#i was obsessed with it and the ending broke me

[soft-beams]

okay, so i had camgirl!reader x vi in my mind so i decided to write a little something...i couldn't resist!!

camgirl!reader x vi

"Hey, can you loan me like five dollars?" Jinx asks, hand already held out to receive what she's asked for. Vi stares at it with a raised brow before pushing it away.

"No," she replies, rolling her eyes when Jinx gasps in feigned shock.

"No?" she questions with enough dramatics to win an Oscar. "To your own sister? Your own flesh and blood?"

"Yeah," Vi says, unaffected by the being that is Jinx. "I don't have the money to spare today. If you really need it, why not ask Ekko?"

Jinx pouts. "Because he's gonna give it to me and I like to fight for it," she says. "Besides, you never not give me money. Yeah, you'll bitch about it, but you're usually reaching into your wallet while doing that." She reaches out to flick Vi's forehead, easily dodging when Vi swats her hand away. "So what gives?"

"It's nothing," Vi stresses; expect it isn't nothing.

It's actually a lot of something.

Vi isn't one to shy away from admitting that she's broke.

If she is, she'll tell you because why hide the struggle that 99.99% of people go through every day?

No, she isn't shy about that.

However, she is shy about admitting why she's broke because it'll make her sound stupid and borderline obsessive.

Which she is, but that's something she'd like to keep to herself until the end of the time.

That the reason she's broke is because of a camgirl she discovered over a month ago and has her gripped by her metaphorical balls.

But it's not her fault that you're so pretty with your cute laugh, gorgeous smile and moans that resemble siren calls. Or that every time she sees you pleasure yourself, she loses a few more brain cells and oh no, her wallet's open again.

It's also not her fault that she feels this need to look after you and to give you everything you desire. Whether it be from your Amazon wishlist or some extra cash because you said, in passing, that you felt like ordering take-out for dinner. It makes her feel as if she's there for you, that she's providing for you.

Even if it's in some fucked up parasocial way.

So.

"I have bills to pay," Vi settles on, ignoring the suspicious look Jinx gives her. "Not all of us can live with our boyfriends rent and bill free."

"He insists I don't pay!" Jinx argues. "Every time I try to suggest it, he tells me not to worry about it." She pauses. "He also buys me gifts and stuff...is Ekko my sugar daddy?"

Vi nearly chokes as Jinx continues rambling about how Ekko could have turned her into a sugar baby.

But that's fine.

Better that than her younger sister discovering that she's spending her cost of living on a pretty girl on the internet.

Jinx would never let her live it down.

[rafeysbangs]

ꪆৎ𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖↷ ex!bf!rafe sneaks into your room late at night...

warnings ; MDNI !!, ex!bf!rafe, soft!rafe i guess, oral f. receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, rafe calls reader baby, creampie, aftercare ! yippee

notes ; phew... enjoyyy !

the cool night air swept through your open balcony door, carrying the distant hum of cicadas. you were curled up in bed, trying to focus on the book in your hands, when the faint scrape of shoes against metal made your heart leap.

"rafe?" you whispered harshly, your pulse quickening as his familiar frame hauled itself over the edge of the balcony.

"don’t freak out," he said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm you. his hair was a mess, his eyes wild, and he looked more desperate than you’d ever seen him.

"are you insane? you can’t be here, especially not at this hour," you hissed, glancing nervously at your door.

but rafe wasn’t listening. he crossed the room in two long strides, his voice cracking as he said, "i had to see you. i can’t- i can’t do this without you."

you folded your arms, trying to stand your ground, even as your chest tightened at the raw edge in his tone. "we broke up, rafe. i broke up with you. and you know why. i can’t keep pretending it doesn’t kill me every time i see you flirting with someone else."

"i wasn’t-" he started, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

"don’t lie to me. i saw you. over and over again. it’s too much, rafe. i couldn’t do it anymore."

his hands raked through his hair, his frustration evident. "it wasn’t what you thought, i swear. i’m... i’m a mess without you, okay? i’ve been losing my mind since you left. no one else matters- no one but you. i’m obsessed with you, and i’ll prove it. i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right."

"rafe," you began, your voice softer now, but he stepped closer, his hands gripping yours like his life depended on it.

"it’ll never happen again. i swear on everything. just... just give me one more chance," he pleaded, his blue eyes locking onto yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

you tried to resist, tried to remind yourself why you ended things, but the way he looked at you, like you were his entire world, made it nearly impossible.

"i don’t know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling.

"you can," he said, his voice steady. "i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if i have to."

before you could argue further, his lips were on yours, cutting off your words in a kiss so desperate, so full of longing, that it left you breathless. your resolve crumbled as his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer.

the kiss deepened, his lips trailing to your jaw and down your neck as your back hit the bed. he hovered over you, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured your name like a prayer.

your fingers tangled in his hair as his lips travelled down your body, heat pooled in your lower stomach watching him grow closer to the waistband of your tiny pyjama shorts.

he stopped there, slowly littering kisses as he looked up at you, you chewed at your bottom lip as your eyes were stuck on his, "rafe..."

"i'll make you feel good baby... don't worry" he whispered against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. his course fingers connected with your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing circles to make you squirm.

he grinned when he saw you twitch at his touch, your clit aching from the lack of direct contact. as if he could read your body, he pulled your shorts to the side, now faced with soaked panties staring back at him.

rafe sighed gratefully, "you're so soaked already, god you're perfect" he mumbled. his long fingers traced your slit and he chuckled a little to himself before pulling your panties to the side too.

without warning, his mouth connected with your wet cunt, sloppy kisses and flicks of his tongue made your eyes roll back before he slid a finger through your folds again. he tapped at your aching hole before sliding a finger in, watching your face contort as you got used to the welcome intrusion.

you groaned, "god-" rafe's smirk perking up against your heat, he came up for air for a second, "rafe's fine baby.."

you threw your head back as he licked a stripe down your pussy, grinning as he slid another finger inside, curling them before mercilessly pumping them in and out.

one thing leads to another, you're bent over the bed, rafe's cock bulging out of your stomach as his hips snap against your ass. a loud whine escapes your lips as he's rearranging your guts. your tight walls clamping desperately around his cock as your ass bounces with every thrust.

his tip brushes your cervix as he thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and flipping you over mumbling, "need to see your pretty face.."

he shoves your body further onto the bed before climbing over you with his classic smirk. your breathing ragged as your eyes locked with his, he tapped his cock on your pussy before dragging it through your folds. he knew the teasing drove you crazy, your eyebrows cinched together as his ego grew.

a pornographic moan escaped your lips as he slid in again, rolling his hips against yours he pumped his cock at a heavenly pace. your nails left crescent shaped indents as you gripped on rafe's arms, the pleasure sending the both of you into overdrive.

rafe cursed as his thrusts grew sloppy, the way your gummy walls were squeezing him made him dizzy, his release creeping up on him. you too could feel a familiar coil tightening in your stomach, unsurprised at the discovery that rafe was the only one to be able to make you cum, even when you're technically broken up.

he lifts a hand and connects it with one of your tits, his tongue darting between his lips as he massaged the fat, your nipple between his fingers. you whimpered as his cock kissed your cervix before finally you felt the coil snap, your orgasm overpowering you.

the way your pussy clenched rafe's cock as you finished around him caused him to groan gutturally, spilling his release into your sopping hole. he collapsed on top of you, littering your neck and cheeks with kisses as he heavily breathed.

"fuck.. i love you baby" he said finally before getting up and slowly pulling out, his release leaking from you a little. he grinned at the sight and pumped to fingers into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside you. "i'll get us a wet towel" he mumbled, walking towards your bathroom after kissing you on the forehead.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @doeletteprincess ( feel free to ask to be added! idm! )

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1 & 2

Chapter 3: Forgotten Faces, Remembered Pain

Paige's POV

I grew up here in Minnesota, living what seemed like a perfect life until I left for college in Connecticut three years ago. Good family, solid school, a career I was proud of, the best friends anyone could ask for. I had everything I could have dreamed of. Or at least, I thought I did. But then, a certain someone walked back into my life, and now I realized—time doesn’t heal anything. You just get used to carrying the weight of what hurts for a lot longer than you should.

It all started when I was twelve, discovering my love for basketball. My dad used to bring me to this basketball court just down the street to practice, sometimes for hours. We’d always end up at the local convenience store, grabbing snacks—he’d stock up on chips while I picked out ice cream. I still remember that day. I grabbed my usual chocolate ice cream, lined up to pay, and that’s when I heard it.

"No! What you gave me is a dollar short! I can count!" A girl’s voice, sharp with frustration, cutting through the air. I turned, half expecting some kind of mistake, but she was standing there, arguing with the cashier, insisting on the right change.

I couldn’t help it—my eyes met hers, and she shoved the receipt into my face, her little face demanding validation.

"You know math? Tell me I’m right, and she’s wrong."

I had to laugh. I looked at the cashier, then back at her. "Yeah, you’re right." Though I was laughing, I actually glanced at the receipt and she was, indeed, right.

She flashed that cocky grin of hers, so smug. "See? Told you I’m right."

That was just the beginning.

She started following me around, asking questions, poking into my life, telling me she had no friends, she was bored all the time. I didn’t even know why I let her in, but I did. So, I told her, "If you want to waste time, you can come watch me practice. You live around here, right?" She had mentioned earlier that she lives nearby.

"Yeah, that works," she replied, smirking. "I can waste time and practice my math by counting your scores. That is, if you can score."

That was her way of challenging me.

Five years. Five years we spent inseparable, like we couldn’t exist without each other. And then, the world broke apart.

One day, she came to practice with bloodshot eyes, her face red and blotchy from crying. Before I could even ask, she blurted out, her voice cracking:

"I’m leaving Minnesota. Mom says it’s for work, and we’ll be back sooner than I think."

She started sobbing uncontrollably. "I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you here alone."

I was speechless. My world was spinning, and I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

"If that’s what the adults want, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?" I muttered, trying to ease the tension. "We can still talk on video calls, and you’ll be back before you know it."

But what about what I wanted?

"No!" she screamed. "If I leave, you’ll forget about me. You’ll find new friends!"

I could hear the panic in her voice, and it drove a sharp pain into my chest. "I won’t. I promise. It’s just us two, forever and ever."

And then she was gone.

For two years, we kept in touch, but as soon as I moved to Connecticut for college, things started to unravel. The calls grew less frequent, the arguments more intense. Silence followed, suffocating silence. No texts, no calls. Just emptiness.

I thought she was living her best life—at least, that’s what her social media told me. She seemed happy, thriving. But where did that leave me? Did "forever and ever" mean nothing? Was I just another part of her past, fading away?

I moved on, or so I told myself. I threw myself into my studies, my career. But still, there were nights when I found myself searching for her name, staring at her photos, wondering what had happened. Longing. Disappointment. Anger. Then confusion. Why was I still so obsessed? She left me all alone, even when I needed her the most. When I suffered an injury while playing my sport, I thought she’d be there for me, but I was wrong. I admit, I reached out to her, sending messages here and there—but maybe that was just my vulnerability talking. In the end, it didn’t matter. The lowest point of my life wasn’t even worth her time.

And then, there she was. Standing in front of me. But she was... different. Not in a good way. Something about her seemed so out of place. Her whole aura had changed. What happened to her?

It’s been a week since that first encounter, and I’m running errands for Drew. I roll my eyes—he’s got the audacity to ask me to get ice cream for him. As I’m perusing the different flavors, out of the corner of my eye, I see him.

Steve.

The shock is immediate, but the look on his face is worse. He’s more stunned than I am. But why is that? Am I not supposed to see him anymore?

"Paige? Long time no see! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Connecticut?"

My heart skips a beat. He keeps tabs on me?

"I’m on a break. Gonna head back tomorrow though, classes start soon. It’s good to see you again, Steve." I try to sound calm, but it’s hard when my mind is still reeling. "How’s Emma?"

His face contorts, and I see a flicker of pain—something I haven’t seen before, and it sends a sharp pang through me.

"Emma’s gone. Just three months ago."

The words crash into me like a wrecking ball. What? Emma’s dead?

I don’t know what to say. My mouth goes dry. "Oh my god. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?"

"We’re fine now, I guess. But the last three months have been hell. Losing Emma... and then having my daughter almost..." He trails off, his voice cracking. "I’m just thankful my daughter got lucky."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"

"I came here with my daughter. You haven’t seen her yet?" he asks, and the words send a shiver through me.

Oh, I've seen her, but then she disappears again for the rest of the week.

"But maybe even if you did, she won’t remember you," he adds, his voice tinged with sadness.

I freeze. What?

"She’s suffering from a temporary memory loss from the accident, Paige."

She forgot me? She forgot about us?

The ice cream Steve is holding shakes slightly in his hands, and I suddenly realize I’m staring at it. "Is that for her? That’s her favorite."

"Yeah. I’m hoping it’ll help her remember, you know?" Steve’s voice breaks, and it feels like the weight of everything is pressing in on me.

I don’t know why I say it, but it spills out before I can stop myself.

"I want to help. Make her remember."

I must be crazy.

He looks at me, surprised but grateful. "You would? That means a lot to me, Paige."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes a little distant, before continuing. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now—about sending her back to school. The doctors think getting back into a routine could help her. They said it might spark something, help her remember what she loved." He exhales, his voice wavering slightly. "I’ve been struggling with whether or not it's the right time, but... I think it might be the only way."

I barely hear him as my mind races. "She can attend to mine. Transfer her. She can join the swimming team. She still swims, right?"

Or maybe I'm just out of my fucking mind.

"Yes!" Steve’s face lights up. "That’s actually a great idea. I’ll start processing her papers next week."

She needs to remember. Because when she finally looks me in the eye and says sorry, it won’t be some empty apology. It’ll be real.

She’ll remember me. She has to.

Chapter 4 setting's gonna be at Uconn. More interactions and stuff!! <3

Taglist: @authentic-girl03 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @0phantom0 @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

[novaursa]

Legacy (of the east and the west)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Just a reminder how some things are different from the canon. Any divination from the books/show you notice is on purpose.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: drawing the lines

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxifics @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The quiet of the late morning filled the chamber in Dragonstone, the distant crashing of waves against the rocky shores serving as a soothing backdrop. Daenerys Targaryen sat near the tall, arched windows, holding Maelor in her lap. The boy, with his silver-gold curls and curious violet eyes, grasped at her braid, babbling softly in his innocent wonder. Across the room, you knelt beside Damon, who was occupied with a small wooden lion and dragon toy, his young mind lost in the imagined battles between the creatures.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched your eldest. “Rhaegar would have loved to see this,” you said, your tone thoughtful, almost wistful.

Daenerys glanced up from Maelor, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Our brother,” she said softly, testing the weight of the words. “Viserys spoke of him, but I was too young to remember much. What was he like?”

You leaned back slightly, your eyes distant as you gathered your thoughts. “He was everything a Targaryen prince was supposed to be. Noble, kind, and burdened with the weight of prophecy. He was… driven by the idea that he had a role to play, a destiny to fulfill.”

Daenerys tilted her head, gently brushing her fingers through Maelor’s soft curls. “He believed in the prophecies, then.”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you recalled your brother. “Yes. He studied them obsessively. He thought himself the prince that was promised—or that his children might be. It gave him purpose, but it also consumed him. Everything he did, he believed was for the good of the realm, even when it hurt those he loved.”

Daenerys was silent for a moment, her gaze thoughtful as she watched Maelor squirm in her arms, reaching for the delicate silver chain around her neck. “And yet, his choices led to so much death. So much pain.”

Your expression turned somber, and you let out a quiet sigh. “He was not perfect. None of us are. But he believed in something greater than himself, and in the end, that belief was his undoing.”

Daenerys shifted her gaze to Damon, who was now engrossed in his toys, his laughter ringing softly in the chamber. “It’s strange to think of him as a father. To imagine him holding a child, playing with them as you do with yours.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “He would have been a wonderful father. He adored his son, Aegon, and he would have doted on his daughter as well.” Your voice softened, tinged with sorrow. “But fate had other plans.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of lost family hanging between you both. After a moment, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice lower, almost hesitant. “I, too, know what it is to lose a child.”

You looked at her sharply, your expression softening as you saw the pain flicker in her gaze.

“My son, Rhaego,” Daenerys continued, her voice steady but filled with quiet anguish. “He was to be my strength, my legacy. But the gods—or the fates—saw fit to take him from me before he could even draw breath.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Daenerys. No mother should have to endure such pain.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced away, her fingers brushing against Maelor’s tiny hand as he played with the silver chain around her neck. “The loss nearly broke me. And the sorcery used to save Drogo... it left me unable to bear children. I will never have another.”

Your heart ached for her, and you squeezed her arm gently. “Daenerys…”

She turned back to you, her expression resolute despite the sorrow in her eyes. “If you would support me, sister, if you would stand beside me in my claim to the Iron Throne, I would name one of your sons my heir. They are Targaryens by blood, and they deserve to carry our legacy.”

You blinked, taken aback by the declaration. For a moment, you said nothing, your gaze flickering to Damon and Maelor. The thought of either of your boys being thrust into the chaos of rulership, the weight of the Iron Throne bearing down on their young shoulders, sent a shiver through you.

“I wouldn’t want that for them,” you said softly but firmly, meeting Daenerys’s gaze. “The Iron Throne is not a gift—it’s a death sentence. It has taken so much from all of us. I will not let it take my sons.”

Daenerys’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “But they are Targaryens. They are part of the legacy we were born to uphold.”

You shook your head gently. “They are children, Daenerys. They deserve to grow up without the burden of a throne weighing on their shoulders. I want them to laugh, to play, to live.”

For a moment, Daenerys looked as though she might argue, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I understand your fears. But our family’s legacy must live on, one way or another.”

You offered her a faint smile, your tone softening. “Our legacy will live on, Daenerys. But it doesn’t have to be through the Iron Throne. There are other ways to honor our family, to ensure that the world remembers us.”

Daenerys nodded slowly, her gaze returning to Maelor, who had begun to doze off in her arms, his tiny hands clutching her braid. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said quietly, though her tone was tinged with uncertainty.

The quiet clink of wine goblets echoed in the chamber as Tyrion poured himself another drink, the rich Dornish red catching the glow of the hearth. Across the table, Jaime leaned back in his chair, his golden hand resting idly on the armrest while his remaining hand toyed with the stem of his goblet.

“I must say,” Tyrion began, swirling the wine thoughtfully, “Father appears to have grown soft in his old age. The Tywin Lannister I remember wouldn’t have allowed Daenerys Targaryen or her band of merry foreign invaders to so much as set foot on these shores.”

Jaime arched a brow, his tone dry. “Soft? I’m sure he’d love to hear you say that. Go on, Tyrion. March into his study and tell him. I’ll make sure there’s a maester nearby for when he decides to rearrange your face.”

Tyrion smirked, tipping his goblet toward Jaime in mock toast. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. But you can’t deny it, brother. The old lion is different. Less... ferocious, perhaps?”

Jaime took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze distant for a moment. “It’s not softness,” he said finally, his tone quieter. “It’s her.”

Tyrion tilted his head, intrigued. “Her? Do elaborate.”

Jaime gestured vaguely with his goblet. “Our stepmother. The dragon who sleeps beside him and gives him heirs. She tempers him in ways I don’t think even he realizes.”

Tyrion leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his smirk widened. “Ah, the infamous second Lady Lannister. The last I saw of her was under rather... unique circumstances.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly. “Unique how?”

Tyrion shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. “The night you freed me, remember? I couldn’t resist sneaking one last look at dear Father before I made my escape. I found him in her chambers, fast asleep. And there she was, curled beside him like some Valyrian myth. And Damon—tiny little Damon—snug in his cradle near the bed. Quite the domestic scene.”

Jaime let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re lucky he didn’t wake up and catch you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale,” Tyrion agreed, though his tone was far from serious. “Still, it was fascinating. Father, the great Tywin Lannister, sleeping soundly and sharing chambers with a Targaryen woman and a newborn. Who would have thought?”

Jaime’s expression turned more thoughtful, his fingers tapping lightly against his goblet. “She changed him. Or maybe she reminded him of something he’d long forgotten. Father’s always been about legacy, power, control. But with her... it’s different.”

“How poetic,” Tyrion quipped, though his tone was less biting than usual. “The dragon queen tames the lion. Tell me, does she breathe fire in her sleep?”

Jaime shot him a warning glance, but there was no real malice behind it. “You should be careful how you speak about her, Tyrion. She’s earned her place here.”

Tyrion studied his brother for a moment, his smirk fading slightly. “You respect her.”

“I do,” Jaime admitted, his tone firm. “She’s strong, clever, and loyal. She’s given Father something none of us could—a chance to build something that lasts. And for all her Targaryen fire, she’s... kind, in her way.”

Tyrion took another sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful. “Kindness and Tywin Lannister. There’s a combination I never thought I’d see.”

Jaime chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not as strange as you think. She balances him, even if he’d never admit it. And Damon... Maelor... they’ve softened him in ways I didn’t think possible.”

Tyrion leaned back in his chair, his mismatched eyes glinting with curiosity. “It’s strange, isn’t it? To see him as a father again. Not just our father, but their father. Do you think he loves them?”

Jaime’s expression turned serious, his tone certain. “I do. As much as Tywin Lannister is capable of love, he loves them. He’s different with them than he was with us. More patient. More... human.”

Tyrion let out a quiet laugh, though it lacked his usual bite. “What a world we live in. Tywin Lannister, the lion tamed by a dragon and her brood. If only Mother could see this.”

Jaime’s gaze darkened slightly at the mention of their mother, but he said nothing, taking another sip of his wine. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable, the weight of shared history filling the space.

Finally, Tyrion spoke again, his voice softer. “Do you think she understands?”

Jaime frowned. “Understands what?”

“About what Father’s done. To her family. To ours. Does she carry the weight of it, or has she convinced herself that love can erase the blood he’s spilled?”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, but his tone was calm. “She understands. She carries it. But she also believes in moving forward. She’s not blind to what Father is, but she chooses to stand beside him, knowing what they’ve built together.”

Tyrion nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “A dragon and a lion. Quite the tale for the bards, isn’t it?”

Jaime smirked faintly, raising his goblet. “It is. But we’re still in the middle of the story.”

Tyrion raised his goblet in return, his smirk returning. “Here’s to hoping it doesn’t end in fire and blood.”

Jaime clinked his goblet against Tyrion’s, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Daenerys Targaryen, unflinching and determined, stepped into the room where Tywin Lannister awaited her. He stood near a table scattered with maps and letters, the weight of his command visible in every deliberate movement. His back was turned to her as she entered, but she knew he was aware of her presence.

“Lord Tywin,” Daenerys said, her voice steady but sharp.

Tywin straightened, turning slowly to face her. His gaze was cold, calculating, and unyielding—a lion sizing up its prey. “Daenerys Targaryen,” he replied, his tone clipped. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Daenerys stepped closer. “I wanted to speak with you. Alone. Without my sister, without your councilors. Just us.”

Tywin arched a brow but gestured to a nearby chair. “Then speak.”

Daenerys remained standing, her hands clasped in front of her as she regarded him carefully. “You are the man responsible for so much of my family’s pain. For the deaths of my brother’s children, for the destruction of our house. And now you stand here, married to my sister, the mother of your children.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t waver. “You’ve come to blame me for the past, then. I’ve no intention of apologizing for doing what needed to be done.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrowed. “What needed to be done? You slaughtered innocents. You betrayed your king. You destroyed the Targaryen dynasty.”

Tywin’s lip curled faintly. “Aerys destroyed himself long before I made my move. He was a madman, a danger to the realm. The Targaryen dynasty wasn’t destroyed by me, Daenerys. It was undone by your father’s madness and your brother’s arrogance.”

Her voice rose slightly, her anger flaring. “And yet you sought to profit from that madness. You married your daughter to Robert Baratheon, the man who led the rebellion.”

Tywin took a step closer, his presence looming. “And I preserved my house in the process. House Lannister stands because I made the hard choices your father was too weak to make.”

Daenerys flinched slightly but stood her ground. “You betrayed us.”

“I did what was necessary to ensure stability,” Tywin countered, his voice calm but firm. “And your sister—your sister is alive because of me.”

Daenerys blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Why bring this up now?”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained authoritative. “After Robert’s Rebellion, the realm demanded blood. Every Targaryen, dead or captured. I ensured your sister was neither. I made a deal with House Stark, placing her in the North under their protection. She was safe because of me.”

Daenerys’s jaw tightened, her emotions a storm of anger and confusion. “And you later married her. Was that part of your grand plan as well? To take a Targaryen bride and tie her to your house?”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver. “I married her because she is strong, intelligent, and loyal. She has given me sons who will inherit a world I have built with my own hands.”

For a moment, Daenerys faltered. There was something in his tone, a quiet reverence that made her pause. “You speak of her... differently. With respect.”

Tywin’s expression turned reflective, his voice dropping slightly. “Your sister is a woman unlike any other. She understands the weight of duty, the cost of sacrifice. She has borne much, yet she endures. Aerys made a mistake refusing to give her hand to me when I proposed it years ago. Perhaps things would have been different if he had.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened, her mind reeling at the revelation. “You sought her hand before all of this?”

“I did,” Tywin said plainly. “She was young, but I saw the potential in her. Aerys refused, of course. Said no Lannister was fit to marry a Targaryen. His arrogance knew no bounds.”

Daenerys struggled to process his words. “And now you claim her as your own. You, the man who betrayed my family.”

Tywin’s voice hardened again. “I claim her because she chose me. I didn’t force her hand. She stands with me because she understands the realities of the world in a way you do not.”

Daenerys’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her voice biting. “You think me naive?”

“I think you see the world as you want it to be,” Tywin replied. “Not as it is.”

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, two powerful figures standing on opposite sides of history and ambition. Finally, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice quieter but no less determined. “I came here to find allies, not to reopen old wounds.”

Tywin tilted his head slightly. “And yet here you stand, letting those wounds guide you. If you want to lead, Daenerys, you must let the past be what it is: a lesson, not a shackle.”

She turned to leave, her shoulders rigid as she processed his words. At the door, she paused, glancing back at him. “You speak of lessons, Lord Tywin. Perhaps you should heed them yourself.”

With that, she swept from the room, leaving Tywin alone once more. He watched her go, his expression unreadable, before returning to his maps. The fire crackled softly in the silence, a quiet reminder of the unrelenting forces shaping their world.

The stone corridors of Dragonstone echoed with the sound of tiny, hurried footsteps. Damon, with his silver-gold curls bouncing as he ran, darted around a corner, clutching a small wooden dragon in one hand and laughing to himself. Behind him, a group of Lannister guards rushed in pursuit, their armor clanking with every step.

“Careful, my lord!” one of the guards called, his voice tinged with both panic and frustration. “You shouldn’t be running off like this!”

Damon giggled, clearly enjoying his escapade. The toddler’s energy was boundless, and he was far too swift for the heavily armored men chasing after him.

As Damon rounded another corner, he suddenly stopped short. Standing in his path was Grey Worm, clad in his polished Unsullied armor, his spear resting lightly in his hand. The warrior raised an eyebrow at the sight of the small boy barreling toward him.

Damon tilted his head, staring up at Grey Worm with wide, curious eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice high and inquisitive.

Grey Worm lowered his spear slightly, his stoic expression softening just a fraction. “I am Grey Worm,” he replied, his voice calm and measured.

Damon blinked, his gaze traveling over the armor and the spear. “You have a big stick,” he said matter-of-factly, pointing at the weapon.

Grey Worm’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “It is not a stick. It is a spear.”

Damon’s eyes lit up with interest. “Spear! Can I have one?”

The guards finally caught up, panting as they came to a halt behind Damon. “My lord, you cannot just run off like that,” one of them scolded gently, though his tone was more exasperated than angry.

Damon ignored them, his attention fully focused on Grey Worm. “Can I see your spear?” he asked, holding up his wooden dragon in exchange. “I’ll trade you this.”

Grey Worm glanced at the guards, who looked mortified, then back at Damon. “It is not a toy, little one,” he said, his voice still calm.

Damon frowned, clearly unimpressed by the refusal. “But I’m big! I’m three!” He held up three fingers proudly.

The guards shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to handle the situation. One of them stepped forward. “Apologies, Commander Grey Worm. The young lord has a... lively spirit.”

Grey Worm nodded slightly but kept his gaze on Damon. “Lively spirit is good. It is the spirit of a warrior.”

Damon’s frown melted into a wide grin. “I’m a warrior! Like my papa!”

One of the guards suppressed a smile, muttering under his breath, “Just like his father, indeed.”

Grey Worm crouched slightly to meet Damon’s eye level. “A warrior listens to those who protect him,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of authority. “Will you listen?”

Damon hesitated, his small brows furrowing as he considered the words. Then he nodded solemnly. “I’ll listen. But only if you let me touch the spear.”

The guards exchanged glances, unsure whether to intervene, but Grey Worm extended the spear cautiously, holding it firm as Damon reached out with both hands to touch the shaft. The boy’s face lit up with excitement as his small fingers ran along the smooth wood.

“It’s so big!” Damon exclaimed, looking up at Grey Worm in awe.

Grey Worm straightened, his usual stoicism returning. “And heavy. You will need to grow strong to carry one.”

“I will! I eat all my porridge!” Damon declared confidently.

One of the guards stepped forward, bowing slightly to Grey Worm. “Commander, we appreciate your patience. We’ll take the young lord back to his mother now.”

Grey Worm nodded curtly. “Keep him safe.”

Damon pouted as the guards gently ushered him away. “Bye, Grey Worm!” he called, waving his wooden dragon in farewell. “Next time, I’ll show you my dragon!”

Grey Worm inclined his head slightly, watching as the boy was led away. His gaze lingered for a moment before he turned back toward his duties, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

As the guards led Damon back toward the family chambers, one muttered to his comrade, “That boy’s going to be trouble when he’s older.”

The other chuckled softly. “He already is.”

The cool sea breeze swept over the battlements of Dragonstone, carrying with it the tang of salt and the distant cries of gulls. The night sky was clear, the stars glittering above as you and Tywin walked side by side, your steps measured against the stone as you spoke of weighty matters.

“We should consider leaving Dragonstone,” you suggested, your tone thoughtful but firm. “Let Daenerys remain here. She could be a useful ally against the threat in the North.”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver as he replied, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You would have us abandon this place to her? A woman who brings foreign invaders to our shores and claims a throne she has no right to? I think not.”

You sighed, glancing out over the black waves crashing below. “She’s my sister, Tywin. Whatever she has done, whatever her intentions, there is value in her presence here. The North faces a threat unlike any we’ve ever known. The dead march. Daenerys could help us, with her dragons, her army.”

Tywin stopped, turning to face you fully. His green eyes were cold and calculating as they bore into yours. “And what happens when the threat from the North is dealt with? Do you believe she will simply stay on Dragonstone, content to rule over nothing? She will turn her attention south, to King’s Landing, to the Iron Throne.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “And do you think keeping her here, under your watch, will stop her from harboring those ambitions? She is determined, Tywin, but she’s not reckless. If we work with her instead of against her, we might stand a better chance of controlling the outcome.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words. The silence between you stretched, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the faint murmur of guards patrolling nearby.

“She is a foreign invader,” Tywin said finally, his voice low but unyielding. “And a Targaryen, no less. The realm will never accept her as its queen. And even if it did, I will not allow her to undermine everything I have built.”

You stepped closer, your tone softening but remaining firm. “What you’ve built, Tywin, is fragile. The realm is fractured, and winter is here. The North is barely held together, the Riverlands are still in chaos, and now the dead march beyond the Wall. Daenerys may not be someone you or I would choose, but she has resources we cannot ignore.”

He looked away briefly, his gaze sweeping over the darkened expanse of the sea. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost contemplative. “She would betray us the moment it suited her. You know this as well as I do.”

You hesitated, your expression softening. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. She has suffered as we have. She’s lost her family, her home. I believe she wants more than just power, Tywin. She wants to belong, to rebuild what was taken from her.”

Tywin scoffed faintly, though it lacked his usual venom. “And what of your sons? Damon and Maelor. Would you risk their future by allowing her to remain?”

Your gaze hardened slightly at the mention of your children, but you kept your voice steady. “I would risk nothing. If she becomes a threat, we deal with her. But if she proves an ally, think of what we could achieve. The North needs our help, Tywin. If we turn our backs on them, we doom not just ourselves, but the realm.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You are asking me to gamble with everything I have built. Everything I have secured for our family.”

“I am asking you to see reason,” you countered gently. “To think beyond banners and bloodlines. The world is changing, Tywin. If we don’t change with it, we will be swept away.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Finally, he turned back to you, his green eyes piercing but less cold. “I will consider it.”

You smiled faintly, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s all I ask.”

He didn’t reply, but his hand covered yours briefly, a rare moment of quiet affection in the midst of so much uncertainty. Together, you turned back toward the keep, the weight of the realm’s future pressing heavily on both your shoulders.

[yanderedollie]

he’s the only one i could call

“fuck.” i groaned, leaning my head back against the headrest.

i lightly slammed my hands down on the steering wheel and lowered my music.

my car had broken down a few cities over from my own.

i picked up my phone to check the time.

3am… of course it is. nobody i know is gonna be up right now to save me.

“this is what i get for neglecting the check battery light” i think to myself. my car stalled a few more pathetic attempts to start as i realized i didn’t have the money for a tow service right now either.

i glanced around and picked up my phone to check maps. maybe there’s a 24 hour diner, or somewhere i can stay till it’s a reasonable hour.

nothing. i wanna throw my phone after i check how far i actually am from my apartment.

as i try one last attempt to move around the map and find a savior my heart drops to my stomach, and leaps back into my throat once i realize just exactly where i am.

two neighborhoods over is his house.

i giggle to myself as an idea flashes in my mind.

before i continue i’ll give context.

the whole reason i’m even cities over from my own was because i took a drive to clear my head. to try and forget him.

i had been trying everything i could but he was always gnawing at my brain. always. and i had been trying to control my obsessive tendencies after our fall out.

i had been doing good but, stuck in a neighborhood so close to his house made my body ache.

my fingertips tingled in anticipation as they hovered over my phone screen.

i wondered if he was even awake. he never really had a great sleep schedule. i checked the time again… 3:05.. i hope he’s not with her.

i nibbled at the inside of my cheek before i threw all reason out the window…

it rang a few times before a familiar, sleepy voice, answered

“[name]?”

my breath caught in my throat before i answered

“hey… hey i’m sorry i know it’s late- were you sleeping?”

“yeah but it’s fine.. are you okay? why are you calling?”

i smiled to myself. he still cares.

“i’m fine! i’m okay! swear. it’s just my car broke down really close to you. everyone i know is asleep…”

i trailed off. i probably sounded so desperate. it dripped off of me.

“[name].. i’m with my girlfriend.. cant- cant you call a tow service?”

i bit the inside of my cheek again. hard. i don’t care about his girlfriend. i’ll kill her.

i shook my head and nervously played with a loose thread at the end of my dress

“i.. uh.. dont have that kind of money right now.”

i sound genuinely pathetic

“i see… uh.. okay um i can come help you. just send me your location… and [name]?”

“hm?”

i practically whined at the idea of him coming to rescue me

“i’m just going to jump start your car and leave okay? please don’t make this a.. a thing”

that stung. i swallowed hard and nodded like he could see me

“yeah. it- it wont be.”

my phone beeped indicating he ended the call. i squirmed in my seat as i sent him a pin of my location.

make it a thing? what the fuck?

i wanted to rip out his throat.

shifting uncomfortably i waited outside in the cold. i leaned up against the drivers side window, shivering and pathetic.

when his cars headlights pulled onto the street i was on i felt my heartbeat quicken and my body tingle.

i was starving.

“hey..”

he said, walking up to my car with cables in his hand

“hi…i’m sorry again about this.”

i smiled softly at him. he always liked when i smiled at him that way… i hoped he felt something. anything.

he smiled back and i swear i could see his eyes linger over my body for a little too long

i felt like pouncing on him like a predator catching its prey.

“no worries. i told my girlfriend i’d be quick so, lets do this”

i felt rage flicker in my gut. stop fucking talking about her.

“right..”

i clearly sounded upset but i didn’t care.

my bones ached as i watched him attempt to jump start my car. he looked as gorgeous as ever.

it started pretty much instantly and i panicked. he couldn’t leave yet. no, no, no, not yet.

“w-wait!”

i practically yelled at him

he stopped abruptly, clearly taken aback by my sudden outburst

“what?!”

he was visibly concerned. never mad. he never really could get mad at me.

i felt tears well up in my eyes

“don’t leave…please.. i’m-i’m sorry. it’s been so long since i've seen you. i had to see you. i can’t stop thinking about you. please please don’t go…”

i felt so many emotions bubble inside of me, i felt like i was going to burst

he stared at me for a long time… then.. he smiled.

“cute.”

i swallowed and looked down at my feet

“stop. i’m sorry. that was really stupid.”

i didn’t look up but i heard him take a step towards me

“[name]….”

i looked up. he was right in front of me, closer to me than he had been in months.

i clenched my jaw. i could smell his cologne and my knees nearly buckled.

“stop it!”

i stepped back. i wanted him so bad but i knew it was wrong. i wanted to kill his girlfriend and rip out his throat, but i was trying so hard to be better. i was really trying

he let out a soft laugh and reached for my hand

“i guess i’m the one making it a thing…”

he held my hand in his so gently i felt myself melt.

“no. we can’t…”

i sounded small, pathetic, desperate. i clearly didn’t mean a word.

“hmm”

he hummed gently, moving his hand up to brush some loose hair behind my shoulder and trace my neck

“why not?”

i didn’t answer, i just held his gaze. it was so intense i nearly looked away.

i knew i could eventually get him where i wanted him…but.. i didn’t think it'd be this easy.

i shivered at his touch and something flickered in his eyes

“you look as beautiful as ever. i like this dress on you..”

he sounded starving now.

“it’s new”

i squeaked.

“mm very pretty, doll”

i let a whimper escape my lips at the nickname and he grinned

“come here.. let me warm you. it’s so cold out here…”

i stepped closer to him without a second thought. anything he wanted i would do it. anything at all.

he wrapped his arms around me and i couldn’t contain myself anymore.

i tangled my fingers into his hair and pressed my body against his, whimpering in the process.

i needed him bad. primal. animalistic

his hands roamed my body, grabbing and groping every part of me.

my breathing quickened as i melted into his touch.

“please..please”

was all i could manage to moan out.

he was barely touching me but i felt my pussy throb and dampen at every grab and tug from his hands

“you’re so pathetic. it’s adorable”

he cooed into my ear before nibbling it a little

we were still outside leaning against my car, his hand travelling up my dress and teasing the waist band of my panties

“[name]… please..”

i couldn’t control myself around him. he was so warm. so sweet. so perfect.

all of a sudden he pulled away tugging my body towards his car. fast.

i barely had time to register what was going on before i was in the backseat and he was looming over me.

i could see glimpses of him in the moonlight. he looked so disgustingly perverted and hungry for me. i fucking loved it.

“you’re such a fucking tease in this little dress. begging me to come save you, to rescue your pathetic ass…”

he said in breathy whispers as he groped my tits and pinched my nipples through the fabric of my dress

i moaned loudly and squirmed underneath him, feeling his hard cock pressed against my thigh

“i can’t believe you [name]. i can’t believe what you do to me”

he quickly slipped the dress off of me and his mouth was on my naked body in an instant. digging his nails into my waist and leaving sloppy, uncoordinated kisses, over my chest and stomach

“mmm… fuck… [name]… please just use me however you want”

i whimpered pathetically each time he moved his mouth or hands

“oh i will.”

i could barely stay conscious between his hands wrapped around my throat and him rubbing his thick cock against the fabric of my panties

it all felt so good i nearly came just from that alone

he ripped my panties off and shoved his cock into my dripping pussy with one swift motion, i saw stars

i coughed and sputtered from the pressure on my neck as he rammed into my cunt

“oh my god.. fuck.. [name] you feel incredible”

he released his grip on my neck to move a hand down to my aching pussy

he gently rubbed my clit as he pumped in and out of me and i could’ve sworn i saw god.

i whined like a pathetic dog as he violated me in ways i had never experienced from him before.

i knew our past sex was good but holy shit

“[name].. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry”

he apologized profusely as he struck me across the face and rammed into me harder

“you’re just so pathetic, i can’t help myself…”

all i could get out was pathetic whines as i looked up at him with desperation.

i wanted more. i wanted everything he could give me. whatever he wanted to do i would take it and i would love it.

“fuck. fuck. fuck. [name] you’re so tight”

he groaned loudly as he rubbed my clit faster

i clenched around his cock as i felt him release a huge load of hot cum inside my womb

i came at the same time, my pussy spasming on his cock as we both let out animalistic groans and pants, clinging to each other like this would be the last time

it was never the last time.

“oh my god..”

was all he could manage into my ear as he collapsed on top of me

i could feel our heartbeats colliding into one, pounding against both of our chests

i laid there staring up at interior of his car, catching my breath

i had asked him to come rescue me in hopes that maybe he’d feel something for me when he saw me

i asked him to save me because i needed to see him

come to find out…. he felt the exact same way

i smiled to myself as he played with my hair, still laying on top of me and softly breathing into my neck

we hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet but, i knew.

i knew he felt the same way i did

all this time i thought he had moved on

but we were just as desperate and perverted for each other as we had been back then

i really need to kill his stupid girlfriend. then he’ll be mine forever.

so much for “getting better”

i never will as long as he’s breathing. i never wanted to in the first place.

“i love you [name]”

he sighed softly, placing a gentle kiss on my neck

“i love you too”

i will never let my darling go… ever. again.

[crowleysgirl56]

Thanks to @gaiaseyes451 @nonamejustlurking and @simonezitrone79 for the tags!

Last song: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. She is so great!

Favourite colour: purple

Last book: I’m currently reading The Book Binder of Jericho and it’s fucking gorgeous, full on angst and pining (oh boy I seem to like a theme…)

Last movie: Paddington 3. Took the kids and they loved it. It’s a great film, though not as good as the first two, but still utterly enjoyable. And I sobbed quite a bit at the end!

Last TV show: just finished season 4 of What We Do In The Shadows. Great show, utterly hilarious! That finale broke my heart a little (oh man, what is with me?!)

Sweet/spicy/savoury: definitely sweet

Last thing I searched online: Paul Kidby’s artwork.

Current obsession: look, I’m sure we can all guess what that is, but if it’s not clear, it’s Good Omens now and forever.

Looking forward to: (well apart from HAIR pictures and the finale getting released) Have planned a trip to Melbourne in June to see Critical Role live when they finally tour to Australia! (Though sending all thoughts and prayers to them as I know a lot of their crew is currently affected by the wildfires in LA)

People I’d like to know better: no pressure tags to the following: @hellogoodomens @seriouslygoodomens @hyperfixating-rn-brb @pinkladypant @miranda61 @hippychick67-fan-blog @theautistichag @leoreadss @hikarry

[genderqueerdykes]

Do you have like, some nice words?

Like I’m just so tired of how constant tme/tma speak is on my dash. Posts about how transfems should leave friend groups of “tmes” because they will inevitably be bigots

Why are half the popular transfems on this site horribly transphobic in their own right the moment a transmasc dares exist in their vicinity

Sorry I’m basically just venting in your inbox, thank you for being a breath of fresh air

i'm sorry you're dealing with this. it's natural to be worn down by this behavior, it's literal transphobia and intersexism and people just don't seem to care.

the tme/tma (transmisogyny exempt/transmisogyny affected) binary doesn't work. the issue is that in real life, most queerphobes you come across are assuming you are a trans woman. the average person associates the concept of transness with transfemininity on average, unless they personally know some transmascs or trans men, or are one. it's very rare to find a stranger who gets it. every time i come out to a stranger, they immediately switch to she/her pronouns, call me ma'am/miss/girl/etc., and ask what my "real" name is. it's really weird

transmasculine invisibility is a genuine issue offline. certain pockets of the internet are obsessed with hating trans men but that doesn't mean that the vast majority of people in the offline world know a damn thing about any of this. i do not ever have anyone understand that i mean i'm transmasculine when i say im trans. as i'm transmasc and transfem i don't really challenge it, but it sucks that people have one assumption and one only.

it happens with other queers. i moved in with a bunch of perisex trans femmes and was dating one for a while and flirting with a few others. my other roommate was a perisex cis gay man. i was the only intersex person who was there at the time, and i think a very small handful of others were around regularly, so there was a high chance that people should've been pretty informed about the existence of intersex identities. i know some people who came around pretty often were intersex, at least from my memory

the second people found out about my physical anatomy, they switched how they treated me. everyone thought i had a penis for some reason? and were made wildly uncomfortable upon finding out about it. when i revealed that i'm intersex & genderqueer, and that i'm bigender: a trans man, and a trans woman all hell broke loose suddenly nobody knew what to think or feel or anything.

people honest to god just defaulted to misgendering me.

and treating me like i was stupid as fuck.

this was the hardest part. i was being treated like i was dumb as HELL and it frustrated me to no end.

my emotions were "too much". i kept getting told i was too needy or whiny or possessive or that i needed too much of sometimes time or that i was touching the wrong things around the house. i kept being criticized for moving objects that impacted an environment i was allowed to work at. i was criticized for organizing a bookshelf i was asked to organize. i was ridiculed and insulted. my roommate and a girl who was flirting with me questioned my dissociative identity disorder, which i have plenty of medical records spanning back to 2017 from various doctors in various states and hospitals showing my diagnostic history with dissociation and dissociative disorders, and he also questioned my schizophrenia when i have records dating back to 2015 showing my history with severe psychotic episodes and the development of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type

i was no longer the arbiter of my own lived experience because everyone found out i didn't have a penis. i'm a vagina haver so i'm stupid. i'm dumb. i'm a cis woman. i'm faking. i'm not actually a man. well i am a man. i'm evil.

i'm breaking this silence on this garbage. it's time stop treating trans men and mascs this way. we're real people. we have real experiences. we are also being talked over. it really is possible to speak over us. it's happening right now. it doesn't need to. trans men talking about how we don't need to be seen this way isn't hurting trans women. we're being misgendered. we're being hurt by transandrophobic and misogynstic behavior. one does not need to hurt trans men in order to heal from one's own trauma with manhood. it won't help. it doesn't do anything

this is such a goddamn long ask but i wanted to thank you for this because your honesty and bluntness is what's needed right now. thank you to every trans man and transmasc speaking up about this right now. please feel free to send your own experiences with this because it's over. i'm not humoring it. i'm going to keep talking about it until people calm down and understand that conversations have multiple participants

i now more than ever want to actually focus on uplifting transmasculinity and trans men. i have been forcing myself to try to focus on a broader range of topics to avoid backlash but let's not start 2025 thinking we have to do this anymore. we literally don't. it's over. trans women are allowed to talk about the struggles we face. always and forever. but a trans man talking about their own experience is not an attack on you. and sometimes a trans man will give you criticism. and sometimes... you have to take it.

sometimes you have to take a trans man's criticism.

you really, really do.

and it's not the end of the world.

if a trans man tells you you're talking over them, you really should actually stop and step backwards and reassess what you said to them. you may have done it on accident. actually listen before you keep talking. if a trans man tells you they have a health condition, listen. don't participate in this behavior. there's literally no reason to think that trans men and mascs are too stupid to articulate our own experiences. it's ridiculous. that's how society treats women- you don't want to be treated that way! please don't do it to other people, especially people you view as women...

anyway i hope that this helps in any way. i'm just tired of this shit. i'm happy to start 2025 by completely and totally breaking the silence on transmasculine and trans male erasure. join me. we're not doing this shit anymore. we're starting this year off being more compassionate. we're starting off this year accepting that manhood isn't what has traumatized any of us, it's toxic masculinity, it's patriarchy, it's specific men. let's ditch this shit

[lyricwritesprose]

Me versus a fanfic idea, trying to cohere

Having been watching some of "My Adventures With Superman" lately, and I have become kind of obsessed with a crack idea that came to me last night at fuck o'clock in the morning, that being: what if (in the MAWS continuity or any one in which the Kents are both alive) Jonathan and Martha got roped into briefly housing or fostering a teen after Clark was out on his own?

I mean. Like. Imagine you're this kid. You are staying with the most tragically uncool individuals on this planet, but they're honestly nice, they aren't bothered by all the stuff that got you labeled A Troubled Youth or the gender stuff you may have going on or any of that, they just seem fundamentally Able To Roll With It, and, okay, this is going to be fine. It's temporary anyway. Just keep out of trouble.

And they have an adult son who comes around sometimes? He's kind of nice too. Maybe twenty-one, twenty-two, he's built like a moose and you'd think he'd be imposing but he's kind of shy and awkward and somehow just fundamentally Not Like the people who beat you up before, so you're pretty chill with him. He knows all the good places on the farm to sit and think, or sit and draw. One time when he comes around he shows you the creek and you learn all about the frogs and the crawdads and the snakes. Tells you about the corn snake he rescued once. Stuff like that.

Only some things really don't add up.

Like, there's never a car in the driveway when he shows up. And it's not on weekends or anything like that, it's weird times.

And there's a note on the fridge that says, "If you drink all the milk please replace it THIS MEANS YOU," and before long you figure out it's gotta be meant for him, because he will take a gallon and finish it a glass at a time and who can even do that without throwing up? Wasn't there some kind of ghastly TikTok challenge about that?

And when you joked to his Dad and Mom that he seems to have a real superpower for figuring out whether there is going to be pie, you got such weird, almost nervous looks that you quickly dropped the subject.

And one time you swear he appeared out of absolutely nowhere to walk you back to the house because Mr. Peterson's bull broke the fence and is wandering this way. (He was the first one to realize this. How did he realize this? He's sort of guiltily evasive on the subject.)

And he reassures you one time that you don't actually need to fear the Kansas Mothman because he accidentally started that legend. How? He really doesn't want to talk about it.

What with one thing and another, you start wondering…

Maybe he's a ghost.

Maybe something awful happened and he can't move on. You don't want to suspect the Kents, they are honestly pretty top-notch for parental types (especially after some of the ones you've known) but other people in the town? You know personally how ghastly a small town can be to That Weird Kid. Maybe something really bad happened.

(Maybe it could happen to you too.)

So you've got to figure out what's going on so you can get justice for your friend. You start to investigate. Smallville does have rather more than its fair share of Weird Shit—like possibly a lot more—but you're not really getting anywhere. And it occurs to you that you don't really have the wherewithal to go and try to find—well, let's not put too fine a point on it, to find an unmarked grave—that could be anywhere.

Meanwhile the world has at this point in time started to see some Seriously Weird Shit, although at this point it's largely In Other Places because that's where everything in the world happens, there is absolutely Nothing Significant In Kansas and probably never will be, but it gives you an idea. Slightly insane and scary idea, but you've hit so many dead ends that it might be worth it.

You're going to try to contact Superman and see if he can use his rumored X-ray vision to figure out what happened to Clark.

…

Just to be clear, I have no idea what the ultimate punchline is for this piece of ridiculous meandering is, and it's the sort of thing that does require a pretty good punchline. So I don't know if it's ever actually going to get written. On the other hand, it is one of my favorite dishes, which is Canon Characters Helping Queer Kid, with a heavy helping of Following Logic-like Structures To Wrong Conclusions sauce.

So I thought I might post the idea, because I have this lovely optimistic belief that sometimes, I am in fact extremely funny, and tumblr is a place that often eggs me on.

[kimvvantae]

I just finished ch.4 of Saudade & I need to lay down for 15 minutes I am gaggGGED. The world building is incredibly creative, a highlight for me! Is there something that inspired you to write saudade, like a book or movie?

Keep it up never stop making stories or else😠💖💖!

Hello angel!! I'm glad you like saudade, thank you so so much!!

I took a bit of inspo from Vampire Knight (the manga), about how only a specific "kind" of vampire can turn others into vampires, and the bit where drinking the winter lord's blood can keep a regular vampire "sane". The other stuff came from my brain, though most of it doesn't stray away from common vampire lore :) Also the sound the servant marionettes make? It's supposed to sound like Sasori's puppets from Naruto. I just couldn't think of anything else lmao

[guinevereslancelot]

what was with cameron house md she spends 90% of the episode saying she wants their patient to die bc he's a genocidal dictator and her colleague husband says "babe it bothers me for ethical reasons that you want our patient to die :(" and she said "hm maybe you're right :/" but when it comes down to it the genocidal dictator lays a finger on her in an aggressive manner and chase instantly commits medical malpractice to murder the guy and then when he tells her she LEAVES HIM bc boo hoo he's a murderer now like GIRL he killed a man for you!!! he's wracked with catholic guilt!!! he's being crushed beneath the weight of his sins because he chose his devotion to you over his devotion to god!!! he literally could not get any sexier at this moment in time!!!

[seaweedstarshine]

Thinking about the convolution of Eleventh Doctor's expressions of love for River Song in Season 7B. He does not trust Clara. He is utterly (wrongly) convinced that he and Clara are playing a grand manipulative game together. “What are you, eh?! A trick? A trap?!!”

So naturally, the last thing he should do in this game is to clue his opponent in on something that could be used to hurt him. Something like River, so painfully near the end of their time together, whose data ghost he can always see, who “it would hurt too much” to acknowledge. He can't let Clara know of the loss which constantly floods his senses; (“You are always here to me. And I always listen, and I can always see you,” he professes, once Clara has vanished into his timestream).

And yet. River fills his every moment (irregardless of any sneaking out for dates with increasingly-young Rivers while Clara is asleep like he did while the Ponds slept, which would explain his absence when the TARDIS is hiding Clara's bedroom). Even though it's not strategic, he can’t help but tell Clara about her. The best defense he can manage is to phrase it as if River isn’t as important to him as she is. Not only is avoiding her first name in his grief; he's also completely avoiding pronouns; which seems extreme given that he's still mentioning her as often as: “Oh yeah, of course he has! Professor Song! Sorry, it's just I never realized you were a woman.”

Leave out the emotion — leave out the details — don't show the cracks in the armor — play the part — win the game.

“Well, there's no point now. We're about to die. JUST TELL ME WHO YOU ARE.”

[jakowskis]

"i hated owen for all/most of s1 i only started liking him in s2" weak. i liked owen since he got choked against a wall by an angry woman and then told her he wanted to shag her immediately afterwards. and then even more when he spent ep3 trying to intimidate and murder a rapist

[mariocki]

Shadows of Fear: Did You Lock Up? (1.1, Thames, 1970)

"And they didn't make much mess?"

"No, not really. They forced that door. Smashed the cabinet, slashed a sofa. And kicked a hole in the bedroom door."

"Ah. Big mistake."

"What is?"

"Never lock inside doors. Anything you can to keep them out - but when they're in, let 'em get on with it."

"I'll remember."

[thebigqueer]

maybe the reason im so upset about it isnt cuz she broke up wme but because all that waiting over the summer just feels so worthelss now. like i know we couldnt talk as much or be around each other as much but i was waitingall summer like when we get back all we'll do is be together!!!! all of the 'new relationship syndrome especially now that its long distance' stuff will be fixed when we get back!! but were over and theres no chanec of fixing it because were over and its just like what if we waited what if we just figured it out for another few weeksand see where it went form there

[neonbodyache]

omad is cute but i grew up in the kind of poverty where often enough that was the only option so it rllllly doesn’t work as a diet for me i am the exact opposite. the miniest of meals spread through the day keeps the b1nge at bay. I will stretch those cals in obscene ways

[madoumonogatarirunelord]

I just...

Him.

(MY FRIEND KILLED A WORM IN FRONT OF ME AND I LITERALLY STARTED CRYING I AM LITERALLY SIG NOW.)