#queer mirroring anxiety

[gatheringbones]

["Sociopolitical sources of conflict

The cost of the lesbian choice is high and provides fertile ground for anger and conflict. Invisibility, pretense, and concealment produce stresses and feelings of vulnerability beyond those of people whose relationships and sexual desires are considered normal. Most lesbians live with fear that exposure will lead to loss of jobs and income. Many fear loss of their children through custody awarded to fathers, or through emotional estrangement as the children react to their mother's difference. Few lesbians have the authentic acceptance and affirmation of their family of origin. Some lead half-lives of lies and omissions, hoping that this will maintain some sense of family and home. Still others endure tense and emotionally distance family situations.

These losses of acceptability, security, and connection combined with isolation from both family and the larger culture create an intense need to experience oneself as part of a larger group, to have some sense of belonging through relationships, alternative families, friendship networks, and social and political organizations. Thus, community-as-connection provides definition, acceptance, and inclusion; it offers sources for social life, political activity, friendships, lovers, places to go, and other types of assistance. It is these needs that make community profoundly powerful.

Lesbian communities are typically defined by geography and composed of groups or networks who are connected through social and political activity. In small towns or universities, there may be a sense of one larger community; in larger cities, there may be many communities. The center of community can be one or more bars or coffee houses, a women's center, a social organization, self-help or discussion groups, or an occasional dance or musical event Thus, community is not a fixed entity, but rather a sense of connection or "groupness," defined and maintained by extended affiliations and frequent or even periodic contact. Community can also be more myth than reality when there is limited contact because of severe estrangement between community members.

In fact, the myth of community itself can be a source of conflict. When needs are intense and expectations of community are high, idealized notions may go beyond what any group of individuals can realistically provide— especially a group that is beleaguered and lacking in resources. Dependency upon community is also heightened by isolation from and discomfort in the larger homophobic culture. The world of the lesbian community is a small one, and social compression creates a claustrophobic sense of limitation and confinement. No matter how much support and sustenance the community does offer, it cannot replace what has been lost. Thus, members often experience feelings of bitterness and disenchantment over what the community has not and cannot provide, including the experience of "normalcy," which exists for those who conform to the values of the dominant culture. Communities also bear the weight of traumas, hurts, and jealousies as break-ups and exchanges of lovers creates ex-lovers, single lesbians, and new partnerships. Friendships between lesbians are often intense and erotically charged so that minor disagreements can be experienced as if one's friend were a rejecting lover. Tensions also exist between single and coupled lesbians and between one's friends and one's lover, because a relationship often reduces social availability. The wonder of lesbian community is not that problematic conflicts exist, but rather that communities remain cohesive, friendships weather hard times, and ex-lovers become friends. Social events too often are joyous occasions characterized by excitement, affection, gaiety, elation, and a wonderful sense of belonging and oneness.

However, stresses remain and an addition burden on lesbian communities is the self-hating of internalized homophobia. If a woman has ambivalent feelings about herself as a lesbian, she may also have ambivalent feelings about the worth of other lesbians. Frustration, rage, and bitterness toward one's condition may be turned outward toward the community of similar, inferiorized, and powerless others. Certainly, hating other lesbians is safer than turning one's rage toward the dominant group, which is less accessible and a great deal more threatening. Such feelings can also provide a sense of the little power any oppressed individual has in oppressing someone as powerless as herself. Thus, within-group conflict contains and deflects the impulse toward aggressive action inherent in frustration and rage, a convenient dynamic for any dominant group.

Another factor that can create conflict is the intense demand for sameness, for a common and collective identity that is typical of many communities. This demand for sameness can clash with the drive toward individual identity— that is, the wish to be one's own person and make independent choices. Susan Kreiger describes this demand for sameness as "mirroring," that is, the expectation that others will be a mirror image of oneself. This demand for sameness in lesbian community makes difference uncomfortable and suspect, as if dissimilarity could erode cohesiveness. The contradiction is that lesbians happen to be a remarkably diverse group. What lesbians share, aside from gender, is a decision to act on a preference, the preference to relate both emotionally and sexually to women. All the rest can be differences— race, ethnicity, class, politics, education, work, living styles, bisexual inclination, role identity, differences in sexual/political coming out, sexual behavior, early or late awareness of attraction to women. What is special to lesbians (and gay men) as an oppressed group is that there is an attempt to create bonding and community without a shared historical or cultural experience (unlike other oppressed groups, Blacks or Jews, for example), and in spite of enormous diversity. That both community and lesbian culture have been achieved, including a sense of lesbian history, tradition, and humor, is no small accomplishment.

The women's movement added substantially to community cohesiveness in terms of political beliefs and activities. It also drew lines between politicized and nonpoliticized lesbians and created new arenas for dispute in its initial denial of difference and its insistence on political sameness."]

sarah f. pearlman, from the saga of continuing clash in lesbian community, or will an army of ex lovers fail? from lesbian psychologies: explorations and challenges, edited by the boston lesbian psychologies collective, 1987

[thegirlmirage]

My kind friends... my kissing encounter with another trans woman... my general content feeling and happiness from HRT... things are good. They were so bad for so long but they are good right now.

[xiaq]

I remember the first pride I ever attended: seventeen, half terrified, half bolstered by reckless bravery. In the parking lot, I painted my eyes in pink-purple-blue using the review mirror. On the walk to the parade route, I purchased a flag with cash and tied it around my neck like a cape.

I remember crawling up onto a metal electrical box on a street corner--violently hot against my bare skin in the Texas sun. I remember the heat didn't matter once the parade started, once I caught a handful of thrown beads, a crown, a fan. Someone passed me a bottle of bubbles and I blew them out over the crowd as not one, not two, but three church floats bedecked in crosses and rainbows marched past. I remember feeling like I could breathe for the first time maybe ever. But I also remember walking back to my car at the end. Giving away my crown, my fan, and my flag to two kids in a wagon, trying not to let my pathetic envy show as I met the eyes of their smiling parents. I cleaned the paint off my face in the same parking lot I applied it.

I kept the necklace--cheap and plastic and dangerous. I kept it for the first fifteen minutes of my drive until my anxiety demanded I pull into a gas station and throw it away.

I went to work: a four hour shift I'd said was eight. It was one of the few times I ever lied to my parents unless you counted the pervasive, quiet, lie of omission that lasted another decade.

Today, I got ready for another pride with my husband. I wore my denim vest with its collection of queer enamel pins. We walked together from our house to the parade route. At the end, we walked back together in a crowd of other pride-goers.

I texted my parents pictures without fear.

And this time, I took my beads home.

[elks-eye]

Jayce is with Mel because it's easier. A queer reading of his relationship with Mel and Viktor reveals this dynamic: Viktor's declining health serves as a painful reminder of Jayce's original HexTech goals, yet he's pulled into the politics and trade that he finds easier to navigate.

Jayce struggles between focusing on trade and his true purpose, easily swayed by what feels simpler. His personal relationships mirror this; he connects with Mel due to their similar social standings—both are affluent and politically involved—while Viktor, from the Under City, is different in background and is disabled.

Jayce frequently shifts between Mel and Viktor, exemplified when he leaves Mel after their fling to visit Viktor in the hospital. In the painting scene (heaven's forbade I ever remember what happens each specific episode) scene, while discussing Viktor's prognosis with Mel, she distracts him by sharing her own trauma. I'm not sure if I want to consider this morally unsound, because I understand why Mel would do that, but the point is she did distract Jayce from his own issue.

In that same scene Jayce claims that nothing feels impossible with Mel, highlighting his comfort in her presence. Although he, dare I say, is in love with Viktor, his anxiety about his condition prompt him to seek solace in Mel. And that's just because that's how Jayce's character is. He's self-serving, and making an effort to protect his emotional state.

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XXII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

As the family gather for a wedding, Valaena and Alicent come to blows.

Warning(s): Four Year Time Skip, Angst, Drama, Language, Mild Violence/Threats, Arguements, Brother/Sister Incest, Wedding, Celebration, Alcohol Consumption, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 6929

A.N - Last Chapter!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx

The door creaked open slightly, and Valaena stood in the doorway , her violet eyes soft but bright with curiosity.

Inside, Jaehaerys stood in front of a tall mirror, his hands fumbling with the intricate embroidery on his sleeves.

His usually composed face was a mask of nerves, and the maids hovering nearby exchanged quiet glances, unsure whether to step in or retreat.

Valaena stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “You look like you’re going to throw up,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.

Jaehaerys turned to face her, his expression half-wrought with panic, half-exasperated. “I’ve never been so nervous in my life. What if I stutter? What if I say the wrong thing?” His hands twitched as though they didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Valaena approached, her steps measured and deliberate. Her presence alone seemed to calm the room.

She placed a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled. “It’s natural to be nervous on your wedding day,” she said warmly.

He huffed a soft laugh. “What was your wedding to my uncle like?”

Valaena smile turned slightly mischievous. “Which one—the first or the second?”

Jaehaerys blinked, caught off guard. “You got married twice?”

“We did,” she confirmed with a playful tilt of her head. “The first was in the tradition of our house, though in a way that was very much our own. The second was in Qarth—a small affair, though no less meaningful.”

Jaehaerys seemed to relax, curiosity momentarily replacing his anxiety. “I never knew that” he said, then hesitated before adding, “I want to thank you—and Uncle Aemond, of course. If it weren’t for the two of you, and my mother and father, I wouldn’t be getting married today.”

“You are most welcome,” Valaena replied, her tone warm. Then, she tilted her head slightly. “Will your grandmother be in attendance?”

A shadow of sadness crossed Jaehaerys’ face. He shook his head. “I-I’m not sure, I don’t think she agrees with my choice of bride. Targaryen’s and our queer customs, she calls it.”

Valaena scoffed lightly. “Sometimes our blood calls to its own. It has always been this way.”

“She just doesn’t understand,” Jaehaerys murmured.

“No, she doesn’t,” Valaena agreed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But let’s not dwell on such things. Today is about happiness-”

“You’re right,” he said, straightening slightly as if to banish his lingering doubts.

“Good,” she said, her smile returning. “Now, while your mother tends to your bride, I brought you something.”

From the folds of her cloak, she produced a small, intricately carved box. She handed it to Jaehaerys, who opened it with careful hands.

His face lit up as he revealed a silver clasp shaped into two-headed dragons, their forms styled after Morghul and Shrykos, their heads entwined as if in eternal unity.

“Your bride has a matching one,” Valaena said, her voice soft.

Jaehaerys ran his fingers over the smooth silver and looked up at her. “Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “I shall treasure it always.”

Valaena took the clasp from him and stepped forward, pinning it to the front of his cloak with practiced ease.

She smoothed the fabric with a maternal touch, then stepped back to examine him. “Now, I think you’re ready,” she said with a smile of approval.

Jaehaerys took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Time to get married,” he said, his voice steadier now, though a flicker of nervous energy still remained.

“I’ll see you down there,” Valaena said, moving toward the door. But as her hand touched the handle, Jaehaerys called out to her.

“Wait!” he said, his brow furrowing. “Just how did you get the High Septon to agree to this?”

She paused, turning back with a sly smile. “Surely you know of the Doctrine of Exceptionalism, set forth by Old King Jaehaerys?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod, “but I heard the High Septon was resistant to my marriage to Jaehaera despite the doctrine.”

Valaena's smile widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. “It was a joint effort between your mother and myself,” she said. “Best you don’t know the ins and outs, but let’s just say your mother found her inner dragon.”

Jaehaerys chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “I can imagine.”

Valaena inclined her head. “And now, you should focus on the task at hand. Your bride awaits.”

With that, she gave him one last encouraging smile and slipped out of the room, leaving Jaehaerys alone with his thoughts—and a heart full of hope.

Valaena moved briskly through the Red Keep, her gown whispering along the stone floors as she made her way to Alicent’s chambers.

When she entered, the atmosphere was subdued, the room aglow with the warm light of the fire.

Alicent sat in an armchair near the hearth, fiddling with the seven-pointed star pendant that hung around her neck, her expression distant.

“Are you seriously just going to sit in here,” Valaena asked, her tone sharp but not unkind, “while your grandchildren are getting married?”

Alicent took a deep breath, her fingers stilling on the necklace. “They are twins,” she said softly. “I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” Valaena interrupted, stepping closer. “Agree with it?”

Alicent drew a deep breath, steadying herself. “I can’t stop thinking of Helaena and Aegon, and how unhappy they’ve both been in their marriage.”

“Oh, you mean the marriage you forced them into?” Valaena’s voice was laced with venom. “Because you didn’t want Helaena marrying Jace? Let’s not pretend you’re some tragic figure here, Alicent.”

“That’s not—” Alicent began, her voice faltering.

“Not true?” Valaena snapped. “Of course it is. You’ve spent your life hiding behind your so-called faith and duty, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing more than a hypocrite.”

Alicent’s lips tightened, and her tone sharpened. “I did what I thought was right for my family. For the realm.”

“No,” Valaena shot back, her eyes blazing. “You did what was right for you. You enjoyed the power, didn’t you? Being the Queen, bending everyone to your will. You forced your own daughter into misery just to spite my mother.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her grip on the pendant tightening. “That is not true. I have always done my duty”

“Your duty?” Valaena sneered, stepping closer, her voice rising. “Is that what you call it? Forcing Helaena into marriage with that drunken whore of son you raised”

Alicent’s hand trembled as she pointed a finger at Valaena. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? but you have no idea the burden of duty I have carried—”

“Burden of duty?” Valaena cut her off, her voice a furious roar. “Don’t make me laugh! Your burden was sitting on a throne you were never meant to have, manipulating everyone around you with your simpering piety. You call it duty, but it was always about control. Your father taught you well, didn’t he?”

Alicent’s face twisted with rage. “You have no right to speak of my father!”

“I have every right!” Valaena snarled, stepping so close their faces were inches apart. “He used you like a pawn, and instead of breaking free, you became just like him. A schemer. A manipulator. Only you cloak your cruelty in the guise of virtue, hiding behind that ridiculous seven-pointed star like it absolves you of everything.”

Alicent stood abruptly, her eyes flashing with anger. “You know nothing about what I’ve endured!” she hissed. “You weren’t there when your mother flaunted every rule, every expectation, while I was trapped, doing what was expected of me!”

Valaena scoffed, her expression sharp as the edge of a blade. “-You and my mother were once friends, and you grew to resent her because you did what was expected of you, while she trampled all over duty with her pretty foot.”

Alicent’s breath hitched, and her eyes narrowed as the words struck a deeply buried chord.

For a fleeting moment, her composure faltered, and her mind was dragged back to that fateful night on Driftmark.

The firelight had flickered in the hall, casting shadows over the scene of chaos.

Aemond sat near the hearth, his face a grim mask of pain as the Maester stitched the torn flesh where his left eye had once been.

The memory burned like a fresh wound, but it was nothing compared to the fury that had surged through her veins when Viserys had risen from his seat—not to defend his maimed son, but to refuse her demand for justice.

His focus on the insult against Rhaenyra’s children, and preserving his delusion of peace, requesting apologise and gestures of good will to one another as though Aemond’s suffering was a mere inconvenience.

The dagger had felt heavy in her hand as she charged toward Lucerys, her vision red with rage, her heart pounding with the need to balance the scales.

There was a debt to be paid. But Rhaenyra had risen to meet her, a shield between Alicent and her intended target, and their struggle had been seared into Alicent’s memory.

“It’s truly exhausting, isn’t it?” Rhaenyra’s voice had cut through the chaos, her words as sharp as the blade they wrestled over. “Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness?”

The phrase echoed in her mind now, like a cruel spectre from the past, and Alicent’s grip on her seven-pointed star necklace tightened. She blinked rapidly, her lips pressed into a thin line, as she forced herself back to the present.

“Careful, Valaena,” Alicent said, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “You speak of things you couldn’t possibly understand.”

Valaena’s lips curled into a smirk, her confidence unwavering. “Oh, I understand plenty,” she said

Alicent’s face flushed. “You have no idea what it’s like to sacrifice everything for the sake of others. To bear the weight of a crown you never asked for.”

Valaena leaned in, her voice low and cutting. “I know exactly what that’s like. But unlike you, I won’t let bitterness consume me, the point is that Jaehaerys and Jaehaera chose each other”

“They’re twins!” Alicent spat, her voice rising. “It’s unnatural!”

Valaena’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Unnatural? What’s unnatural is you sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, instead of being there for your grandchildren. You claim to care about them, yet all you’ve done is judge them for embracing the customs of their house. Customs you benefited from when it suited you.”

Alicent drew herself up, her tone icy. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Your arrogance is astounding.”

“And your self-righteousness is exhausting,” Valaena shot back. “You sit here pretending to be above it all, when all you’ve done is meddle and destroy. Admit it, Alicent—you’re jealous.”

Alicent’s eyes widened, her face paling slightly. “Jealous?” she whispered, her voice faltering.

“Yes,” Valaena pressed, her voice softer now but no less pointed. “Jealous of the freedom they have. The freedom you were never allowed”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the fire crackling in the hearth the only sound. Alicent’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps I am.”

Valaena exhaled sharply, some of the tension leaving her frame. “Please don’t punish them for your regrets,” she said firmly. “Be there for them. Show them you care, even if you don’t understand.”

Alicent sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know if I can.”

Valaena’s expression hardened again. “As future queen, I order you to attend that wedding. Because if you don’t, I swear to every single one of the Seven that I will make your life a living hell.”

Alicent blinked, then a faint smile tugged at her lips. “You truly are blood of the dragon. I can see why Aemond is so drawn to you.”

Valaena raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. “Not the response I was expecting.”

Alicent shrugged slightly. “Nothing else came to mind.”

“So,” Valaena said, folding her arms, “are you coming to the wedding?”

Alicent exhaled, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Not exactly,” Valaena said with a sly grin.

“Then I suppose I’ll be there,” Alicent said, her voice soft but sincere.

“Good,” Valaena said firmly, turning to leave.

As she reached the door, Alicent called out to her. “Valaena.”

She turned back, her expression questioning.

“Do you think my grandchildren will be happy?” Alicent asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Valaena smiled gently. “Like I said, they chose each other.”

Alicent nodded slowly, a faint smile crossing her lips. “I’m glad you chose Aemond.”

“So am I,” Valaena said with a soft smile, before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

The air in Aemond and Valaena’s chambers was bustling with activity as she stepped inside.

Aemond stood at the centre of the chaos, his sharp voice ringing out as he corralled their four-year-old twins, Vhalarr and Vaelarra.

“Behave,” he said firmly, his eye narrowing in warning. “And absolutely no mischief today, do you understand?”

Vhalarr looked suitably chastised, while Vaelarra giggled, her small hands clutching the hem of her father’s tunic as if testing his patience.

On the bed, Aemon sat quietly, fiddling with the clasp of his cloak, his small brows furrowed in concentration.

Nearby, Elaena sat cross-legged, her nimble fingers weaving Daenys’ dark hair into an intricate braid.

Rhaegar stood at the edge of the room, arms folded behind his back in his usual composed manner, watching Elaena braid with a small smile tugging at his lips.

Valaena clapped her hands sharply, drawing everyone's attention. “Right, are we ready?”

Aemond turned to her, his stern expression softening instantly as his gaze swept over her. “Ao jurnegon gevie ābrazȳrys,” he murmured, his tone filled with admiration. (You look beautiful, wife.)

Valaena smiled, smoothing down her dress and stepping closer to him. “Hae gaomagon ao ñuha gēlenka zaldrīzes,” she replied, her voice equally tender. (As do you, my silver dragon.)

Aemond leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, a moment of calm amidst the bustling energy of their chambers.

A sharp knock interrupted them, and the door creaked open to reveal Lirri and Arro.

“Lirri, you look beautiful,” Valaena said warmly, her tone genuinely appreciative.

Lirri blushed deeper, glancing shyly at the ground. “Thank you, my lady.”

Aemond cleared his throat, his expression returning to its usual focus. “Right, we definitely need to get going.”

Valaena nodded, stepping over to Vhalarr and taking his small hand in hers. “Come, little one. And remember, behave.”

“Yes, Muña,” Vhalarr replied sweetly, though his mischievous twinkle persisted (Mother).

Aemond took Vaelarra’s hand, who offered him a mischievous smile but walked obediently beside him as they prepared to leave.

The family filed out of the chambers in a small procession, their footsteps echoing through the stone halls of the Red Keep.

The air was thick with anticipation and excitement as they approached the carriages waiting in the courtyard.

Once everyone was seated inside the carriage, the door opened unexpectedly and Alicent stepped in, her expression calm and composed, though her light blue dress betrayed a deliberate effort for the occasion.

“Room for one more?” Alicent asked, her smile warm.

Aemond blinked, clearly surprised, but quickly recovered. “Of course,” he said, gesturing to the empty spot beside him.

Alicent stepped in gracefully, settling herself next to her son.

As soon as she sat down, Vhalarr clambered onto her lap, his energy undiminished.

“Muñāzma!” he exclaimed happily, he launched into an eager stream of chatter, sharing his childlike excitement about the day ahead (Grandmother).

Alicent’s face softened as she listened attentively, her hand gently smoothing his dark hair.

Soon the carriage began to move, the younger children still talking excitedly throughout the journey to the Grand Sept.

The wedding of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera was a spectacle of beauty and love, filled with the grandeur and sacred traditions of House Targaryen and the Faith of the Seven.

The Great Sept was adorned with silken banners of red and black, each fluttering softly in the warm breeze that carried the scent of roses and dragon fire.

The aisle was strewn with petals, a blend of crimson and gold, leading to the altar where the High Septon awaited.

Jaehaerys stood tall, dressed in resplendent black and red, his cloak fastened with the two-headed dragon clasp gifted by Valaena.

When he glanced toward the crowd, his eyes widened in surprise. Sitting beside Aemond was Alicent.

She caught his gaze and offered a warm, smile, raising her hand in a wave. Jaehaerys smiled back, his heart swelling at her support.

Jaehaera was a vision in silver and pale violet, her gown embroidered with flowers, her hair adorned with delicate silver chains and pearls that shimmered in the light.

The ceremony commenced with solemn reverence. The High Septon’s voice rang clear as he bound their hands with a ribbon of gold and silver, weaving it in a slow, deliberate motion.

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” the High Septon proclaimed, his voice echoing in the stillness of the Sept.

The crowd, a mix of lords, ladies, and family, watched with rapt attention as the High Septon declared, “Let it be known that Jaehaerys of House Targaryen and Jaehaera of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera’s voices joined in harmony as they recited, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.” The conviction in their tone resonated deeply, a testament to their love and dedication.

Jaehaerys then spoke, his voice steady and warm, “I am hers, and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Jaehaera followed, her voice soft but unwavering, “I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Finally, Jaehaerys declared, his violet eyes fixed on Jaehaera’s, “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” He leaned in, their foreheads brushing briefly before their lips met in a kiss filled with promise and devotion.

The gathered crowd erupted into cheers and applause, the sound reverberating through the Sept like the roar of dragons. The moment was one of pure joy, and even the gods seemed to smile down upon the union.

As they parted, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera beamed, their faces alight with happiness.

Hand in hand, they turned to face their family and friends. Valaena smiled warmly, her fingers intertwined with Aemond’s, while Aegon gave a hearty cheer from his seat beside Helaena, who dabbed at her tears with a silken kerchief.

As the bells of the Great Sept tolled in celebration, the newlyweds walked down the petal-strewn aisle, ready to face the future together.

The reception in the throne room was a glittering affair, filled with the warmth and grandeur befitting the union of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

The hall was resplendent with banners of black and red, shimmering in the golden candlelight, as laughter and music echoed against the high ceilings.

Lords and ladies mingled, their cups brimming with wine, the scent of roasted meats and honeyed treats wafting through the air.

Queen Rhaenyra stood proudly at the head of the room, her goblet raised high, her voice clear and commanding as she toasted the newlyweds. “To Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, my beloved niece and nephew. May your marriage be filled with love, strength, and the wisdom to overcome all that lies ahead. Let us all drink to their happiness and prosperity!”

The gathered lords and ladies lifted their cups in unison, echoing her words, “To Jaehaerys and Jaehaera!” The room erupted in a chorus of cheers and applause as the couple exchanged glowing smiles.

Rhaenyra then clapped her hands, summoning the musicians to play. The gentle strains of a harp began, followed by the melodic notes of a lute, filling the room with a soft, romantic tune.

Jaehaerys extended his hand to Jaehaera, who accepted with a shy yet radiant smile, and the newlyweds took to the centre of the throne room for their first dance.

Their movements were graceful and intimate, as though no one else existed in the room. The world fell away as they danced, their eyes locked, and their faces alight with love. The crowd watched, mesmerized, until the music shifted, and others joined in.

Rhaenyra and Daemon swept onto the floor; their bond palpable as they danced closely together.

Aemond, standing by the edge of the crowd, finished his cup of wine and extended his hand to Valaena. “Care for a dance, my love?”

Valaena looked up at him with a teasing smile. “You hate to dance.”

Aemond smirked, a glimmer of warmth in his eye. “I don’t mind dancing with you, ābrazȳrys” (Wife).

Valaena laughed softly, her cheeks tinged pink as she took his hand. Together, they stepped onto the floor, moving with surprising ease to the music.

Aemond rested his forehead against hers, his voice a low murmur, “Avy jorrāelan” (I love you).

Valaena cupped his face, her thumb brushing his scarred cheek, and kissed him softly. “Se avy jorrāelan, valzȳrys” (And I love you husband).

As they swayed gently to the music, Valaena placed her head against Aemond’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing her.

Aemond, his hand protectively on her waist, whispered, “How did you convince my mother to attend the wedding?”

Valaena tilted her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “What makes you think it was anything to do with me?”

“Because I know you,” replied Aemond with a knowing look.

Valaena huffed a quiet laugh. “I might have had a few words with her.”

Aemond chuckled. “Well, whatever you said, it worked. I’m sure Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are thankful for it.”

Valaena’s gaze softened. “Mayhaps when given a choice, love has a chance to blossom more freely.”

Aemond nodded his head in agreement. “A notion our son and daughter seem to have taken to heart.”

Valaena turned and saw Rhaegar and Elaena dancing together. Their hands were clasped tightly, their eyes locked as though they were the only two people in the room.

Valaena smiled. “Ahhh young love.”

Aemond’s expression turned more serious. “I think I need to exchange a few words with our children. I do not wish to be a grandsire just yet.”

Valaena laughed. “Are you sure? I think you’d make a wonderful grandsire.”

Aemond chuckled, leaning closer. “Perhaps. But while my seed can still take root inside you, I think I’d like to wait a little longer before I’m granted the title.”

Valaena smirked. “What makes you think I want more children? We already have six. We’ve performed our duty, generously so.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed with amusement. “Don’t play coy with me, ñuha dōna. I know you’re with child again” (My sweet)

Valaena’s eyes widened slightly. “H-how?”

“Well, aside from the obvious lack of monthly bleeding, you have that mother’s glow about you,” Aemond said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “And you’ve been quite sensitive during our love-making”

Valaena’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I believe I am almost three moons gone.”

Aemond reached down, his palm resting gently against her stomach. “Another blessing to be cherished.”

“I just hope it’s not twins again,” Valaena muttered.

Aemond laughed heartily. “I agree. The twins we already have are quite the handful.”

As if on cue, a commotion drew their attention to Vhalarr and Vaelarra. The twins were giggling mischievously as they dropped a spider into a noble lady’s hair, causing her to scream in alarm.

Valaena sighed, exasperated. “You get Vaelarra, and I’ll get Vhalarr.”

Aemond smirked. “As you wish, ābrazȳrys.” (wife).

He strode off after his daughter, who squealed and darted away. Vhalarr, feigning innocence, waited until his mother approached before bolting in the opposite direction.

Valaena shook her head with a laugh, the chaos a perfect reminder of the love and life they had built together.

Later that night, the celebrations had drawn to a close, and the Red Keep was cloaked in the stillness of night.

The children were finally asleep, their youthful laughter and antics replaced by peaceful silence.

Valaena sat brushing her hair in front of the mirror when Aemond entered the room, his expression alight with mischief.

“I have a surprise for you,” he announced, stepping closer.

Valaena raised a brow. “At this hour?”

“Trust me” He extended his hand, and with a smile of curiosity, she took it.

Before long, Silverwing and Vhagar soared through the dark skies, their wings cutting through clouds that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

 The world below was silent, a tapestry of shadowed forests and rivers. Valaena followed Aemond’s lead, her excitement growing as they approached the familiar silhouette of their cabin by the sea.

As they landed, Vhagar and Silverwing settled nearby, their great forms creating gentle ripples in the sand. Aemond dismounted and helped Valaena down before guiding her toward the cabin.

“Aemond, what have you done?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

He grinned, covering her eyes with his hand. “No peeking.”

She allowed herself to be led, the cool night air brushing against her skin. The door creaked open, and Aemond guided her inside.

“Ready?” he murmured by her ear.

At her nod, he removed his hand.

Valaena gasped softly, her heart swelling at the sight. The cabin, which had fallen into disrepair over the years, now looked as it had in their happiest memories.

The wooden beams gleamed with fresh polish, the furniture was repaired and arranged with care, and thick furs and blankets adorned the bed and chairs. A warm, lived-in feeling filled the space.

“I’ve had men working on this for a good few months,” Aemond said, watching her reaction closely. “I wanted it ready for our anniversary. What do you think?”

She turned to him, her eyes shining. “It’s wonderful, Aemond. Truly.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smile. “While I get the fire going, why don’t you take off your riding leathers and get into bed? Relax for a bit.”

Valaena laughed softly. “I like the sound of that.”

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to the hearth. He crouched and began arranging kindling, but his task was repeatedly interrupted by his gaze wandering to Valaena.

She was unfastening her riding leathers, her movements unhurried. A soppy look crept onto Aemond’s face as he watched her, entirely enraptured.

By the time Valaena slid under the thick fur covers, she noticed Aemond still wrestling with the fire, his focus split. “Are you going to light that fire, or shall I?”

He chuckled and finally got the flames to catch. The fire crackled to life, bathing the cabin in a warm, golden glow.

Satisfied, he stood and began removing his sword and belt before pulling off his riding leathers.

Soon, he stood bare before the fire, his silver hair catching the flickering light.

As he moved to climb into bed, Valaena smirked. “Ah, you’re forgetting something.”

Aemond scoffed, shaking his head in amusement. Reaching up, he removed his eyepatch and set it on the bedside table. “Is that better, my love?”

“Much,” she said softly, her voice full of affection.

Aemond slid into bed, pulling Valaena close, her head against his chest, her hand splayed over his heart.

His fingers gently combed through her dark hair, and she sighed contentedly, the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing her.

“I had almost forgotten how peaceful it is here,” she murmured.

“I could never forget,” Aemond replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “This place holds a lot of memories.”

“Do you remember,” she began, her voice soft and distant, “how desperate we were when we conducted our own Valyrian wedding ceremony in front of that fireplace?”

Aemond’s hand, which had been idly stroking her silver hair, paused. His violet eye softened as he looked down at her. “I remember it vividly,” he said. “After Aegon had been crowned king, I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“I felt the same,” she replied, her voice tinged with lingering sorrow. “I thought we would be doomed to face one another in the skies, upon dragon back”

Aemond’s arms tightened around her instinctively, pulling her closer as if to shield her from even the memory of such a possibility. His voice was steady but filled with emotion. “I would have fallen on my own sword before allowing that to happen”

A tear slipped down Valaena’s cheek as she whispered, “Blessed we are then, that things didn’t end with fire and blood, and the dragons dancing.”

His grip on her became almost protective, his lips brushing her forehead. “All it took,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of dry humour and sincerity, “was us faking our deaths.”

Valaena huffed a small laugh, the sound bittersweet. “It was drastic, but it worked in the end.”

Aemond’s smirk returned, faint but genuine. “It sure did. The realm is at peace and you, my darling, are carrying our seventh child, and I’ve never been happier.”

Valaena let out a soft groan, burying her face in his chest. “Gods, are we crazy for having another?” she asked, though her voice was more amused than distressed.

“I don’t know,” Aemond replied, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I’ve always fancied us as the new Jaehaerys and Alysanne.”

Valaena pulled back slightly, her brows shooting up in mock horror. “Tell me you’re joking. They had thirteen children!”

Aemond’s lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “But my love,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, teasing whisper, “you know how much I enjoy knowing that my seed has taken root inside you.”

Valaena laughed, a genuine, melodic sound. “Oh yes,” she said dryly, “I’m well aware of how much you enjoy it.”

Aemond leaned down, nuzzling her neck with affection. His voice was a tender murmur against her skin. “Seeing your belly swell, knowing that a piece of me is growing inside you—it’s the greatest joy I’ve ever known.”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a deep, unspoken love in her eyes as she gazed up at him. He captured her lips in a kiss, one that was both passionate and tender, pouring every ounce of his devotion into it.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with need. “I want you, Valaena. I need you.” His hands moved to her hips, guiding her closer to him, their bodies pressed together in a way that made his desire almost unbearable.

Valaena’s breath hitched as she felt the heat of his arousal against her, her own body responding to his touch. She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour, her heart racing with the anticipation of what was to come.

“Then take me, Aemond,” she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desire.

Aemond gently covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Valaena as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her breasts, his tongue taking turns to swirl around her rosy nipples.

“I can’t wait for these to fill with milk again-” groaned Aemond as he pressed his face into the soft pillowy mounds.

“Me either” replied Valaena softly, she knew Aemond enjoyed tasting her mother’s milk, but she enjoyed the closeness and also the relief he would give her, as nursing often left her full and sore.

“So beautiful” whispered Aemond as he lowered himself and pressed a series of gentle kisses to her stomach.

“T-t-tickles” laughed Valaena as the ends of Aemond’s long silver hair swept across her skin.

“Hmmm”

“Aemond” gasped Valaena as she felt him move lower.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her before he ran the flat of his tongue up Valaena’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Valaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Valaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Valaena. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Valaena’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Valaena’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” whispered Valaena as she writhed against him (Please my love).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and sheathed his hard cock into Valaena’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“That’s it, take all of me” moans Aemond as he begins to move.

Valaena can’t think of anything but the deep penetrating thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond wanted to fuck her hard, but he knows he can’t, he doesn’t want to harm the babe.

But she’s testing his restraint as he feels her clenching around him.

“YES! YES! AEMOND! I CAN TAKE IT. HARDER. PLEASE” screams Valaena.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond.

Aemond lifts Valaena’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock a little harder into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Valaena.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Valaena’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Valaena, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the soft fur blankets.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Valaena.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Valaena as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand taking his cock and sheathing himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Valaena arched her back and screamed as Aemond thrust into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the air.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond, his fingers still curling inside her.

“P-Please. Valzȳrys” whimpered Valaena (Husband).

Aemond removed his fingers and grasped hold of her hips, thrusting a little faster then he was before, his stomach muscles tensing.

He then took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he slowly pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his sweaty chest.

Aemond held Valaena tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me ñuha zaldrīzes” pleaded Valaena her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder (My dragon).

“Give me another-come for me again” whispered Aemond as he slid his hand over her stomach and used his long fingers to stroke her pearl.

“Oh-yes-oh” moaned Valaena as her peak suddenly erupted, her hands tangling in Aemond’s hair as she pulled him in for a messy kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid on the blankets.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Valaena breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Valaena on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Valaena as she rolled her hips against Aemond’s.

“That’s it ñuha nūmio, take it. Take all of me” (My pearl).

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Valaena dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Valaena as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me again” exclaimed Aemond.

Valaena’s thighs began to burn, as she felt another climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed-”

“Y-yessss Aemond, I want it-I want you-” babbled Valaena as he moved her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he moved inside her, chasing his own end.

“God. I love you- I love you-” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

Aemond jolted awake, his hand instinctively reaching for the space beside him, only to find it empty.

Blinking groggily, he scanned the dimly lit cabin. The fire had died down to embers, and the bed was colder than it should have been.

“Valaena?” he called softly, his voice thick with sleep.

No answer.

He glanced toward the door and noticed it was slightly ajar, moonlight spilling through the gap.

Quickly, he swung his legs out of bed and tugged on his breeches, his concern growing with each passing second.

He stepped outside into the cool night air, the soft sand of the beach shifting beneath his feet.

The sight of her standing near the shoreline brought a wave of relief. Valaena was wrapped in a fur blanket, her dark hair glinting in the moonlight.

Both Silverwing and Vhagar hovered nearby, their massive forms looming protectively, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

Aemond made his way to her, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore blending with the gentle rustle of the wind.

He slipped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest. His chin came to rest on her shoulder, his warmth enveloping her.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” he murmured, his voice a mix of concern and tenderness.

Valaena leaned into his embrace, sighing softly. “I just felt a little nauseous,” she admitted. “I thought some fresh air might help.”

Aemond’s hand slid gently to her stomach, resting there with a protective warmth. “Is it the babe?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yes,” she replied, her tone laced with a faint weariness. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine soon.”

Aemond hummed in response, closing his eye and allowing the sound of the waves to wash over them.

He felt the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, her body relaxing slightly against his as the peaceful moment stretched between them.

After a few minutes, Valaena turned in his arms, her fur blanket still draped around her shoulders.

Her violet eyes searched his face, shimmering in the moonlight. “Will you love me, Aemond, until the day I die?” she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper.

Aemond’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering as he cupped her face. “No,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “Much longer than that, Valaena. Much longer than that.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, tears glinting in her eyes as he leaned in, brushing her lips with his own.

The kiss was tender, timeless, and full of unspoken promises, as if it held the answer to every question the world might throw at them.

When they parted, Aemond pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

Together, they turned to gaze out at the sea, their dragons at their side and the horizon stretching infinitely before them.

Whatever trials had come before, they had faced them together, and whatever lay ahead, they would face it the same way.

For in that moment, there was no animosity, no politics, no crown.

Just a man and a woman, their love as eternal as the stars that watched over them.

The End.

[fadelbison]

why I thought the kristsingto dance was offensive

My reaction to the KristSingto dance was, in fact, pure and utter shock with an immediate follow up of "well good for Thailand for being so progressive" and that was what I thought would be the end of my engagement with that performance and yet when I read this post by scarefox with commentary added by thebroccolination and hallowpen (mentioned to give credit untagged because I have social anxiety and forcing people to read my post is my worst nightmare) my mind was filled with thoughts that took me the greater part of the day to sort through and I still don't know if the following will be adequate. Because OH HO HO as it turns out Thailand isn't that progressive which means that this performance was constructed to be like this ON PURPOSE. This post is in conversation with some of the concepts brought up in the linked post so it will be helpful in understanding the direction I've chosen to go with this. But the linked post is a great post and you should read it regardless. There is much to love about the Kristsingto concert and even more to love about their sexy dance - the primary of which is how it makes every single one of my Asian sensibilities ring MAD alarm bells. I'm a diaspora south asian but I moved to the US alone when I was 18 which means I have an intact sense of Asian respectability, regularly replenished by my parents. I MEAN LOOK AT IT - THEY ARE ON A FREAKING BED!!!! SIR THAT IS A BEDROOM ACTIVITY ONLY

But some serious highlights as to what about this performance sets it apart: 1) The performance is focused on sensuality and desire. They're dressed like dancers and not particularly sexy ones. Everything about this performance is pared down to only focus on their movements. The costumes are simple, the bed is simple, the lighting mostly monochrome. There is nothing to see here BUT their desire for each other and the sex they are simulating

2) They are playing to each other and ONLY to each other and not the audience. This is probably THE REASON why it clocks differently from literally every other raunchy performance. They are dancing for EACH OTHER. The performance starts behind a screen, and the sex simulation is the most intense at this stage but then THE SCREEN FALLS but for the purposes of the performance, KristSingto don't even acknowledge it. The audience is THRUST into the position of a voyeur and remains so throughout the performance. Like there is a BED that looks like it came straight out of Krist's bedroom like give me a fucking BREAK sir those are inside house, behind closed doors activities you are engaging with on stage.

Even the parts where Krist or Singto face the audience it is a) never together at once and b) they are mirroring each other's movements highlighting their connection to each other over their individual connection with the audience. There is no hip thrusting, no flirtatious looks, absolutely nothing that would even remotely suggest that they're trying to titillate the audience. All the titillation is directed towards each other. This feeling of looking into a private moment is deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

3) It's KristSingto. So much to be said about this and I have a strong feeling that I am not the person who should be speaking about this. But it's Krist and Singto, highly respected veterans of the industry who don't 'need' to be engaging in these types of 'extreme behaviors' to get ahead. So why would Kristsingto need to 'resort' to these behaviors?

Well, because the purpose of art, and I would argue quite specifically queer art, is to push the boundaries of how society allows the 'self' to behave and express itself. There is a reason why BL has captured the fascination of so many straight women. I would argue this is true everywhere but specifically for Asians, the shackles placed on queer sexuality did not feel so different from the shackles placed on women's sexuality period. Queer sexual liberal *is* sexual liberation and there are a lot of outgroup parties who have a vested, personal interest in pushing this agenda forward. I have to stop before this gets so long that I have to find a university to grant me a masters but 'Fanservice Is Wrong' and 'Fanservice Has Finally Gone Too Far' is just the fan service discourse. But the truth is that Fanservice *IS* radical queer visibility and always has been. I started my fandom journey in JPOP nearly 15 years ago and that was the conversation then [link takes you to a fanservice kiss between Ninomiya Kazunari and Ohno Satoshi from Arashi in 2008 that was 6 years in the making but I digress] and apparently if KristSingto will get to have their way that will be the conversation now. To deny their dance as offensive is to deny the incredible ways in which it's in conversation with the society they're operating in, the risks they are still taking even amidst widespread celebration for the Marriage Equality Bill in Thailand.

KristSingto had totally blown the doors, windows and glass ceilings wide open with SOTUS that I would argue had rippling effects on the BL being produced throughout Asia, not just Thailand. And the pressure of that was SO high, that attention so unexpected and burdensome that neither could actually stay and enjoy that moment. OffGun and TayNew had reaped more fruits from KristSingto's labor than Krist and Singto. KristSingto isn't just another branded pair - they are quite literally BL royalty and they are not here to play games. Except this time they are pushing the envelope with their eyes wide open and I am buzzing to see what's next for them.

[gothnitsa]

"Bioware's writing has gotten worse"

Ok, so I'm going to rant post about something and make it everyone elses' problem.

So, I recently came across a video that compared a scene of a queer character interacting with an unsupportive character in Dragon Age: Inquisition and a similar situation Dragon Age: the Veilguard. The video and the comments seem to imply that one scene is markedly worse than the other in a way that is immediately apparent. I want to push back against this.

Aside from the transphobia/anti-nb shit that is suggested by the video's framing and rampant in the comments, saying one scene is worse than the other is a mischaracterisation and discounts a lot of queer experience.

The scene in Inquisition is very dramatic: the language is flowery and elaborate, the performances are intense, it is a very compelling and dramatic scene. The framing for the scene and visual tone communicate a great deal of intensity and anger from Dorian: there are heavy shadows and dim lighting from torches that flicker, creating a scene that visually has a darkness and instability to it. The blocking of the scene puts a great deal of distance between the player character, Dorian, and his father, representing the distance in their relationship. It is very much a well crafted scene.

Now, the scene in Veilguard is much different: it opens with a very casual tone and atmosphere, the lighting of the scene is very warm and saturated. It feels like we are at a dinner table having a friendly conversation. Then, when the bomb gets dropped, we start to get close ups of each of the characters, interrupted by wide shots of the whole table. The shot of the table reminds us of the physical separation between these two characters, an echo of the rift that exists between them. We then get various close ups of each of the characters which get progressively closer, mirroring the intensity of the scene and the emotions.

Ok, so now we have the "Dialogue," the actual matter under discussion and point of comparison for these two scenes.

As mentioned above, Inquisition's style in this scene is deliberately intense and dramatic. It feels almost Shakespearean. We are given exposition on why Dorian's homosexuality is frowned upon, we get a tug of war between these two characters and the pain they both feel is palpable in the performances: the way Dorian's father speaks with such pain in his voice and Dorian's ferocity and anguish illustrate how this conflict isn't what either of them want, how the values and cultural circumstances have burned this bridge between them.

Now lets look at Veilguard. Right off the bat someone might feel critical of the sort of awkward start to this conversation. I won't lie, it was quite funny to hear someone go "here are some vegetables...so I'm non-binary." It's clunky, it's awkward, it's a strange way to introduce the topic but if you call this "unrealistic" or "bad writing," frankly I don't think you've seen many people come out.

Coming out is often awkward, painfull, and full of conflicting feelings. There's so much hesitation and anxiety baked into the very concept that there isn't anyway to bring it up that isn't awkward. This is actually a pretty realistic way to depict it. Furthermore, the actual conversation is also what I would call pretty realistic for an outing: the child tries to put it in as simple of terms as they possible can, lay it out in a way they think anyone can understand only for the parent to simply reject the explanation. What follows is a brief exchange that rapidly increases in intensity that is brought to life by some well done voice work (though, personally I think the music was a bit over bearing and did a little too much heavy lifting; I would have preferred the scene silent).

You can feel their frustration that is only further compounded by the mother's past behaviour and general presence. Even in this short video clip you can tell right off the bat that this mother child relationship isn't the most healthy, so this is just more fuel to the fire for them. The exchange is brief, harsh, and loaded with baggage and past bad blood between these two. You don't need to even know who these characters are to feel that. This is a much more realistic example of a character coming out to an unsupportive parent. It is laden with tension, awkwardness, unresolved anger, the burden of past expectations. There is, bluntly, a lot going on in this scene. Even just from this short clip you can get so much from these characters and their relationship while at the same time conveying a pretty impactfull and, honestly, real feeling queer experience.

So, no, one scene is not "worse" than the other. One scene has a deliberately awkward moment to convey the difficult and uncomfortable nature of coming out while at the same time communicating a great deal of character and struggle.

The other scene is an intense and dramatic confrontation that is meant to be more instep with the dark and intense tone that this scene holds within the narrative.

Both are well crafted scenes with deliberate directorial, cinematographic, character, and music choices that successfully convey what these moments are supposed to represent.

[justinssportscorner]

Alex Abad-Santos at Vox:

Despite being a time when people from all over the world come together in equality and peace, the Olympics are still uncertain territory for transgender athletes. There are no transgender athletes who are competing outside of the gender they were assigned at birth at this year’s Games. Transgender women who transitioned after puberty aren’t allowed to compete in major sports on a college level. Athletes Nikki Hiltz, a runner, and Hergie Bacyadan, a boxer, both identify as transgender (Hiltz also identifies as nonbinary), but both have always and continue to compete in the women’s division, which is the sex they were assigned at birth. Athletes who do not identify as trans, like Algerian boxer Imane Khelif, have also been scrutinized for their gender. Along with China’s Lin Yu-ting, Khelif is one of two women boxers who failed a “sex test” from the International Boxing Association last year. They have since been connected to discussions of sports and Differences of Sexual Development (DSD), a rare group of genetic and hormonal disorders allowed under International Olympic Committee guidelines. After Khelif’s Italian competitor Angela Carini conceded their match less than a minute into their bout, many have weighed in, including Elon Musk and J.K. Rowling.

Outside of the Games, trans people face so much backlash, often for simply existing. The conversation around sports is particularly fraught, from children’s athletics right up through the pros. Despite the International Olympic Committee vowing to be more inclusive, the future for trans athletes is unclear. It all raises the question: How did we get to this point, and did it always have to be this way? The answers found in historian and journalist Michael Waters’s The Other Olympians: Fascism, Queerness, and the Making of Modern Sports might be surprising. Waters’s book traces the emergence of Zdeněk Koubek, a track and field star representing the country formerly known as Czechoslovakia who, at 21, won two medals — a gold in the 800m and a bronze in the long jump — at the 1934 Women’s World Games. (The Women’s World Games was the precursor to women competing at the Olympics). In 1935, Koubek announced that he would be living life as a man and swiftly became an international celebrity.

Perhaps the most intriguing facet to Koubek’s story was in the public response. Koubek was more welcomed and celebrated than we might imagine. There was an open-mindedness and empathy to the reception of Koubek and his gender identity and expression in the 1930s. Waters also pinpoints where and when that changed, specifically at the 1936 Olympics in Nazi Germany. Armed with a propensity for eugenics, gender anxiety, and a startling lack of scientific evidence, a small set of Nazi officials influenced the International Olympic Committee into gender surveillance and trans panic — stuff that eerily mirrors the transphobic attacks that athletes, cis and trans alike, face today.

Anti-trans discrimination in the Olympics stretches as far back as the infamous 1936 games in Berlin.

[commiepinkofag]

Discrimination against trans Olympians has roots in Nazi Germany

The forgotten Olympic history of trans athletes

… The answers found in historian and journalist Michael Waters’s The Other Olympians: Fascism, Queerness, and the Making of Modern Sports might be surprising. Waters’s book traces the emergence of Zdeněk Koubek, a track and field star representing the country formerly known as Czechoslovakia who, at 21, won two medals — a gold in the 800m and a bronze in the long jump — at the 1934 Women’s World Games. [The Women’s World Games was the precursor to women competing at the Olympics]. In 1935, Koubek announced that he would be living life as a man and swiftly became an international celebrity. Perhaps the most intriguing facet to Koubek’s story was in the public response. Koubek was more welcomed and celebrated than we might imagine. There was an open-mindedness and empathy to the reception of Koubek and his gender identity and expression in the 1930s. Waters also pinpoints where and when that changed, specifically at the 1936 Olympics in Nazi Germany. Armed with a propensity for eugenics, gender anxiety, and a startling lack of scientific evidence, a small set of Nazi officials influenced the International Olympic Committee into gender surveillance and trans panic — stuff that eerily mirrors the transphobic attacks that athletes, cis and trans alike, face today. In reading Waters’s account of Koubek and other trans and intersex athletes’ lives, it all feels like those Olympics were a breaking point. The Nazi era has substantially shaped the conversation surrounding trans athletes today. …

[lyraofthestarsss]

My Thoughts on Songs of Origin

Yaelokre’s comment about how Songs of Origin isn’t about war because they only write about topics they are familiar with made me look at the album in a completely new light. I believe Songs of Origin is still about the characters and their backstory, but it’s also based on Yaelokre’s personal views and past. The latter is what I will be focusing on. I’m not Yaelokre so I don’t know if any of this is true, but a theory is just a theory after all.

My farewells to the fields starts with Cole singing with a quivering voice and shaky breathing, immediately followed by Clémentine’s much more even and steady voice. Cole is terrified of singing about their past, but Clémmie is there to comfort and reassure. This is a story that needs to be told. Their story

Music is the main storytelling method because it’s comforting, it feels like home to them. Music is the heart of their story, found beneath the grove, hidden by thick tree roots that keep it safe

There’s a special type of bravery when you bare your soul to strangers. These characters and their story is a deeply intimate part of what makes Yaelokre the person they are. And after seeing how much shit they went through over the years, I’d say they are the bravest of all

Their voice is deeper and intense here. To me, this sounds like the anxiety any performer feels before going on stage. Listening to the chatter of thousands of eyes on you. It can be overwhelming

Despite the fear, they push forward. With so many eyes looking to you, hearing your story, you have to say goodbye to the you from before. To your past, your name

And yet it’s liberating, being heard and being listened to. Having so many people love your creation, and feel it so deeply in their hearts

Clémmie’s instrumentals are always covered in gentle bell chimes, a reference to their connection to the Bellringer. And yet ironically enough, Bird cage blue and yellow is about the past

This song is the one that is most clear about the character backstory. Clémmie lived in a big lonely estate with the Baroness, they escaped, and they ran off into the woods and eventually found Hayfields. However, it also touches a lot on gender identity and societal expectations

Being afab, you are often weighed down by gender norms. In much more conservative areas, you are expected to look pretty, not speak out of turn, never ask too much of people. It can be suffocating, especially to someone who is transgender

This song is about Clemmie breaking away from those societal expectations, as well as escaping from the house and the family that expects too much of her. Clémmie’s words mirror Yaelokre’s views. That’s the reason why they put so much emphasis on the Lark kids having they/it pronouns and Hayfields being a place free of gender

This last part is fun and freeing. Clémmie’s story about leaving their house and the past behind is liberating for Yaelokre and other queer people who relate to their story (Malayang maya, malayo-layo/Free sparrow, fly away)

The children speak about how the Bellringer will keep them safe. (Rödd eins og bjalla heldur okkur öruggum frá framtíðinni/Voice like a bell keeps us safe from the future) Although the future is uncertain and scary, it can be the place where queer people can be their true selves. The future is where they can find people who are just like them (Finndu mig í framtíðinni/Find me in the future)

[i-live-in-spite]

Summary: You get a case in your hometown, you haven’t been back for almost 10 years after you left when you were 18 to join the FBI academy. Your brother was not very happy to see your transition.

Pairing: Around season 5 Spencer Reid x Trans Male reader(He/They)

Genre: Angst w/ Comfort

Tw/Cw: Family argument/dysfunctional families, transphobia/homophobia, kinda “gory” with some details, talk of s3lf h@rm, platonic pairing but they are pinning for the other, normal violence of Criminal Minds, the Unsub targets queer people, religious talk/trauma, talk of ending one's life, use of the t slur(If I missed something please tell me)

Word Count: 2.7k

I knew that if I had just asked Hotch or Rossi to stay back or for time away from the case, they would have told me yes. After all, I’m  pretty much just a stand-in for Garcia on the ground. Just there in case she got overworked or she was busy on one search I could quickly pick up the task. But the BAU taking me on the field was still pretty rare, I know why I’m here even if all I can think about is leaving again.

I didn’t know even after 10 years of healing, the wounds could still be so fresh. The feeling of blood rushed down my arms as we passed by the stores from my childhood. Some buildings I couldn't recognize but hardly anything changed from the old small town I grew up in. 

I’m snapped from my thoughts when I feel Spencer’s hands on my shoulder, “I’m sorry could you repeat the question sir?” I snapped my eyes up to Rossi who was in the passenger seat as Derek drove.

“I was just asking if you knew of any hidden in the wall clubs who may..enjoy the same sex may go?” Rossi sounded as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing, which I could understand. I have always been open about my gender identity and how I have had male lovers, I really didn’t see why it had to be hidden. At least not to them, no the team was like family. Emily and Penelope aren’t as loud about it but they also didn’t hide it.

“Uh yea, if I remember correctly there is this, old salt cave that many would go to for..activities. Whether it’s still operational is another question, I would have to be able to get down there.” Rossi nods and I look away from Spencer’s gaze and the subtle look from Derek in the mirror.

When we got to the police station I hesitated opening the car door, a few quick memories flashing through my eyes. I take a deep breath before pushing the door open and going to the back to grab my computer bag, I feel Spencer’s hand on my shoulder, the other one gently rubbing the nape of my neck. I would typically find comfort in his light touches but my anxiety was running high, all I could do was curl up from his hands.

“I know something is wrong, is it because of the murders? Or the fact that this is a ‘special’ place to you?” I couldn’t stop a choked laugh from escaping and Spencer was quick to recover, “Maybe special didn’t quite express the right emotions. You are tied to this place, and you don’t like it. Why didn’t you ask to stay back?” His voice was soft, full of concern. 

“You don’t ask to stay back when we have cases in your hometown.” I look up, my voice having more of an edge than I would like. He sighs and grabs his bag before turning back to me, a serious expression taking over his normal goofy smile.

“Yes but I had an ok childhood. It’s one thing to be an outcast because I’m smart, you were an outcast because-” Hotch calls us over cutting Spencer off, “I’m just saying, we have different memories of childhood, you had more hate than you let on.” I never heard Spencer being tied to emotions in this way. He knew my past and I knew his, we held each other's scars close, refusing to let the past repeat. 

Spencer walks over to Hotch but I highly doubt that this conversation was over. I follow closely behind, keeping my head down. The station had the same bleach smell, my nose burned from the smell. Then the world seemed to crash when I heard his voice.

“Welcome in agents, we have a small meeting room y’all can use in the back.” The sound of my brother's voice made all my muscles freeze. Hotch shakes his hand, thanking him for the space and they start to talk a little more about the case. I go to the back and set up in a corner away from the door, this is gonna be the longest case in my life. 

As I continue my setup, I hear his whistle. “That’s some mighty fine computers you got there, but I was told y’all had a tech analyst back at Quantico.” I refused to look up from my keyboard as I continued to fidget with my settings to appear busy. 

It was Derek who finally spoke up, “Well we do, but the lovely little lady doesn’t always enjoy coming on the field and sometimes her work load is a little too much. So we bring him in and he helps on the ground.” My brother lets out a choked noise and even though he tried to whisper it was clear as day.

“That’s a boy? I mean i’ve seen my fair share of boys with long hair but that’s..damn near to the floor.” Derek sighs and expresses again I was in fact a boy, keeping out the fact I was trans. Which fills me with gratitude. “Damn well.. Okay. Nice to be working with you las.” 

His hand appeared in my face and I was slow to grab it. I felt his gaze on my freshly painted nails, it was just a simple black and white look. But I could feel the judgement of his gaze.

“Did you know that a handshake spreads more germs, it would be safer to kiss.” Spencer’s distraction makes me laugh, of course he had no idea that we were actually siblings or the fact my brother would rather live in hell than kiss another boy.

“And who are you?” I was thankful for the attention to be off of me, though I’m very much aware of the attitude that hides behind my brother's voice.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer waved a little uncomfortable. My brother looks him up and down before nodding.

“Well. Thank you for coming to look at the problem.” Spencer and Derek nod as my brother leaves and I finally let out the air in my lungs. Derek turns to me and sees the look of discomfort not fully leave my face.

“I typically try to keep the past the past, but the history between you and the sheriff?” I shift a little before looking down at the computer.

“Can't you see the family resemblance?” The boys are physically taken aback by this information. I smile awkwardly and get back to the set up of my computer. Neither of my fellow males spoke up after the statement, for once I’ve made the great Spencer Reid silent.

—-

“I need you to go to the cave, you are trusted there correct?” Hotch looks down at me as I gently play with my hands, a nervous habit I picked up from Spencer.

“I’m sure the older ones may remember me, I won't know for sure till I get down there though.” Hotch nods and scratches under his chin some.

“Would you be comfortable going alone or would you like someone to go with you?” I think for a minute, I would refuse to ask anyone from the local p.d. to join, but Emily or Spencer could be candidates. But Spencer is still getting over getting shot that him joining me is a hard no from me, even though he claims he was good to go. 

“Emily would be a good fit to join me.” Hotch nods and leaves to tell Emily about joining me. I didn’t hear the door open till my brother spoke.

“You look different now, since when did you turn into a boy?” My brother's voice was a little callous, the same tone he used when I told my family I planned on leaving.

“I have always been a boy, you and the others just refused to see it.” He scoffs and looks around to no one particularly, I still refused to turn to him.

“Oh I’m sorry miss ‘used to love dresses’, it’s kinda hard to think you were a ‘boy’ when you always dressed all pretty like.” 

“Because how I dress doesn’t define who I am,” I couldn’t stop my southern twang from coming through, something I fought to hide for a while. “, I’m very much aware that when I dress feminine people may see me as a girl. But also growin up here, if I dress like how I wanted to I would be shot on site. I’m not an idiot.”

My brother crosses his arms and I feel him staring me down. “So what, you put on a pair of pants and suddenly you were a boy? Is that really how easy it is? To erase the life mom gave you? To destroy the bridge you and dad had?”

“I would have died Evan!” I turn to him, rage clear on my face, “I would have killed myself. My only hope was my friends. Friends you belittled. Do you have any idea what that does to someone?” My brother laughs and his face hardens.

“And you do? Do they become the killers you chase down?”

“No Evan. They kill themselves, they do drugs, they hide every part of them because they can’t live any other way. I didn’t kill the little girl I was, I saved the little boy you tried to snuff out like a fire. I protected myself because the same people who were supposed to do it were the ones cutting me deeper than any of my blades do.” I took a step to him, the fire was clear behind his eyes. “Aren’t you proud? I changed my name. You can tell everyone I died in action. You have no connection to the man I am today. I may have to use extra means to make myself who I am but I am more of a man than you'll ever be.” 

Before he could say anything Emily walks in and tells me she’s ready. I grab my coat and walk out without another word being said.

—-

The next couple of days went on with my brother ignoring me, if he had anything to say he went to Hotch or Derek. Not that I really cared, but I knew the team could tell the tension between my brother and I was getting very heavy.

Spencer walks up to me with an iced coffee, he looked a little unsure of himself. “I remember one time you told me you preferred iced coffee, I went down to the local cafe and got you one.” I thank him softly and take a sip. “Are you okay with working on the case? I mean with your brother and openly gay people being targeted..”

“I’m okay Dr. Reid, I’m a tough cookie you know this.” He nods, tapping his hand on his arm.

“I’m aware of that but after the case I got shot, you were worried about me, I could hardly go pee without you commenting about how I needed my crutches.” His smile was genuine, I knew he truly loved that I cared enough to keep him up with doctor orders.

“It’s not my fault a certain FBI genius liked to test his limits, someone had to care for him.” I smile and he shuffles steps a little closer.

“And this genius wants to make sure you're not chewing off more than you can handle. You’re just as important to this team as Garcia or Morgan or me.” There was a hidden message behind his words, that I was important to him.

“The best thing I can do is work and stay away from my brother where I can. I’ll be okay pretty boy, I’ll be good. You won't even have to handcuff me.” Spencer’s face bloomed into a nice rose pink colour, he was always so easy to fluster. It was another thing that made him one of the cutest people I have ever met. Can stare at dismembered bodies, but can’t handle a compliment fully.

“I’m here for you, we all are. Don’t go somewhere you don’t think iIcan join. I’ll find you, and I'll bring you back.” His hands slowly grab my face, his eyes searching mine. But before we could do anything the door swung open.

“Garcia thinks we found our unsub.” Spencer nods and grabs his vest before turning back to me as Derek leaves.

“I mean it, I’ll follow you into any river, any ocean, any fires you think you have to handle alone.” And like that he was gone. I stayed by the phone waiting for any information that this person actually was our unsub. 

It wasn’t long before Emily was pushing the guy through the station spouting bullshit, saying the kids deserved it. I look at him, he looks back at me. 

“You some little tranny aren’t you. You cried over their deaths? They were gonna do it anyway, why not speed up the progress?” I just stare at him. I knew him, but I knew everyone here.

“Sir, all you’re doing is incriminating yourself. The gender of my agents are none of your concern. He doesn’t have to kill to make himself feel good.” Hotch pushes him forward, him having my back makes me tear up. “He’s not weak. He doesn’t push others around to make himself known. He is a man.” Hotch was pushing the UNSUB every time he would call me a he. 

Spencer shows up beside me, “We found a hair in his truck bed. It’s being analysed right now.” I nodded, his hand finding its way to the nape of my neck. “Hotch is correct, you aren’t..what he said. You’re strong and you’re the male you always knew you would be. You’re so strong being able to fight your way out of a town like this, with a family who did everything it could to keep you down.” All I could do was nod, I didn’t trust my voice.

By the night Hotch had everything he needed to prove this man did it, I started to pack up my stuff. “I will never understand you. Why did you tear it all down?”

I turn to Evan, annoyance clear on my face. “I tore down broken walls, I tore away the paint that hid the beautiful tile underneath. I am who I was always meant to be.” My brother started to talk but I cut him off, “I will never be your sister again, either accept it or stay out of my life.”

“You weren’t meant to be a boy though. You were born a girl, why can’t you understand?”

I take a step closer to him, “Your mind is one of the smartest things in the world, it’s not always connected to your body. Nerves can be damaged, emotions can be out of place. We live in a world where your next door neighbour murdered innocent kids because their brain didn’t match the way their body was. I bet deep down you wished we never caught him.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“It started being your fault after I left how you continued to fill your brain with the idea that who I am was a choice, that the fact I like guys as a guy was something I just woke up and picked. When in reality it was you who drove me away.”

“You’re unnatural.” His fist was balled up and I knew we would never see eye to eye, not in this lifetime.

“Goodbye. Enjoy the wife, but I hope your kids never have to live in the fear I did.” I grab my bags and walk out the station. I fit my bags snuggle in their place as Emily turns to me.

“You know, the family isn’t just blood. The saying ‘blood runs thicker than water’ isn’t always true.” She offers me a small I’m sorry type of smile.

“Actually one of the earliest sayings of the quote was ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’, meaning your brother doesn’t have to be the brother you accept. We will always love you.” Spencer has a goofy smile, his knowledge of everything makes me feel better.

“And I will always love you.” Spencer can’t hold my eyes sensing the deeper meaning behind my words. Derek ruffled my hair and we started the long hours home.

[gatheringbones]

["Suddenly I can't lie beside you another moment. Tears from nowhere stream hot down my cheeks. In the bathroom I leave the light off, sit on the edge of the bathtub, double over in the moonlight. I rock against my confusion.

Anger. How dare you throw my universe into disarray! Just when I think I finally know myself! When I think I know you!

Fear. This is too much to ask of me. I can't bear this weight. It is impossible. I feel insane!

Betrayal. Who are you? Are you a butch only because there was no other choice? Am I really a lesbian? What does this mean? How can I be a femme if you are a man?

I want to scream at you. Hate you. Instead I stifle my crying in a towel until at last the tears come silent, flow gently. In the morning you find me curled on the couch in the living room. You hold me. Your eyes are so sad. You tell me how sorry you are.

For what? For being true to yourself? I don't want you to apologize for this. I don't know what I want!

I let you hold me, and it does feel better. But I berate myself for being so angry. For hurting you. I wish I could just get to the other side without going through the pain.

Every day I feel different. I drift in and out of anger and pride, excitement and fear. I grapple with monumental theories and insignificant— but suddenly important— consequences of your transition.

My greatest fear is of how this might affect my own sense of self. "Just don't ask me to be straight," I tell you. "It took me too much pain and time and struggle to come out queer, lesbian, and femme-proud. I can't go back." But you never step on or dictate my identity and for this I am grateful beyond words.

Instead you inspire me to look with courage at my self-definitions. I see how they are true to me. I also see how they sometimes limit me. Though they have often given me security and a means to self-awareness, I notice other parts of myself I have suppressed: the attraction I once felt for men, the desire I feel now for other femmes, the need to examine my own "othergenderedness."

Some days I feel very alone in the world, like the biggest "freak among the freaks," and I turn old internalized hatred upon myself. Other days I feel like part of an ancient, unspoken tradition, as one who is particularly "wired" to partner a transperson. I feel almost sacred.

Months pass quickly. Every time you bleed, you feel a little more insane, and I feel less able to be your safe harbor. We go to meetings, get to know other transmen and their lovers and wives. We search the Internet for surgeons. We figure out which credit cards can hold the weight of this surgery. Time eases pain, it is true. I love your breasts, but now I release this part of you so beautiful and mysterious to me. I am changing. Part of me beings to address this surgery with a note of erotic anticipation. I notice that much of my desire is linked to the disparity between your gender expression and your body. When you bind your breasts, pack a dick, when you wear a suit and tie, T-shirt and boxers, when you shift before my eyes from woman into man, I am aroused, excited beyond belief.

I relish the way you construct your gender despite the dictates this world links to your body, which further manifests your particular gender."]

Sonya Bolus, from Loving Outside Simple Lines, from Genderqueer: Voices From Beyond The Binary, edited by Joan Nestle, Clare Howell, and Riki Wilchins, Alyson Books, 2002

[wretchedamaranth]

Today in Non & White/Phee & Tee parallels:

This disgust, which reverberates from White's hallucination into Tee's own hallucination, reminds me of Non reading slut-shaming Twitter posts:

Which highlights the stigmatisation of overt queer sexuality, and the idealisation of purity as opposed to "unethical" or non-monogamous sex, specifically between young, gay men. The connotation of "filthy" is obviously sexual here -- White is filthy, even diseased (the lesions...) because of the assumptions Tee makes about his fidelity. I don't think White cheated, but to me, that's not even the point. What is important here is White's anxiety about Tee's paranoia.

Tee's accusation in White's hallucination represents on a personal level what the twitter posts that Non reads represent on a systemic level -- the disgust, and the underlying fear, of deviant sexual desire. In DFF, there are several kinds of deviant sexuality: queer, non-monogamous, crossing the boundaries of hierarchy -- the latter with Keng and Non.

All three are conflated within this anxiety, there isn't a separation between Non's queerness, for example, and Keng's coercion of Non, even though there should be, because all kinds of non-normative sexuality and sex are seen as a threat against the status quo, against the importance of social reputation that mandates a certain level of "cleanliness". It's why those twitter posts at once condemn Keng for having sex with a student under 18 and, at the same time, shame Non for his perceived lack of chastity, and don't seem to see the contradiction.

It's not incidental that Non breaks so thoroughly after this video is posted, after his reputation and that of his family is irretrievably damaged, after he loses his boyfriend who is morally disgusted with him. Non, and White who is his mirror, absorb the anxiety about sexually active gay men, young gay men in particular who are perceived as especially filthy for their defying the purity associated with their youth. Phee and Tee who condemn them are also affected -- Tee's disgust is especially relevant because he fears being touched by White, by catching his disease.

The fear of being a social outcast is another reason, on top of personal betrayal, why Phee and Tee so viscerally reject Non and White, why they push them away and literally tell them to "get lost". Of course, Tee acts this way in White's hallucination because White is the one who has this once latent and now overt disgust at his own perceived deviance, which is only compounded by Tee's actual jealousy.

I don't have anything coherent to say, really, but it's worth looking into the fraught relationships among what is perceived as deviant sex/sexuality, stigmatisation of said deviance, outcasting from within and outside those spaces, and reputation/social standing/face.

[vampiricnature]

Hardcore projection rn but

Max having a panic attack after realizing he might be queer. Like, something happens and he gets that pang of anxiety and terror in his gut because he's like oh my god I think I might like boys. Washing his face off, looking in the mirror, realizing that he could he one of the things his dad would never support. His dad is his only immediate family from what we know in canon. His dad calls him a cuck. He's canonically/insinuated to be verbally abusive to Max.

If Max realized he was queer in any way, he would probably have a mental breakdown because his persona of being a womanizer breaking would shatter his entire reality as he knows it. At least, one of the parts of reality that he knows he has power over.

"my dad's gonna fucking kill me."

[not-your-kitten17]

//ABOUT ME// ( this is kind of lengthy but has important info as please read)

// Basics // 25 // Taurus // AFAB // 4'11 (150cm)// goth //ginger // green eyes // pale white // queer and sort of demisexual, so don't just sent me sexts please // i age regress //

// Style // outside: androgynous/masc + goth casual// inside & private : i like to be both feminine and cute and wear colour as well as masc (mens pajamas are just so comfy)🥰 the majority of my pajamas are winnie the pooh so quite cute and femme at home😂//

// i do not wish to interact with men or minors please //DNI if you are racist, transphobic, ableist, homophobic, misogynistic or you kink shame.

UPDATE: if you DONT support Palestine, fuck off!

//Posts// //NSFT + SFW account // posts my thoughts and wants // mainly sexual // Sometimes little (regressed) posts// Any domme posts i reblog is what i want done to me or want to do with a domme etc//

//Important// I'm autistic and have anxiety// please be nice // 💜

// Relationship status // single //monogamist //

// Roles // little girl // kitten // huge sub // rope bunny // baby //

// Type // Tall(er)Femme sapphic mommies // very sweet, Caring and loving and matches my kinks // clear communicator // UK area or long distance if you are up to one day move to the UK (i would move but health issues) // monogamist //

// Hobbies // listening to music // watching & playing video games // learning Korean // reading fanfic // napping // collecting plushies // painting // crafting // colouring

// likes // Animated & light hearted shows + films // slasher horror films // Winnie the pooh // plushies // cuddles + naps // gaming // witchcraft // horror games // creepy things // cats // spiderman!

//images of me // //Mirror selfie// //new choker selfie//

//main kinks ATM //

Huge Oral fixation (both sexual and not.) especially facefucking with strap

MDLG + mommy kink obvs

breastfeeding/ nursing (relates to mdlg and oral fixation)

Kitten pet play

dumification and corruption

Huge size kink (height)

BREEDING! and cockwarming

Mommies with strap ons

WAX PLAY

Forced regression

CNC/ Free use / 24/7 dynamics / somophila

Bondage

Orgasm control (orgasm ownership) includes edging and denial and overstimulation

Affectionate Possessiveness/cruelty / ownership and marks

Being used for mommy's pleasure

PRAISE! and also praise mixed with degradation

Yandere vibes in partners like yes, make me yours and only yours, fuck me so hard i can only think of you (some types of brainwashing like clickers, jealous kidnapping too)

Spanking, light pain play (no bleeding, permanent marks etc.)

Breath play (choking and smothering😳)

// LIMITS //

lack of communication, i am autistic, i struggle with subtle hints please just tell me

feet

Incest and Raceplay

Detrans/orientation play

Cuckhold (any cheating fetish)

Abandonment

Aftercare denial / no safewords

Vomit and scat

Please dont say how replaceable i am

divider by im4yeons

bottom divider found on account : only-ranpo

[psychabolition]

if this is too much please don’t feel pressured to answer. i just have a lot of thoughts about antipsychiarty and idrk where i stand

because, like. ive been in really bad places before and then they hospitalized me and like that was *bad*, right, i still believe thats bad

but the hospitalization put me on meds and OBVIOUDLY I DONT THINK PEOPLE SJOULD BE FORCED ON MEDS ITS UP TO THEM but also i consider my meds to be life-saving. because i no longer want to die. because i can stop having panic attacks. because there is an amount of feeling… not even good! just okay! that i never had before

and ive been in therapy that i hated and therapy that didnt work and the hospital doctor called me a “psycho”. but i also have a therapist now that i love. i consider him a friend. they don’t try to fix me or anything but i just, like. i go to therapy and it helps?

and i want to go into psychology. not psychiatry but psychology, because i want to do for other people what my therapist does for me, and i want to help people, and i want to learn about brains- the “normal” (which doesnt really exist) and the abnormal-

and i say that i am a system. and that i am autistic. that i have depression and anxiety. because it helps me to have language to understand myself. to be able to explain certain complixities of my humanity in less words than it should take and yes it misses out on the nuance but it helps, too, i think. learning i was autistic helped me.

so idk. i want to be anti-psych. because of the medical abuse and the usage of diagnoses to undermine people’s feelings. but can i be antipsych and love my medication. can i be antipsych and want to be a therapist. can i be antipsych and enjoy having labels to use for myself because it helps me learn to love whats in the mirror.

and if i cant be antipsych and all these things, then am i propsych? and for the very system that destorys and abuses and traumatizes people?

sorry for all this

im just confused

and scared.

I mean first off Im just one person whos anti psych and everyone whos anti psych will have different opinions on these subjects .

The most common anti psych stance on meds is that we should have full autonomy in choosing to take medication and in choosing not to take any meds. -this is not what reality looks like rn. Especially people with very stigmatized labels like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder are coerced into taking meds /literally forced on meds trough physical violence and coerced into staying on meds that harm them. And then other people -like for example people who are trans or nonbinary who want to transition are put through a dehumanizing process of pathologization of their queerness just to get access to HRT and then theyre still often denied access to gender affirming care . Both is awful . We always know who we are and what we need best. We deserve full autonomy on our decisions,always. You can obviously take meds yourself and be anti psych thats not a contradiction at all.

Also a lot of people who are anti psych reject the biomedical model (=mental health is the same as physical health - this includes words like Symptom/disorder and diagnosis labels like depression anxiety autism schizophrenia etc) since there is no scientific basis for calling our mental distress / neurodivergency a disorder or an illness and our diagnoses are just descriptive labels that say nothing about the cause of our suffering/behavior/feelings/ourselves in general . There has never been found a chemical imbalance, genetic defect or biomarker for our experiences of distress/neurodiversity .they came to These conclusions through their own Research .its insane that the biomedical model is still talked about as If its scientific fact, it is disproven and inherently contradictory . I highly recommend reading into current anti psych/Mad studies literature to understand how this oppressive system of hegemonic psychology operates in our current neoliberal society and why the biomedical model is still used today to diagnose us as "ill" and "treat" us . This is my perspective on the matter.

But honestly, i wont ever tell someone what words to use to describe their own experiences, how they should think about themselves and who they are - thats what psychologists do . Im not interested in doing that at all . Use the language you seem fit to describe yourself - i just recommend reading into different frameworks of interpreting your own experiences before you conclude that the biomedical model is the one that makes the most sense to you.

This is a different framework based on marxist theory

This is a different framework based on the disability rights movement

This is the biomedical model explained

Resources for psych abolition (harm reduction Guides, Mad studies, Zines ... )

This is a PDF to a book that goes in depth about the biomedical model and how the psychiatric system and its ideology is still extremely oppressive today

One thing that i firmly believe, that a lot of other people who are also anti psych dont share the same view on, is that Im convinced that you can not be against psychiatric violence and then become part of this oppressive system yourself. To me thats like becoming a cop to stop police brutality 💀Give me a Break

Thank you for your ask ! I highly highly recommend reading more into the subject of mad studies/psych abolition before dedicating energy time and money into being part of a system that youll probably despise in the end . (💀i have a degree in psychology by the way so i speak from experience)