#lots of ships have this dynamic it turns out!

[akhillaous]

@wlfhardinc here’s my response to the jayvik and patrochilles post! it was too long for a comment section sorry 😓

I can understand a few of your points if we are only discussing the Song of Achilles versions of Achilles and Patroclus but I disagree overall. I think their stories are not all that similar in terms of character ideals and dynamics and given their circumstances I don’t expect them to be either. Additionally I think some of the parallels you mentioned are wrong. For example; you say that Patroclus has no fighter genes but that’s simply not true. Both him and Achilles were formidable opponents and Patroclus did train to fight he just didn’t do so in the same Achilles did. I can’t remember if song of achilles has him as a fighter or not it’s been so long since I’ve read the book but regardless he does still fight very strongly at the end so this point makes no sense. There is no reason to try and relate season one Viktor to Patroclus by making Patroclus seem weaker in comparison.

Another point you mentioned is that they both have the same principles which is also just… not true. Achilles does vow not to kill Hector so he won’t die in turn but he also refuses to fight in the war wholly. I don’t see how this could align with either Jayce nor Viktor’s principles. To my understanding, Jayce and Viktor want to use their invention to better the world and by the end they advocate for an independent Zain which are very admirable goals they are aiming to accomplish a lot of things. These goals are not so similar to Patroclus and Achilles’. Achilles joins the war to gain everlasting glory because it is prophesized that he will gain it if he fights, something he’s been training and preparing his whole life to do. Whilst at the war he gets increasingly agitated with the way things are handled and feels that this war is not worth sacrificing his life over anymore if he won’t gain adequate glory in return and the Trojan people have done nothing to him personally so this isn’t his war to fight. Patroclus does not indulge in the war but he repeatedly berated Achilles for being selfish and sustaining from fighting while their comrades are dying on the battle field. Both Patroclus and Achilles are trapped in a war they no longer want to be in. Forgive me if you’re trying to say something different and I misunderstood but I don’t really see a connection between these principles?

The point you mentioned with the women Briseis And Deidameia is kind of pointless because the circumstances in which those women met those men are completely different. Briseis was not in love with Patroclus in original mythology and she was basically just their slave. Patroclus was kind to her in the original text but Briseis should not be considered as a romantic or platonic option for either of them because she has no ability to consent to any relationship. Also Deidameia and Achilles’ marriage was out of love in the original myth and Madeline Miller’s decision to make Deidameia sexually assault Achilles is very misogynistic as it simply villainized Deidameia so readers are more inclined to like Patroclus and Achilles together. This could be similar to Mel and Jayce however it would only similar because it’s a heterosexual ship and Mel and Jayce are both more prominent and powerful figures like Achilles and Deidameia were.

For season two you mentioned that Achilles and Viktor have the same principles which is again, no true. Achilles does get high on the glory he receives but that does not in any way parallel viktor’s ascension or whatever the hell it was that he did idk he went crazy in season two. Viktor starts a new ideology and quite literally creates a cult because he believes in a certain higher purpose/power. Achilles simply refuses to fight because Agamemnon is incompetent as a leader and he feels that fighting is beneath him now if it is for a leader such as Agamemnon. So I don’t really understand the similarities here either because they aren’t really there? Achilles goes crazy at the very end of the Iliad when Patroclus is killed and it is not that he goes crazy with like newfound knowledge or extraterrestrial power like Viktor he goes insane with rage. He makes a bloody mess of the battlefield during it and has no care of his own life or anyone else’s. If anything this is more like Jayce in season two when he returns back. I guess you could say Jayce and Patroclus both sacrificed themselves but Patroclus was not planning on dying or sacrificing himself he was simply just killed by Hector at the hands of Apollo. The last point is pretty sad I’d say I’d agree with that.

I know that I’m probably coming off really strong right now so please don’t take to offense anything I’ve said I’m simply far too fixated on Patroclus and Achilles. 😭 I only asked because I didn’t really understand what parallels you were trying to draw and in your explanation post it’s very clearly you were only referring to the TSOA versions of the characters which I already have problems with in multiple ways regarding characterization so just off the bat I was already disagreeing with many of the points made because I feel that if TSOA doesn’t represent them correctly than neither can and explanation using the TSOA versions. Overall I think patrochilles have to be mischaracterized in order for this parallel to work and most of the parallels even then are shallow. And that’s alright! Jayvik don’t have to be similar to Patrochilles to be tragic they are vastly different and that’s a good thing. It would be boring if we had the same ships and dynamics all the time.

With all that being said I appreciate that you took the time to go into depth with your thoughts. I’d suggest reading Fagles’ or Wilson’s translations of the Iliad if you want more of Patroclus and Achilles or you could play the hades game where they have a very heartwarming story!

[mental-mouthful]

Hickey for the character asks pls? 👉👈

ohohoho! lovey suggestion !! i am always down to talk about a fellow ratt, so yes of course!

First Impression: IS THAT FUCKING HICKEY?? THE FERRET FACED FUCK I HATED WITH MY WHOLE BEING? THAT'S HIM? THEY MADE HIM A FUCKING TWINK???? People better not be fucking woobifying him i swear to god...

Impression Now: ohh noo. oh no my worst fear has come to life... i like hickeyyyy i like him a lotttt. i feel like this is how billy feels just "oh god. oh god is this working for me? son of a bitch it's working" On a real note though, he is sooo fascinating to me. He's a lot more genuine than i think people give him credit for. He's just so paranoid and has been taught to be so self-sufficient that it overrides any actual connection he might make with people. When given the chance to help, he does so, even if it is often tied to making himself look good. He didn't have to help Manson and Hartnell take Hornby's body down. He could've just cut in to undermine Irving and left it at that. He didn't have to grave rob to propose to Billy. He could've left everyone to burn in the carnival. (The fact he gutted McDonald do so and only looked as upset as "you fucking idiot, you stained my knife"... well that's just the other half of his personality showing) But he does all that. bc he does care. in his own twisted, detached way. Adam Nagaitas said something to this tune in an interview and its like. yeah!! he does care!! ...he just cares about getting himself on top (👀) more than any of that.

Favorite Moment: Goddddd what a hard question. Is it bugger victoria? (shout out fitzjamesbulletwound) Is it ratt wedding? (his smile is so sweet) is it his speech at the gallows? ("BUT ABANDONING HIS SHIP!!! SHOULD NOT BE AMONG THEMMM ☝️") i could be predictable and say its him taking his lashing like a fucking champ. his cheeky fucking smile throughout really encapsulates his "fuck you, I'll endure just to spite you" attitude. No it's not any of that. It's his casual smoke after he and billy get caught. it's really indicative of his personality and the unshakable force he'll be in the narrative. "there's worse things than being lashed ;)"

Idea for a Story: would loveeee to do a deep dive into his past. even if leaving it a mystery is more compelling, I'd really like to see what kinda menace he is on the streets of england.

Unpopular Opinion: that he actually doesn't want to eat people. he wasn't going into this with the hope that they'd turn cannibal. the situation had just gotten so dire and his lead poisoning and/or god compex had corroded his brain so bad he probably thought it made him an apex predator.

Favorite Relationship: He's got so many delicious dynamics to choose from but I think I'll go Crozier. He wants to be his friend. He wants to usurp him. He wants to fuck him. He wants to kill and eat him. He doesn't want his men to rough him up. He greatly looks forward to having a chat with him at the end of the world. He chains him to a boat.

Favorite Headcanon: that he plays the piano. and he's not great, but he knows his way around it. and its great fun to play for a crowd of belligerently drunk assholes who dont know the difference.

ANYWAYS THANK U THANK U FOR GIVING ME A REASON TO TALK ABOUT THIS FREAK <3333

[probablygayattorneys]

[namazunomegami]

Lord of the Flies, Gluttonous Queen, Prince of Filth, Prince of Decay, Goddess of Ekron, Lord of Slander, Queen of Pestilence and Famine, The Rotting One

I Solomon said unto him: “Beelzeboul what is thy employment?” And (s)he answered me: “I destroy kings. I ally myself with foreign tyrants. And my own demons I set on to men, in order that the latter may believe in them and be lost. And the chosen servants of God, priests, and faithful men, I excite unto desires for wicked sins, and evil heresies, and lawless deeds; and they obey me, and I bear them on to destruction. And I inspire men with envy, and desire for murder, and for wars, and sodomy, and other evil things. And I will destroy the world.” - The Testament of Solomon

[oveliagirlhaditright]

What’re your favorite kh ships?

If I'm being honest... I really only true ship SoKai these days (my forever OTP). Mainly because I feel like that's the only one I can really ever see actually being canon (well, aside from Yozora and Nameless Star, and I also ship them: a lot of that for Versus XIII reasons. My heart won't let go). And, I mean, not that a ship needs to be canon for me to ship them. Not at all. But I'll admit that I've grown out of some of the KH ships a wee bit, as I've found more adult ones in other fandoms to get invested one.

That being said, the KH ships that I do still care about are:

SoKai

RokuShi

Namiku

RokuNami

Terqua (though it seem these days the kids call it Terrqua. Or Terraqua?)

Gulava

Skulmera

Playerlitzia

YozoraNameless Star

Xehaqus

AkuSai

SoRiKai

RiKai

Roxiri (though not in canon. More in fanon. More for crack, kind of, actually. And friendship first and foremost)

I'm warming up to Replinami some these days, because of the tragedy of it all.

I've also started to warm up to Rion a wee bit... that past Shanna thought she'd never see.

SoNami in CoM only.

I could do XionRoxasNaminé. NamiXI, too.

VenAqua slightly, but I'd always choose Terra and Aqua over it (but one thing about the Wayfinder Trio for me, if I'm being truthful, is that I prefer the three of them as friends before any romance with any of them. Part of me even really thinks all three of them are truly just meant to be friends.)

A lot of people ship Ven and Strelitzia for some reason. And I doubt it'll ever happen, tbh. Who knows if they'll ever even really get a chance to meet and be friends. But I do get why they think it'd be cute.

And while I don't know if I truly ship them anymore, a part of me will always have a soft spot for Ventus and Naminé. Because for some reason, I really used to ship this crack pairing, back in the day.

I also don't really know if I ship them... but despite what I said above, I do get the feeling that Nomura might be doing something with Lauriam/Marluxia and Elrena/Larxene.

[tossball-stick]

i think whenever i get up and go to my pc im gonna write out some rambles about tim... hes been on the mind a lot. theres something about a character that is so universally liked but not for the reasons you want him to be

also sorry tags got outta hand. cw: abuse mention (fictional)

[jackass-jones]

Cant believe im getting rbs on a post about junepei when yesterday I went on a big rant shitting all over junepei 😵‍💫😭😰

Akane who sacrifices her entire life, and her loved ones lives, and the lives of many others, all in the hopes that she can forge a timeline where she and Junpei can be together and live a peaceful life, only to have traumatized Junpei so much in the process that he doesn’t want anything to do with her in the end

[saphronethaleph]

Fluid, Dynamics

“So, uh…” Anakin said, looking around him. “This is weird.”

“Is there something wrong, Master Jedi?” the Kaminoan asked, concerned. “I was going to welcome you to Tipoca City.”

“Oh, I’m actually not a Master,” Anakin replied. “My Master’s busy, I’m just…”

He shook his head. “Sorry about that, it’s very unprofessional of me. I know I’m supposed to be professional, but being around this much water is very odd for me.”

“Being around water is odd for you?” the Kaminoan repeated. “...is there an alternative? I know Kamino is an unusually wet planet, but I did not think the difference was that stark.”

“I’m from a world where there just… isn’t water,” Anakin explained. “The only way we got water to drink was to pull it out of the air, and there wasn’t enough to go around.”

Then he frowned slightly. “Actually, uh… come to think of it, it isn’t all that far from here to my homeworld… do you think I could ship some water over there?”

“That is an… odd request,” the Kaminoan admitted. “But I must admit, we do have more water than we know what to do with. Perhaps we could discuss something like that after our main business is completed.”

“Sure,” Anakin agreed. “So, where do we get started?”

“I will take you to Lama Su,” the Kaminoan decided. “He will show you the current state of progress.”

Anakin nodded, absently, mostly thinking about showing up at Tatooine with a freighter full of water.

“How often does Anakin go on missions without you?” Padme asked, curious.

“It happens, sometimes,” Obi-Wan replied. “Increasingly often these days, actually. Anakin is approaching the point where he will have the chance to become a Jedi Knight, and… I worry about him a little.”

“Is that something a Jedi does?” Padme said.

“All the time,” Obi-Wan replied. “But right now, Senator, your safety is the highest priority.”

He frowned. “Though I must admit, I was expecting there to have been some kind of assassination attempt by this point.”

“You almost sound disappointed,” Padme suggested.

“No, no, it’s pattern recognition,” Obi-Wan replied, firmly. “You see, my missions with Anakin so rarely go smoothly. And if this mission is going smoothly, where the biggest danger we’ve had to deal with is mosquitos, then I dread to think about what is going on with Anakin.”

There was a beep.

“...like that, for example,” Obi-Wan added, taking his comlink out of his pocket. “What is it, Anakin?”

“So, first I want to say, I didn’t set out to do this, Master,” Anakin said.

“...oh dear,” Obi-Wan sighed. “That’s never a good sign. So, what is it that you didn’t set out to do?”

“So it turns out that Kamino was building an army for the Jedi,” Anakin said. “Also, it’s a really wet, flooded planet, they actually have too much water, I didn’t know that was possible! But I said that Tatooine had too little water, and since they had all those giant ships anyway I thought some of them could be used for transporting lots of water…”

“Sorry, Anakin, Kamino was building an army for the Jedi?” Obi-Wan repeated, a little incredulously. “That seems like the most important part of the situation.”

“No, no, the most important part is that some guy called Darth Tyrannus hired this bounty hunter called Jango Fett to be the clone template,” Anakin said. “And get this, he’s the one who killed that bounty hunter we chased, and things got a bit complicated… anyway, I went over the technical details and the clones have this weird chip in them and I think Chancellor Valorum might have been trying to assassinate the Jedi because the chip would have let the Chancellor tell the clones to kill the Jedi… obviously I told the Kaminoans to take that bit out because we didn’t need it and it’s way too much like slavery if you ask me. Anyway, uh, I’ve got the clones shipping water from Kamino to Tatooine for now, the Kaminoans are actually totally okay with it because they’ve got too much water, and I rescued my mother, too! I told you she was in danger!”

Obi-Wan took several seconds to process that particular bit of Skywalkerness.

Then he processed it a second time.

“…you have the clones… shipping water to Tatooine,” he repeated.

“Yeah, it’s going to break the Hutt control over water production and transportation for anything above the subsistence level,” Anakin said. “And it’s going to make Tatooine a way better place-”

“I have to interrupt you there, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “You said you rescued your mother? That’s very impressive, but you didn’t tell me she was in danger.”

“I did!” Anakin objected.

“You said you were dreaming about her,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “That does not mean you were dreaming about her being in danger. That’s quite different, Anakin, you must remember to use the right words if you want me to know something.”

“...oh,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan could hear the shrug. “Well, anyway, I think there might be some kind of Sith plot involved too because of the whole Darth thing. Do you think Chancellor Valorum was a Sith?”

“I see what you mean,” Padme admitted.

[rennalaqotfm]

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART IV)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Sexual content (but MDNI 18+ just to be safe), dry humping (-ish?), violence, alcohol consumption, toxic dynamics, swearing, themes of prejudice and misogynism, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

WC: 5.6k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

As the winds guided Ser Tyland's ship to the Free Cities, the excitement regarding the wedding of the future Princess of Dorne and the Crown Prince buzzed in the air. No ravens had to be sent, for the whispers began within the palace walls, spread through the bustling streets of Sunspear, and were carried by the desert winds across the dunes, reaching the furthest Dornish houses.

Princess Y/n sat before her mirror, watching her handmaiden, Melynda, fasten the back of her dress. A sweet girl of one-and-twenty, Melynda had been brought from Pentos on a cramped boat, a former slave traded by her master for coin. Ever since she had served the Princess with quiet devotion, her nimble fingers always making a masterpiece out of her.

Despite being draped in the finest fabrics of deep sapphire, adorned with intricate golden swirls and beads of amber, Y/n stared blankly at her reflection. The celebrations leading to the wedding were set to last a fortnight, a long stretch filled with feasts, ceremonies, and endless politicking. In mere hours, she would be facing the guests, forced to smile and charm as she and the Velaryon boy persuaded them to align with Rhaenyra's cause. She didn't even know where to begin looking for the strength and willpower she had to gather to convince those lords to join a war she herself didn't fully believe in.

“Is it too tight, Princess?” Melynda asked meekly, noting how Y/n had remained quiet the whole time she had been preparing her. "Princess?"

Suddenly, Y/n's bottom lip began to quiver as she felt a knot forming in her throat. 

“Gods be damned…” she muttered, feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. “How did it all come to this?” 

“If it's too tight, mayhaps I could—”

“Of course, it’s bloody tight! It’s damn near crushing my guts!” the Princess burst out, causing her handmaiden to stumble backward, her hands trembling. “I apologise, Melynda,” she sniffed, feeling the guilt pool in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she had taken her anger and frustration out on the younger girl. Of all the people in the palace, she was the least deserving of such crude treatment. “It’s just—”

“I understand, Princess,” Melynda smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/n held her hand softly, holding back her cries. “To be betrothed to someone who you don't truly love must be a punishment for the soul.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid this all these years. Gods forbid a woman who wants to live a life free from all this nonsense," she muttered bitterly.

“You are to be the Princess of Dorne. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But not with a Targaryen… someone who sees us as nothing more than goatfuckers.”

“Once you get to acquainted with one another, I’m certain he’ll see past the veil of prejudice that blinds the rest of Westeros.”

“Oh, we’re well past the point of acquaintances, and I’m certain we’ve both made it clear that we’d rather kill each other than push forward with this betrothal.”

“And yet, you've hardly spent a moment alone together, away from prying eyes. Forgive me if I'm wrong, my Princess, but this hostility you feel towards one another... it feels more like the weight of your houses than your own. He’s not truly wronged you, nor have you wronged him... well, apart from the few wounds you’ve exchanged.”

“I wish it were as simple as you say, but the hatred between our houses runs deeper than that trial. We’re talking about years of bloodshed, of lives torn apart by their desire to conquer what was never theirs. How can we ever forget that? If anything, those Targaryens are only reaping what they've sown.”

“I understand, Princess, but is it truly fair to place the sins of the forefathers upon their children? Yes, the Targaryens once sought to conquer Dorne, but they failed. And since then, they’ve left us to rule our lands. Why should Prince Jacaerys suffer for the wrongdoings of his ancestors when he himself hasn't harmed you?”

“You speak the truth, Melynda. But do you truly think the rest of the Dorne will see it that way?” She stared at her handmaiden's reflection. “The pain the Targaryens have caused... it’s not just written in our histories, it’s engraved into the souls of our people.”

“I’m not saying that your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys will reconcile your houses overnight, Princess. In fact, it may take generations to heal these wounds. However, if Queen Rhaenyra proves to be the rightful and just ruler she claims to be, and honours your demands... and you and Prince Jacaerys unite the Seven Kingdoms as promised, then mayhaps it could be the beginning of something.” 

Suddenly, both women were startled by a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Y/n cleared her throat.

“My Princess,” Ser Domeric said from the other side. “The guests have begun to arrive, and your presence is expected shortly.”

Princess Y/n quickly composed herself, ensuring that any trace of sorrow had vanished from her face, and replaced her semblance with a mask of indifference.

The late afternoon breeze crept through the palace windows, stirring the heavy air in the Hall but doing little to lift the mood. Spirits were low and the lingering music was drowned out by the quiet murmurs of the guests. Lords and ladies from House Yronwood to House Qorgyle had traversed across the arid deserts to Sunspear, not out of enthusiasm, but out of duty, their gazes shifting warily as they gathered to pay tribute to the Princess. Even Y/n herself, appeared as though she wished to be anywhere else.

At the high table, the Martells sat alongside the Targaryens, not able to look one another eye to eye. They faced the great houses, whose semblance didn’t hide their disdain for the dragonriders. They showed no efforts for forced pleasantries, bracing themselves for the next chapter of conflict rather than celebrating a wedding that would unite the Seven Kingdoms.

Before anything, Prince Qoren stood up, ready to speak before his people.

“It is truly an honour to welcome you all this evening, and I thank each and every one of you for making the long journey to Sunspear. Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the betrothal of my beloved daughter, Princess Y/n Martell, to the Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon... but also, the union between House Martell and House Targaryen,” he spoke, the enthusiasm fading in his voice. 

The crowd fell into an immediate hush, the lords and ladies exchanging uncertain glances, some full of resentment, and some full of disgust. Y/n felt each pressing gaze suffocating her and tried to hide her discomfort behind the rim of her cup, already expecting those pessimistic reactions. After all, who in their right mind would willingly wed a Targaryen?

“Out of all of the suitors that have lost their lives willing to serve you and our realm, you chose to spare the one whose ancestors sought to conquer our lands?” Lady Liara from House Briar’s voice trembled, barely able to hold back her anger. “Could you not have shown mercy to my sweet boy Eldritch instead?”

The Princess had always been taught to hold back in such moments, especially in front of such a large audience, but before she could stop herself, the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

“My Lady,” Y/n began, trying to push down the feeling of irritation rising up her chest. “Remind me… who sent your son, alone, to seek my hand? As far as I know, someone that young shouldn’t be burdened with ‘providing me a strong heir’ or ‘making Dorne more prosperous than it already is.’ Those aren’t words a boy of three-and-ten should be speaking.” 

Lady Liara sank back to her seat with a scowl. The Princess’ gaze swept across the Hall, their faces etched with grief and bitterness, never forgetting the lives lost in pursuit of her hand. 

Whilst the guests sat in silence, waiting for either Prince Qoren or Princess Y/n to justify such a decision, Rhaenyra seized the moment to capture the crowd’s attention. She cleared her throat and rose slowly, her lilac eyes lingering on each guest, meeting the same eyes that had carried pent-up hatred for generations.

“By coming here, we are not denying the sins of House Targaryen,” she paused, allowing her words to settle, her gaze never leaving the crowd.  “I understand that to many of you, we are still the enemy. I am aware of the blood that was spilled and the pain that has lingered for generations. But the true enemies now are the Greens, who have usurped the Throne and seek to bring all of Westeros to its knees. And I know Dorne will not bend without a fight. Join us, and we will stand together. We can prevent the war that the Greens will bring to your lands.”

Despite Rhaenyra's words, the guests still mumbled with one another and her plea fell on indifferent ears. She clasped her hands together, holding her composure.

“So, the Greens are the enemies now, eh?" A voice echoing across the hall finally broke through the whispers. “To them, you are the usurper. And as far as we are concerned, they have yet to come to our lands to pester us with this petty war of yours.”

“Do not mistake their silence for mercy, my Lord. When they come, they will not ask. They will take. And by then, it may be too late to decide where your loyalties lie,” Daemon retorted.

“They have left us with no other choice,” Lord Lysander Dayne scowled. “Is this why you brought these beasts? So they can burn us if we refuse to join?”

Upon the mere mention of the dragons, the fear of the crowd became palpable. Prince Qoren’s face was flushed with anger, seeing that the celebration had somehow turned into a council meeting.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Prince Qoren bellowed, rising to his feet and jabbing his fist to the table. "We are here to celebrate the upcoming wedding of my daughter, not to squabble over this bloody war! If I hear more of it tonight, I’ll throw you in a pit of scorpions myself," his voice cut through the crowd, making the lords shrink back into their seats as he glared at Rhaenyra.

The music, which had momentarily ceased, began to play again. Princess Y/n exhaled deeply, gripping her cup as she swirled the crimson liquid. If she was going to endure the remainder of this night and persuade those thick-skulled lords to support Rhaenyra, she would need wine. A lot of it. She downed the first cup, the sweet taste lingering on her palate as her gaze shifted across the room, spotting the lords she had to sway.

Lord Lysander of House Dayne sat with his lady wife, his stern face etched with displeasure. He had made it clear where he stood, opposing any involvement in the war. Yet, he was infamously known for his ambition; he was the sort of man who would bend the knee for the right price, advancing his own house in exchange for his formidable army. Then there was Lord Thaddeus of House Yronwood, head of the second-most powerful house in Dorne, capable of providing enough supplies to sustain the armies at sea; a practical man, loyal to tradition, but always open to negotiation. On the other side of the Hall, she spotted Lord Ander of House Jordayne, who owned the largest fleet in Dorne.

Ser Domeric, being part of House Uller and their loyal informant, would provide whatever support was asked. And lastly, House Santagar, though not enthusiastic, had always been fiercely loyal to the Martells and would stand by their house regardless.

Despite the collective disappointment lingering in the air, as the feast came to an end, the guests stood up to salvage what remained of the evening. Jacaerys’ eyes followed Y/n as she rose from her seat, weaving through the multitude and making her way to Lord Lysander. The man bowed his head and extended his hand, offering the Princess a dance which she accepted with a smile that seemed far too charming than she would normally allow herself to be. Jacaerys couldn’t tear his gaze from Y/n, watching how she leaned towards Lord Lysander, her lips closely brushing his ear, as he nodded eagerly so as not to disappoint her.

“A celebration of our upcoming betrothal?” Jacaerys scoffed, already feeling his blood boil at the sight of the Princess with another man. Had they been at the Red Keep, the whispers would have already circled around, rumours of the Princess enjoying the company of other men, even while bound by a betrothal to him, that would call into question not only her honour but the legitimacy of their future children. He could already hear the council’s scandalous whispers behind closed doors–whispers that had been haunting him all his life.

“She’s quite gifted, isn’t she, my dear sister?” Elyas remarked, turning to Jacaerys. “She has a way of making men dance in the palm of her hand.”

“Only if one is foolish enough to fall for whatever games she is playing,” Jacaerys muttered.

Jacaerys and Elyas watched how Lord Lysander placed a kiss on top of her hand. With one final whisper, she slipped away from his arms and disappeared into the crowd, only to be seen again; that time with Lord Ander, who offered the Princess his hand without hesitation. 

“There are a couple of things you should know about her,” Elyas said with a sneer, glancing at the Princess. “One of them is… you’ll never be her only one.”

“You need not tell me what I can already see. It seems your sister is not familiar with the notion of faithfulness.”

“Faithfulness? As far as I’m aware, neither of you are bound by vows just yet,”  Elyas grinned, noting how Jacaerys clearly wasn’t enjoying the conversation. "But listen, this celebration isn’t meant for you to sulk in a corner, watching my sister dance with every lord in Dorne. It's for indulging. There’s a place not too far from the palace, where we know how to truly celebrate. Who knows? You might not even survive this war you’re throwing yourself into. You may as well enjoy the finest pleasures our land has to offer before it’s too late," Jacaerys’s knuckles whitened around his cup, his repulsion palpable, but Elyas only leaned in closer. 

As much as Jacaerys despised watching Princess Y/n flit from lord to lord, he wasn’t about to lower himself to her games. What was she trying to prove? Was she testing him, daring him to show any signs of jealousy or anger? Or mayhaps she was simply making it clear, once again, how much she misliked him?

Jacaerys refused to give Elyas the satisfaction of a response and merely shook his head. Elyas smirked, amused by Jacaerys' restraint, and stood up, ensuring he ruined the evening even more before leaving.

“Oh, and just so you know… whatever illusions you have about loyalty and honour, you'd best cast them aside. If you think my sister will suddenly change her ways after this betrothal of yours, then you’re completely wrong. I’m telling you now, she won’t. She’s as Dornish as they come… untamable and always chasing trouble. The more you tighten the leash, the more she’ll struggle to break free. And she’ll keep playing her games, whether you like them or not... so you better learn how to play them if you don't wish to end up as another one of her playthings,” Elyas said, slapping Jacaerys’ shoulder playfully before walking away.

Jacaerys hadn’t even realised how tightly he was clenching his jaw until the sound of Elyas and his sworn protector’s fading footsteps pulled him back to reality. He let out a breath, trying to shake off the bitterness away, and downed a gulp of wine.

But what he hadn’t noticed was a pair of dark wide eyes watching him from the other end of the table. It was Farien, whose gaze had been flickering between him and Elyas the whole time. When Jacaerys caught the boy's gaze, his expression softened. He set down his cup, watching how the little boy stood up and made his way over to him.

“If you marry my sister, does that mean you’ll become my brother?” Farien asked. 

“I suppose,” he forced a smile, though he wasn’t sure if the little boy was particularly glad about that.

Farien climbed on to the empty seat beside Jacaerys, glancing around the nearly deserted table and making sure none of his family members were nearby. All of the Martells were tending their own business, leaving the Targaryens seated in silence. The boy leaned in close, cupping his small hands around Jacaerys’s ear, scared that someone might hear what he had to say.

“So, does that mean I get to ride your dragon?” He whispered. 

Jacaerys looked at him, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“If your father allows you, then I suppose you could… but are you not afraid?” He asked.

“I’m really, really scared. But I wonder what it must feel like to see the world from up above. The closest I’ve ever gotten to flying is in my dreams, you know? It feels like I’m one of Father’s falcons, soaring high in the skies. Father says I have the gift to turn into one of them at night and watch over the desert,” he glanced up, his eyes gleaming in wonder.

Jacaerys looked at the boy and allowed himself to smile, as Farien somehow reminded him of his younger brother, Joffrey, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.

“Anyway,” Farien continued, “I think we could be brothers, you and I. We even look alike, see?” He pointed at Jacaerys’ curls. “It would be nice to have another brother... because, well, Elyas... he’s nice, sometimes. But not always.”

Jacaerys held back a scoff, figuring as much. 

“And what about your sister?” 

“We like sneaking sweets from the kitchens and feeding them to the horses,” Farien’s eyes suddenly lit up. “And she loves fighting, too. But not the angry, shouting kind, no. She says that sometimes, fighting feels like dancing, and that’s why she enjoys it. She’s really good at it. And I think you are too. But my sister is better.”

Just as he was about to ask Farien what other things his sister enjoyed, one of the little boy’s servants approached them. 

“My Prince, your father has sent me to take you back to your chambers to rest,” she smiled at the little boy, who had no choice but to accept dejectedly.

As the servant took him in her arms, Farien waved at Jacaerys with a small smile. He nodded at the little boy, unable to stop himself from smiling back.

“At least the little one is not as irritating as the rest of his family,” Rhaenyra said as her gaze softened, noticing how the little boy never tore his eyes from them as he got further and further.

“Give him a couple of years. He will turn out exactly like his older brother,” Daemon muttered. 

Then, Jacaerys' gaze trailed back to the Princess once again, who was still locked in a dance with Lord Ander. The exchange of whispers seemed to grow more intense, as his lips lingered on the shell of her ear, making her nod as her smile never left her lips.

“Jacaerys,” Daemon’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you not have a duty to fulfil?”

“I have been fulfilling them since the moment we arrived,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As Jacaerys had been doing everything he could to uphold his duties, Daemon merely sat back, watching the spectacle he had set in motion unravel before him. 

“You have, but sitting and watching the Princess be courted by every lord in Dorne is not one of them. Listen to me, these men are doing everything in their power to pull her away from our alliance since they can see she does not favour you,” he paused leaning in closer. “You are no stranger to this. If you two are to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she needs to be seen by your side.”

Jacaerys rose from his seat as he exhaled, growing frustrated by the second. It was all in the name of duty, after all. He headed towards the Princess with steady steps, disappearing into the crowd and dodging every drunken lord and lady that stood in his way. Lord Ander, who seemed to have more intentions than just dancing with the Princess, held her close, too close, his hands lingering on her waist. 

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cleared his throat, barely containing himself. Lord Ander snapped his head towards his direction. “I would hate to interrupt your conversation, but the hour is quite late, and Princess Y/n needs to rest.”

“Is that so?” He pulled Y/n even closer to him, making Jacaerys’ blood boil. “How come the Princess seems to be enjoying herself?”

Jacaerys’ eyes flicked to the cup in her hand, the liquid threatening to spill from the rim. He wasn’t a stranger to that dazed look and that loose smirk playing on her lips. 

“The Princess seems to have indulged in one too many cups. You may continue whatever… conversation you were having on the morrow, my Lord,” Jacaerys forced his words through his teeth. 

“Is that an order from the Crown Prince? Or from a boy who is still learning how to hold a woman’s interest?” Lord Ander raised a brow, sliding his hand even lower on her waist. 

The Princess’ gaze flicked between the two men, unaware of the escalating tension. She took another sip from her cup, her eyes landing on Jacaerys, finally acknowledging how dashing he looked in a Dornish ensemble of deep blues and golds.

“Gods, spare me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You two sound like you’re ready to start another war.”

“If it means winning your favour, Princess,” Lord Ander said with a grin.

“Mayhaps that's a battle for another day. Besides, the Prince is right, the hour is quite late,” she said softly, growing tired at the show of bravado between the two men. She moved away from Lord Ander and took a step towards Jacaerys.

Jacaerys, whose heart was pounding with both anger and relief, offered her his arm. Y/n would’ve hesitated at first, but under the effects of wine, any qualms were long gone. She noted how he tensed his arm uncomfortably, unaware that she was putting pressure on the wound she had given him not too long ago. 

Casymir leaned against one of the pillars with a hint of amusement on his face, watching the whole scene unfold before his eyes. Once Jacaerys and Y/n were away from the crowd, he finally pushed himself off the pillar, approaching Jacaerys, who was struggling to keep her in place.

“Allow me, my Prince. The Princess is in good hands with me,” he said, extending his arm. 

Jacaerys glared at Casymir as he adjusted her weight in his arm, wondering what he was smiling for.

“You are the Princess’ sworn protector, are you not?” He raised his brow. 

“Yes, my Prince,” he smiled proudly.

“Yet all you did was stand and watch how the Princess wandered into the clutches of men with less than noble intentions,” Jacaerys tried to keep his composure, though his anger simmered beneath the surface.

“Do you question my service to the Princess, my Prince?” He chuckled, brushing the Prince’s concerns aside. “The Princess was in no immediate danger. And as far as I’m aware, a dance with a lord hardly constitutes a threat.”

“If you think a man whose ulterior motives are clearly written in his face not to be dangerous, then mayhaps we have very different understandings of the word danger,” Jacaerys said. 

“You greatly misunderstand the Princess. Lord Ander was eager, but he knew better than to cross the line. And besides, she would’ve ended his attempts long before you stepped in. As you might have already… experienced, the Princess knows how to handle herself and hardly needs to be coddled,” his blue eyes trailed at the way their arms were intertwined. “Though, it seems she doesn’t mind letting you try.”

“So, what are you here for, then? Just for decoration?”  

“Is picking fights with other men a favourite pastime of yours, my Prince?” The Princess laughed, poking fun at Jacaerys as she unconsciously tightened her grip around his injured arm. “You do seem to have a talent for making enemies wherever you go.”

Jacaerys hesitated, unsure if replying to the Princess was even worth the efforts given her current state, so he merely scoffed, shaking his head in defeat. However, one thing he couldn’t ignore was the feeling of having her so close as she mindlessly ran her hand up and down the length of his arm. He tried to calm his heart, but he couldn’t keep his composure with each stroke of her fingers that made him lean into her touch ever so slightly.   

Once they reached the Princess’ chambers, Casymir leaned on the door, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly calm expression on his face. 

“If you wish to be escorted back to your chambers, my Prince, I can call for a servant,” Casymir offered, implying that Jacaerys had overstayed his welcome.

“No. I wish to stay. The Princess and I have a few words to exchange,” he said.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” the Princess slurred, assuring her sworn protector with a slow nod.

“As you wish, my Princess. I'll be just outside, should you require any assistance.”

Jacaerys stood by the door, unsure of what to do now that he was inside the Princess’ chambers. It wasn’t improper of him, as her soon-to-be husband, to be seen there, so he found himself leaning against the wall, trying to regain the composure that he had repeatedly lost throughout the night. His eyes trailed around the intricately carved golden statues that adorned the corners and the colourful tapestries that swayed slightly, catching the faint breeze that slipped through the windows and bringing with it the distant murmurs of the ongoing celebration. 

Only when he heard a soft clink and the steady stream of wine being poured into a cup, he snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could even think, he turned to Y/n, walking towards her and snatching the cup and jug from her hands, causing her mouth to hang open in disbelief and indignation. 

“You will not drink any more tonight,” he ordered, pouring the liquid out of the window and slamming the cup aside.  

“Well, isn’t this absolutely perfect?” She spat, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. “Not only will you take away my freedom, but now you wish to take away one of the few things that bring me joy?”

“You must live a very miserable life, Princess, if wine and men are the few things in life that bring you joy,” Jacaerys burst out, no longer able to contain the pent-up anger that had been brewing all night.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll have a miserable life once I marry you.”

“And what makes you think I want to marry you? That behaviour of yours… is unacceptable,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I do not wish to marry someone who is a slave to their desires.”

“A slave to my desires? Is that what you think of me?” Y/n shouted, unable to control the fury taking over her voice.

“What else am I supposed to think when you go from lord to lord like a marionette whose strings had been cut?” He paused, taking in her dishevelled appearance. “I was not aware how these Dornishmen could name someone so ruthless and so debauched as their Princess.” 

“And I didn’t know you Targaryens go around crowning bastards just to keep your house on the Throne,” she spat, making sure to rest her gaze on his dark eyes and on his brown locks long enough.

“You whore–!”

Before Jacaerys could finish his sentence, Y/n's palm collided with his cheek in a stinging slap, his head snapping to the side. His eyes widened, more in shock than pain, as his hand instinctively rose to the reddening mark on his face.

“A whore? A savage? A goatfucker?” Y/n's voice trembled with fury. “Is that all you see me as?” She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. Her finger jabbed into his chest with every word. “You,” she spat, “should be thanking me for getting my hands dirty, persuading those lords to join your petty war!”

Jacaerys was stunned into silence momentarily, feeling every ounce of her rage bleeding through her words.

“And who told you to do that on your own?” Jacaerys shot back. “You could have asked me, we could have gone together and spoken to them like it is expected of us!”

“You overestimate yourself,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you even know what those lords think of you? Of your family? If it weren’t for our betrothal, they would have driven a spear through your chests without a second thought. Because to them, you Targaryens are nothing but bloodthirsty murderers who’ve come to take our lands all over again.”

“Enough!” Jacaerys grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her, slamming her against the wall. “You think I do not know that? You think I do not feel it every time I step into a room? The way they look at me? At my family? You think I enjoy being the enemy?” He seethed, feeling his throat grow raw with each word. “Gods, you are infuriating,” he grunted, realising how close their faces were to one another. 

The Princess’ lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of satisfaction lingering in her eyes. She had struck a nerve, realising how Jacaerys was always quick to react to whatever blasphemous speech she had to say about his family, and once again, she had managed to unleash the dormant wrath that blinded his actions. 

As the Princess found herself cornered between his arms and the wall, she crouched low, slipping beneath his arms in a fluid motion and spinning around to pin Jacaerys against the wall, pressing her chest to his back. Jacaerys reacted instinctively, kicking off the wall to shove her back. The sudden force sent her stumbling as she crashed on the ground, and he followed, landing on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Just as he was about to stand up, Y/n yanked him back down and rolled on top of him, keeping him in place by locking her thighs around his waist and pinning his arms on the floor with one swift movement. Truth be told, Jacaerys could have easily pushed her away as her usual strength was halved by the wine; yet he remained still, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body pressed into his, and how their faces were inches apart yet again, her breath hot on his skin.

Once again, he found himself under her mercy.

She stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and lips slightly open as she breathed lightly, taking in the sight of Jacaerys’ flushed face and his gaze clouded by desire. Jacaerys looked up at her and gulped, feeling his erection stirring uncomfortably beneath his breeches.

His eyes locked onto her plump lips and trailed towards to the hollow of her neck, down to her chest. He stared hungrily as she leaned towards him, his fingertips itching to explore the skin hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. As she got closer and closer to his face, Jacaerys’ breath hitched, and without realising it, his lips parted slightly as his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. His pulse quickened, waiting for the warmth of her lips pressing against his.

But instead of the kiss he craved, he felt the hot caress of her breath graze the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Her voice, low and smooth, held him captive with each honeyed word.

“If you want to win this little war of yours, you better start by respecting me,” she whispered as she let go of one of his wrists and began tracing delicate patterns with her finger. “Just because I’ve chosen you as my betrothed doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind,” she bucked her hips against his hardened cock, causing Jacaerys to groan at the sudden spark of pleasure coursing in his veins. 

In that very moment, Y/n had uncovered yet another emotion—the primal desire that, despite her infuriating attitude, she had managed to set ablaze. If Jacaerys had to ask himself how it happened, he wouldn’t know where to begin answering. Had it all started when they first met, when she held little regard for him? Was it in the arena, when she brazenly humiliated him in front of everyone? Or was it the fact that they always seemed to find themselves pointing a blade at each other’s throats? Behind all that anger and hatred, and the prejudice that blinded him from seeing the Princess as she truly was, lay a spark of curiosity. Something he knew that once he began to explore, that spark would turn into wildfire.

With each passing second, he fought against the temptation to place his hands on the curve of her hips and make her grind herself against his cock.

“Remember, my Prince,” she purred in his ear, bucking her hips once again. “The wedding has not taken place yet, and anything could happen.” 

A/N: For some reason, i keep beating my wordcount record. istg my fanfic wc is way bigger than all of my uni papers combined, and bare in mind i was a humanities student lmfaooo.

anyway, i feel like this chapter was a mess. jace's patience continuously getting tested by everyone, and our reader making things even harder for him. i actually feel sorry for those two but the way they are handling things is not very demure, mindful or cutesy. we got the exact opposite.

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a (continued in comments)

[bylerween]

Announcing the daily themes for BYLERWEEN 2024! 🎃🦇👻

Each day has three themes: a Halloween theme, a show theme, and a one-word theme. Feel free to use inspiration from just one, two, or all three themes for each day!

Day 1: Sunday, October 27:

Horror AU

Demo Creatures

Summon

Day 2: Monday, October 28:

Masquerade

Turn it Upside Down

Spell

Day 3: Tuesday, October 29:

Graveyard & Zombies

Young Byler & Old Byler

Haunt

Day 4: Wednesday, October 30:

Pumpkins & Skeletons

The Party

Transform

Day 5: Thursday, October 31:

Costume Contest

Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02)

Sweet

Day 6: Friday, November 1:

Movie Night

Hawkins Lab

Fire

Day 7: Saturday, November 2:

Fortune Telling

Season 5 Era

Shiver

🎃🦇👻

Extra prompts and ideas for these themes are under the Read More cut!

amazing art by @magentamee!!!

Here are some additional ideas that you can use as inspiration for each day's themes! You don't need to follow these prompts at all, but feel free to jump off of these ideas.

Day 1: Sunday, October 27:

Horror AU: Make an AU of your favorite horror movie, show, video game, or book. Feature Mike and Will as the villains, or as the final ones standing.

Demo Creatures: Demogorgans, Demodogs, and Demobats, oh my! Revisit our favorite creatures from the Upside Down. Will Dustin’s beloved D’Artagnan make a reappearance? Or create a brand new kind of Demo Creature!

Summon: Will the Wise and the brave paladin Michael are summoned to complete a quest! Or maybe at a spooky sleepover, Mike and Will accidentally summon a demon.

Day 2: Monday, October 28:

Masquerade: Will kisses someone handsome at the masquerade ball, but they had a mask on - was it Mike or someone else? The party shows up to the ball to have a good time, but are surrounded by enemies in masks. Hidden identities, lots of dancing, and a raucous good time!

Turn it Upside Down: Explore the Upside Down, whatever that means to you! Will and Mike go through a gate into the Upside Down, or flip the whole ship on its head: Willow and Michelle around Halloween, underexplored AU’s, flipped ship dynamics. Go crazy with it.

Spell: Enchantments, curses, and magic. Has Hawkins been placed under a spell this Halloween? Will the Wise casts a spell, or has to undo one.

Day 3: Tuesday, October 29:

Graveyard & Zombies: Buried bodies, graveyard shifts, and ghosts. Will and Mike work at the graveyard and have to stop an undead army from rising, or maybe that’s just where they share their first kiss. The “Zombie Boy” nickname still stings Will when it’s thrown around at school, or maybe not so much after Mike fights their bullies.

Young Byler & Old Byler: What did Mike and Will get up to on their first, second, third Halloween together? How do Mike and Will celebrate Halloween once in college, or in their 20s, 30s, 40s, or 50s? How are they spending Halloween in 2024?

Haunt: What still haunts Mike and Will all these years later? Mike searches for Will who is haunting him while still stuck in the Upside Down. Mike and Will bravely face the Hawkins Haunted House, or move into an actual haunted house as adults.

Day 4: Wednesday, October 30:

Pumpkins & Skeletons: Will and Mike carve pumpkins together, make a pumpkin pie, or investigate the mystery of the rotten pumpkin fields in Hawkins. The party fights against skeletons come to life, or a mystery in Hawkins begins when an unlikely skeleton is found.

The Party: Any and all Party Halloween shenanigans! Explore party dynamics during the spooky season, from pranks to trick or treating. What was the party’s first Halloween together like? The party attends or hosts a Halloween party.

Transform: Transformations of any kind! Werewolves, vampires, Frankenstein, or just the kind of transformation that happens when you are stuck in the Upside Down for a week.

Day 5: Thursday, October 31:

Costume Contest: The party is going all out for costumes this year! Or is it just an AU? Dress Mike and Will up in historical clothes, clothes from your other favorite fandom, or anything else! No matter what, Mike and Will are dressed to impress this year.

Trick or Treat, Freak: A perfect day to appreciate our beloved season 2 Halloween episode. Ghostbusters, Max Mayfield has joined the party, Will sees a shadow in the sky. Crazy together.

Sweet: What’s Halloween without candy? Mike and Will share their favorite candies, or maybe they’re just being extra sweet to each other this Halloween.

Day 6: Friday, November 1:

Movie Night: Whether it’s the whole party or just Will and Mike, at the movie theater or just hanging out in the basement: Byler is cozied up and watching their favorite Halloween movie. Or, what if the party is making an amateur horror flick?

Hawkins Lab: What goes on there, and how are Will and Mike involved? Mad scientists, dangerous experiments, and kids with powers.

Fire: Bonfires to keep our boys warm on a chilly October night, the fire under a wizard’s cauldron, Will the Wise casts Fireball, or a dark night lit only by candlelight.

Day 7: Saturday, November 2:

Fortune Telling: Look into the crystal ball and tell me what you see! Will or Mike get their fortune read and things go awry! Horoscopes, tarot reading, palm reading, tea leaves: does knowing the future make things easier, or so much worse?

Season 5 Era: Time to daydream about our season 5 era! Speculate about what spooky things will happen based on the behind the scenes pictures. What does the next Halloween after season 4 look like for Mike and Will? Is there still time to trick or treat when the world is ending?

Shiver: “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” What has Mike and Will shivering with fright: a supernatural creature, something ancient and mysterious, or a strange deadly virus that has the whole town shivering? Mike and Will get trapped somewhere cold. Will insists that “he likes it cold.” Or maybe there’s just a chill in the air - it is autumn after all.

[dr3amfyr-e]

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. part two. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy. 

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature. 

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer. 

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure. 

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care. 

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited. 

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public. 

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet. 

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist. 

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement. 

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year. 

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys. 

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard. 

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour. 

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course. 

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers. 

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her. 

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold. 

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable. 

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos. 

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention. 

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement. 

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older. 

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception. 

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that. 

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend. 

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team. 

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club. 

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked. 

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind. 

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was. 

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though. 

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking. 

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature. 

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence. 

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies. 

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home. 

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase. 

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same. 

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned. 

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company. 

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him. 

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes. 

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative. 

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion. 

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule. 

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other. 

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England. 

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive. 

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.” 

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together. 

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber. 

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt. 

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen. 

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class. 

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy. 

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin. 

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home. 

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very. 

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.” 

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself. 

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold. 

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back. 

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study. 

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair. 

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.” 

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?” 

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response. 

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.” 

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.” 

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze. 

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,” 

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes. 

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten. 

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal. 

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe. 

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating. 

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer. 

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth. 

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face. 

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat. 

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold. 

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours. 

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream. 

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth. 

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force. 

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his. 

You don’t talk about it afterwards. 

[busket]

I understand personal preference and that some people just don't like ships with men, and that's ok! but I'm annoyed at the implication from some fans that labru has less depth as a relationship than farcille or any other wlw ship in dungeon meshi, and the idea that people are only shipping it as a joke, or because they're horny, or because they're misogynistic and don't want to look at female characters, etc etc. I've seen people call it like, "bloodlust obsession that turns to horniness" and it made me realize that the people who don't ship labru don't understand their dynamic at all. labru shippers didn't just pull this out of our asses lol

a lot of the story around kabru involves how he and laios are perfect opposites of eachother. NARRATIVE FOILS, if you will. everywhere kabru thrives (social interaction, charisma, the surface) laios completely fails. and everywhere that laios is most successful (in the dungeon against monsters) kabru keeps getting killed. not only that but their desires are mirrors of each other too: laios grew up bullied by humans and wanted to become a monster, kabru grew up dehumanized by his villagers and then the elves, so he wants to affirm his identity as a human being.

despite how kabru should be repulsed by laios due to his hatred of monsters, he's drawn to him instead. kabru spends the entire story trying to get to laios to talk to him and to get to know him. firstly he knows laios is closest to defeating the dungeon lord and needs to sus out if he's a good person, but he admits that he really wants to be friends with laios too, not just to determine his virtue but to see what value laios sees in monsters. he wants laios to share his interest in people, he wants laios to be interested in him back. kabru never had any true bloodlust or desire to kill laios, he was prepared to go that far if laios wasn't a good person, but once finding out that he has good intentions kabru spends all his energy trying to help laios instead. and when you consider that kabru spent his childhood believing he was half monster because of how he was ostracized in utaya, his curiosity about how laios could possibly love monsters feels so much more personal.

and for laios, he's not used to anyone taking an interest in him. people are constantly telling him he's weird, and the person he believed to be his best friend told him he couldn't stand him. he misses falin so dearly because she thinks he's the coolest man on earth, so meeting someone and being told "I hate monsters but I still want to know YOU" would have an impact on him, I think. in postcanon they become good friends, kabru becomes laios' right hand man to help him with more of the dicey social aspects of being a leader. laios asks him to stay by his side and help him, and kabru says "yeah, that's what I've been doing this whole time"

I wouldn't claim that a romantic relationship between them is CANON, but I wouldn't even say that about farcille either tbh (and I love farcille just as much so don't come for me lol) this isn't a comedy crackship that yaoi fans just made up. laios and kabru are really multi dimensional characters and they're made to reflect eachother in every way, even down to their physical design. so it's not out of nowhere that people ship them

[hearts-are-connected]

Dang it, I love this ship and I love the enemies to lovers trope. I get that a lot of people see them as a surrogate father and daughter relationship, but it feels like a been there/done that kinda thing.

As much as I love that trope, I'm also a little tired of it. There's only so much Last of Us style found family I take after seeing it for so many years.

The thing I love about VaultGhoul or Ghoulcy is the idea of Lucy breaking down of Cooper's walls while he helps build hers up.

Is he incredibly cruel to her and those around him in the first season? Yes, extremely

Does he need to chill out and find some of his humanity that's been buried under 200+ years of wasteland survival and bitterness? Yes

Who can bring that needed direction to his life while learning the ways of the new world she finds herself in? Lucy MacLean

I know that the canon ship of the show at this moment is Lucy and Maximus, and as much as I love him, I find the pairing obvious and kind of boring from a story telling perspective. I loved it on my first viewing, but upon re-watching the series, I wasn't as behind it as before. I see their relationship, kiss and all, as a kind of first fling for the both of them.

While it doesn't diminish the care they show one another, there's not a lot behind them as a couple. Now I know that some people might turn around to say how she and Cooper spent less time together than her and Max, but I guess the thing I look forward to is seeing what their relationship brings with the second season.

I feel like Max and Lucy will have a great friendship and I'm interested to see where the Brotherhood fits into their dynamic as well.

With Cooper though, I find his story so tragic, as it's supposed to be. He's your standard hardened survivor who only looks out for himself that's now stuck with the happy-go-lucky main character, however, she's not that character anymore by the end. She's still going to be the Lucy we love, but she's changed by the end. While not losing her compassion and some optimism, I think Cooper is going to bring out a harsher side to her as we saw when she bit off his finger.

I want to see her building up her walls and learning when to let them down. How to truly survive while still bringing her own energy to the wasteland and people around her. I want to see Cooper regaining some lost humanity while learning to truly care for another person again. To see the two of them as eventual equals in one another's eyes as they continue on their journey as reluctant allies.

I also want to say that I'm personally kind of tired of the 'age gap' argument. We have stories of teenagers falling in love with hundred year old vampires. So can we just drop the age gap thing?

As long as they're both consenting adults who understand what they're getting themselves into, who cares about an age gap.

Does it truly matter in the scheme of things when we're talking about a world with cryo-stasis and super mutants?

I personally don't think so.

I don't know if anyone will even bother reading this entire thing, and I know I went on a little long, but I wanted to write down my thoughts on the whole shipping situation with the Fallout TV show fandom at this moment.

I'm a VaultGhoul shipper and I can't wait to see where the second season takes our main trio of characters.

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve mentioned this plenty of times before but I’m still kind of annoyed by how the fanbase just kind of completely declawed the four lords and placed the entirety of the responsibility for their wrongdoings on Mother Miranda.

The Baker family are great, I love them, they’re an incredible unit of antagonists who are intended to be very sympathetic, at least for the most part. Jack and Marguerite in particular have lost all control over their minds and their bodies, turning into extremely violent murderers and cannibals who threaten and attack their own family, kill anyone unfortunate enough to come across them and, especially in Marguerite’s case, lose complete autonomy over their own bodies. Marguerite turns into a walking bug hive who’s only purpose is to feed her family and birth her new children. Jack is an unstoppable murderous force of patriarchal violence who has so much fun chasing down and harming his victims, which in the Daughters DLC includes even his own daughter. The exception to this is obviously Lucas, who has been cured of his infection and his acting of his own free will. All of this is caused by Eveline, everything Jack and Marguerite do controlled by her, and yet Eveline is just as sympathetic as the rest of them. She’s a ten year old girl. Even Jack, who has watched his family and their victims suffer because of her infection, doesn’t seem to hold any of it against her. She just wants a family of her own, after all. It’s a complex and tragic situation.

The four lords, while I suppose being similar in structure, are not the Baker family. Not in dynamic, not in character, not in the kind of tragedy that they embody. I could talk for a while about just how completely different they are, but I don’t know if I really need to.

The Baker family are so tragic because they were just innocent bystanders trying to help a woman and a little girl they found in a shipwreck out in a storm. That’s the only reason they ended up in the situation that they were in. While the lords have similar origins, being victims of Mother Miranda’s experiments to bring her daughter Eva back, an important distinction between them is that in the case of the lords, all four of them are still acting of their own free will. Yes, Mother Miranda has undeniable power over them. She leads the cult they are part of, she has control over the village, she is their superior. However, I really dislike when every negative action by the lords is pushed onto her, as if the lords are not all grown adults who are for the most part acting independently of her.

With Alcina, she is the head of her own extremely brutal crimes. I think a lot of people have forgotten quite how horrifying the situations of the maidens are, possibly due to the prevalence shipping between Alcina and the maidens, and though we have minimal information what we do know is very frightening. Alcina uses her work force like livestock, draining them for their blood in a cellar full of horrific torture devices, and leaves their corpses to shamble around, armed and ready to attack any unwanted guests that have slipped out of the daughter’s clutches so that Alcina still doesn’t have to do her own dirty work, given how highly above everyone but Mother Miranda she appears to view herself as. While yes, Alcina does need human blood to survive, her methods are brutal, and none of this has been enforced upon her by Mother Miranda. Similarly to Jack on occasion, she takes a great deal of pleasure in hurting and attacking Ethan as he runs from her. Additionally, everything she does to Ethan is against Mother Miranda’s request. While yes, it is retaliation after he killed Bela, the part I often see people leave out is that Alcina is equally as upset that he entered her property and was attempting to steal from her, and she isn’t just after him to kill him.

Alcina has also been an active participant in aiding Mother Miranda with at least one experiment, considering that I’d how she got her daughters. While I’m sure her strong admiration for Mother Miranda and Mother Miranda’s power over her has absolutely had an affect in this, that’s not something I’ll deny, Alcina is still a grown woman and in her written entries about this shows no qualms about her participation in this. Her general attitude towards others, using young women as a good source and turning men into scarecrows, also leads me to believe that she does not exactly care who gets hurt or taken advantage of when it comes to her and Mother Miranda’s personal endeavours.

Donna and Moreau are the two more sympathetic people within the four lords, but they are not innocent. To start with Moreau, he’s desperate for Mother Miranda’s approval, as well as the other lords. He’s insecure and lonely, and he’s doing what he has been instructed by Mother Miranda when it comes to protecting the flask. However, he does also take quite a bit of joy in trapping Ethan in the reservoir and swimming after him with the intention to eat and kill him. Moreau though, given his conditions and circumstances, is the one I think is the least to blame for what he does.

Donna is hard to discuss because we know so little about her. Her parents are dead, as well as whoever Claudia was to her, she communicates through Angie and she can cause those who enter her house to hallucinate. According to Mother Miranda, Donna is severely mentally ill and that is what has made her an unfit vessel. I think a lot of people took this to mean that Donna is unaware of what she is doing, that the hallucinations she is showing Ethan are frightening, but after having been a fan of this game for years I just can’t agree with that anymore. Donna intentionally lures Ethan into her house with visions of his supposedly dead wife. Donna is going after fears she likely knows Ethan has, making him relive Mia’s death, take apart a mannequin of her, listen to her voice panic over something being horribly wrong with Rose, all building towards the horrifying baby that chases him through the house. There is no way Donna doesn’t understand how what she is showing Ethan is distressing, especially when you consider that, given how she can make herself appear and disappear at will within Ethan’s vision and that Angie is sitting in the hallways stationary and unspeaking, Donna was likely close by Ethan at all times and could see and hear his frightened reactions to what she was intentionally showing him.

Donna’s death is upsetting, but Ethan was not just chasing her down and killing her. Donna was attacking him, or at least she was controlling her dolls to do so. It’s still a hallucination, but Ethan doesn’t know that. When faced with a threat that is keeping you trapped and trying to end your life, you will likely try to get away or try to fight back, as Donna is doing to Ethan after he starts to attack her and Ethan is doing to Donna when he thinks his life is still in danger. I would also like to remind everybody that Donna communicates through Angie. What Angie is saying, that’s Donna. Angie doesn’t talk or move once she’s dead, it is Donna who controls her.

Lastly, Heisenberg. I think Heisenberg is the one of the four most entrenched in headcanons. Headcanons are fine, I am never in this post trying to suggest they aren’t, but my issue comes in when people use them to try and change the canon of the game. For example, it’s fine to believe that Heisenberg was experimented on by Mother Miranda as a child, but that isn’t canon. It’s fine to believe that Heisenberg mourned the deaths of his siblings, but that isn’t canon. The opposite is, with Heisenberg not viewing the cult as an actual family and being very openly mean to all three other lords, even Donna and Moreau who seemingly haven’t done anything to slight him. While his goal of killing another Miranda is a very understandable and sympathetic one given what she has done to him, using a six month old baby as a weapon and trying to bring her father into the mix only to try to get him killed when he denies him is not. I cannot overstate quite how little Heisenberg actually cared for Ethan and Rose’s safety when it came to his goal, and given that we are playing as Ethan, Rose is the priority.

Heisenberg has built an army of corpses he has presumably stolen and desecrated. This is kind of fucked up actually, and done completely independently of Mother Miranda. He also puts Ethan through a very dangerous lycan gauntlet before he even reaches the factory, which makes it even stranger to me that people seem to interpret Heisenberg’s deal as something that would have benefitted both him and Ethan and as if he ever had Ethan’s safety in mind.

All four of the lords have tragic aspects to them and there are definitely reasons to sympathise with all four. They’re victims of Mother Miranda, who knows they will all be killed. She wants them to be, giving her less to deal with by the time she has Eva back. They never meant anything to her. Not Alcina or Moreau, who were desperate for her attention. Not Donna, suffering from her unspecified but apparently severe mental illness. Not Heisenberg, who was seemingly her favourite creation. However, all of them are grown adults who do their own bad things independently of her.

And it’s fine to still like them. It’s fine for them to be your favourite character. It’s fine to have happy or nice headcanons about them or want to kiss them or be their friend or to want them to have survived. It’s fine to like characters who do shitty things. It’s to be expected in a game series like Resident Evil. It’s a horror game series. People are going to do bad things.

I just find it so boring when people take away all their bite. What makes a character like Lady Dimitrescu so fun it’s that she’s completely over the top. She’s campy and ridiculous, her castle layout makes no sense, she’s got three kids made of swarms of flies dressed like a set of goth triplets, she’s a lesbian who’s castle is full of naked statues of women, she turns into a big dragon and laughs maniacally while flying around and trying to eat you. She’s evil and it’s fun. It’s the same with Heisenberg. He’s a campy show off with a fun voice and a massive hammer he never actually uses. He can control metal. He looks like a cowboy. He pronounced Miranda in a funny way. He talks to you over an intercom while trying to get you killed. They’re fun and evil and they fight over who gets to kill Ethan like they’re two little kids. It’s absurd.

What makes a character like Donna so scary is that she’s silently working in the shadows, unassuming at a first glance and unseen for most of the time in her house. She is the least threatening of the four upon first glance, and yet she has undeniably the most frightening part of the game. Pretending as if Donna is completely unaware of what she is doing and babying her like she is an incapable child waters her down completely and takes away from the effectiveness of her character.

Villain characters are great! They’re very often the highlight of the story they are in, and they aren’t real! The four lords especially are often so completely exaggerated in what they do as well. It’s fine to like villains! It doesn’t make you bad! Characters can be bad people and you can still like them!

It’s just frustrating seeing a group of very fun and exciting villains, all designed with different aspects of horror, all over the top and campy and stupid and fun, all doing their own set of fucked up things, watered down to a set of poor innocent victims who have never done any wrong ever. If you want Jack and Marguerite, take Jack and Marguerite. Lady Dimitrescu loves killing and eating women and Karl Heisenberg turns corpses into soldiers. They’re bad people and they do comically exaggerated bad things. If you can’t stomach liking a character like that, horror is probably not the genre for you. Unless it’s Resident Evil 7, I suppose, but apparently tall women aren’t hot when it’s Marguerite Baker crawling on the walls.

[questionablecuttlefish]

Where is Jinx going?

Bilgewater is a strong contender, but don't discount Demacia.

Jinx/Lux is part of it. That's actually the oldest fan ship for Jinx and was the most popular for both of them in fanfic and fan art until Season Two dropped; the common claim that it's a fringe ship or 'only' in Star Guardian is inaccurate. It's been a part of League fandom for a long ass time. It started in 2014 in 'main Runeterra canon' only months after Jinx's launch and before either the Burning Bright video or Ekko existed. It was later boosted in popularity by the Wild Rift trailer, various promotional arts featuring the two together, and later by the Valoran Town animated series released in China. Why? Initially, just pairing the two poster girls of League together, probably, or the classic hero/lancer dynamic of the optimistic 'light' character with the edgy 'dark' character.

But since Lux's comic, the Mageseeker game and then Arcane there are more lore parallels between the two than ever; both are young women struggling with a society that hates them for something they didn't choose to be, both trusted an older mentor with revolutionary ideals who encouraged them to embrace their destructive powers and then betrayed them (Silco/Sylas), both accidentally unleashed their power and got people killed, both triggered a violent revolution, both have a complicated relationship with an older sibling (Vi/Garen). If they are romantic interests or just friends, Lux gets someone who will encourage her to embrace her magic and Jinx gets someone who won't judge her on her past and the potential for conflict and companionship and a very interesting, opposites-but-actually-mirrors dynamic is all there.

It's commonly dismissed by people ignorant of League's history and of the lore of both characters, but it DOES work. If you know, you know. 🦄

Outside of that, though, why Demacia? Doesn't seem like a place our crazy girl Jinx would want to go for any reason, ever, but the end of Arcane makes it more likely than even Bilgewater because at this stage Jinx is trying to cut her ties and move on from her old life. She wants to be:

FAR away from Noxus and Noxian influences (Demacia and Noxus are bitter enemies)

FAR from her "Jinx" identity and all the violence and chaos that stands for (if she wants to disappear and try to put it behind her and heal from her trauma, Demacia big, spacious, and quiet)

FAR away from her family and friends, so she can't be tempted to get involved in their lives and hurt them (as she sees it) again. (Demacia is waaaay over there, a lot farther than Bilgewater)

FAR AWAY from the Arcane that has, from the moment she picked up that first Hexcrystal, ruined her life and taken people she loves (Mylo, Claggor, Vander, Isha, and in a roundabout way, Vi) from her. (Demacia is a kingdom that despises magic and is full of magic-sucking stone made from magic sucking forests)

So I think it will entirely depend on the direction they want to take with Jinx from here. If they want her to continue to be a violent, chaotic crazy girl we know and love, they'll make her a mercenary pirate in Bilgewater, maybe tangle her up with Sarah Fortune's crew.

If they want her to try to turn her back on her "Jinx" identity and heal from her grief in peace and quiet, they'll take her to Demacia and she'll pop up unexpectedly, maybe as a tinkerer, or artisan, trying to reconnect with her Powder side.

This is where she could meet Lux (if they're going the Lightcannon route, which would make more people than you'd think very very happy) or otherwise get drawn out of her peaceful life and into the turmoils gripping Demacia, particularly as the Mage rebellion starts to break out. Particularly if Jinx ends up siding with the rebel mages, or siding with Lux either for or against Sylas's faction and/or the Mageseekers.

She has a bit of experience with being a rebel, she might end up using her experience with Hextech and the Arcane to give those rebels the edge, and "Jinx the reluctant pacifist being drawn back into her old chaotic ways to fight for a cause because deep down, she still longs for the thrills and the chaos and the noise" might be a really cool arc to take her on.

What do you think?

[zaczenemiji]

Curtain Calls and Curveballs III

Kenji Sato x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: Your long-standing feud transformed into a legendary public dynamic where you navigate your high-profile careers, and confront your true feelings.

Word Count: 1,629

Genre/Warning: Confessions, Enemies to Lover, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn

Author’s Note: The last part aaaaaa im gonna miss this 🤧

PART ONE | PART TWO

MASTERLIST

With every passing year, you were getting a step closer to your dream. The stage became a set and curtain calls became wrap parties. You no longer had rehearsals, you had takes.

There’s no audience, there’s cameras instead. Your live performances were now edited ones, and changing costumes didn’t have to be done so quickly anymore.

Projected voices and exaggerated gestures were no longer your thing. You were now more subtle—nuanced. Micro-expressions and quieter dialogues became your new thing.

These are the many changes you went through to become who you are today, the It Girl of Hollywood. You were known for your sharp wit and an even sharper tongue; thanks to the thorn on your side since high school.

Your rivalry with Kenji became the stuff of tabloid legend. Your public feud became a part of your brands. This time around, though, it was you who had the unerring knack for getting under his skin.

How the tables have turned, indeed. And Kenji looked forward to your verbal sparring matches even more so than before.

Whenever Kenji had a big game, you would inevitably tweet something snarky. And whenever you had a new movie release, he would make a point to mock you in interviews.

It was a dance you two perfected through the years; one that hid the truth neither was willing to admit. The world knows, oh they do. “The more you hate, the more you love,” as they said.

Your one-of-a-kind relationship with Kenji is all over social media, with fans and fellow celebrities alike piqued by your long-standing rivalry of sorts.

“Okay, (y/n),” your manager said. "I need to brief you on something before we get to the studio."

The two of you are headed to an interview with your one and only enemy, Kenji Sato. The limo you were on glided smoothly through the bustling streets of LA.

"What is it this time?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Another last-minute change?"

"Not exactly," she answered. "There's been a lot of buzz on social media about you and Kenji."

“Buzz?” your eyes widened. "What kind of buzz?”

"Well, let's just say the world is very interested in your... dynamic," she replied, smirking.

You took your phone out and started scrolling through tweets, heart racing as you read the comments from various celebrities.

You couldn't help but smile at the comments, a mix of embarrassment and amusement swirling inside you. "Wow, they really think we're... in love?"

It seems like the world ships you two. You can’t blame them. Sometimes you wonder if you’re giving too much away that they’re starting to notice.

But everyone knew already. They have done so since high school. The only ones who didn’t know, or rather, didn’t admit, were you and Kenji.

You were a study-first type of girl when you were a student. And now, you’re a career woman who loves her job. Somehow, there is currently no spot in your life for dating.

Your agency tried, they really did. They tried putting you in a love team with other actors but for every interaction with Kenji, the fans seemed to love it more.

But no matter how you deny it—to others and to yourself—there is something that you refuse to face, a repressed admiration blanketed by faux hate.

Meanwhile, in the studio, bright lights were beaming down on Kenji as he adjusted his jacket. He’s tossing a baseball form hand-to-hand as he waits for you.

In a short while, the door swung open. You walked in with the grace of a seasoned actress, smile dazzling and eyes sharp. You made your way to the stage, commanding attention.

Kenji’s smirk widened as you approached. You looked elegant and sophisticated in the chic dress that you wore. You always did. You were always so beautiful and smart, and all so dense.

“Kenji!” you said with a mock sweetness. “I didn’t know they let amateurs in the show.” You sat down on the couch next to him.

Kenji leaned back in his chair, still tossing the ball. “Well, they needed someone to balance out your overacting,” he replied.

The host, catching the vibe, jumped in with a chuckle, "Welcome, both of you. The dynamic duo, or should I say the dynamic rivals. How are you feeling today?"

Kenji shrugged, his eyes never leaving you. "Feeling great,” he answered. “Especially now that I know (y/n) here is going to try and one-up me."

You crossed your legs and leaned back, matching his intensity. "Oh, Kenji, it's not about one-upping,” you said. “It's about showing the world who truly deserves the spotlight."

The host laughed, clearly enjoying the energy between them, "Well, let's dive right into it. You two have a practically legendary history. Care to share how it all started?"

Kenji glanced at you, his expression playful. "It's simple,” he answered. “(Y/n) has always had a talent for annoying me."

You rolled her eyes, "And Kenji has always had a talent for being easily annoyed."

The host leaned forward, sensing an opportunity. "But there's got to be more to it than that,” he said. “You both always seem to have this... chemistry."

Kenji smirked, leaning closer to you, "Chemistry that explodes, you mean."

You shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Yeah, the kind that blows up in your face."

The host laughed, clapping his hands together. "So, Kenji," the host said. "You’ve got a big game coming up. How do you feel about (y/n) always commenting on your games?"

Kenji chuckled, glancing at you. “Honestly?” He replied. “ I look forward to it. Keeps me on my toes."

You smiled, a genuine one this time. "And I watch every game,” you said. “Gotta make sure l have enough material to roast you."

The host raised an eyebrow, "Sounds like you two are more invested in each other than you let on."

He then turned to you. "What about you?” He asked. “How do you feel about Kenji's constant critiques of your acting?"

"I think he's secretly a fan,” you laughed. “Why else would he watch all my movies?"

Kenji leaned closer, his voice low, "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just like seeing you try so hard."

“You wish,” you met his gaze, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Please, Kenji, you couldn't handle me if you tried."

Kenji leaned ever closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Is that a challenge, (l/n)?"

“Maybe it is,” you met his gaze, heart skipping a beat. "Do you think I do not know about the flowers being delivered to my set—where they come from?”

Kenji was silenced, blush creeping on his cheeks. “Like, come on, Kenji,” you continued. “Flowers, seriously? For who knows since when—just ask me out already!”

The people in the studio gasped at the revelation. Everyone else was on the edge of their seats.

You weren’t dumb to not know where those flowers came from. It started with the very first movie you filmed and it continues until now with the latest one that has just been released.

“If you knew, then why didn’t you say anyt—“ Kenji was cut off by you, “Because I was waiting for you!”

The tension in the air seemed palpable. No one said anything, no one made a move.

“You were too busy chasing a ball! And you were so happy with it, I didn’t want to interfere!” you continued.

“Yeah, well!” Kenji said, thinking of a good comeback. “You were always paired up with another man, I didn’t wanna ruin your love team!”

“Then I’m glad none of them ever worked!”

“Thank heavens! Dinner, later at 7PM, Michelin-starred restaurant, your pick!”

“Fine!”

At that moment, everyone in the room burst into squeals. The floor beneath you shook with the intensity of people jumping up and down at the same time. Even the host stood and did a victory dance in front of the camera.

It felt as if the world rejoiced in unity. This was a memorable day for all the fans that were watching live.

The celebration of each person in the room had blurred as you and Kenji stared at each other. “Took you long enough,” you said softly. Kenji chuckled, “You weren’t so dense, after all.”

Without hesitation, you leaned close and threw your arms over his shoulder, hugging him. He hugged back, tighter, for he was also waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity.

The screaming in the background loudened at your interaction but none of you paid mind. To you, Kenji’s hug felt warm and comfy and oh-so lovely.

The years, no matter how long it has been, were all worth it for this moment. If there was anyone who knew you best, it was Kenji. The same goes for him.

Your phone, in your manager’s care, beeped with so many notifications. Checking your account on her tablet, she was greeted by over a hundred thousand tweets in just a few minutes.

That night, the two of you didn’t go out for dinner as said on TV. Instead, you treated your team to the dinner at the Michelin-starred restaurant you picked while you, with Kenji, stayed at home.

You found yourselves dancing together in the comfort of your living room. The air was filled with a soft melody, and as you swayed to the music. Kenji realized how natural it felt to have you in his arms.

"You know," he murmured, "I never imagined we'd be here." You remembered high school, the graduation ball, your first dance with each other.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” you said, head on his chest.

“Wow you’re even dense with yourself,” he chuckled.

“Shut up,” you replied. “And you’ve always been a dork.”

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