep part of my process. I try to let a draft get down on paper without messing with it too much, but I always end up messing with it--at a bare minimum, I sit down and re-read what I wrote last, making some edits, before I start writing the next thing. I go to sleep and realize there’s a whole section missing. I’ve recently taken to slowing way down on fic for this reason. If a fic is being posted chapter by chapter as I write it, and I realize that whoops, no, four chapters back a character really needs see another a character do xyz in order to make this current scene make sense, I’m just stuck if it’s already posted. But if I’m sitting on the whole thing, I can go back and re-insert that scene, which is what I’m doing with my current WIP.  And once all of that is done when I’ve reached what most people would consider a final draft, I make three distinct passes on it. One is for cohesion--did I leave a character on one side of a room by mistake, which often happens as I’m revising and adding and subtracting big chunks. The second is for language--I’m looking for repetitive words, and for the rhythm of individual sentences, making sure the structure matches what I’m trying to do. The last pass is proofreading. So that’s three “final” drafts right there, to say nothing of however many came before it. 

30.  Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

I answered this one in another one that was hiding while this was sitting (thanks for such fast asking!) so here’s another one I have in mind--I would really like to write a fic novel that is about the Cullens grappling with race ( @jessicanjpa has nudged me on this one). I can’t figure out exactly what the central conflict would look like, though, because they’re so fucking oblivious to it as characters. The closest I’ve come to it is in “Strange Fruit” and there are some hints of it in “Ordinary Time” as well, but that’s not canon-based. When I find a way in to that story I imagine I’ll feel compelled to write it. But it may well take me a long time to find the way in. I’ve seen it done many times in a very ham-fisted way, and I appreciate the effort, but before you have Carlisle and Edward and Jasper change, they have to have a reason to change. When I find that reason, I’ll write about it.

36.  Last sentence you wrote I’m working on two different scenes in this fic at once: 

“Pretty sure that if I had to be related to you, I’d have offed myself, too.”

41.  Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

Learn craft! Read books and blog posts about writing. Try out different writing forms. Fanfic is such a great place to experiment because for most people, somebody is gonna read your stuff. Maybe only one person, but somebody. So you can try out different forms--does third person feel better? First person? Which tense? Try them out in different stories. Try writing a short fic where you use no adjectives. Try writing a fic from the perspective of an inanimate object. Do all the writing exercises you’d do in a creative writing class but post them on FFnet or tumblr or whatever. If you don’t know how to create a conflict, read about how other people do it.  Also read. Read more than just fanfic. In fact, if you really want to get good at writing, you have to read more books than fanfic. Fanfic has some particularities of the genre that don’t work or are absolutely nonexistent in non-derivative fiction and which will hold you back on creating really excellent fiction. For instance, learn how to get in and out of a flashback without putting it in italics. Not just because it will stop your work from looking ficcy but you’ll get a better sense for when you need to move around in time in a story. You’ll not just learn how to use the pluperfect tense, you’ll learn how to drive a story forward by going into the past (and when you don’t need to). Read the kinds of books that you want to write. Try out things that authors you read are doing. Notice when they do something that makes you stand up and notice the writing. Notice when a line just stays with you for weeks or longer--what is it about the language that did that?  And of course write a lot. Throw most of it out. Keep some of it. Show some of it to others. But keep doing it. It’s the only way to get better. 

(see I said I might go on forever. Whoops. Thank you! ) 

[the-luckiest-man]

@jamesafloat said:                                                                                                                            wowowow holy crap. So I’m the guy who made HHR (and who, much to everyone’s chagrin, voiced Joshua and a buncha other NPCs in the mod). In all of the five years since releasing I never saw this take, and it’s easily one of my favorites. Thank you for giving it the benefit of the doubt and for seeing it with a critical eye.    I totally agree with the moments of paternalism with the ‘natives’. I hoped that counselling with Salt-Upon-Wounds, instead of feeling like 'teaching the natives’ would feel like counselling with equals. But it’s not terribly subtle. Amy Wilks’ “witch doctor” business… yeah I get that. I do like the reveal, and I like her… cause of course I do. But 'local crazy lady’ would have been better.      As to Carrie and down’s syndrome… I don’t know if this made it in to the final version but the original intention was not as a cure to down’s but as a cure to seizures to which Carrie was prone. Carrie is a boss, she never needs to change, I probably made some missteps in presenting her but I cared about avoiding ableism.                                                                              And totally agree about Livius’ falling too much into the ‘villainous gay’ trope. If I was writing it now it’d probably be queerer, but likely because I’ve learned a lot in the past few years. I really loved Livius as a character and have been pretty sad to have so many people be annoyed at his place in the plot.                                                                                                                                     

Hey! So excited to see your reply on this post! I hope it’s okay to re-post here (in the most awkward way imaginable because Tumblr is a broken wreck) because I’m super interested in the things you have said.  Hope my review didn’t come off as too vicious ;)  Despite the criticisms I have, I’m still super impressed by all the work you did to bring us the mod; it was obviously a shit-ton, and in my opinion storywise still quite superior to vanilla HH.  While it’s important to be able to criticize the media we all consume and create, I definitely don’t want to downplay or ignore the unpaid labor of love that fan creators do to enlarge this sandbox we all love to play in.

I didn’t get the bit where the cure for Carrie was for her seizures...either it didn’t make it into the final text or I missed that somehow, so that’s awesome to know, cuz I definitely was mad when I thought it was about “curing” her, as herself, LOL!  As I said, I fuckin...I love her.  So much.  I would fight God for her.  Nuff said.

I read a few of the comments on the mod page back when I first downloaded your mod and yeah, people who thought Livius’ storyline was annoying or pointless are bad and wrong, that’s just how it is, sorry, I don’t make the rules.  Like I said, I’m very anti-Legion (oh man I LOL’ed for like, ten minutes straight when Brutus got offed) but I probably spent way more time than is humanly reasonable thinking about Livius’ storyline and imagining how it could turn into some kind of redemption arc (that’s the most fun part of the Gay Villain, of course. The inevitable enemies-to-lovers story you write in your head)  In all, I accept his role as Gay Villain because it was sexy and tragic.  Others’ mileage may differ; I definitely can’t speak for all gays.

The parts about the natives, yeah.  Well, that whole treatment in vanilla HH and in FNV in general needs some serious looking at.  The whole history of the Mormons in Utah and the native tribes there is uhhh....not good, as we know, and the blatant sidestepping of that entire history is just one aspect of how the game in general fails spectacularly when it comes to Native representation.  But there are some native FNV fans here on Tumblr who are re-writing Honest Hearts, as well, with a Native storyline and focus, involving actual tribes and bands who live in that area -- it seems really cool!  I think @comrade-shrimp is heading that effort if you wanted to check it out.  Anyway, thanks again for finding my little review and adding your words!

[violetosprey]

BTD/TDDUP:  Who’s the most dangerous human character?

There is a counterpart post to this for the supernatural BTD characters already posted here if you want to check that out :P

I love the human characters in the BTD/TDDUP series.  Probably a little more than the supernatural characters to be honest.  When it comes to who I think is the most dangerous in regards to the public/humanity, I had to put quite a bit of thought into this.  I don’t really have a ranking system for these, but the main things I thought about were body count, level of sadism, and physique/intellect.

 I’m also going to be thinking about the difference here between who is actively the most dangerous vs. others who are potentially more dangerous.  But the real rating will be based on who’s “actively” more dangerous.

*major spoilers below*

I’m going to do this post from LEAST dangerous to MOST dangerous (opposite of my supernatural post because while the winner there was obvious, there is more to debate here I think).  Remember that these are only my personal opinion.  All decisions are up for debate.

7) Chris

I think it’s easy to explain why I have Chris at the bottom of the list.  He’s a sweet guy.  Unlike any other the other characters in these games, he was never looking to actively harm anyone.  He only snapped and seriously beat up one person.  And said person was HIS abuser so…yeah it’s even a little justified here (he just takes it a little too far).  There’s no indication either that Chris is quick to snap like this.  It’s implied that the MC and he were married for quite some time.  So he’s a rather gentle and timid guy who endured the abuse for a while.  If we’re talking “actively” most dangerous, Chris is the weakest here. If we were considering his potential to be a danger to society, he doesn’t really display any strong/consistent sadistic tendencies, or a high intellect to make him a common criminal or a mastermind of any kind.  I’ll give him this; he’s probably one of the physically strongest of the humans on this list.  I’d say the strongest physically here are probably Chris, Lawrence (if you still count him as human), and Marcus.  I don’t think his physique alone is enough to say he’d be a severe menace to society though.

6) Aria?

So we don’t learn a WHOLE lot about Aria.  She doesn’t look all that intimidating.  She doesn’t give me the impression that she sure works out enough to be able to take some of the guys on this list either.  But between her and Chris, Aria I’d say is capable of being a lot nastier. Chris has a right to be mad when he’s beating you down, but Aria seems SO much more vile when she tortures you. Yes, she has a right to be mad as well, but I always felt more uncomfortable with Aria torturing the MC. I found myself wondering if she took it too far.  I wrote a post long ago on Aria and my thoughts on her. There I go into more detail on why she makes me feel so uncomfortable (she’s actually the one character in the ENTIRE BTD/TDDUP series that made me have to take a break from the game for a bit).  But while she scares ME a whole lot, I have to put her lower on this list realistically.  Other than her sour relationship with the MC, I don’t really think she’s constantly tormenting other human beings in her spare time.  At least not as far as I’m concerned.  She’s an attorney for her main occupation, and very intelligent. So she’s definitely someone you don’t want to be on the opposing side at least.  So her “active” danger level is more that she’s likely cutthroat in the judicial system, but not really offing people on the side.  She does have a higher “potential” danger level though because not only COULD she possibly screw you over in the court of law to land you in jail…but apparently she has connections to HUMAN TRAFFICKERS. That.is.terrifying.  

5) Marcus?

Those who have wandered around my blog tumblr for a bit know I ADORE Marcus.  I think he makes a fantastic villain and a complete jerk :P He is INCREDIBLY intimidating.  He’s got a strong build and police training under his belt, so good luck overtaking him.  My money is actually on him being the physically strongest on this list.  He IS the tallest, and has the muscle to fill out the space.  I think his training could beat out Lawrence’s build (which just comes from manual labor). Chris is the only one I think who could give Marcus a run for his money (depends on Chris’s boxing skills and how well Chris keeps in shape honestly).  And intellect?  He’s both a good actor out in public, and calculating enough to plan a kidnapping and permanent captivity situation for his ex.  Yikes! ��While I don’t think Marcus is a complete sadist (compared to some other BTD/TDDUP characters), he DOES show some enjoyment in tormenting the MC too.  So then, why don’t I have him higher on this list? Well if this was a list for “potentially” most dangerous, Marcus would win.  Can you imagine if Marcus was a full blown serial killer while working as a cop?  He could cover his tracks REALLY well.  He probably does cover his tracks after kidnapping the MC (AND he killed John to avoid witnesses).  But the thing to remember here is that Marcus ISN’T usually an active murderer.  He’s got one murder and one kidnapping under his belt, but as far as we know that’s pretty much it.  He’s a good cop most of the time.  He spends most of his time putting criminals away, not being one himself. The MC just makes him crazy.  So “actively,” he’s not usually as dangerous as some of the other human characters.  He could be more dangerous I think if people try to intervene and take the MC away from him. Otherwise, he’s on the public’s side most of the time.  Like with Aria, probably will leave you alone unless you cross him.

4) Ellen?

So Ellen doesn’t have a strong build to make her impossible to fend off, and she doesn’t have any scary connections like Aria does.  Plus, she’s only a college student.  So why should I place her higher than people like Marcus or Aria? One word: Unstable.  Oh she’s an intelligent young woman who carries on a conversation just fine.  She has a lot of insight as well.  But she also: Is interested in getting closer to a person she KNOWS is a serial killer AND necrophiliac, experiences catharsis by seeing others in pain, kidnaps Jack’s spouse and treats them like her pet dog, and has quite a bit of interesting ways to kill you both accidentally and intentionally.  This type of behavior indicates she’s more likely to cause harm to others.  The only problem is I don’t know is she’s really…done a whole lot of damage to other people at this point in time.  She may be too young yet (her potential victim count simply hasn’t had a chance to climb yet).  If she was willing to help Jack with his work though, something tells me she’s on the wrong track.  Still, since I don’t know how often she’s gone out of her way to hurt others in her daily life, she could move up or down on this list in regards to “actively” dangerous.

3) Lawrence

So if you want to disregard the bit about Lawrence being rotted by the river and turning into a lich, Lawrence was indeed born a human.  You can take him out of this list otherwise (I have him also in the supernatural post to cover my bases).  Similar to Ellen, I’m placing Lawrence higher on this list because of how unstable he is. And unlike Ellen, we actually ARE given hints that the MC in BTD2 is not Lawrence’s first victim.  If you’ve read my supernatural post counterpart to this, you know what I have to say about Lawrence.  I’ll just cheat a little and grab from that post :P

“ He might freak out/snap at people more frequently that we realize.  When he is upset too, unfortunately it’s not just that he’s letting his frustration out on whoever is standing next to him.  Remember at the beginning of BTD2, how Lawrence got upset when Ren left?  MC left the bar first, and Lawrence followed them OUT with the intention of beating them up.  He’s dangerous.  And when he kidnaps you (cuz he freaked out that he’d get in trouble for hurting you)…it’s kind of implied this isn’t the first time he’s done this.  He’s not as big a sadist as the others, but sometimes he does take a little more enjoyment in cutting you up than he should if you’ve managed to send him over the edge.  Not an intellectual himself, and he’s a little difficult to reason with. His physique also makes it hard to overtake him (you have to kill him when he’s sleeping).”

So yes, unstable, physical threat, small hints of sadism, and bigger body count makes Lawrence a greater danger to society.

The REAL Debate:  Strade vs. Jack

If we’re talking “who’s the most dangerous to society”…of course the ones most ACTIVELY dangerous would be the serial killers.  The only question is, which one is MORE dangerous? This can be a little tricky to answer. The problem is we have one serial killer who’s very straightforward and we know EXACTLY how he operates (Strade), while we have another who we hardly know anything about his methods of killing (Jack).  Strade is openly charming and cheery, but takes extreme pleasure in tormenting and killing individuals he usually tricks/kidnaps from local bars.  Jack is more of an enigma:  You don’t know where he finds his victims, how he interacts with them, his method of killing them, and  how often he kills them.  We know that young Jack is pretty sadistic, but older Jack doesn’t appear to share that same level of sadism.  Jack’s a big mystery overall.  Both Strade and Jack seem to show no remorse in regards to what they do either. Physique, they’re…probably not too different strength wise to be honest.  I don’t know their exercise routines to be able to choose one properly over the other.  I’d say Jack is probably more intelligent (he at least shows his education more than Strade does).  But since we don’t know how Jack operates when he’s killing, I don’t know to what extent he utilizes his intellect as a serial killer.  For all we know, he could be a little more primal with his killings, and just uses his wits to cover his tracks.  Who has more kills by the way either?  Strade kills for a living, so he probably has a large body count considering that’s how he makes his money.  Jack on the other hand lets the corpses rot away for quite a while, so I don’t know how frequently he feels the need to replace them.  So how do I choose between the two of these killers then?  Well there’s something I almost forgot about: longevity.  We actually have CANON timelines for these guys.  Strade is age 34 in BTD, and in BTD2 Ren is 2 years old than in BTD.  I apologize if you haven’t played BTD2 yet but…Strade’s dead in BTD2.  Gato confirmed that eventually one of his victims became too much to handle (in fact I think even one of the death endings in BTD can be taken as the canon ending that leads to BTD2- MC dies, but they’re able to take Strade out with them). So the oldest Strade ever lived to be would have been 36 at most.  Jack in TDDUP is 50 years old.  Young Jack in the extra scene is 25 years old.  Electricpuke DID confirm that by that time at least, Jack had already killed. So he’s been a killer for a bare minimum of 25 years.  Strade, I don’t know when he started killing, but let’s say maybe age 18 at the youngest (is it 18 or 19 you can go drink in bars in Canada?)  So killing for 18 years possibly.  Maybe he started younger, who knows.  Even then, the numbers look pretty close.  Just no way to really know the body count comparison between the two. Now in TDDUP, depending on your head-canon preference, Jack either gets away (I always consider the “You are alone” ending the canon one myself), or MC does successfully kill Jack.  And really the only reason I think Jack gets killed is because the MC is his weakness.  Strade bit off more than he could chew with his chosen victim, and Jack got caught by the one person he lets his guard down with.

Overall, I think this is a very close race, and maybe should be judged by who YOU think is the kind of person you’d hate to come across more, and who you think has killed more.  For me, I think I’ll go…

2) Strade

1) Jack

Personally, I’d hate to be caught by Strade more I think, but I don’t know if Jack does any torture either.  I decided to base this more off of Jack’s ability to get away with what he does for so long.

This was fun!  Please do feel free to disagree though and even add your own thoughts.

[mortalpractice]

I got an anon message recently asking whether I would post spoken word because it tends to lift up marginalized voices, and it got me thinking that I should make a list to help people find more marginalized voices on my blog and on the internet in general.

So, some journals I read regularly which seek out/frequently publish marginalized voices:

Kweli publishes exclusively poets of color 

The Offing seeks out work from marginalized voices

Vinyl doesn’t have an explicit mission statement, but the majority of the poetry I’ve read there is from POC and/or LGBTQIA* writers 

Hawai’i Pacific Review publishes a lot of work by Indigenous Hawaiians

Winter Tangerine (recently published an issue dedicated to the experience of being black in America)

Most of the journals I read have something in their mission statement about lifting up new/marginalized voices, but these are some off the top of my head that really live up to that promise.

I am also including a list of some POC and/or LGBTQIA* poets I enjoy very much. These are all poets whose book(s) I have bought or, if they do not have books yet, eagerly await!:

Kaveh Akbar (website, twitter)

Mark Doty

Joshua Jennifer Espinoza ( @blankslate , twitter)

Ross Gay (wesbite)

June Jordan (posthumous website)

Kien Lam (website, twitter)

Ada Limón (website, twitter)

Jamie Mortara ( @jamiemortara , twitter)

Paisley Rekdal (website, twitter)

He’s practically the Poet Laureate of Tumblr, so everyone already knows, but Richard Siken (website)

Wendy Xu (website, twitter)

I have purchased work by Chen Chen (website, twitter) and Sam Herschel Wein (website) but have not read it yet; however, I have loved what I’ve read of each of them so far.

I realize that POC and LGBTQIA* poets are not the only ones whose voices are marginalized (and that these traits do not preclude advantages of other kinds), but things like social class, disability, and a whole host of others can be less visible unless a poet is explicit about it. 

I have missed a great many names, either by oversight or lack of familiarity, so please reblog this post with your own favorite poets from marginalized groups and/or journals which lift them up!

[lesbianismsm]

okokok lately i've been. freaking out about coronavirus. my school shut down and theyre talking about cancelling our prom and cases are actually fairly close to my area and not only am i at risk of getting it, like genuinely one of the at risk groups, so is half my family because of pre existing health conditions and im so scared the worst is gonna happen and its gonna mutate get worse and just obliterate my whole family. and i dont even!! i dont even like most of them they treat me like a black sheep and are mostly homiphobic and hateful but im so scared that the world is ending like. biblically ending and one time when i was little i was scared of that too and beought it up to my mom and her only reassurance to me, a like 12 year old, closeted lesbian, who doesnt believe in christianity, was that i was saved and didnt need to worry if it was time to die. WHO DOES THAT WHO DOES THAT i know she ""didnt know"" but my moms not stupid i think it was oBVIOUS and now i. i have even more anxiety about dying and i know my mom doesnt really care about it, she just cares about religion and shit and im surrounded by crazy ass christians who just think its time to go and gods coming back or whatever and thats literally terrifying!! in ways i cant describe i hate my stupud fuxking area. i feel like my life is beint destroyed and theres no point in anything ever. anymore. all the years of my schooling have lead to my senior year, and you get a bunch of awards anc congratulations and "thanks for making it through our hellhole school system without offing yourself" papers and theyre all gonne get fucking cancelled and i wont even get to graduate probabky ill just get mailed a diploma and "better luck next time" as IF i could have another high school graduation im just so damn lucky to be born into this graduating year its so damn great and i fucking hate it. theyre probably gonna cancel prom and all our senior activities and this is already after my band directir came up with the shitties fucking marching show for our senior year and all but one competition got rained out, and we didnt even PLACE it was so bad, and he spent the whole season blaming all of us for the freshman not putting in the effort or learning regardless of allllll the different things we did and then my shitty fucking senior night got rained out and i didnt even march and i got dumped the week before and my dad refused to show up for it because he doesnt want to put in the effort and now hes been a bitch to me ever since i called him out on it and now my actual senior year is being ruined not just rhe marching half and im just. so tired. so so so tired. im scared im gonna die, my senior year of highschool is point blank ruined and i can barely see the point of doing anything because fucking climate change is irreversible now and the planets gonna die before im even 30. bod my anxiety is having a fucking field dya and i cant even see a goddamn therapist because all of our money goes to my stepdad buying fuckign train horns for his truck instead of keeinf me in weekly, literally i got reccomended for weekly therapy sessions how bad is that for someone only passively suicidal and on 50 fuckinf mg of zoloft, anyway weekly therapy sessions that only cost $20. i should be telling my therapist this but i havent seen her in over a year after we both agreed i was in a very fratile state of mind and needed to see someone and then my mom stopped scheduling them and now it would be a fight to get them picked back up. god im so tired of feeling like the Most support i have comes from people on fucking tumblr dot com liking my overly personal vent posts while i feel my life falls apart from a place in entitilment. im disgusting i should off myself

[vmheadquarters]

VMHQ Villains Week

“A hero, or in our case a heroine, needs a worthy opponent so that she can--”

“This isn’t a criminology lecture, Tim, it’s Tumblr.” Cassidy says, stretching out on the thin mattress of his bottom bunk. “And if we are going to choose Veronica’s most worthy adversary, that would be me.”

“Wrong.” Mercer kicks the steel frame, jostling Cassidy from his relaxed pose. “We’ve been over this before. Aaro-- the guy we’re not allowed to mention* - was the best villain on the show. It was totally unexpected. I, for one, thought Duncan offed his sister.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot- keeping the evidence of your crimes right in your dorm room.” Cassidy shakes his head. “Misdirection, it’s a thing. Maybe you SHOULD listen to good ol’ Tim’s lectures on crime.”

“It’s a fascinating subject really.” Tim rubs his hands together, warming to the subject. “Did you know that--”

“Shut it, Foyle.” Mercer clenches his fists. “We’re from season three, which we both know was the weakest in the series. We weren’t even given a FULL TWENTY-TWO EPISODES and our crime arcs were cut short. You couldn’t even be creative enough to kill the Dean without stealing ideas from Veronica’s perfect-murder paper. There’s NO WAY you are the best villain.”

Sniffling, “I didn’t say I was - that was HIM.” He waves toward the bottom bunk.

“Well, I did manage to fool Veronica into thinking I was just a sweet, harmless kid for TWO whole seasons.” Cassidy pops two fingers in the air. “AND, if you want to be technical, for the entire year before the show even started.”

“Now, boys,” Woody says, inching toward the bars away from them. “We’re never going to survive this character week if we keep fighting amongst ourselves.”

“Why did we even hijack this thing?” Tim asks. “It’s not like anyone is going to have anything GOOD to say about us.”

Cassidy rolls his eyes. “We did it to piss off Veronica, remember?”

“Right. So let’s get on with it, shall we?” Mercer leans a shoulder against the cinder block wall. “First, we should have a poll to let the fandom officially decide who’s the best. Anyone willing to bet that the guy we can’t... screw it, let the ladies at VMHQ get in trouble... Aaron Echolls wins?”

“I’ll take a piece of that action,” Woody says, removing his gold watch. “Because I believe my acting was above par - no one guessed I was anything but a respectable--”

“Please... you were SO obvious and creepy.” Cassidy sits up, swings his legs off the bunk. “That’s why you couldn’t be the big bad guy because EVERYONE suspected you right from the opening credits. My confrontation with Veronica on the roof was THE highlight of season two.”

“Lucky’s scenes were pretty good too,” Tim mumbles. “Especially the one where he’s looking for Gia and fake-shoots Wallace. Stellar acting that should’ve won him more roles and maybe an Emmy.”

Mercer shakes his head. “Now what else would get Veronica really mad?”

“Who cares?” Stu Cobbler shouts from the adjoining cell. “Will you just shut up about Veronica Mars already! I’m trying to watch Jessica Jones.”     

*DISCLAIMER: The librarians would like to state for the record that Aaron Echolls was going to be included in this feature; however, we received a cease and desist letter from Mr. Echolls’ attorney, Ethan Lavoie, emphatically reminding us that Mr. Echolls was found not guilty by a jury of his peers. He ‘suggested’ that if we portrayed Mr. Echolls as a rapist and murderer in this feature we would be sued for (quoting here) “defamation of character.” Therefore, please note that the views and opinions expressed in this post are those of the speakers and do not necessarily represent the views and opinions of VMHQ.

Okay guys have at it - give us all your art, meta, fanfic, and thoughts about the villains of Neptune. Tag it all #vmhq villains week so Veronica can block the tag from her dash.