#and it becomes this echo chamber and very exhausting

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

This fandom is very skilled at making mountains out of molehills.

[kakushino]

The Queen

Ryomen Sukuna x F! Reader

He never orders you around - rather, he requests.

Tags: slight gore, suggestive, fem reader, true form Sukuna Word count: 1,7k

Masterlist

AN: Fanart used in banner made by the amazing @innaillus - be sure to check out their divine fanart Written as a Secret Santa's gift for @zoyakuna - Merry (early) Christmas! (and pls stop slandering Giyuu, it's causing me undue stress)

There was little to amuse you in your secluded throne room underground. 

Correction - there had been little to amuse you out of your throne room, so you had retreated back into your palace - and even then, was it a palace, when there were no servants, no great halls, no music, and no consort?

Just you - the Supreme Sovereign - and your throne made of roots and vines. 

Which made it odd to hear a sound echo in your chamber. You feared nothing, no one, and your heart remained steady, not a beat out of place, your eyes closed as you rested from lifetimes of exhaustion.

“Who goes there?” you called out, not moving from your reclined position. 

You were it to him, the holy grail of his searching - the Queen of Curses. Your name was feared enough that it had been scratched out from all written sources, the feats accredited to you terrifying… yet thrilling to Sukuna. He had needed to meet you, though he knew not why… A deep hunger for companionship, another who could stand at his level, who could reign with him from his Shrine, a craving so consuming he nearly went mad with his searching. 

And he did find you, though hardly in the condition he thought he would.

“This is what You have become? The cynosure of all mortals reduced to a wretch.” 

The voice was rough, forceful - distinctly male - though the tone held a hint of remorse and confusion. “All beauty is short-lived,” was all you said, a slight irritation churning your stomach for the first time in - decades, centuries, millenia? Who knows?

“Not for curses. We are eternal.” You felt the way cursed energy swirled around him - violent, and intense. It lashed out at your own, but like water parting around a blade, yours did too, accepting and redirecting the angry force, dispersing it, and eventually absorbing it. It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being suffocated under the weight of the world, a drop of water quenching a soul-deep thirst in the desert of life.

You opened your eyes and sat up properly as you studied him.

The man - curse - was tall, broad, and regal. A king would be a title befitting his posture. His hair was a light color you could hardly make out in the darkness of your abode. The dark marks adorning his face stood out starkly against his skin, as did the shape of the disfigured flesh on the right side of his face. Four gleaming eyes were focused on you, four arms relaxed at his sides.

This man was fascinating, and beautiful; he could easily sway the hearts of humans, bring them to their knees. Too bad you were not human.

“Join me, your Majesty.” Despite the wording, it was a plea. How odd. 

“Who are you to ask anything of me?” You blinked slowly. You felt the way cursed energy swirled around him - violent, intense, … defensive, lonely. It enticed you, spoke to you in a language you understood all too well. It wasn’t in your nature to deny an honest request.

“Ryomen Sukuna, your Majesty,” he introduced himself. There was a sense of pride in the way he spoke, as if his existence was created, carved out, into the world by his own hands.

Perhaps Ryomen Sukuna would be the cure to your continued boredom. 

You stood up from your throne, your figure hardly atrophied as your cursed energy kept you in peak form. The roots and vines retreated into the cave walls, leaving no trace of your royal seat, the chamber empty again for centuries to come.

“Very well.”

Living with Sukuna was hardly boring. Each day, you felt your apathy falling away as you spent time with the King of Curses, until you smiled freely in his presence. The day you realized he softened you to this degree came all too suddenly.

His cruelty to humans who sought to undermine him was but a flimsy curtain of who he truly was. Like a displeased cat, claws exposed, he scratched up those daring to approach him, but with you -

With you he was as playful and borderline affectionate as the tabby you used to feed back in your human days. It warmed your heart, and your cheeks, to feel his eyes on your figure. It made you feel unsteady on your feet. It made you question who was the ruler of the other, who held the power over the other; the power imbalance slowly became a balance - your energy dimmed by the way he could play you like a puppet.

All these feelings weaved together and knotted around your heart, snaring you in a complex web too tight to escape, exposing your throat to him like a delicacy to be gorged upon.

Only if you let him know, that is.

You somehow felt that a man like him wouldn’t settle, and more importantly, he was a man; just another one of the hordes who wanted a demure consort, you could bet. You were not a dainty flower he likely sought; you were a weed - growing strong despite the harshest of conditions, clawing out a place for your existence where there had been none before. The Curse of Curses.

So you buried those feelings like a female buried herself under layers of junihitoe - though you refused to wear that monstrosity despite the latest fashion in Japan, as all the fabric was too heavy for comfort. You made do with the yukata you stole from Sukuna’s wardrobe. It was definitely not because it smelled like him. 

You kept away from the humans and the ruling in his Shrine, spending time with Uraume, him, or alone in the gardens - until you could not. He’d left you in charge of his Kingdom when he had business to do. 

Human men were deplorable, thinking you were just a weak curse to be manipulated and slandered. You didn’t raise your voice at all, yet it shut everyone up in the hall - save for one local lord thinking himself too mighty to listen. No amount of flattery would have kept him alive after that. A wave of your hand made vines grow out of his guts - burrowing through his flesh as easily as tearing paper apart; sweet-smelling white flowers bloomed from the mess of red-coated plant matter in the middle of the chamber. 

You sat in Sukuna’s throne of bones, regal and untouchable.

That was how he found you - presiding over his subjects like the Goddess you were, and bloody Spring sprouted in front of him, rubies glinting upon the stone floors like a grotesque decoration. 

At first, he had wanted to study you - the Queen of Curses, the Supreme Sovereign, older than him, wiser, more powerful. Forgotten, yet not forgotten enough for him not to find any sources mentioning your title. He had been curious about you, and then he became curious about the feelings you evoked in him. Your presence in his home converted from an adornment into an emollient to him, smoothing the rough edges and softening the spikes of his defenses against you, yet you remained the centerpiece of his attention, even when you weren’t in his presence. He found himself thinking about you in all his waking moments.

“Everyone, out.”

He could not hide his devotion to you if he tried now - it had grown roots in his soul and fed off of his life-force, yet strengthened it twice as much. His heart was set ablaze every time he laid eyes upon your form, the blood in his veins searing hot, branding him from the inside - a slave to you forevermore.

And so he knelt at your feet, the bottom two of his arms supporting him as he leaned forward, his top pair carefully reaching for your foot and raising it to his face.

The King of Curses kissed your ankle, closing his eyes in silent worship to his Goddess, his World. 

“Your Majesty,” he greeted you in a whisper, his lips caressing your skin.

Your eyes grew soft as you studied him, your posture proud but your expression fond. “Sukuna.”

Wet, hot tongue darted out to taste your skin, making you jolt and tear your leg from his grasp with pursed lips. The tabby was particularly impertinent today.

“You have no respect for your Queen, do you?” 

“On the contrary, I hold all the respect for you.” His smirk was mischievous, he knew as well as you did neither of you were serious about this. Just a harmless teasing, if a bit skewed. 

You used your foot to lightly push against his chest to tip him over onto his back - which he let you do, for he could have as easily resisted. Even falling down, he looked graceful. It made you feel warm inside your ribcage as you pushed a joyous smile down.

Sukuna turned the fall into a backwards roll, ending up on his knees again.

“At least you know your place - on your knees before me…”

“I-” he licked his lips, “I would gladly be on my knees for you all day, Your Majesty.”

Oh? It was your turn to give him a smile full of mischief as he slowly moved back to you. You remained silent.

“Has a cat got your tongue?” 

Sukuna shuffled forward on his knees, his top pair of arms resting on the bones of his throne as he came even closer. Palms trailing to your thighs and covering them with his hands - an easy feat with his size. 

You could do naught but marvel at the contrast of your limbs and his - each powerful and deadly in their own right, each in a different way. There was no tremor of fear in your muscles, only anticipation, even while he lightly spread your legs to fit his torso between them as you lounged on his throne.

“Let me feast on your nectar.” His voice, smooth like silk, a plea rather than an order, the nuance of his tone telling all you needed to know. He appeared unreadable to others, but he was as exposed and vulnerable as a newborn babe to you at this moment.

Even so, your lips parted in surprise at his request for you didn’t expect him to say it out loud at last. “Forward, aren’t you?”

His carmine eyes - all four of them - focused on yours with an intensity you were only just getting used to with him. Sukuna said nothing as he waited for your response.

The devil didn’t bargain, after all.

“Very well… Show me how you would worship your Queen, my King.”

dividers by the divine @benkeibear

network: @enchantedforest-network

[wlwfanfictionss]

Relax, and let go

Alicent Hightower x Female! Reader

Summary: When the duties of the realm take their toll on her, her sworn sword takes care of their Queen.

or: the one where reader fucks Alicent in a bathtub :)

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Soft smut (Alicent deserves some love), top!reader obv, yearning hehe MDNI!!!!!

a/n: Im back! sort of lol. Trying to get back into writing, and what better way to get back into it then with a little Alicent content right before season two?? Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you all would like to see more Alicent content. Anywayssss....#teamgreen

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

Her footsteps were heavy on the cold stone floor of the halls. The Council meeting had been a long one, the sun had already been set for a while now, the castle quiet since most staff and royals had retreated to their own chambers. The Queen made her way to her bedchambers at the very end of the hall, escorted by her sworn sword. You both walked in silence, you could see the weight of her duties dragging her down. Her shoulders were slumped, but still she walked with purpose. She hadn’t been sleeping, you knew that, because every night you stood outside her room to stand guard, you saw the light slip underneath her door and heard shuffling inside the room.

You open the big wooden doors that lead to her quarters, so she can step inside. You follow right behind her, lighting some candles to light up her room a bit. Before you announce your departure to the queen, now standing facing the balcony, you decide to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Your Grace?”, you ask softly. She doesn't answer, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts, so you try again.

“Alicent?”

The use of her name instead of her title makes her wake from her thoughts. She turns around and looks at you. It takes your breath away every single time. You knew it wasn't right, she was your boss, the queen of the seven kingdoms, but you couldn’t help it. Every time you laid eyes on the Dowager queen, you couldn’t help but admire her beauty.

“Yes?” she responded curtly, though there was kindness in the way she spoke to you.

You decide to speak, all might it be out of line. “You should get some rest”

“Rest...” Alicent echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "I wish I could, but duty does not pause for the queen's exhaustion." The weight of duty was immense, and the thought of rest seemed like a luxury she could not afford in times like these. Yet, the truth was that her body was beginning to buckle under the strain. Her husband, the king, was very ill, and his duties had become hers.

"But... I suppose you are right," she added, acknowledging the wisdom in her guard's words. "I cannot lead if I am weakened."

“Ill draw a bath for you, your grace” you propose. It was so late when the two of you came back from the council that her handmaidens had already retreated back to their homes.

“Alright,” Alicent answered quietly, a hint of relief creeping into her voice, “Thank you.”

Without another word, you remove the heavy layers of your armor to be able to help her out. Making your way to the bronze tub in the corner of the room, you start by heating up the water. Filling the water with oils, the sweet fumes of which filling the room with a relaxing smell.

"I... I will need some help removing my dress." Alicent spoke up. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but her words were tinged with an underlying fatigue.

“Of course, your grace”, you say, as you try not to think about the proximity in which you will be to the queen. The two of you have been close before, of course, you were her sworn sword, her protector. But never like this. Never just the two of you, confined in her bedchambers, nonetheless.

Alicent nodded her appreciation, thankful that she would not have to struggle alone with the intricate laces and ribbons of her dress. As she stood by the tub, the scent of rose oil wafted through the air, a soft fragrance to soothe her stress.

“I do not wish to burden you with my... personal matters." Despite trying to keep her composure as queen, at that moment Alicent felt a sense of vulnerability, as if the queen’s facade of regal authority had slipped away.

“You do not burden me, your grace”, you say softly. “I'm happy to help.”

“Can I?”, you ask her softly for permission to start untying the laces of her intricate green dress. It was absolutely breathtaking. A deep dark green, decorated with lace and stones. It must have cost a fortune. The contrast of her green dress and the brown of her eyes, that shimmered in the light of the candles around the room and made it look like flowing honey, made your head feel foggy.

Alicent nodded, “Yes, you may,” she replied politely. It was almost a whisper. She was slightly taken aback by your question. It seemed so simple, but to the queen it wasn’t. Her body was never hers, she had never been asked to be touched before, and your simple question of permission made her heart warm. The two of you always had this sort of tension. The air feeling thicker when you got close. You spend a lot of time together, since you were her personal guard, but somewhere along the way you created a special bond. The two of you didn't speak a lot, but Alicent knew you were loyal to her family, but mostly to her, and always stood by her, no matter what. You made the Queen feel things she hadn’t felt since Rhaenyra and her were young.

As you approached, Alicent presented her back to you, the laces of her emerald green gown flowing down her waist like intricate strands of thread. The Queen's breath hitched slightly as her guard gently removed the complex knots, the feeling of your strong hands touching her being strangely soothing to her.

And as you worked on undoing the laces, Alicent's breath grew softer as the tension from her dress lessened. The queen's back was bared for you to see, you gulped when you saw the smooth skin of her back being presented to you. The room being filled by the smell of rose petals and the steam from the bath, representing the growing tension between the two of you.

Your fingertips brush slightly against the queen's back as you remove the last of the laces. Taking a step back, you allow Alicent her space to undress further.

Alicent gracefully let her dress fall down, pooling on the stone floor like cascading waves. The queen's pale skin contrasted against the deep emerald-colored fabric, and as she stood in her smallclothes, the queen felt a strange sense of vulnerability. 

She could feel her guard's gaze upon her back, but there was something strangely comforting by the presence of someone who didn't seek to take advantage of her body or her power, but simply to serve and protect.

Letting out a quick cough, you turn around with your cheeks reddening, so she can rid herself of the last layer and get into the bath.

With her guard's eyes turned away, Alicent slipped out of her smallclothes and stepped into the awaiting bathtub. The warm water enveloped her body, and some of the day's exhaustion melted away in its embrace. As she settled into the bath, the queen sighed softly, relishing in the feeling of clean, warm water against her skin.

The moment you turn back around, your breath hitches. Although the cloudy water hides most of her body, you have never seen her like this, and your imagination runs wild about what hides beneath the rippling service of the water. You quickly shake your head to get rid of the inappropriate thoughts about the queen.

“Ehm, ill leave you to it then, your grace”, you say as you try to look away from her naked figure. Once you pick up you armor and leave for the door, a soft voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait,” Alicent's voice interrupts you, “stay.” There is a flicker of longing in her eyes as she speaks out to you.

You feel like you are in a dream right now. “Excuse me, your grace?”, you ask to make sure you heard the Queen correctly.

Alicent repeats her words, her voice tinged with a subtle plea. "Stay. Please... stay with me."

The queen's gaze remains fixed on you, and the vulnerability in her eyes is a sharp contrast to the regal composure that she so often wears around the castle. 

You drop your stuff to the floor, your gaze never leaving hers. “Where do you want me?”

She points to an antique stool next to the bathtub. “Just keep me company for a while.”

The queen's voice is laced with sincerity and a touch of exhaustion, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of tenderness and longing.

Without another word, you walk over to the stool next to the bath and take a seat, arm resting on the side of the tub. Alicent leans back against the bathtub, relishing the warmth and comfort it provides.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

As you sit in silence for a moment, you try not to let your eyes wander to her barely covered body. Alicent remains quiet, her gaze drifting to the surface of the water, which slightly shifts and ripples along with the movements of her body. The heat from the water and the rose-scented steam fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere. The queen's body is mostly hidden, and yet the gentle swell of her curves are visible through the water, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to her presence.

When you catch yourself looking at her body, you quickly look up, only to be met with her brown eyes already on yours. Alicent notices your gaze upon her, and a soft blush tints her cheeks. Neither of you look away, and for a moment, the tension in the air thickens.

“I'm sorry your grace, that was inappropriate”, you say as you go to stand up, but she grabs your sleeve as not to let you leave her side

"It's alright, please... stay." Alicent's voice is a tender whisper, and as she grasps the sleeve of your shirt, her touch is gentle but insistent. Her eyes hold a faint hint of vulnerability. Without breaking their eye contact, Alicent gently tugs on your sleeve, a silent plea for you to stay. Her touch makes your breath hitch, and you sit back down, not leaving her gaze

Alicent's eyes continue to hold yours with a mix of vulnerability and comfort. The heat of the water, the scent of the oils, and the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you create a sense of closeness that goes beyond mere companionship.

Alicent's hand remains gently resting on the edge of the tub, within your reach. So you decide to make the first move. “Tell me if you want me to stop, your grace”, you say, before letting your fingertips softly touch her hand, slowly dragging them up the length of her arm.

Alicent's heart skips a beat as she feels your touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes follow the movement of your hand with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. After a moment of excruciating silence, she finally whispers, "Keep going," in a low, enticing voice. The queen felt like her skin is set ablaze, and she leans into your touch ever so slightly.

When you suddenly stand up, Alicent wants to protest, but before she can speak up, you move the stool behind her and sit back down. Your hands make contact with her shoulders, massaging away the tension of the day. A soft sigh of contentment escapes Alicent's lips as she feels the firm yet gentle pressure of your hands on her shoulders and neck. The queen's body relaxes under your touch, the tension, and stress of the day melting away as you work out the knots and kinks in her muscles. Your touch is soothing, and the queen closes her eyes, savouring in the sensations.

As you keep massaging her body you move your head closer to her ear. "Would you like me to keep going your grace?" you speak in a hushed tone.

At your quiet whisper, a shiver runs down Alicent's spine, and her response comes in a low and breathless voice. "Yes," she whispers, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Keep going...please.."

As your fingertips work their magic, the queen leans further back into your embrace, her body surrendering to the sensations you create. Sliding one of your hands over her shoulder, you move it towards the water. The queen's body responds to your ministrations, her chest rising and falling slightly as she lets out a soft gasp. The mixture of pleasure and excitement is undeniable as your fingers graze against her soft skin.

Alicent's breath hitches as your hands make contact with her breast, the sudden intimacy and sensation sending a jolt of desire through her body, towards her core. Her back arches slightly at your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Just relax, Alicent." you speak up. "I've got you."

Your other hand mirrors the one on already on her breast and you begin to massage her chest, teasing her by sliding your hands across her nipples. When her breathing becomes more ragged, your movement become bolder. Playing with her nipples makes the Queen moan and mewl softly. You decide these sounds might be the holliest of things you have ever experienced. Kissing her neck, you can feel her pulse quicken. Never had Alicent felt such pleassure as she did now. Never had she been taken care of like this, being pleassured without being demanded something in return.

Alicent sits up more, exposing her chest to you. The top of her back that wasnt against the tub, now pressed against your front. One of your hands abandons her nipple and traverses lower under the water. When you reach her intimacy, the Queen holds in her breath. Cupping her pussy, you can feel how wet she is, even while she is submerged in the tub.

As Alicent turns her head back and to the side, you stare into her big doe eyes. Her mouth hangs open slightly as your palm slowely starts rubbing her clit. The Queen's soft sighs turn into moans and curses as the friction increases.

The hand that was still playing with her nipples, moved to her face, pulling her closer so you lips were mere inches apart. You press your lips to hers in a seering kiss, and at the same time you push a single diget inside of her. Alicent moans into the kiss, but returns it feverishly, her hand tugging at your shirt, pulling you closer. You have to try not to fall into the tub with her.

The moment you start pumping you finger inside of her, she loses it. God, if you knew the Queen of Westeros would be this loud in bed, you would have made the first move ages ago.

"Please, please, please, please..." she says over and over again, the words spilling from her lips like a prayer.

"Shhh, ive got you." you reply, adding a second finger into her, slowly picking up the pace with which you fucked her. Some of the water violently splashing over the tub by now.

You could practically hear the seams of your shirt ripping, with the force Alicent was clawing at you. Your tounge explored her mouth as your fingers kept working their magic underneath the water.

"I- Im gonna..."

"Cum for me, your Alicent" you interupt her.

And like clockwork, Alicent came undone all over your fingers. Her back arching out of the water, a loud moan of your name filling the empty space. And as you let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, you litered her skin with kisses. Showing her your love and loyalty. Not to her family, but to her and only her.

She shuddered when you pulled your fingers out of her. Pulling them out of the water and straight into your mouth, cleaning your hand of her juices, moaning at the sweet taste. The Queen just stared at you with wide eyes.

"Thank you...for that." Alicent spoke first after she had regained her breath. A rosy tint spreading across her cheeks.

"It was my pleasure, your grace." you anwer with a slight smirk. "The water is getting cold, let me help you out."

Alicent stood up in the tub, slightly emberassed to show her body to you, even after the activities the two of you just did. She never found herself quite attractive, her body in particular. It was made to bare children, nothing more. Thats the thought she had grown up with. But now, standing naked in that tub, with you staring at her like she was the most beautifull woman that had ever set foot on the earth, she felt like she wasnt just a tool for men to use and abuse. She felt seen and loved.

You lifted her out of the tub like she weighed nothing and pulled a large towel around her naked frame. Rubbing you hands over her arms to help her dry off. You let her dry herself off fully as you go over to blow out most of the candles, letting just a few lit for when she sleeps.

Standing back infront of her, Alicent had now dressed herself in her nightgown. You push a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face, before kissing her one last time. For all you knew, this moment would be a once in a lifetime. Where the two of you would not speak of this ever, or you would wake up tomorrow to guards dragging you infront of a dragon to be its breakfast for what you just did to the Queen of Westeros. The kiss was short, but her lips felt heavenly on your own.

Alicent leans into the kiss. She felt like a teenager again. Deep down she knew this was wrong, but right now she had never felt this good.

"You should get some sleep" you say. "its late and you have a long day tomorrow."

"You are right" she says before kissing your cheek and climbing into bed.

"You can't stay, can you?" she asks. She knows the answer, but still sounds hopefull.

"I can't, but i will be right outside your door." you answer as you put your armor back on to stand guard at the Queens door all night.

As you go to leave, she stops you one last time.

"y/n?"

You turn around and see her all cozy in her bed. "Yes?"

"Thank you" she says in the most sincere way possible.

"Anytime." you answer, before leaving her room and closing the door behind you. You didnt know what would happen between the two of you now, but you meant it. You would be there for her, always, no matter what. You had told her many times but after tonight, Alicent might truly believed that.

[mellifera38]

Bruh. As much as we talk about how funny and wacko the early era of tumblr was with its mishapocalypses and so on and so forth, I like tumblr a LOT more now. Like, if you were ace, you did NOT wanna look in the asexuality tag back then like holy fuck. It was a hostile battleground in there every day. The idea of being "aphobic" was in and of itself a joke. It was a perfectly valid stance on here. People would straight up make fake ace blogs just to say super cringy shit so ppl could screenshot and use it for an example of our attitudes and behavior. It was so fucking exhausting to be on here sometimes. Every day I had to block blogs I had followed for ages and legitimately liked and I remember being so upset All The Time like bitch I'm just existing here what the fuck man. Eventually I just kinda backed my ass right back into the closet and blacklisted any and all ace content. Just said fuck it I can't look at this shit anymore I'm done i dont even care what I am.

I glanced in the ace tag today bc it's ace day and was so relieved. Like I know it probably hasn't been bad like it was for awhile now but I'm still just like always expecting the worst from the internet. I still subconsciously stay removed from my own identity most of the time and take pains not to bring it up unless I'm with my close friends, and even then not very often. I still cautiously hesitate to say I'm part of the queer community even tho most people it seems are on board with the A in LGBTQIA being for Aspec. It could just be that with the tiddy ban most of the remaining perpetrators left or something but either way I'm really glad this place has become legitimately ace-positive. I wouldn't have believed it possible back then there was SO much vitriol aimed at us. Even if this site is actually just an echo chamber of aces shouting positivity at each other today, I'll still enjoy it. They didn't really let us do that back then. They invaded every tag we tried to make for ourselves. So happy Ace Day. Don't forget to appreciate every positive post that shows up on your dash.

[cheerfullycatholic]

Anyone else so tired of arguing about abortion? Like, I'm still just as on fire about it being banned completely and replaced with competent doctors who care about both of their patients and offering real life saving help, but the arguments are the worst

From my point of view, there's four kinds of arguments

1. The person values human life but doesn't believe that life begins at conception. You show them how it does, and they go on their way rethinking their position (very rare)

2. The person says some awfully dehumanizing, false thing about preborn babies, you ask them to explain it, and they get angry until someone gets blocked. Example;

"fetuses are parasites"

"how?"

"are you dumb? Look it up"

"you seem to know, I want your explanation"

"fuck you"

These people may or may not value human life outside of the womb, but they're so caught up in being defensive that they're not willing to listen to anything except the echo chamber they've been stuck in (Most common argument I get into and see)

3. The person is understandably concerned about abortion exceptions for high risk pregnancies. I don't mind these arguments, but these people tend to not listen when I tell them there are already life affirming solutions for both patients (second most common argument I get into)

4. The person blatantly doesn't value any human life but their own and will straight up say, proudly, "I know the fetus is a living human being, I will kill them anyway". This is the one I'm most concerned about because the only thing to argue is the value of human beings and that can't be argued. You can't force someone to not be selfish and value someone else's life, that's something they have to choose on their own, and we, people they hate, cannot help them (this one is becoming more common and it's concerning)

It's exhausting. Have any of you been in different kinds of arguments?

[hyperactively-me]

Gurlll. What if another big royal comes up to ghost and says basically ‘how much for ur queen’ … basically wanting to buy her off of ghost ? And he says she’s not for sale but he says “everything has a price”. Maybe he’s been stalking her and tells ghost that he knows her schedule and what she likes.

After that graves chapter I need more DRAMA and more borderline feral and protective ghost

oomph the dramaaa (also don’t mind me making up random ass characters and random ass places for this hahahaahaha)

warnings: time-period typical misogyny, stalking, man being a creep, physical violence

A new trade deal was being signed today, and a big one at that. You had been informed that an entourage of court members from a neighboring kingdom would be staying in Kastron during the duration of the final deal talks and signage. 

The arrival of King Valerian of Malcenite and his high-ranking entourage had been a spectacle you had greeted with the utmost politeness and grace. Simon had stressed the importance of the trade deal for Kastron, and you had been on your best behavior throughout their stay, despite a nagging sense that something was amiss. The trade deal was signed multiple days ago, much to everyone’s relief. Yet, for some odd reason, they’ve shown no signs of packing up to leave, even after already being in Kastron for over a week. 

“It’s been a week, and the trade deal has already been signed, what more do they want from us?” you whisper to Simon with a furrowed brow. “Their presence is starting to become…overbearing.”

He nods in agreement. Simon’s eyes reflect the same unease that gripped you. “I know, love. It’s rather odd…They’ve never given me reason to doubt them.”

“We should find out what Valerian wants, Si. I mean, it’s really bothering me—” 

Simon placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, interrupting your words. “You should get some rest. Let me deal with Valerian, dove.”

Your heart ached with concern, but you knew Simon was right. The weight of your responsibilities of the week had taken its toll, and you were exhausted. 

“Please,” he urges you.

With a reluctant nod, you allow him to take charge of the situation.

“Fine…but let me know if you need me for moral support. You know how I can get during arguments,” you say playfully, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

“I know all too well, love.” 

As you retreat to your chambers, the unease that had settled over the palace refused to dissipate. As you slipped into bed, thoughts of King Valerian’s ominous intentions gnawed at your mind, but you trusted in Simon's abilities to handle the matter.

As Simon shut the doors to your chambers, he signaled for two guards to stand watch at the door. With that, he moved swiftly to find King Valerian.

. . .

Ghost had found Valerian out in the gardens. The moonless sky felt oppressive, the air thick with tension. 

King Ghost faced King Valerian with an air of authority that matched his regal presence. Valerian's calculating eyes bore into Simon's, their unspoken conflict echoing within the stone walls. He wore a cloak of arrogance, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling confidence. 

“King Valerian,” Ghost began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of authority, "we appreciate your visit and the successful trade agreement we've reached. However, I must ask about the purpose of your extended stay in Kastron.”

Valerian's lips curled into a sly smile, his fingers grazing over a bush of flowers. Your favorite flowers. “Your concern is touching, King Ghost. I assure you, my presence is simply a desire to further strengthen the bonds between our kingdoms.”

Simon's gaze remained unwavering, his suspicion growing by the second. “Forgive me, but your continued stay has raised questions among my advisors and my wife. We find it unusual.”

Valerian leaned forward, picking a flower from the bush, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “Very well, King Ghost, I shall be forthright with you. The trade deal, as successful as it was, was not the only reason for my visit. There is something else I desire from Kastron.”

Simon's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin. “And what might that be?”

Valerian's eyes glittered with a dangerous intent. “Your queen. I have watched her closely during my time here, and I have become enamored with her grace and beauty. Not to mention her fiery personality. It��s not quite fit for a woman, but I can always fix that. I believe she deserves better, far beyond what you can offer.”

Simon feels like his heart has stopped beating. “Excuse me?” he replied with icy resolve, no longer worried about offending Valerian. 

Valerian chuckles darkly, bringing the flower up to his nose. “The queen. How much for her?”  

Simon's fingers curled into fists at his side, his voice firm and resolute. “My wife is not a thing. She is not for sale. How fucking dare you.”

Simon's chest heaved with the effort of restraining his fury, and his clenched fists trembled with the pent-up anger he held within. He approaches Valerian angrily, sizing him up with a deathly glare.

Valerian's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “Everything has a price, even loyalty.”

“I know her schedule, her preferences,” Valerian continues, emphasizing the flower in his hand. Your favorite. “I've followed her every move. All you need to do is name your price.”

In a flash, Simon unleashed his anger in a single, powerful blow. With a swift and precise motion, he delivered a sucker punch straight to Valerian's face. The blow sent the arrogant man stumbling backward, crashing into the nearby garden wall.

“Get the fuck out of my home. Deal is off. Never fuckin’ show your face here again, disgusting bastard.” 

Valerian, nursing his bruised face, was forcibly escorted back into the palace by Ghost. 

“You know I can do much, much, worse than a single punch. Don’t fuckin’ cross me. Don’t fuckin’ come near my wife and I ever again.”

Ghost showed no mercy, manhandling Valerian in front of the palace guards, who looked on with a mix of shock and confusion. 

Simon shoves Valerian forward harshly into the hands of a couple of guards.

“Take this bastard out of my sight. I want him gone. Now. He’s unwelcome in Kastron.”

. . . 

Inside the palace, Valerian's actions had been made known. Rumors always spread like wildfires throughout the palace staff, and none were willing to lift a finger to help him pack. Simon had made it clear that Valerian was not to set foot in the palace again, and the guards at the gate had orders to keep him out at all costs.

“I do not want the queen to find out about this blatant disrespect from palace rumors. Go about your work.” 

. . .

Simon’s fury began to subside, replaced by a deep concern for you. He knew he needed to speak with you about the incident before the palace gossip reached your ears. 

Simon quickly made his way to your shared private chambers, where you were engrossed in some needlepoint. Knocking softly on the door, he entered to find you hunched over in your sitting chair, your brow furrowed in concentration. You had recently taken an interest in learning needlepoint, taking time to practice simple designs in your spare time. You look up for a moment, but go back to focusing on your work. You do a double take when you notice the worry in his expression. 

“What’s wrong?” you inquire, your voice gentle but tinged with concern. 

Simon sighed deeply and closed the door behind him, anger still coursing through him. “I…I have some…unsettling news, darling.” 

You immediately perk up, setting your needlepoint aside, focusing your attention on Simon.

“Go on,” you say, worry building up in your chest. 

As he recounted his encounter with Valerian, your expression shifted from curiosity to a mix of pure anger and disbelief. You stood up with a start, face pinched with hostility. You grab Simon’s dominant hand, the one he had punched Valerian with, and inspected his knuckles. Bruised. You drop his hand and look at him. 

“How dare he,” your voice trembles with indignation, your eyes blazing with determination. 

Your fingers clenched into fists, mirroring the wrath that had overtaken you. “I will not tolerate this impertinence,” you declare, your voice resolute. “To think that he would even entertain the notion of buying me like, like some piece of property. He will fucking rue the day he ever uttered those words.”

And with that, you swiftly make your way towards the double doors, throwing the doors open with a resounding slam. 

Simon watched in silence as you threw the doors open. Who was he to stop his angry wife? No, he would see this out. He knew that you were not one to be trifled with, especially when it came to matters of respect and dignity.

The palace corridors echoed your footsteps as you strode with purpose, and Simon hurried to catch up to you. He also was not about to let you be alone with Valerian. 

“Darling—”

You didn’t pause or slow down as Simon called after you. Your determination to confront Valerian had taken hold of you, and you were not about to let this insult go unanswered. Simon quickly follows behind you, slightly nervous to see how this would pan out. 

You turn to a palace guard standing alongside a wall. “Where is he?”

“Th– the parlor room, your majesty, he’s about to leave—” 

In a flash, you change directions, marching towards the parlor room where Valerian was currently being kept under guard. As you approached the doors to the parlor room, you could hear the hushed whispers and see the curious glances of the palace attendants. Two guards stood in front of the doors.

“Step aside, please,” you command, hands coming to rest on your hips. 

The guards look at you for a moment, then at Simon standing behind you menacingly. 

“Your majesty, he is dangerous—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

They look at you, then step aside, pushing the door open for you. You practically stomp inside the room, anger rolling off you in waves. Valerian, who had been sitting alone in a corner, looked up with a mixture of surprise and unease as you entered the room. The air grew tense with anticipation as you faced him, your eyes flashing with anger.

“You!” you declared, your voice carrying the weight of authority. “How dare you insult us?”

Simon raises his eyebrows at your forwardness, but chooses to stay silent, crossing his arms over his chest. Valerian eyes Simon wearily before facing you. Despite being confronted by your fury, he couldn't resist the urge to maintain his arrogance. He rose from his seat slowly, deliberately. You don’t back away. 

“Insult you?” he retorted. “Oh, my dear queen, it was merely a business proposition. I thought perhaps you might appreciate the opportunity to upgrade from this provincial life.”

Simon immediately takes a few steps forward, anger seeping back into his bones. He couldn’t bear to see him speak to you in such a way. But, ever steadfast, you persevere. Your fists clenched at his ignorance, and your anger surged anew. Simon watched with growing amusement, knowing that Valerian's arrogance was pushing you to your limit.

“How deluded you must be,” Valerian continued, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “To think Ghost could satisfy your desires with his meager offerings.”

The room seemed to vibrate with tension as you struggled to contain your rage. Your eyes locked onto Valerian’s, and in a flash, you lashed out. Your fist connected with his jaw with a satisfying thud. Nowhere near close to Simon’s force, but it was yours. 

“Yeah, thought a weak woman such as myself wouldn’t retaliate?” 

Valerian's smirk vanished as he held his aching jaw, shock overtaking his features. The room fell into stunned silence, the guards wide-eyed at the unexpected turn of events. Simon suppressed a smirk, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for you, who had defended not only her own honor but also his own. Fuckin’ hell.

You march up to Valerian and grab his ear, yanking him down to your level. “My husband has been nothing but kind to me. Your suggestions of him being incompetent and a monster is far from the truth. He is one of the most loyal and honorable people I know. You’ll never be a third of the man Simon is. And I'm not a piece of meat for you to enjoy, you sick freak.” You let go of his ear. “Stay away from me. Stay away from my husband.” 

And with that, you turn out of the room. Simon stands there, gives Valerian a once over, then turns out of the room in silence. 

Simon turns to a couple of guards. “It’s time for him to leave. Remove him from Kastron.” 

With a bow, the guards turn to forcibly escort Valerian out of Kastron, forever. 

As Simon turned, he caught a glimpse of your gown turn the corner back to your chambers. He follows behind you once more, practically running to catch up to you. 

“Darling, slow down–” he calls out, and you stop in your tracks, turning to face him. “He’s gone now—” 

You stand there, your chest heaving as you fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. The adrenaline from your confrontation still courses through your veins. It was a distressing experience, but you know you did what was necessary to protect your honor and your marriage.

Simon reaches you, his concern deepening as he takes in your flushed face and labored breathing. He gently places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with worry. “Dove, are you all right? That was a brave thing you did back there…”

Your lower lip quivers for a brief moment, and you summon every ounce of your strength to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Crying in front of Simon is something you've never done before, and you're uncertain about how he would respond.

Simon notices the struggle within you, his eyes fill with empathy. He gently reaches out, his fingers softly brushing away a stray tear that escapes down your cheek. His touch is warm and reassuring, and he leans in to plant a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I– I’m fine, just frustrated, is all…I couldn’t stand by and let him insult us.” 

Simon’s expression softens as you move to hug him, pressing your wet cheeks into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you, offering comfort. “You're the strongest person I know,” he murmurs into your ear. “I'm so proud to have you as my wife.”

You hold onto Simon tightly, taking comfort in his strength. “I love you,” you whisper, feeling a sense of security in his arms.

. . .

Simon held you close that night, his arms wrapped protectively around you as you both lay in the comfort of your bed. The events of the day had taken an emotional toll on you, and you found solace in his warm embrace.

Pressed against his chest, your head rested on his shoulder, and his fingers traced soothing patterns on your back. In the silence, broken only by the gentle rustle of bedsheets and soft breathing, you felt the weight of the world slowly lifting off your shoulders. The words you'd spoken to Valerian, the confrontation, and the emotional release afterward—all of it seemed like a distant memory now.

Simon’s heartbeat, steady and reassuring, echoed in your ear, lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Wrapped in his arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a partner who would always stand by your side.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[enchi-elm]

the thing is, like, I end up thinking "I just want to get lost in another romance story" and "historical fiction was so immersive and transporting"

and then I actually think about getting as involved with a culture and time period the way I got involved with the American Revolution and everything inside me just closes up.

I had this idea in my head about kind of an aviation story with an older female pilot and a young Indigenous pilot (inspired as I was by that 99s cover with Mary Riddle) and setting that in Canada in the 1910s-1930s somehow...

which is the right era I want to explore for aviation but places me smack over WWI or into the horrific interwar confusion and Great Depression and I am really really burned out on writing about war.

So that's a Later project.

Which leaves me with no real New Thing other than my religious thriller, which saps all kinds of energy.

Which leaves me at a bit of a loss at what to write.

I mean, I can write, write whatever but that's not the same as having something to come back to day after day and really nurture.

Bleh...

doing cultural research for my new novel (a religious thriller), a story that I on a weekly basis question whether I want to continue, and I swear I can only read up on the relevant material for, like, an hour at a time before I get a headache and have to stop

I could honestly be writing anything else. I should probably be writing anything else.

I could be writing a lovely history fiction story instead if I put my mind to it and came up with something.

It's just that this new novel is so far in its development already I'm loathe to abandon it. And I don't really want to abandon it, I just wish it were about anything else

[dykedvonte]

why do you hate Joshua Graham or Honest Hearts so much?

This DLC and character represents a bigger issue with fandom spaces I have but particularly fallout fandom in general.

Fallout tends to tackle a lot of topics controversial and not. The first two games it’s heavy cause they are the most satirical and direct with how anti-war, nationalism and etc… they are. 3 loses this as it’s very clear once you play or learn about all the games that Todd and a bunch of guys at Bethesda just liked the 50s post apocalyptic aesthetic and refuse to actually critique the ideals of the time period like the earlier titles.

New Vegas is the game that really gets back into it a degree it almost seems like it’s taking too much on. There are things done exceedingly well while other things are done horribly wrong . I’ve made posts about it before and plan to make a big series of posts (it’s a lot of writing) but my biggest gripe is with Honest Hearts and all the gross and white savior esque depictions it has of indigenous peoples. The entirety if FNV does not do the injustices faced by indigenous people correctly on any count. My two biggest complaints are with the Khans and the tribes in Zion but I’ll talk about the former on a different post.

Both characters of Daniel and Joshua are the most accurate depiction of white saviors I’ve seen and I hate how the DLC tries to justify and defend them. The DLC treats Joshua like this man who has repented for his past actions when he is just retracing his steps after his cruelty bit him in the ass. He was one of the worst parts of the Legion and it is all but explicitly stated that if you don’t force him to be non-violent he will turn the tribes of Zion into the legion 2.0. The Dead Horses and the Sorrows are horribly infantilized by both Daniel and Joshua who both use them for self serving purposes guised by religious duty. The White Legs are the horrible stereotype of violent and savage indigenous and I personally think a lot of their interlinking with Ulysses, his hair and Ulysses character in general are distasteful and very telling of how BIPOC or POC where involved.

But outside of the game it’s the weird obsession people have with these characters ideologies and trying to make them seem more interesting/philosophical than they are. Tumblr is an echo chamber and many fans of Fallout are not the people on this site. Many people are not educated in the issues these characters convey and how poorly they do or used these characters as a poor introduction for their takes. Contrary to what a lot of people believe in, fallout has a prediomeny white cis male fanbase. More importantly a large portion of the fanbase is white.

You can joke how FNV made you trans or see the numbers on post/fics or diverse headcanons but these are kiddy numbers compared to the millions that consume the franchise and aren’t in those more aware spaces or don’t engage in the spaces the same way someone like me does/has to. Their views shape a lot more than people realize and it’s exhausting to be in a space where people don’t correct the more subtle yet toxic aspects of it but also adopt them into some weird quirky view point on the characters or issues. Some people don’t realize and some people don’t care.

My main issue is just the idolizing of these sort of thing in this fandom space and people try to acts like a game like fallout whose tagline is “War never changes” and has never had a game not revolve around political or militaristic factions issues isn’t that deep or doesn’t relate to real issues. I think it’s mainly caused by how over powered you can become and how you can strong arm your way past these learning moments as majority of people who play this game do play it as a power fantasy where they can do so as they please (which of course, go ahead it’s fun) but never take in parallels or lessons in the story as if it was just another first person shooter.

Also like another personal gripe is Cazadores spawn like hell whenever I’m there and I have not found a mod that works to mod them out so I have to play Indigenous Racism the DLC while getting jumped by giant wasps WHILE helping Mormons. Like I cannot catch a break.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Wildest dreams, pt. 24

Summary: Y/N’s struggling to accept what her future brings and Paul shares a possible solution with her.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, talking about death

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Very few things in life are precious to Y/N. Her father and Paul are at the top of the list, her friends share the 2nd place, and the necklace her mother bought her for her 10th birthday is a close third. She’s never valued material things over the heart, placing her valuables in each chamber it possesses, leaving one open for the children she planned on having with Paul in time. 

Time…another thing she took for granted, a valuable she never truly took into consideration. When you’re young, you believe time comes in abundance. It fools one to waste it, to wait for things to happen instead of taking that leap off the cliff with the hope that the landing will be painless. 

All the time she thought she had is now slipping through her fingers like sand. They could have lived a thousand more precious moments together, and started a family…all of it is gone now, replaced by the paralyzing fear of leaving her loved ones in despair once destiny claims her. 

Paul can promise he and the pack will protect her, but in reality, time waits for no one, and destiny listens to no man – not even a shapeshifting one.

Y/N didn’t want to worry him further, trying to appear strong for his well-being as days pass, but once the bathroom door closes and she steps into the shower, there is no need to pretend. She’s been holding back tears since their talk at the beach, showing a brave front for Paul’s sake, but she can’t stop the tears from flowing anymore.

As the water cascades down her trembling body, Y/N leans against the wall of the shower. Sliding to the tiled floor, she buries her face in her hands as sobs wrack her body. The tears come hard and fast, mixing with the water as they meet their end on the palms of her hands. Clasping a hand over her mouth, she tries to muffle her cries, not wanting Paul to hear, but the sound of her sobs echoes off the tiles. She can only hope the sound of her breaking is drowned out by the steady stream of water.

Slowly, the warm water becomes colder and she realizes she’s been gone for too long. Even if he hadn’t heard her cry, he’d wondered why she was not out of the shower yet. The tears have stopped, replaced by dry heaving and a sense of exhaustion. She draws a deep breath, attempting to steady herself but it doesn’t help. Her arms are wrapped around her pulled-up knees, head resting back on the wall. Looking up, she holds her breath instead. Deep breaths never helped her panic attacks in the past, but holding her breath would clear her mind enough to find a focus, something to anchor her. 

Watching the water falling on her shaking body, feeling the coldness of each drop, allowing it to ground her. The weight of the world sits heavy on her shoulders as she forces herself to stand. First, she sat forward on her knees, the icy cold water hitting her back causes her to hiss but it also brings clarity. It’s as if she’s sobering up, her senses returning to her full force all at once. Closing her eyes, she holds her breath once more. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Gasping for breath, she grabs onto the shower door, forcing it open. Pulling herself up by the handles, she grimaces when the door creaks as if it will break. She can’t stand on her own otherwise, her legs are numb from the cold water, and calling Paul for help would be worse than a broken shower door. If he sees her like this, it will break whatever’s left of his sanity.

One step at a time, she tells herself. It’s going to be fine. 

Moving to the sink, she glances at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are red and puffy, giving away all she wishes to hide. With quivering lips and chattering teeth, she wraps a towel around herself. Swallowing thickly, she catches a glimpse of her engagement ring in the mirror. Looking down at it, she lets out a shuddered breath. The world won’t end if she dies, it’ll keep on spinning with or without her, but it will end for Paul. 

The pack didn’t hurt Reneesme because Jacob imprinted, because killing her meant killing him.

Will her death kill Paul? 

It’s the last thing she’d want. He had a life before her, he deserves to have a life after her too. He could still find another to have the family they dreamed of. There’s no reason for him to perish with her. It would be a worse tragedy to rob the world of a soul as beautiful as Paul’s. 

Snorting, her lips spread in a grin. Once upon a time, she was so scared of the way she felt about Paul that she convinced herself he was the worst person on the face of the earth, that she cannot stand his existence, yet she can’t imagine this world without Paul. She’d gladly follow death wherever it wants to take her, as long as Paul is given a full, happy life. 

Paul hesitates before knocking on the bathroom door. He’s been sitting in front of it for nearly an hour, painfully aware of every sob that passed through her lips. She clearly didn’t want to worry him, as if she forgot he feels all her emotions too. Despite his heart aching, longing to hold her, he’ll indulge her wish to keep her sorrow hidden. He doesn’t want to intrude, choosing to stay close by in case she seeks him for comfort.

“Are you okay?” he calls out softly, knocking on the door. He heard when the water stopped running, assuming she’d be out soon, but it’s concerning how long it’s been since then. “You didn’t fall or pass out in there, did you?” Paul jokes.

Silence from the other side of the door is haunting as he leans his forehead on the door. Biting his lower lip, Paul sighs. He knocks on the door again, this time a little louder. “Please open up. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Pausing for a moment, he frowns. If they were a normal couple, perhaps he’d wait longer or he’d insist more, but they’re not. Their time is counting down to 0 a little faster and he can’t bury his head in the sand and ignore it anymore. He knows there’s no time to waste.

Slowly, he opens the door, finding Y/N leaning on the sink, her back turned to the mirror, her eyes trained on her ring. 

Without saying a word, Paul crosses the distance between them. Wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace, he bites his tongue as the coldness of her skin reminds him of the coldness he feels when he holds her dead body in nightmares.

“I’m so sorry”, Paul whispers, his voice soothing. ���I wish I never told you.”

Pulling back, she shakes her head. “I wish you told me sooner”, she says softly, her voice shaky. 

“What good would it do?” Paul raises his brows. “I know you think we could have gotten married and had kids by now, but I don’t agree.”

“You don’t?”

“No, because I knew all this time. Since the start, I’ve known and the last thing I’d want is to bring kids into this situation.” Cupping her cheek, his lips press in a thin line. “I’d love for us to have that, I would, but having kids knowing they’ll be orphaned would be cruel.”

“Stop saying that”; she says through gritted teeth. “You won’t be dying with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you”; she reminds him. “It’s all a guess based on no tangible proof.”

“Being away from you is hell when you’re working on calls at work. If that’s hard, I can’t imagine you dying will make me want to live.”

Closing her eyes, she exhales loudly. “That’s exactly what I’d want. I want you to live, to keep going, to fall in love, to find happiness.” Pushing at his shoulders, she huffs. “Why are you so eager to follow me into the dark?”

“Because I’d rather be in the dark with you, than alone in the light.”

Their eyes meet, a meaningful silence filling the air. They’ve been together for years now, long enough for the love between them to grow stronger, almost palpable. It is more than just an imprint bond, it’s always been more when it comes to Paul and Y/N. Even before, Paul yearned for her like a heart yearns for a beat and whether she likes to admit it or not, she needed Paul in her life like she needs oxygen to breathe. She never felt complete before letting the love she bears for him fully settle in her chest.

“I love you”, he says, his eyes never leaving hers. “There’s no world in which I’d ever fall in love with anyone else. I’ve loved you since before I knew what love is, I’ve loved you when you hated me, I’ve loved you when I hated me”, he smiles gently. “It’s always been you and no one else. I don’t think my heart’s made to love anyone but you. Whether I am forced to bear this existence without you or not doesn’t change anything. You are my source of happiness, of love, of life.”

Their eyes remain locked together, a sense of sadness and inevitability washing over them. All they can do is promise they’ll love each other fully and completely until the very end, cherish every single moment, and ignore the weight of their fate. Even beyond this lifetime, their love will last, they’ll be soulmates even in death.

“What are we going to do”, she sniffles. “If it were just me, I’d accept it. I would. But I don’t want you to die too. There has to be a way to stop this.”

And Paul knows there is…one way. He’s considered it before, though no one in the pack would agree. But, if all else fails, there’s something despicable he could resort to, but he can’t be sure what that would do.

“Maybe there is”, Paul frowns. “Do you what I told you about the Cullens?”

“You want her to be one of them”, Jacob growls out, interrupting the intimate moment. 

Standing in front of Y/N, Paul sets his glare on Jacob. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“I did”, Jacob narrows his eyes. “No one opened the door and I could hear you are home.”

“And that didn’t make you reconsider breaking in?”

“Can you stop”, Y/N’s voice is shaky, fragile. She’s using Paul as a shield, pulling at the towel tightly to cover herself. 

“He wants you to become a vampire”, Jacob raises his voice. “If there’s something worth fighting about, your humanity is certainly at the top of that list!”

“Leave”, Y/N insists. “I’m naked and cold and I need a damn minute with my fiancé, so please check on the pack first and we’ll talk later.”

With a snort, Jacob nods. Doing as Y/N requested, Jacob left Paul and Y/N alone. 

Passing by Paul, Y/N grabs a robe. Heading to the bed, she sits on her side, her eyes trained on an approaching Paul.

“Is that what you wanted to suggest?”

Nodding faintly, Paul sniffles. “Even if I failed, that could be a solid alternative.”

“You’d want me to turn into what you hunt?” Y/N grimaces. “You can’t stand the smell of vampires and I’m supposed to believe that will work fine for us?”

Swallowing thickly, Paul sits beside her. “Jacob doesn’t mind Reneesme’s smell.”

“Because he imprinted on her in that state. Our bond might never recover if I turn into a vampire. I might be nauseated by your smell or I might never be able to control my thirst enough to be there for my dad, for Embry or Quill. I’d have to leave La Push forever.”

“I’d leave with you.”

“And what about our plans to have kids? I’d never be able to give you any!”

“I don’t need kids, I need you,” Paul interjects, taking her hand in his. “That’s all I care about.”

“You say that now, but who knows how you’ll feel in the future. And how long can you even live? I know you can slow down aging, but for how long? I don’t want to live for an eternity without you!”

“Y/N”, he tries but she shakes her head.

“I don’t want to be a vampire. If I am to die, I will die as a human as I lived. Immortality doesn’t appeal to me. It’s a complication with too many variables we cannot predict and the last thing I’d ever want is to risk what we have. I don’t want to taint us or your memory of me.”

“It won’t ruin us”, Paul says quietly.

“You can’t promise me that and I don’t”, she pauses, her heart bleeding at the sight of Paul’s devastation by her response. But she can’t help but think that his idea would be their end. If she must die, at least she’ll have him in her heart and not thirst for blood and he will be her last thought, not desire to kill.

“I don’t want to be one of them. Ever.”

_______________________

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PART 25

[fan-goddess]

it ain't a chance that I am letting this chance go, so if I may... for kinktober, may I ask for alicent hightower x religious? because the religious guilt is hitting me fully ugh.

thank you and have a lovely day!

Authors Note: I myself am not religious, so I may get certain aspects of it wrong. If I do and I offend you, please send me an ask or dm me directly if you’re not comfortable saying so in the comments.

Am I entirely happy? No. Does this have less smut than I would like for a kinktober post? Yes. But I just hope I do my best as this’ll be my first Alicent fic so I hope I do my little angsty closeted lesbian justice

Warnings: Sex, religious guilt, very closeted alicent, reader is female,

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @sweettastemakerpenguin, @mochi-rose, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

Ever since you were a young girl, you were always taught in what was right and what was wrong. You were taught that a husband is the only thing you should look for in your life, and that as a woman, it was your responsibility to give him his heirs and to carry on his legacy.

Yet you were a mere girl of ten and three when you began to realise what it was that made you so different from the other ladies.

For years, you had never found yourself interested in the typical lady talk. What man looked most handsome or which knight looked the most dashing in their uniform. For years you wondered if there was something was wrong with you.

Then, you arrived at Kingslanding to work as a handmaiden for the princess, and met the eyes of Alicent Hightower.

She was beautiful, and kind, and showed you how to do the things the other women sneered at you for whenever you tried to ask for help. She became your best friend. But in your head, she became so much more than that.

At the age of ten and four, a mere year after you’d been employed as a maid, you’d begun to hear the gossip of the kitchen staff who talked about how one of the ladies who’d recently been married to some unknown lord, would need to fulfil her own pleasure and seek her own desires. The words had confused you when you first heard them, as all you had been taught about the act of pleasure is that only a man typically was able to achieve it.

Though that next day, when all your chores had been completed, the words of the kitchen staff still echoed around in your mind. They could not be shaken no matter how many topics you tried to distract yourself with. So you went to the library and sought out books that could hopefully satisfy your curiosity.

When you left a couple hours later, your face had turned a light shade of pink, and if the head septa could look inside your head at that moment, you knew she’d condemn you to the deepest depth of the seven hells if she could.

That night, you touched yourself and reached self fulfilment for the first time in your life. Only you didn’t reach it with the thought of any of the knights, nor with any lord. Instead, you only reached it thinking of Alicent Hightower.

Many years had passed since that night, and you’d recreated it many a times since then. Though much to your horror and delight, you’d become much closer to Alicent ever since her marriage to the king. The princess had casted her aside soon after the betrothal was announced, and you made sure you were there to help Alicent pick of the pieces of her broken heart.

There were many a nights when she would come to your chambers straight after the king would summon her to his own, and she’d cry in your arms from sadness and exhaustion.

Every time you would hold her and soothe her with whispers of affirmation and kindness, and by the looks of bashfulness she’d send you every time you did it, you could tell she did not hear them often.

It was one of those nights when Alicent had first kissed you. Her tears had already soaked through the thin and cheap fabric of your nightgown, and you distinctly remember using one of your sleeves to wipe at any that had dripped to her chin.

“There there Alicent it’s okay. I will always be there for you, no matter what, through thick and thin, I will always be by your side. I would never leave you.” You had murmured as you placed a stray hair behind her ear.

She looked at you with hooded eyes, and the next thing you knew you were tasting salt on your lips. Your hands had somehow already knew to delicately hold her head, whilst your lips however were much less knowledgable. They moved clumsily without any real rhythm against Alicents own, and when she pulled to look at you, a mix of apologises and prayers spilled from red swollen lips faster than you could comprehend.

“I-I am so sorry my lady! T-the seven deems though who lay with the same sex as sinners!” Alicent exclaims before she runs from the room, leaving you in shock and slight giddiness from how the events have ultimately played out.

It goes like that for months. You would never kiss Alicent, she only kissed you when the emotions were hitting her all at once. Still, even though she’s the one who always initiates it, the act always brings tears to her eyes and solemn prayers on her lips as she’s the first to stop it.

That night, after another summon to the kings chamber, Alicent walked into your own like clockwork. She embraced you with quiet tears in her eyes, as unlike the first times, her mind has finally become numb with how many times she’s been forced to endure it.

Her body has already provided the king with a son and his wife. Yet she knew she must prepare for another, as her father whispered into her hair whilst she held her screaming daughter, there must be a spare.

Your thumb instinctively went to Alicents face to wipe her eyes of tears, and this time, neither of you knew who began to kiss who.

You expected Alicent to draw away after a few minutes, yet she appeared to continue. Her hands stayed locked in a grip on your body and her lips stayed frantic in their search for your taste.

“Let me feel loved…” She murmured against your lips, so silent you barely heard her.

“Whatever you wish for my love…” You murmured back. It was the first time you called her that out loud. Yet she seemed to show no true reaction to your sudden endearment. Or maybe she wished to ignore it…

You gently direct Alicent to lay on the bed, and slowly bring yourself to lay by her thighs. When you pull the length of her dress up and your hands make it halfway up her soft inner thigh, your eyes make frantic movements to her face, yet when you eventually make eye contact, she merely nods her head and makes a small plea for more.

Your fingers explore her body cautiously, and as you pull down her underclothes, a slight gasp escapes from you before you could stop it. The queen of the seven kingdoms is revealed in-front of you, and when your fingers enter her slowly and you hear slight mewls of pleasure from above, your head begins to dizzy with it all.

One hand thrusts your fingers inside of her whilst the other holds down Alicents hips as she lifts them in her pursuit of this unfamiliar pleasure. Though you cannot help yourself in that moment from kissing the inner skin of her soft thighs as a way to let her know you were here for her.

When your head looks back up, you can see that her lips were trapped in the confinements of her teeth, looking as if they were drawing blood with how hard she bit down. Yet still, small noises escaped that made the area between your thighs ache for something more.

Your eyes flicker between the view of your soaking fingers to her eyes that have now shut tightly. Yet when you feel her clench tightly on your fingers as she presumably peaks, your hands retreat from her warmth, and your greeted with wet fingers you can’t find yourself able to stop from sucking on slightly, the slightly sweet yet also slightly tangy taste of her juices spreading on your tongue whilst you hum slightly in delight.

It’s sad that you can’t savour the moment. As one minute there is silence that consumes the two of you, and the next there is only the sound of frantic movements and rustles as Alicent quickly moves to kneel at the edge of the bed, her eyes clenched shut as her hands lock together in a prayer and her lips begin to repeat that all too familiar prayer you’ve heard so many times before.

You can only look to her in defeat, with exhausted tears building in your eyes, as she now looks to the ceiling and prays for forgiveness for her sins.

Yet you never ask her why she deemed your love such a sin, that she felt the need to indulge in it so much. Even if it seemed to be paining her so.

The reason you never ask you lover why she does this to herself, is because you loved her, and your mother always told you to never ever strike an arguement with the person you loved...

[glamphantasm]

OMxWhumptober Day 4 - Magic, Hallucinations, Sensory Deprivation

I dare not claim with any certainty what is real anymore, though my fingers tremble as they trace the cold stones of the tower floor. My mind is a shattered thing, a fragmented mirror reflecting a darkness too deep to understand, and somewhere within that fractured reality, the shape of Solomon lingers, the one whose name I fear to whisper even in my most fleeting thoughts.

This tower, this suffocating prison, has no end and no beginning; it is a labyrinth, not of walls and rooms, but of the mind, a place where time does not move, where memory disintegrates like ash scattered by an unseen wind. I kneel now in the dark, my body shaking with every breath, but I cannot tell whether the trembling is born of the cold air or the madness that has wormed its way into my very soul.

"You’re still alive in my head," I murmur to the void, my voice weak and foreign in my own ears. But who am I addressing? Solomon, or some ghost of my former self that lingers in the corners of my consciousness, a shadow of what I once was?

I am, or was, his apprentice. There was a time when the arcane was not a nightmare, when I sought knowledge beneath his tutelage with the earnest fervor of youth. I say this, as though it were decades ago, instead of months. I remember the stars then, their pale, indifferent light filtering through the high windows of the tower, back when I could still look upon them without trembling. Back when reality held firm beneath my feet.

Now, I cannot even recall the shape of the stars.

Solomon has consumed my world, if there is indeed a world left to be consumed. I speak of him as though he is a man — a sorcerer, yes, but still a creature bound by flesh and blood. But that is the trick, isn’t it? The first of his many illusions. Solomon is not a man. Not as we understand men. He is a eidolon given form, a force whose essence stretches far beyond the realms of understanding. It took time to learn this, to feel the truth creeping in through the cracks in my mind. The more I learned of his magic, the more I realized the depths of his cruelty — not just in the torment he inflicted on my body, but in the way he unraveled my sanity, thread by thread, until nothing of myself remained.

The void where I kneel now was once a room. A simple chamber, where we practiced the conjuring of spirits, the weaving of ancient runes. But it has since become something else, something unrecognizable. The edges of reality blur here, warping and twisting in ways I cannot comprehend. I see walls that pulse as if alive, their surfaces shifting like the flesh of some unnameable beast. Shadows writhe in the corners, their movements too fluid to belong to anything mortal. When I blink, they vanish, only to return when I am too exhausted to fight the visions any longer.

Solomon’s voice slithers into my mind, as it always does, a low murmur that echoes through the very marrow of my bones. "You are nothing without me," he whispers. "You are merely an echo of what I allow you to be."

He is right. I have no illusions left about who I am — or what I have become. The days of defiance are long gone, ground to dust beneath the weight of his will. There is no escape from him, no end to the horrors he inflicts. His magic twists my senses, bending the very fabric of existence until I can no longer tell what is real and what is a hallucination.

There were others once, weren’t there? I remember — or think I remember — figures who moved through my life with warmth and kindness. They may have been friends. They may have been my family. But the memories are like fog, distant and elusive, slipping away the moment I try to grasp them. Sometimes I hear their voices, faint whispers in the back of my mind, calling my name, offering me salvation. But I cannot trust those voices. They are too distant, too unreal. I wonder if they ever existed at all.

I am alone in this place. Alone with Solomon.

The deprivation chambers are the worst, though it is difficult to say why they terrify me more than the rest of the tower. Solomon places me in them often — dark, silent rooms where I float in nothingness, where my body feels weightless and numb, and where the boundaries of my mind slowly unravel. It is there that I am most lost, drifting in an eternal, cosmic abyss that stretches far beyond the confines of the tower.

In those moments, I am certain that I touch something vast, something incomprehensible. It whispers to me in a language older than time, its voice an eldritch hum that vibrates through the void. And I — broken, shattered thing that I am — listen. I understand. The universe is not what we think it is. There are forces beyond the stars, beyond reality, forces that laugh at the fragile minds of men.

Solomon knows this. He has touched those forces. He is their conduit, their emissary in this world, and I — I am his vessel.

“You cannot be saved,” his voice echoes in the abyss. “There is no one here, no powers that will come for you. There is only me. Only my will. You will know nothing else.”

My mind slips further with every passing moment. His magic has spread its roots deep into my psyche, warping my thoughts, my perceptions. There is no difference between hallucination and reality anymore. Solomon speaks, but his words are everywhere, filling the dark spaces, pressing into me until I feel my consciousness unraveling. How long have I been in this room? Hours? Days? Years? I do not know.

And then I see the stars again.

They shimmer faintly above me, their cold light piercing through the suffocating blackness of the chamber. But they are not the stars I remember. No — these stars are wrong, alien, their patterns twisted into impossible geometries. My heart races, but my body is too weak, too broken to respond. These stars speak, their voices low and hungry, resonating with Solomon’s power. I hear their promises — promises of freedom, of release from this torment. But their promises are lies. They offer only oblivion, a descent into the nameless void from which there is no return.

The hallucinations blur together. Faces from a past I can no longer trust appear before me — specters of those who once loved me, perhaps. They reach for me, their eyes wide with terror, but when I try to touch them, they vanish into mist. They are no more real than I am.

"You belong to me," Solomon’s voice calls again, and I know it is the only truth left. He is more than my master. He is the gatekeeper to something far worse than death, and I — I am already lost.

I see now that there is no end to this madness. The tower, the void, the stars — they are all parts of the same cosmic nightmare, a reality twisted beyond reason, where time and space mean nothing, where my very soul has been claimed by forces I cannot name. Solomon has broken me, utterly and completely.

And in my brokenness, I see the truth: I am nothing.

I kneel before him, and I weep, but there is no comfort in my tears. Only the cold, eternal gaze of a sorcerer who is not a man, but a reflection of the madness that lies at the heart of the universe.

There are no gods here. Only Solomon.

And I am his, forever.

[minxmut-cafe]

4.Tides of uncertainty.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Genre: Fantasy Au.

Authors note: HERE is the 4TH chapter! I've also opened a Kofi page so if you're interested in my writing your support would be appreciated. I've been brainstorming how to form a closer bond between the maid and Jimin. If you have any ideas let me know down below and be sure to like or reblog!! My commissions and requests are also now open so if there is any one else you want me to write about ask away!! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!!

General Warning: Smut, crude language, angst, fluffy, gorey themes, lil bit of torture.

Summary : In the kingdom of Solaria, Prince Jimin is caught in a web of secrets, darkness, and ancient power. When a mysterious maid enters his life, he's drawn into an intricate tale of betrayal, loss, and a curse that binds a forgotten princess to the depths of the ocean. As tensions rise between the five powerful tribes, Jimin discovers a hidden connection between the princess, a siren, and his own fate-one that could unravel the balance of the entire world.

With the Abyss calling, and the truth slipping just beyond his reach, Jimin must navigate treacherous waters, confront his past, and uncover the secrets that tie him to the ocean's depths. But the more he learns, the deeper the darkness becomes, threatening to pull him under.

Will Jimin uncover the truth before it's too late? Or will the ocean's power drown them all

MASTERLIST

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Few moments later the healer returned, bringing a satchel that reeked of herbs and medicine.

The flickering lantern cast shadows that stretched and coiled across the stone walls like specters, breathing life into the stillness of the chamber. Jimin rested against a mountain of pillows, his body heavy from exhaustion yet his mind far too restless to succumb to the healer’s orders.

Her voice still echoed faintly in the air.

“Mud rose for the bleeding.” He stared at the dark red petals, their edges curling like dried blood.

“Sun clam for the speed of your recovery.” The pearlescent shimmer of the shell caught the light, glowing faintly, as though holding a fragment of the sun itself.

“And the bark of the white boar’s skin,” the healer had said with a note of finality, her gaze lingering on him as she handed over the bundle. “To give you dreamless sleep.”

He doubted the last part could deliver. His dreams were no longer mere figments of his imagination—they were something else entirely.

There was a pause, a hesitation he hadn’t missed, before she had added, “A new maid will attend you today. Your usual servant has fallen ill.”

The words had barely settled before she departed, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Or so he had believed.

The creak of the door pulled him from his reverie. His head turned slowly, his breath hitching in his chest as the figure entered.

She stepped into the room, her presence as quiet and unassuming as a shadow slipping through the cracks. Yet her very existence seemed to reshape the atmosphere, turning it dense and charged.

It was her.

The maiden from the well.

The woman he had followed into the kitchen.

The haunting figure from his dreams.

The wounds on his shoulder seemed to pulse, as though his body itself remembered her warning, her touch, her attack beneath the waters.

She carried a quiet darkness, one that didn’t just follow her but seemed a part of her, like smoke that clung to her skin. The faint glow of the lantern caught in her deep, endless eyes, their depths more haunting than the night sky.

“Your Highness,” she said, bowing with a practiced grace.

Jimin’s breath stilled. He sat up a little straighter, his every sense attuned to her movements.

“You’re…” His voice faltered. Not out of uncertainty—he knew exactly who she was—but because he wasn’t sure where to begin.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, calm and steady, as though the storm that raged within him was nothing more than a ripple in her vast sea.

“I have been sent to attend to you,” she said, her tone soft, her words carefully chosen. “Shall I begin?”

Jimin swallowed, the weight of her presence pressing against him like an unseen force. He wanted to ask her a thousand things, yet none of the words felt right.

“You know who I am,” he said quietly, his tone more a statement than a question.

Her lips curved—not into a smile, but into the faintest suggestion of one. Something sharp, edged with amusement, flickered briefly in her otherwise stoic expression. “Of course, Your Highness.”

His fingers tightened around the blanket draped across his lap. “And I know you,” he continued, his voice gaining a quiet resolve.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she moved to the table, her hands brushing against the herbs the healer had left behind. “I am but a servant,” she said finally, the words carefully devoid of emotion. “Nothing more.”

“Lies,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but sharp.

Her hands didn’t falter. If anything, the subtle amusement in her expression deepened, as though she were watching an animal stumble into a trap.

“I remember the well,” Jimin said, his tone softer now, almost contemplative. “You said… ‘names hold power.’ And then you left me there with nothing but questions.”

She didn’t turn, her focus fixed on her task.

“I remember the kitchen,” he pressed, his voice threading with a quiet wonder. “You stopped me from eating the blood berries and told me to return to where I belonged. And yet… you don’t seem to belong here either, do you?”

This time, she turned to him, her gaze steady and unwavering. “Don’t I?” she asked, her voice laced with something subtle and teasing, as though daring him to prove otherwise.

He hesitated. “I also remember the water,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, as though afraid to break the spell binding the room. “You warned me about the abyss. You told me to stay away.” He touched his shoulder lightly, where the wound still ached.

He hesitated again, then asked, almost tentatively, “Do you know… the creature I saw?”

At this, her head tilted ever so slightly, her movements deliberate. Her eyes glimmered with a quiet mirth, though her face remained stoic. “Creature?” she echoed, her tone almost playful, as though she were tasting the word for the first time.

Jimin’s heart raced. “It had your face,” he said softly, his words heavy with meaning.

Her lips twitched, that almost-smile returning as she leaned just slightly closer. “Is that what you think?” she asked, her voice lilting with amusement. “Dreams can twist even the clearest memories, Your Highness. Perhaps it was simply your mind playing tricks.”

The way she said it—light, teasing, yet with a weight that pressed into his chest—made it impossible to believe her. She was testing him, waiting for him to push further, and yet, he found himself hesitating.

He leaned back slowly, his lips curving into a faint smile of his own. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction—not yet. “Perhaps,” he murmured, though he didn’t believe her.

Her amusement lingered in the air as she turned back to the table, resuming her work as though the conversation had left no mark on her.

The rest of the room seemed to hold its breath as Jimin watched her, his thoughts spinning. She was an enigma, a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

As the tea’s warmth seeped into him, pulling him closer to sleep, he realized one thing with startling clarity:

He wasn’t afraid of the darkness she carried.

He was afraid of how much he wanted to follow it.

The silence between them lingered, a palpable thread stretched taut across the room. The soft rustle of herbs and the faint clink of porcelain were the only sounds, but even those seemed distant, overshadowed by the weight of unspoken words.

Jimin leaned his head back against the pillows, though his gaze never left her. Each movement she made felt deliberate, like a dance performed for an unseen audience.

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” he said suddenly, breaking the stillness.

She paused, just for a moment, her fingers hovering over the bark of the white boar’s skin. Her head turned slightly, enough for him to catch the corner of her lips tugging upward, a fleeting almost-smile.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t,” she replied softly, her tone dripping with a strange, knowing sweetness.

He studied her, his chest tightening with frustration and intrigue in equal measure. “Then tell me. Why are you here?”

Her hands resumed their task, crushing the mud rose petals with an almost lazy precision. “Because the healer sent me,” she said, as if the answer were obvious.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Her shoulders shifted, the faintest trace of amusement ghosting across her features. “You ask questions as though you already know the answers, Your Highness.”

He pushed himself up further, ignoring the ache in his body. “And you answer as though you delight in withholding them.”

This time, she looked at him fully, her dark eyes catching the lantern’s flicker. Something ancient stirred in their depths, an unfathomable abyss that made Jimin’s breath falter.

“Some truths,” she said slowly, her voice dipping lower, “are best unraveled on your own. Otherwise, they lose their meaning.”

Her words were like a riddle, slipping through his grasp no matter how tightly he tried to hold onto them.

“I dreamt of the abyss,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t react—not in the way he expected. Instead, her lips pressed together, and her expression remained unreadable, though her eyes seemed to darken, shadows flickering across them like ripples on a still pond.

“What did you see?” she asked, her voice light but edged with something sharper, something darker.

Jimin hesitated, his pulse quickening. “You were there,” he said, carefully watching her for a response. “Or something that looked like you.”

Her head tilted, the faintest hint of amusement returning to her lips. “And did it frighten you?”

He frowned, caught off guard by the question. “Should it have?”

Her gaze lingered on him, assessing, before she turned back to the tea. “The abyss is not kind to trespassers, Your Highness,” she said, almost lazily. “It is wise to fear it.”

“But you warned me,” he pressed. “You said to stay away.”

The smile she gave him was sharp and fleeting, like the edge of a blade catching the light. “I would warn anyone who wandered too close to the edge.”

He didn’t believe her. Not entirely. There was a layer to her words, an unspoken truth hiding beneath them, and it gnawed at him like a persistent itch.

“You speak as though you know it well,” he said, his tone accusatory, but his curiosity won out over his frustration.

Her hands stilled. She turned to face him again, her expression as calm and unreadable as ever. “Perhaps I do,” she said simply, her voice carrying a quiet challenge.

Jimin leaned forward, his chest tightening with the weight of her words. “Are you trying to frighten me?”

“No,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering. “I’m trying to see how far you’re willing to go.”

The statement hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Jimin’s grip on the blanket tightened, but he didn’t look away.

She turned back to the tea, pouring the steaming liquid into a delicate cup. The earthy aroma of herbs filled the room, grounding him even as her presence threatened to unravel him.

“Drink,” she said, holding the cup out to him.

“I already had a cup?” He looks at her confused with a tinge of suspicion. The maid smiled—

“This one will act as sleeping medicine..induce a sleepless dreams after your last nights venture’

He took it, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. Her skin was cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth of the tea.

As he raised the cup to his lips, her voice cut through the silence one last time.

“Dream well, Your Highness.”

Her words felt more like a command than a wish, and as the tea’s bitter warmth slid down his throat, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she had planted something deeper within him—a seed of doubt, or perhaps something far darker.

The room blurred at the edges, the pull of sleep finally claiming him. But even as his eyes fluttered shut, her presence lingered, wrapping around him like a shadow, and he knew with absolute certainty:

This was far from over.

[wordsvomit101]

10. Hidden envy

(1 year after the death of Mr and Mrs Lee)

Overwhelmed by a sudden surge of rage and disdain, Sebastián could only tackle Alexander to the ground, his fists becoming vessels for the tumultuous emotions he had repressed throughout his life. Each blow carried with it a cacophony of hatred, guilt, fear, and a twisted semblance of love, unleashed upon his older twin brother. Tears, unnoticed, traced jagged paths down his face, mingling with the sweat and blood that adorned his visage.

"Always by my side?! Pray, what knowledge do you possess?! How will it benefit us?! All this time, I've merely collected remnants left in your wake! Abandoned to the shadows despite my hopeless endeavors to rise to the zenith of your favor!"

His words, laced with bitterness, echoed in the dimly lit chamber as he dragged Alexander to his feet, forcefully propelling him across the room until he collided with a sturdy table. The impact shattered the once-sturdy surface, sending a cascade of porcelain and shattered wood to the floor. Violent and primal, reminiscent of a savage beast unleashed from the confines of civilization.

"Even if I dedicate nights and days to study until I collapse from exhaustion! Even if my ideas and solutions surpass yours! Even if I imbue every ounce of grace into my very being! Even if I train diligently each day in hopes of earning but a passing glance from them! Nothing come close to you!"

Each word, dripping with venom, served as a relentless push, propelling Alexander perilously closer to the edge of the balcony. Sebastián's mind danced with the image of the accusations that would undoubtedly follow - accusations of harming the future king, staining his reputation irreparably.

With a fervor bordering on madness, Sebastián tightened his grip on Alexander's throat, his gaze locked with his brother's steady, unwavering stare. The sickening thrill of dominance mingled with perverse satisfaction as he witnessed the great future king, revered by all, reduced to a vulnerable state before him. He relished the moment, reveling in the power he held over his superior, even as his own inner turmoil threatened to consume him.

"Ah, so you still possess the fortitude for mercy even in light of my treacherous act. I am sorely tempted to end you if you grant me this opportunity", Sebastián's voice, tinged with malice, carried a weight that threatened to crush them both. His fingers dug deeper into Alexander's flesh, a silent testament to the depths of his fury. Yet, despite the violence of his actions, Alexander remained steadfast, his gaze unyielding.

"Act swiftly - no, simply depose him - Cease your indecision - He is my counterpart - Indeed, the king has already granted me this chance-" Sebastián's thoughts faltered, the weight of his own words crashing down upon him with sudden clarity.

"..."

"...What a distasteful display of behavior on my part", he murmured, the bitter taste of remorse lingering on his tongue. In that moment of self-reflection, Sebastián glimpsed the twisted image that his parents, the king and queen, must see when they looked upon him - a monstrous aberration, unworthy of their love or acceptance.

His grip on Alexander's throat slackened, the intensity of his rage giving way to a quiet resignation.

"... I've grown weary of this foolishness", As he turned to leave, Sebastián found himself ensnared by the firm grasp of the silent figure behind him. He braced himself, steeling his resolve as he awaited his brother's inevitable reprimand, too exhausted to summon even a shred of defiance.

As Minhyeok scrolls the mouse, eager to read more of the story, he finds himself disappointed when it abruptly ends at that part.

"Hm? Is that all, Raon?" He shifts his gaze from the laptop to the girl sitting beside him, noticing her nervous demeanor as her hands fidget with uncertainty. She averts her gaze from his, hesitating before finally speaking up.

"Is... Is it okay?" Her question catches him off guard. After beta reading 40 chapters of her story before she uploaded it to the publishing website for original fiction over the past 3 months, he couldn't get used to her low standard for the quality of her work. He might not be an avid reader like his brother, but he recognizes good storytelling when he sees it.

"Honestly, it's great! Your character development is spot on. I felt like I knew each character personally, you know? Like, they were real people," he offers his thoughts sincerely, knowing a simple "it's good" wouldn't do justice to her efforts.

"And your worldbuilding in these last 5 chapters? It's detailed and vivid. I could imagine every architectural marvel and court intrigue of the kingdom. It felt like I was right there alongside the characters, exploring every corner of it," he continues, noticing Raon's demeanor brighten with each word he speaks. Her smile grows, and her posture straightens as she absorbs his praise.

"Well, I did spend a lot of time researching," she admits modestly, her confidence visibly boosted by his compliments.

"You've also shown remarkable improvement since the first chapters. The pacing and plot twists kept me thoroughly engaged, with subtle hints sprinkled throughout that make it worth a second read," he observes, knowing she's been paying closer attention in their English and social studies classes. He wonders if she'd be interested in exploring drama as an elective course.

"She's always had a knack for English and picking up foreign languages on her own, so she'd excel in any elective related to language arts," he thinks to himself. The real question is whether she'd want to further develop her skills.

"Let's table that discussion for another time. We have a story to discuss," he redirected his focus back to Raon's writing.

He looks at Raon again, who seems to be contemplating something, her gaze fixed on her laptop screen while he ponders. Yet, there's an unfamiliar tension in the air this time. Usually, her stare carries a solemn weight, but not today.

"Why did you stop there? Hitting a writing block?" He asks, noting the rarity of such an occurrence. Raon is usually brimming with ideas, whether she's typing away on her laptop or scribbling in her journals.

"...," Her silence is a bit disconcerting, especially with the absence of her usual smug expression. Instead, her face is etched with an unknown guilt. He's about to inquire further when she finally speaks up, her voice slow and hesitant.

"I... can't seem to think of how Alexander would deal with Sebastián."

Raon's fingers fiddle with the keyboard, her gaze distant.

"I want him to punish his brother for what he has done, for him to learn to hate Sebastián, but... all I can envision is him showing kindness towards his twin. I don't recognize my character anymore..."

Huh, Alexander, the noble and kind future king, the protagonist of her story. He finds himself relating more to the character than he realized. The man who's been taught to be generous and compassionate since childhood, blessed with talent and divine power bestowed upon him by the gods of his world. Yet, he's also both courageous and fearful in his opinions.

"He's brave for extending kindness to everyone, yet he's afraid of disappointing those around him, fearing he might become like his brother," he muses aloud, sensing there's more to it.

"I think it's will be love in the end," he adds, surprising Raon with his insight.

"That... is an interesting perspective," Raon responds, her confusion evident. How could someone still harbor love for a person who's caused them so much pain?

It's understandable in a way, but love isn't always logical, especially when it's for family.

"Even I wouldn't be able to cast away my love for my other half, who knows my worst and my best like the back of their hand for my whole life," he says softly, noticing the hitch in Raon's breath beside him.

It almost reminds him of the time he was envious of his older brother and despite causing all the messes for his sibling. Never once has his older brother grown to at least hate him for being an annoyance.

"Perhaps Alexander... could sees beyond just the hurt and betrayal. He sees the brother he grew up with, the one who shared his joys and sorrows. Despite all the bad, there's still... a glimmer of the boy he once knew within Sebastián. The chance for atonement”

"I... I guess I have yet to look at it that way", she looks like she doesn't enjoy the idea of it but she at least considered it. There is a silence between them as they muse in their thoughts.

"Not even I understand my love for you despite all that talk", he doesn't say it but instead says what his mom told him when he confided to her years ago.

"Love is complicated, isn't it? Eomma said it makes us flawed and hopeful all at once."

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

Hello. I’ve been following you, unofficially, for a little bit (like a shadow I guess). I agree with a good number of your statements (and can agree to disagree with others). I had a few questions about some and wanted to ask them. 

Do you find any validity in the LGBTQ+ movement?

Are you a men’s rights activist or with the men’s rights movement?

Are you a Trump supporter? (I don’t believe you ever said, so this is just a random question)

Why do you not believe in a patriarchy? Do you think any such systems exist that lean toward / favor men? If so, do you believe it’s the same for women?

What do you think of the BLM movement? 

In your opinion, does structural/systemic racism exist? Why or why not?

What political ideology do you alight with most? (I’d guess conservative or maybe even libertarian lite)

And to end, one last random one: do do you think that the extravert ideal is highly favored in the US/western countries? What do you think about the extravert ideal?

You have the right to keep your opinions under wraps. But honestly, I don’t see that being a concern for you, seeing how outspoken you are. Also, sorry for how much pure, unbridled hate you get for simply having opinions that are not [popular] with the mainstream. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that, and I just wanted to tell ya. :)

Have a good one! 

Wow, those are all good questions but this would be an insanely long post if I went into the detail each one deserves, so I'll try keep it short.

(SPOILER: I failed.)

Do you find any validity in the LGBTQ+ movement?

Yes to the first and particularly second letters, as the historical criminalization and brutal persecution of consensual homosexuality was always cruel and unjust, though lesbianism was and is comparatively excused and overlooked and rarely violently oppressed to anything like the same degree. The "Bi" and "Q" parts are largely superfluous, and the "T" part has no real reason to be in there at all, since gender dysphoria is a medical condition, not a sexuality.

As with the feminist movement, I think any substantial and just goals were achieved decades ago and I don't see any defensible reason for the perpetual hostility and relentless promotion of LGBTQRAMZ24JL%$🧸 propaganda in the 21st century: the last campaign I can remember holding any water was the push for recognition of gay marriage, and little before that for a long time: most gay activism today seems to come from a vengeful, privileged and protected position chiefly concerned with bullying others, like the monsters going all out to hound and destroy the Christian owners of a cake shop who politely declined to bake a gay wedding cake that went against their religious beliefs. The oppressed have become the oppressors, and it's very ugly to see. Celebration of other people's sexual activity should never be mandatory, and all the corporations hauling out their rainbow flags year after year are weird, preachy, tiresome and unwanted, so all these actions will inevitably lead to an exhaustion of goodwill and tolerance in the larger populace, which in the long run will not benefit gay people at all.

Are you a men’s rights activist or with the men’s rights movement?

No, I don't consider myself so: when I first got red-pilled I hung out in some MRA spaces, because they were the only ones at the time discussing the things I was thinking about, but I haven't checked in on them in over 10 years. All political movements tend towards echo chambers and extremism, even when a good many of their positions are solid and their goals are just. I don't feel comfortable with any labels, so I just go my own way, do my own thing and think for myself, take each issue as it arises and try to locate and align myself with whatever truth can be found in it.

Are you a Trump supporter? (I don’t believe you ever said, so this is just a random question)

I'm not American, so I don't directly have a dog in the race, but the media misrepresentation and bias against Trump, along with the political persecution, has been so overwhelming, relentless, unprecedentedly blatant and unjust, that if I was American I would certainly vote for him, simply because those who are openly conspiring against him have been revealed over the past 6 years or so to be so much worse. And, unlike all the career politicians "on" "both" "sides" who do nothing but trot out pretty, hollow and meaningless untruths while serving military-industrial interests and the status quo, I think he really does represent some kind of necessary, urgent and beneficial change, so I hope he gets re-elected in 2024.

Why do you not believe in a patriarchy?

At least in the west, it's a silly and hysterical conspiracy theory that has little grounding in reality, essentially asserting that all human civilization is best explained as a conspiracy on behalf of all men to benefit all men through the oppression and exploitation of all women, but that somehow no men are aware of or in on. To believe such nonsense you have to have either never known, liked or talked to ANY man, or be insane. Or both.

Western civilization is the very opposite of what feminists claim, in that it has always given special provisions and protections to women that men have never had, and attempted to curb and punish the selfish and sociopathic tendencies of the minority of dangerous men. It's the carving out of some civility in the wild and brutal dog-rape-dog natural world, which has benefited women enormously, but is massively under attack from every left-wing movement today: the advent of things like the current gender ideology, largely started or supported by feminism, is now clearly and inarguably harming real women, and stripping away protections so many of them never even realized they had.

And teaching women to hate and avoid men, and to instead seek fulfillment only in selfishness and wage-slavery: this has just produced millions upon millions of miserable, lonely and entirely unfulfilled women. Feminism is cancer.

Do you think any such systems exist that lean toward / favor men? If so, do you believe it’s the same for women?

It appears to me the modern Islamic world, which is probably the closest thing to what feminists would call an actual "patriarchy", does unjustly curtail women's freedoms and human rights, though that's better understood as springing from a perpetually warring desert culture's "round up the wagons" mindset and aim of overprotection of women, rather than as evidence of some innate universal male misogyny.

In the west, there are no institutionalized systems that favor men: all of them greatly and unjustly over-favor women. And now trans-women.

What do you think of the BLM movement?

A thoroughly corrupt and enormously destructive money-making scam.

In your opinion, does structural/systemic racism exist? Why or why not?

I think there has historically been undeniable institutional bias against black people. I also think all human beings, black and white and everyone else, have in-group biases that cause them to distrust and fear those who they consider outsiders: who look, dress, think or believe differently to themselves. What in recent times we've come to, often inaccurately, label "racIST" behaviour is more helpfully seen as just an outcrop of our innate tribalism, which is both fortunately and unfortunately evolutionarily hardwired into us all, so I think on the large scale it's unproductive to approach such behaviour as simply a moral failing, labelling people "bad" or "good" and leaving it at that.

I really like it when I see black and white people getting along and genuinely liking each other, rather than just uncomfortably walking on eggshells trying to not upset the other, but I think that's something that either just happens or doesn't: it can't and shouldn't be engineered, mandated or forced in any way.

While prejudice against black people still undoubtably exists on an individual level, it has been completely and exhaustively stripped from all western institutions, and black people are now hugely over-represented in most areas of society, which, again, cannot help but lead to resentment in the rest of the populations of western countries, who are now being openly and gleefully discriminated against every day. This is so stupid, and needlessly provocative, and could have been avoided by just sticking with equal rights and opportunities for all citizens and not going further, but the simple fact is all the identity politics movements are incapable of stopping once they have realized their original goals. It's inevitable they overreach and become a negative force themselves. They never fail to behave this way.

What political ideology do you align with most? (I’d guess conservative or maybe even libertarian lite)

Genuinely none. As with religion, I think there are understandable reasons for all of the major ones to exist and speak to people, all representing genuine and necessary human concerns from many different and valid positions. I find things that speak to me in Socialism, Anarchism, Progressivism, Libertarianism, Conservatism, Nationalism, Liberalism and whatever else. But I don't feel any of them actually represent me in any way, except on a few narrow, specific, isolated issues, so I consider voting little more than weighing up and selecting the lesser of many evils, and don't find myself actively aligning with or enthusiastically supporting any of them.

And to end, one last random one: do you think that the extravert ideal is highly favored in the US/western countries? What do you think about the extravert ideal?

I'm not sure if you've just misspelled "extrovert" or if you're specifically referring to the Jungian use of the term of "seeking fulfilment outside of the self". I guess it must be the latter.

Yes, I do think the western world, originally starting with, and spreading from, America, has become a hungry mouth that can never be filled or sated, and that consumerism is a hollow pipedream, destructive and corrosive in every part of human life. So many people today will unabashedly do anything for money, which they singlemindedly pursue simply to spend on things, which they falsely assume will bring them happiness. I've got family members whose entire daily lives seem to revolve around buying the next new thing: another toy, another holiday, another trip to another expensive restaurant - and they don't seem capable of stopping and enjoying or finding deep meaning or fulfillment in any of them.

True happiness is found only in the selflessness of love, in family, community, the pursuit of wisdom, truth and meaning, and helping others. Your funko pops collection will go in a landfill site when you die.

[eoinmcgonigal]

So I saw a post about tumblr wanting to try this 'communities' thing, and I just gotta vent/say my piece. (the tl;dr is 'fuck that shit')

1. I really hate the current trend of fracturing and fragmenting things down into little pieces so they can be categorised into boxes. That's not natural. (Also, discord pushing threads, which I already detest for 1) making me feel like I'm gonna hurl from the violently dissonant, ugly layout, 2) the severely narrow topic problem, and 3) how neurodiverse-hostile they are.)

Like, naturally conversations meander. If you're only allowed to discuss one topic, it's gonna be stifling. You WILL run out of things to say. Making another little box isn't going to fix it, it'll just add to the clutter

2. Quite importantly, honestly, just stop fucking changing shit. It's unnecessary

3. It's not going to be neurodiverse-friendly. As if fandom hasn't changed enough to become increasingly unfriendly to people who are just here to enjoy their hyperfixation and/or special interest. I don't need another thing to learn to navigate. I don't need another place with different rules to carefully traverse. Yes, I'm fandom old and salty. I'm AuDHD and a spoonie with about half a spoon to spend on a good day. I do not have the energy to do all this switching about and jumping from thing to thing. It's exhausting. I want everything where I can find it, and where I can be passionate without having to perform tasks like it's some customer service job, or job interview

4. FOMO shit is toxic. This whole 'be a part of the thing!' necessity if you want to 'engage' or see the conversations and 'content'. Why? I guess it's a social media model that drives engagement, but the stress of it is going to fuck people up. What if you don't have the time, energy, health, spoons, social skills, etc? I have no idea how much interacting will be expected with other people in the 'community' but I can see it becoming a twitter-like circlejerk, and if you're not one of the 'in' crowd doing your required interaction/reblogging/commenting then you might as well not exist to that fandom/group

5. From the description, it looks like these things will be ripe for drama, toxicity, clique shit, becoming echo chambers, etc. because 'semi public' means you gotta opt in/join in some way and whatever's said isn't visible to any old user

Like, who is going to create and mod these things? Who decides what the rules are? What if your fave is 'problematic', or your kink is 'gross' (if nsfw is allowed at all), your take doesn't fit with fanon, or you are just a bit weird and people shun or turn on you for that?

I hope I'm wrong and either these things never happen or they're not as bad as I fear, but fuck sakes I have the above worries because it's shit I've seen happen time and time again, and I don't want to see given a place here

Also, genuinely, what the fuck is tumblr going to be like if you can't/don't want interact with these community things?

Quickly, 6. it creates an 'us' (in crowd) vs. 'them' (not part of our gang)

And then 7. who is going to be dominant in these 'communities'?

Yes, I'm upset right now, because tumblr was just fine (well, fine enough) until this point. I mean:

We have the ability to make sideblogs! (My Star Wars sideblog from... well a decade ago oops... is still out there, I don't touch it any more but I left it up for people to go through). Tumblr even made it so we can reply with sideblogs, which was a very neat update.

Tags!! I don't think it's as usual these days for people to go through tags to find new content, but that's how I do it, how I've always done it, and how I always intend to do it. I'm not following everyone who makes an SAS:RH post. I love you guys, but no. My dash would cause me to have a panic attack. It's already too much for me most days.

EFFORT!!!! I can be here every day full-time doing Stuff if I want! Or I can zone out for weeks if I want/need, materialise and contribute a silly meme, then drift off into the sunset again. If I 'miss' anything, I can go back through the tags, or scroll someone's blog. But honestly, who notices/cares on here if someone lurks or goes afk for a bit. It's super low pressure, because I'm doing what I can/want when I can/want

I want to opt in/out on my own time and terms. The thought of having to be part of a 'community' so I can see/not miss Content TM is freaking me out. I don't want there to be an 'appropriate' time window to interact with things like there is on other social media sites.

So, idk how the shit will look, but I don't agree with making things harder for people to access/find. I won't be posting stuff 'semi-privately'.

And you know what's super upsetting? The thought that I won't be able to see conversations and creations for things I love, because they're hidden away behind some complex new social thing I can't navigate. (Which is already an off-putting, ostracising problem on discord.) That's not how fandom communities should be.

The thought of there being less stuff 'out there' because it's in some 'community' somewhere... really not the direction I'd ever hope this site wold go in

I'm fuckin exhausted. Just lemme do my fandom whateverness without having to perform to some arbritary social interaction standard/requirements that I neither understand nor can do