#still stuck in the cycle of wishing my mother would mother me

[awomanswrath]

Vent lol

[hitomisuzuya]

SUZU!!! I wanna say that your writing is so NGHH my go-to scaraspice writers 10/10 Can I request balladeer Scara (Like in the official Genshin universe when he's still in the Fatui) breeding us till he's all sweaty and panting? Like they're trying to see if he can actually produce offspring so they just fuck till they find out one day You're amazing, Suzu. Remember to take breaks and care for yourself! Have a great day/night!! <3

fatui!scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. degradation. multiple creampie. feral!scaramouche.

fatui scara has that extra mmm😳 everyone, feel free to listen to animal by magnolia park while reading. and thank you🥺 i am actually terrified of you all losing interest 😅

scaramouche is a man hell bent on one mission. and one mission only.

to fuck a baby inside of you.

he never even gave a shred of thought to such a weak, human need. until he met you. now the thought consumed him. breeding a baby inside of you would be the biggest fuck you to his..creator. abandoned at birth for crying, thought to be inadequate.

it would scream: look at what i did! he could kill two birds with one stone. giving his mother the middle finger, all while taking care of you and fucking you so good until you were dumb and drooling, his cum dripping from your cunt.

how that for inadequacy?!

he wasn't sure how many times his cock ribboned cum inside of you. panting and breathless, he would just reposition you and stuff his cock back inside of you.

flipping you over, he pulled your hips up and smacked your ass before bullying his cock back inside of you from behind. "i promise i'll fucking show her," he groaned, bottoming out with a languid stroke that made your finger nails claw into the sheets, "i'll fuck you so full, your pretty cunt won't be able to hold it all."

his cock made unholy noises squelching in and out of you. you buried your face in the pillows, pushing back against his cock as drool soaked onto the pillow. you'd been stuck in the same blissful cycle for what felt like hours.

your cervix was bound to be bruised, he is fucking you that keep. but you didn't care. the feeling of him devouring you felt too good. he more than made sure you were cumming hard on his cock before filling you. rinse and repeat.

"my lord, please! fuck me harder!" you cried out, breathless from your next orgasm already knotting intensely inside of you. "i can barely breathe!" you managed behind your moans. your overstimulated walls clutched like a glove around his cock.

scaramouche laughed drunkenly hearing you cry out his rightful title as lord. it made his cock pulse harder between your gummy walls. "shh, it's okay, kitten," he purred, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head up.

outside his tent, he was pretty sure his subordinates could hear how good he was fucking you.

you mewled as your walls squeezed tighter on his cock from the rough treatment. his tongue flicked out along the shell of your ear. "you just keep crying for me like a whore while i fuck you fuller," his hips snapped into yours with a vigor that wasn't going to fade.

his body shuddered in pleasure, wishing he could reach down and caress your stomach, feeling the deep buldge of his cock. he has to be thorough so your belly will swell with child.

he drooled at the thought, smacking his hand across your hair. his bangs clung sweaty to his forehead as he pumped his cock inside of you. his body was burning with the ache to cum inside of you more. "i'll fucking knock you up like i promised. make you my wife. how does that sound, slut?" he moaned, pinching and playing with one of your nipples.

he couldn't believe you and your pretty pussy were tempting him to something as human as marriage. but he never felt so sure of something in his life. he is so fucking in love in hurt. it was almost disgusting to him.

you only moaned louder. "please! please, that's what i want. so so much..." you babbled, reaching down to rub your clit to show how badly you want those things. how badly you want him.

your fierce declaration made his cock spurt cum inside of you, a satisfied groan sounding from him as he curved your back down. he groped around on your stomach, pushing on the buldge.

your orgasm jolted through you, tearing a near scream of pleasure from your throat. your body felt limp, your walls fluttering around his cock as he fucked his cum relentlessly up inside of you. he batted your hand away from your clit.

he delivered a soothing pinch before circling his thumb around the swollen bud. pulling out half way, your toes curled as he slowly pushed himself back in. "another. it isn't enough," he hissed, hastily pulling out and rolling you over onto your back.

you were trembling, and exhausted. lost in a haze of fucked out bliss. you nodded, barely able to sit up and place a few, submissive licks on his mouth. an action that made his cock harder.

you dedicated yourself to pleasing him with every fiber of his being. because he deserves it. he knew he deserved it. that much was evident as he smirked down at you.

rest assured he will have fucked you full five more times before you took that first pregnancy test.

[triptychgrip]

Fanfic Rec: What if we'd seen Akito in therapy, post-curse break?

For the second time in just a week, Fruits Basket fanfic has utterly ruined me, in the very best way. For the Fruits Basket Monday prompt 'What If', I wanted to share a rec for the amazing story 'I can barely breathe' by @renywrites, which is a masterful 15K story that details the messiness and loneliness marking Akito's journey of atonement and healing after the zodiac curse break.

Note: in this fic, Akito uses they/them pronouns, which is what I'll be using as well, out of respect for the author's vision

Akito is obviously a very, very polarizing character in the fandom, and I'll be honest that they are not someone that I usually seek out reading material for. But as I detailed in my post on the dangers of individualizing systemic abuse, healing for the Sohmas doesn't begin and end with Akito, because they, too, are a victim in the multi-generational cycle of trauma that has plagued the Sohma family. Given the vastness of this cycle and the many people that enabled it to continue over time, I've always wished we could have seen more content in the manga (and more explicitly in Fruits Basket Another) that touches directly on what the challenges would have been when the various members of the Sohma family have to pick up the pieces of their lives after the curse breaks.

'I can barely breathe' does this so poignantly by focusing on Akito and Shigure, in particular. Below is an excerpt of one of my favorite parts, from chapter 2. I hope you'll give it a chance!

----

Akito starts to panic once the sun begins to set. They’d gone through their entire “toolbox”, as Itsuki would call it. They’d done every distraction in the book to take their mind off of it, and after all of that, they still hadn’t heard anything.

They consider calling Hatori to see if he’d heard anything, but if Shigure truly was mad at them and they pulled strings through Hatori to get him home, he'd be furious. Besides, Hatori would definitely chew him out for blocking them.

But the later it gets, the more Akito’s worry turns to anxiety, and anxiety turns to panic. They start to think about what he’d said the night before. Had he really gone home with a stranger?

The thought alone makes them ill, makes their heart race and palms sweat. He’d slept with their mother to get back at them, once upon a time. That thought doesn’t help any, and their imagination runs wild.

Akito lays in bed, mind racing through all the possibilities. What if he had gone home with a girl? What if he preferred that over coming home to Akito? And if that was the case, was she something better?

(Of course. Everyone was better than Akito.)

Was she pretty? Akito thinks of long, silky hair, and curves that could never be mistaken for a man’s body. They curl tighter into themself, burying their face in the pillow, hiding from the thought of Shigure undressing said curves.

(Their mother looked like a proper woman. Shigure had once said, in a fit of cruelty, that their mother looked like everything Akito could never be. Beautiful, tall, curvy. Akito had always wondered if he wished they looked different. If he wished they could be beautiful, too.)

Once the thoughts start they don’t stop. Soon Akito is stuck in a whirlpool, convinced that he had left for good, that they were now truly all alone. The bed becomes too confining, and they find themself on the bathroom floor, fighting to breathe, the tile cold against their skin.

They wanted it to stop. They didn’t want to feel this way anymore! Itsuki had said it would get better, but when? When would they feel better? When would they be good enough? When would their efforts to be a better person pay off?

Yuki had been right. Shigure deserved so much better. Everyone did, really. Akito tangles a hand in their hair, holding hard and hiccupping. They weren’t god anymore. They weren’t anything anymore. When had they become so small? Had they ever been big in the first place?

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Eleven

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I'm so happy I'm actually able to upload once a week now! I'm sure you guys are too. xD This story and the support it has gotten is one of the only reasons I stuck through my severe depression. I feel like this character has so much to say. She's all the women who have been a victim of men. She's the breaker of the generational cycles of misogyny women before her suffered. She was weak and powerless because of the systems put in place, but not anymore. Many women throughout actual history have been written out, forgotten, or replaced by men. 

P.S. I decided to feature some Middle English dialogue to make things sound more ~fancy~ when it comes to written words. Also note that starting from this point on, everything that happens in the story is throughout two and a half years.

Translation Guide: Perzītsos: Little Flame. Muña: Mother or mom. Sōvēs: Fly. Prithee: Middle English for please. 

Chapter Warnings: Jace is a turdy younger brother, and the italics when speaking is High Valyrian, which I didn't feel like butchering the translation of.

"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief."- C.S. Lewis.

You strolled along the halls of Dragonstone, content and relaxed with your arms clasped behind your grey-blue dress, parchment that you haphazardly wrapped together in your hands. It had been freezing these past few days, and you had to bring out some of your winter gowns.

It was always so cold here on the island. Even in the scorching summer heat, there was always a chill in the breeze. It was nothing like Kings Landing. Though the air was icy, it was clean, with a free-flowing salty smoke smell that wafted through the cracks in the walls instead of the sticky, humid stench of sweat that permeated over all of Kings Landing.

As servants dressed in the traditional bright red garments passed you, each bowed, stopping for their Princess. Even though you were still just a bastard in their hearts, they treated you respectfully, as if you weren't. You had done more in your years here at Dragonstone than they could ever wish to accomplish in their lives.

You had claimed a dragon, the fiercest and most wild one ever to conquer the Westrosi skies. You studied history and philosophy, mastering your ancestor's natural tongue quicker than any of your brothers. You learned to wield the sword as a man, besting serval of the knights that tried you.

When lords and envoys came, negotiating imports and exports between the Island and that of the mainland, seeking to manipulate the heir to the Iron Throne simply because she had teats instead of a cock, you advised her, observing through hidden passages inside the walls and whispering to your mother what you thought.

You were brilliant, too clever for your own good; Daemon would often say, warning you about the dangers of a man's ego. There was no wrath like a man whose pride was wounded. They had started wars over the fact.

"Perzītsos!" Rhaenyra called out to you as you entered the Chamber. A topographical map of Westeros carved into a sturdy wood, each set of land painted in different colors. Quickly, you shoved the letter up your sleeve, hiding it from your parent's eyes.

"Good morn, Muña. What appears to be on the agenda today?" You smiled at your mother, bending forward to give her a peck on the cheek, continuing to keep the letter out of view.

She sighed through her nose, leaning her palms on the table. "Your father has made it his current obsession to support the troops battling in the Stepstones. An opinion in which I agree but not many others share," she said, shaking her head.

"You speak as if I have no ears," Daemon commented like an upset child, crossing his arms.

"Those stuffy cunts of the Small Council won't do anything unless the war is upon their hearth," you spoke in High Valyrian, an annoyed stare directed at the Lords surrounding the Painted Table. "Inaction at the face of those in need aid the oppressor," you declared, now speaking in the common tongue and moving your body to become eye level with your mother.

From his place across the table, Ser Steffon Darkling grinned wistfully, reminiscing at your untainted conviction. It was a quality after years of serving the crown he had lost.

"Despite what you and your father believe," your mother began, finally addressing Daemon, who stood proudly to the side, "we cannot simply send men to the battlefield. There is a process we have to follow, people we have to sway to our side that have historically refused to do anything in the Stepstones."

Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted his stance. Rhaenyra did the same at his immaturity, sticking her nose in the air. They, indeed, were a match made by the Gods.

As heated discussion commenced, you observed the advisors bickering at one another, their hands wildly gesturing as they spoke. You listened intently to their words while staring at the map, tracings the lines with your pupils as the parchment scratched at your wrist. Supplies were most critical for Lord Corlys than actual swords, you gathered from their arguments, biting your lip as you listened to the options people spouted.

Everything they said was nonsense, some wanting to wait until the Hand accepted their petitions which would be a death sentence for all who occupied those disputed islands.

"The crown will not supply men without consent of the Small Council and the King. That is something we cannot change," you interrupted, looking at each of their surprised faces. "But we still owe it to our Valyrian brothers to help them in anyway we can." As they watched, eyes bulging out of their sockets at your instruction, you twisted your arms behind your back to straighten your posture. "They have been steadfast supporters of the crown going back decades, and they are family." Your voice softened towards the end, staring into your mother's and father's eyes. "It is our duty and honor to do what we can to aid their efforts."

"And what do you suggest then, Princess," an advisor, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, interrupted.

You eyed the older man coldly. He was an unrelenting, incorruptible, and highly wealthy Lord—years of commanding people with ingenious strategies from his towers. Daemon had told you that your mother would need an ally when she ascended the throne.

"We have three able-bodied dragon riders, do we not," you questioned him with an arched brow. "Prince Daemon, myself, and my brother Prince Jacaerys will escort our fleet of ships with supplies—weaponry, food, clothing, healing salves, anything they might need."

"Prithee, Princess, where we would acquire such supplies." Lord Bartimos laughed condescendingly to the sky, the black fur lining his coat shining in the daylight as he shook his head at nothing. It was your turn to smile, showing your teeth as you revealed the elegant paper.

"I have received a raven, Lord Celtigar, from Kings Landing." You quickly looked at your parents simultaneously as their heads snapped toward you and smiled apologetically. You could see Daemon's fury at the secret you kept from him but refused to wither under his gaze. "I was invited to Prince Aegon's name day celebration. Personally," you spoke, your posture stiff and your chin held high. "While there, I will talk with my Grandsire and the Council to ensure our supplies and safe travels."

Bartimos laughed again, grabbing the bronze chalice of mead he had sat down and taking a quick drink. "You believe you can convince the King, let alone the Small Council, to give us aid to the Stepstones," he scoffed and faced Rhaenyra. "I mean no disrespect to his majesty, but we realize it is not him sitting on the Iron Throne; the Hand is. And it will not matter to him what you petition. They have consistently denied ever becoming involved in the Stepstones."

"My father is still the King, despite with rumors you may have heard," Rhaenyra defended, "and your blatant disrespect of him will not be forgotten." She turned to you with a bittersweet but proud smile as she stroked the long, intricate braids on your head. "You have grown wise and strong, perzītsos. You have my approval to go."

Daemon continued to stare at you, unable to hold his gaze. Your eyes darted to the silver buttons on his tunic as he brushed your mother aside and gripped your arms firmly. He was unyielding as Rhaenyra dismissed the meeting until tomorrow.

"You received a letter from Kings Landing?" He leaned down, whispering heatedly in your face. You nodded, a guilty expression covering your features. "When did you think about telling me this, hmm? Have you forgotten what they did to you?" He questioned harshly.

"My love," Rhaenyra whispered, stroking a gentle hand along his shoulder blade. He calmed instantly, inhaling as he let go, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Though it has been years, I have not forgotten what they did," you scowled, stepping away from him. "I know Otto Hightower will be the hardest to sway. His great disdain for our family and us is not unknown to me, but he will have no other choice than to yield once Grandsire and I speak."

Your father huffed and looked away, a childish act from a grown man, as Rhaenyra smiled gratefully. "I am so proud of you, sweet girl," she said kindly, tears forming in her eyes. "You are ever the grown woman, cunning and wit and beauty. I have no doubt you will bring us what we need."

"Thank you, mother." You tried not to show how deeply her words moved you, swallowing a lump in your throat as your cheeks and ears heated. You bowed, exiting as Daemon gave you one last unamused look before Rhaenyra turned sharply toward him.

***

You had read that letter at least a hundred times before you attended the meeting, the contents coming as quite the shock, making your knees buckle over each sentence. It was not addressed to your family as invitations like this should be, but directly to you, from the Queen herself.

Initially, you had come to the Chamber to inform your parents of the note, hardening your heart as you shoved any empathy regarding what Queen Alicent had asked of you and thinking this could be useful to them.

A knock sounded at your door, gentle yet firm as you bid them enter, folding the letter into your lap. Daemon's lithe form crowded the doorway, light from the hall outlining his silhouette as his boots thudded on the stone floor. You refused to acknowledge his presence.

"I came to apologize," he spoke, but you ignored him, still turning your head away and walking to your desk, shutting the letter inside a drawer. "Twas... wrong of me to have acted in such a manner."

Finally, you faced him, looking at his taut expression and putting your fists on your waist.

"That sounded painful, Father," you teased, though you still hid anger beneath your smirk. "I shall call Maester Gerardys to fix you some healing tea."

Your father sighed, dragging his feet to an armchair near the stone fireplace and plopping in it. He cradled his head in his palms, sighing profoundly and moving his body in your direction. Moments like these were the only times you saw the actual inner workings of your father. Alone and after he has made a mistake. You sat in the seat across from him, staring at his aged face and white shoulder-length hair as he thought over his words.

"I should not have acted the way I did," he began, sighing as if he was disappointed with himself as he studied the small orange flames before him. "I forget, sometimes, that you are not like them. Those cunts at court who seek to undermine I and Rhaenyra's claim to the throne."

"Mother's claim to the throne," you corrected, and Daemon grunted, nodding his head curtly.

"The Hightowers seek to undermine your mother's right. They have believed since Aegon was born that he should be named heir because he is a male. Years of precedent my brother had set tossed aside simply for a boy who does not want it nor deserve it."

You looked away, moving your gaze from him to the floor as you chewed your lip. He was right. Everyone in the realm felt the uncertainty of Rhaenyra's claim, but no one believed the Hightowers would actively try to supplant her beside Daemon... and now you. You couldn't trust them not to take advantage of such an opportunity because you knew Daemon himself would if given a chance. You had experienced the evil they could commit, something you believed your father would never do, how the Queen turned a blind eye to the Hand's decision to murder and publicly shame people you loved.

"My invitation to Kings Landing could be more advantageous than I thought," you said aloud. Daemon did not outwardly acknowledge your words. Only the ghost of a smirk let you know he was listening.

"If Prince Aegon does not want the crown," you said to yourself more than anything, "what is preventing them from crowning him any way upon Grandsire's death? With enough persuasion the Prince could change his mind. A glutton would surely not turn away a feast simply because someone said no."

"We have preparations set in place for that moment. The bells will be rung upon his death, and a raven will be sent here to summon Rhaenyra for her corination." Daemon shrugged, watching the dwindling fire before him. You looked at him perplexed.

"That is all," you questioned, and he nodded.

"And honor, I suppose," he offered half-heartedly. "The lords of the kingdom have sworn fealty to her. In everyone else's minds, the matter is set."

"Do you think a man such as Otto Hightower, a man who has been removed from his position once before for conspiring in his own self-interests, has honor?" You abruptly stood, pacing between the fire and Daemon as you crossed your arms, pulling the skin off your lip. "He will do everything in his power to keep Mother off the throne and crown someone who is his kin. There has to be more done to secure Mother's place and make sure there are no doubts about secession after Grandsire's death."

You were irate, vividly gesturing as you thought of what to do, of what plans to make. On the other hand, your father sat still, completely unmoving, as the light danced over his pale skin. You became irritated at his lack of response, kicking his boot in frustration.

"What do you suggest we do, daughter? There is only so much one can in such a short time. A name day celebration only lasts till the next morrow's dawn, and it would be improper to stay longer than customary."

Your mind stopped at his words, glancing over at your mahogany desk. There would be a way for you to stay longer, long enough to change preparations to ensure a smooth succession.

"I am certain there is a way I can arrange for a greater," you paused, looking at your father's sitting form, "stay. If you are willing to let me, of course," you hastily added.

A grin slowly spread across Daemon's pink lips, the closest to a smile you would ever get from him, as he stood. He rested his hands on your shoulders like always when he wanted his point heard.

"Good. Like your mother, I have faith that you will succeed. Failure is not in our blood," he spoke, his purple eyes following the white streak in your hair. "I know you care deeply for her, which is why this needs to be kept between father and daughter. I do not want any undue stress upon her as we plan for another child soon," he said in a lowered voice.

You nodded, your lashes fluttering with a faint smile as he left your chambers. Breathing deeply, you went to your desk, plucking the note from the drawer as you reread it.

"I hope this letter finds thou well. Despite your start, I have heard tales of the feats thou have accomplished and how you have grown into a lady fitting of thy station. Though I realize we did not leave within the terms I had wished the last time thou visited the Keep, I need thy help. My son, Prince Aegon, hath become unruly since you have left. He lives inside the brothels on the Streets of Silk and drinks until he cannot move. He hath gone missing multiple times in the past months.

Watchmen discovered him in a pool of his own gore, and when I reminded him of his intended name-day celebration within a fortnight and all who were expected to be in attendance, he was enraged. I had never seen him in such a way. Aegon now refuses to attend for unknown reasons and hath disappeared again. I dispatched Ser Criston Cole to find my son, but he hath had nay luck.

I implore thou to forgive the details that I am about to divulge. Years after thou had left the Red Keep, I had come looking for Aegon within his chambers and had found what couldst only be titled as an alter for thou. Dresses, underclothes, bed linens, stockings, miniature portraits of thou, and a journal were sullied and hidden inside a compartment within his mattress. I realize it was wrong of me to dost so, and I have prayed to the Seven in recompense, but I chose to read his diary's contents. What I saw inside were the inner thoughts of a madman.

I am disgusted by what I read, but it couldst be used to the advantage. Depravity depicted in such blatant language, vulgar thoughts, and words that nearly stopped my heart, but what disturbed me the most was that thou were in it. I know of the time you and Aegon spent together and his lingering feelings toward you.

I beg thou, pray, come to Kings Landing. Thou art my only hope to stop the shame brought upon this family by his absence. I wilt give thou whatever thou desire in thanks.

Nay soul knows the contents of our correspondence, and I wouldst like it to continue that way.

With sincere regards, Queen Alicent of House Hightower"

The Queen was a simpleton to believe that her begging could make you feel an ounce of sympathy toward her plights. You did not owe her anything. For all you cared, Aegon could fuck every woman in Kings Landing, never appear at any event, and drink himself to death, and it would still not be enough shame cast upon her family.

The Hightowers deserved to suffer—every single one of them.

***

It had been three days since you had received Queen Alicent's letter begging for your help. It was plenty of time to send one of your own to the Red Keep and pack your things.

Rhaenyra had found it odd that only you had been the one to receive an invitation to what indeed should be a family event. All the noble houses that were sent a raven would surely bring along their spouse and gaggle of children.

Despite the petty attempt at an insult this was to Rhaenyra and her kin, she did not pry further nor send word of her displeasure to her past friend. The trip did serve a hidden purpose from House Hightower, so she let the offense slip with the wind.

"Sister. You truly do not desire to return to that den of vipers," Jaceaerys questioned as the Dragonkeepers perilously dragged Cannibal's chained body. It was something you could never watch as you lowered your gaze to your riding pants.

It always stung your heart to observe such a wild beast in shackles, the Keepers hitting him with whips if he disobeyed. Dragons cannot be tamed with soft riders, you chanted internally. The reminder of it carved into the flesh of your palm. You had to be brave, strong, and intelligent. Kindness did not get you a dragon.

"Sister," Jace waved his hand beside you, "are you even hearing my words?" You hummed, nodding as you looked into his brown eyes, which were not so different from yours.

"Yes, I am listening, brother," you replied condescendingly. "My desire is certain. I will travel to Kings Landing upon their request, for it would be rude to refuse the words of the Queen."

"The Queen sent it to you?" he asked, incredulous, his black eyebrows raising to the sky as you gave him a perplexed look.

"Did I not tell you," you requisitioned, tilting your head at his bewildered expression. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but you swiftly cut him off. "It is no matter who sent it, so I do not see why you are concerned."

He huffed, crossing his arms as he toed the loose stones in front of the entrance to Dragonmont. You rolled your eyes.

Yes, you did love your half-brother as if he was truly your whole, but the lack of blood relation did not make him any less annoying.

"Why would they only invite you? I am to inherit the Iron Throne after Mother. It should be I mounting my dragon and flying to Kings Landing," he said proudly but with envy in his tone. "I am the Kings grandson and not the bastard of-"

"Jacaerys!" Your mother shouted, Lucserys's and Joffrey's hands in her own, closely followed by the rest of your family and some servants to see you off. "Give your apologies to your sister, now."

Jace turned to you, red tinting his cheeks and mumbling under his breath as he went to stand beside the nursemaids holding the twins, Viserys and Aegon. You walked over to your mother, showing none of the bottled emotions your brother had opened as she wrapped you in her warm embrace.

"I will miss you my perzītsos," she whispered into your tightly braided hair. "No matter what anyone says, we are your family, and the blood of the dragon flows strongly within you."

You looked up at her violet eyes, shimmering in a pool of unshed tears as you smiled and said you would miss her. It would be the first time since you had been brought to Dragonstone you ever traveled anywhere without your family.

Occasionally, you would travel to Driftmark for Rhaena's name day or holidays so she could be with her twin and grandparents or when the rare Lord would invite Rhaenyra to gain her favor as the heir. Your family had their own little world here on Dragonstone, so there was no reason to leave it.

You gave each of your younger siblings a kiss on the cheek, promising Luke how you would write every moment you could. Rhaena, whom you never had a close relationship with despite sharing the same father, came, offering you a sincere smile and hug before you reached Jace.

He couldn't look at you, his eyes focusing on anything but his half-sister standing before him. You stepped closer, surprising him with a genuine hug before whispering.

"We are more alike than you think. I believe that is why we tend to fight so much," you paused, pulling him closer to your body under the guise of a sentimental moment as he processed your words. "But once you accept that we are not so different, perhaps we will finally have nothing to upset our parents about." You felt his sharp intake of breath as you released him. The implication hung in the air as you gave him a loving smile and a peck on his nose before you went to Daemon.

Your father nodded to the servants behind him as you watched them, bewildered. They carried a rectangular item wrapped in a leather cloth, the shape unmistakable as they uncovered it, placing it delicately not to hurt Daemon.

The sheath was as golden as the sun as your father removed it, the longsword blade reflecting a mirror image of the grey sky above. Its hilt had the same gold with intricate designs on the smaller-than-average handle that expanded its way up to the blade, licking the steel like flames. The crossguard comprised two dragons on opposing sides, turning their head to bite the blade. A blood-red ruby sat in the center, surrounded by what you could only assume were four circles of Dragonglass. It reminded you of Dark Sister, Daemon's sword, only more ornate.

You could not form words, your mouth opening and closing like a fish thrown onto the shore. You wanted to thank him. Spout your never-ending gratefulness and praise until the end of time, but none of that leaves your lips.

"Could I hold it," you asked Daemon, your eyes flicking to his and the sword. He smirked, his eye wrinkling in the corner as he placed it in your upturned palms.

It was heavier than the training swords you used, sharper than them, too, as you run your finger across the blade. You were sure it had taken some convincing on Daemon's part to get Rhaenyra to agree to have your own weapon. You had overheard them arguing behind closed doors regarding your upbringing on more than one occasion. Your half-mother refusing to let Daemon commission you a simple sword of your own, and your father arguing back about how she had no say over his blood.

You knew what it meant to have your own sword. It was more than finally showing your prowess and reaching your full potential but was a silent way of your mother and father believing you were ready and that it was your turn to teach and guide yourself in the art of life and the dangers that came with it.

"Thank you, father," you quietly breathed, hooking the sword onto the leather belt of your pants.

Its golden sheath stood out among the black cloth of your outfit, clashing with the silver that accented your body. You would have to commission new clothes once you were in Kings Landing.

Daemon said nothing, tilting his head as you came in for a firm embrace. He squeezed you tightly, nearly crushing your ribs as he rested his chin on your hair, noting Rhaena's avoidant gaze. This was the most affection you had received from him, never having been the type of man who smothered his family in kisses and hugs. You melted at his touch, smiling into his chest as you both stood there for the longest time, making no effort to pull away until the young Viserys sneezed.

"You will write to me very day, yes?" Daemon questioned, his hands on your shoulders as he raised his brows.

"Of course," you said passionately. "Everything I see, every whisper, rumor I hear will be sent to you." He hummed in approval, releasing you as you climb atop your dragon.

You adjusted yourself in your saddle, stationed between two of Cannibal's large spikes, as you gave your family one last parting glance.

Though you were on one of the most enormous dragons in the world, you could still see the teary eyes of Jace, your mother, and Luke. All looked up at you with the same expressions as you pressed your lips to your leather riding gloves, sending each of them a genuinely heartfelt kiss.

"Sōvēs!" You shouted, and the black dragon reared its hind legs, pushing off the rocky ground as he lifted his wings.

Master List of Series

Spotify Playlist

YouTube Playlist

If you want to know what her sword is based on, here is the link. Her sword has much more pizzazz than the one pictured because she is royalty. xD Let's just send a silent prayer for Aegon in the next chapter. He's gonna need it because someone has unresolved trauma.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @fatalewomen, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @adelusionalwriter

[latoyalestrange]

CHANCES

Joel Miller x F!OC (fic?)

CHECKOUT THE OFFICIAL FIC ON MY MASTERLIST

Summary: Pre-breakout Joel and Tommy frequent a diner after work. Partly for the food, but mostly for a certain waitress that has caught Joel’s eye.

Words: ~1k

Warnings: age gap (legal ofc), swearing, typical tlou things

A/N: Please let me know what you think! First fic I’m writing in a while. If this is well received, I’ll definitely keep it going for you guys. 

Saturday night. Not quite as busy as Friday, but busy enough to make you question if the money you make at this place is worth it. But Jessie thought the same thing last Saturday, and the Saturday before. It was an endless cycle for her and thousands of other college students trying to make ends meet. 

For Jessie in particular, this was her second shift of the day. Her first was spent at her mother’s hair salon; answering phones and sweeping up ungodly amounts of hair. It was boring, but, god, she wished she was there instead of at the diner.

At this moment, she was trapped in a conversation with a particularly talkative regular. She could hardly even understand him with the countless other conversations going on around her and the crashing of dishes being thrown in bus tubs. She mostly pretended to be engaged in the conversation.

As overwhelming everything was, Jessie kept her cool. She always did. No matter how rude or insufferable a customer was acting, she kept a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. She felt it was the perfect weapon, truly. In a world where being a young woman meant you were at a disadvantage, being overly kind and never letting anyone see they had bothered her was her defense mechanism. 

“Hey, smiles!” 

Ech. Jessie hated that nickname, but it snapped her out of the one-sided conversation she was stuck in. She reluctantly turned to meet whoever called her. To her surprise, it was someone she actually enjoyed talking to. Her smile returned as she left the old man to greet them. 

Tommy and Joel Miller were two of Jessie’s favorite regulars. At least twice a week, they would come in to visit her. Jessie always thought they just really liked the food, but it was hardly good enough to come in twice a week for. They were here for her. Well, Joel was. Tommy was there for moral support. 

“You’re just in time. I thought I’d never get away,” Jessie leaned up against the side of the booth as the two brothers sat down across from one another.

“You looked like you needed saving,” Tommy played along, sharing a knowing look with Joel. 

Joel never talked nearly as much as Tommy. The most he would say was a few awkward lines of small talk and the occasional compliment if he worked up enough courage. Jessie took his shyness as just that. She thought his clumsy conversation starters and stuttered compliments were charming. She found him charming. A family man at his core, good with his hands, and not to mention, he was definitely easy on the eyes.

“What did you get up to today? Anything interesting?”

“Nope,” Joel retorts almost immediately, earning a giggle from her. “How was your day though?”

Tommy looks at Joel, a bit surprised that he actually sounded smooth. When the brothers were younger, Joel had no problem talking to women. After all, he taught Tommy how to talk to women. But it had been years since Joel had even wanted to try dating. He kept himself busy with Sarah and work and he liked it that way. The less time he had to himself, the less time he had alone with his thoughts. 

“Better now,” She almost mumbles, putting her pen to her notebook. “The usual?” Tommy smiled at Joel as he struggled to find the right words for a moment, caught up on what she said. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy replies politely for him. 

“You got it.” Jessie turned on her heel to return to the kitchen and put in their order. She kept a noticeable sway in her hips as she walked away, knowing that the boys are gentlemanly, but they are still men. And she was right.

“What was that. What did that mean.” Joel demands in a quiet voice, looking sternly at Tommy. 

“Dude, she was flirting back! I told you it would work!” The brother exclaims in a hushed tone. A blush instantaneously formed on Joel’s cheeks and he covered it with his hand, playing it off as if he’s smoothing his facial hair down. 

“No fuckin’ way, she didn’t mean it like that.” He looked around nervously to make sure she hadnt suddenly appeared and could hear everything they were saying. 

“She definitely meant it like that. She looked back to make sure you were looking at it too.” Joel kicked him under the table, making him laugh. 

“Shut the fuck up, man,”

“No, I’m serious--”

“No, shut up!” Joel said lowly through gritted teeth. Tommy turned to see Jessie arriving at the end of their table, two coffee’s in hand. 

“Don’t make me separate you two.” She joked, setting the mugs down in front of them. 

“He started it,” Tommy played along, making her laugh. Joel couldn’t help but smile at the sound. 

“Behave. I’ll be back to check on you.” She turned away again to help another customer. Joel watched her leave again, not in a disrespectful way, but almost as if he wanted to savor every glimpse and angle he could of her. Her silhouette was engraved in his brain and he could picture her face perfectly. Her sunkissed skin from the Texas heat and wavy brown hair was constantly on his mind. 

“You look like a creep right now.” Joel glared at Tommy, finally breaking his gaze from her. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Tommy,” He lets his head fall into his hands as his elbows are propped up on the table. He rubs his eyes and rubs his temples. “I can’t get her out of my head.”

“I can see why.” Joel opens his eyes again to see Tommy looking somewhere out of his field of vision but he doesn’t have to look to know what he’s looking at.

“Don’t look at her like that. She’s not like the girls you go after.”

“Oh, yeah? What kind of girls do I go after?” Joel glared at his brother again as he sipped his coffee now that it’d cooled a bit. 

“She’s different. She’s confident, funny, she’s...everything that I’m not.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that. You are Joel fuckin’ Miller,” Tommy poked a strong finger into his brothers shoulder. “You were swimming in it before you had Sarah.”

“That’s not who I am anymore, Tommy--”

“I know, I know. You’re a man now. And she is a woman.” Joel rolled his eyes and relaxed in the booth behind him.

“She’s…something.”

“I know, I know. You’re a man now. And she’s a woman.” Joel rolled his eyes and leaned back into the booth behind him.

“She’s…something.”

“She’s…something.” 

“She’s...something.” 

[thr4shit]

Do you ever think of someone, just ever so slightly, and then tear off a chunk of your skin?

( CW for venting about our mother under the cut, I guess. )

I remember, when we were a teenager, and our mental health had become so shitty that we felt like we couldn't continue living. Where we were experiencing near constant mood swings, destructive highs, destructive lows, hallucinating far more than average, stuck in a numb, dissociative fugue, etc. I remember how it got so bad that I finally took a first step and I reached out for my own help. When I communicated to my therapist for the first time that I wanted to go to an IOP.

I remember how I discussed it with her and my mother in the same room. How when we got back in the car after that session, she immediately asked what brought it on. I told her the truth, that I was simply advocating because I felt like I needed it.

She told me she was proud of me for my self advocacy.

She told me she would look into the pricing, and if our insurance covered it. She also told me that they might see that I need MORE than an IOP, she tried to scare me out of asking. I told her I knew, I told her they could also tell me I need less than an IOP.

Days passed.

I asked her again if she'd checked the price or if our insurance covered it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I forgot, I'll call them in the morning after you get to school."

Weeks passed.

Months passed.

Nothing. She didn't even talk about it to me ever.

I remember telling my therapist how she never even brought it up, how she seemed to ignore it.

I remember thinking "Jesus Christ, I'm going to have to slit our wrists in front of her to get even a smidgen of care." But I remembered as I thought that, that she'd immediately deflect it.

That she'd blame the internet, my online friends, my in person friends, YouTube... anything except for the truth

That I was struggling and in pain.

I remember how she always says how proud she is when I mention that I'm seeking help. That I'm GETTING help.

But I don't think she's proud. I don't think she cares.

A mother that loves their child and wants them to get help doesn't blame their child's struggles on everything else except the fact that the child is indeed struggling.

A mother that wants their child to seek help doesn't tell them they can't possibly be experiencing something, and saying they adopted all of this from the internet.

A mother doesn't punish and ground their child for coping with the fact that she didn't listen to her own child's cries for help.

I wish we adopted all of this from the internet.

I wish we were just lying.

I wish we were "normal" like we desperately tried to pretend to be for her, for so long.

I wish she'd believed us or tried to understand us.

I hate that she never let us get help back then. When we really needed it.

That cycle of "oh I'm so proud that you're being true to yourself / seeking help!" and "you cant possibly be this! you're faking, you're copying it from the internet, you're just fine!"

That is what made us like this. So afraid and angry at everyone. Terrified of rejection to the point we reject others first.

So scared that we can't just exist, and so scared of anything meaningful that we still suffer in silence most days.

But what do you care? You're just a person on the other end of the screen right? Just like us.

Who's to say this is the truth? Who's to say that we haven't made this all up, that we got the idea for it for some attention-gathering reason?

That's what our mother would say.

And that's why I have a fresh bandage on my arm tonight.

[beatrixblog]

TW! Possible Descriptions of Horror/Body Horror + Mental Health

I didn’t think I made it clear enough, so heres something explaining the curse a bit further for those who misunderstood. And it has changed over time.

Its more of a fight or flight thing, or maybe even a possession thing considering i hc the spell stuck, and well berserk cacao kinda stuck to him. Berserk Cacao itself is not exactly a ‘curse’ persay, well it still technically is because its the result of pomegranate’s spell, but the transformations DEFINATELY are- They can be very unpredictable, and its the transformation part of it that makes it a curse. And also because it stems from Pomegranate’s spell. My friend did make a post explaining it, i couldnt find it so i took a ss of it.

It wants to protect him, but does so in the most horrible way possible, acting almost as a fight or flight reflex.

It is like how some people can suddenly go into a flight or fight mode easier, which i have definately seen before considering my own mother has ptsd, but in Cacao’s case, its more that the fight or flight is manifested and the triggers and form is corrupted by pomegranate’s spell, hence why I HC it can also be triggered by dark magic, and negative emotions.

And trust me.

NONE OF THIS is at will. He would never ever wish this curse upon anyone else, since it is so visceral and painful when he doesnt keep his emotions in check.

Also when hes in his normal state, sometimes the curse will- in whispers, mimic what he has said or thought about himself in the past. Just going over and over in a cycle. Its his grief manifested. Its his anger manifested. His depression manifested.

The only reason the curse itself has ill intent is because it believes everyone is trying to harm Cacao. But also, most of its behaviour stems from the nature of Pomegranate’s Spell.

Credit to Enderwasended for these explanations, because myself I wouldnt have been able to as well as they did.

Heres a little explanation on what the transformation is actually like.

The transformation isnt any better.

The curse completely takes over his mind, in attempt to ‘protect’ him, seeing everything, and everyone, as a threat.

I really hope I explained this well and this makes sense

[dullweapons]

okay so since there are a few hylia’s ( i can count about four ? 2 new & 2 from mutuals on side blogs or side muses … im sure there will be more , hell i wanna write a hylia too lol ) so imma write out how ray actually feels about hylia as clear as i can . i don’t really have a problem with hylia myself ? my only problem with her is her being added late into the games but skyward sword is old like me now so im over it . ( i do dislike that we just forgot demise but imma pretend he’s still here hush— @harbingered for my demise 👀 i will pay attention to him i swear )

ray HATES hylia . perhaps the most out of the gods & deities of the world . he curses her & blames her for a lot of things even when she clearly isn’t to blame . he uses her like a scapegoat . someone to point the anger he feels at when there is no one else to blame but himself . he’ll blame her for the troubles zelda goes through , or link or even ganondorf . because he knows hylia . seen her . felt the sting of her magic . saw her bring up the humans to their safe haven in the sky & leave him down there . she didn’t care .

as a child he was taught to worship hylia, as all the children of skyloft settlement were. his family had small statues of her that they gave offerings too . he would pray to her just as his mother told him to . so he was fine with her … maybe a touch annoyed — but that was mostly towards his mother being quite religious & making him repeat hail hylia when he was naughty ( which was often af )

upon being forced into the ancient battle ; his views were forcibly shifted by his father . not by any commands but more due to his father talking about how hylia cares not for him nor any other demons . lamatar believes demise would do right by the demons & monsters ( was that true ? who knows ) . he would beat this idea into ayrin until he began to think it himself .

“ hylia doesn’t care about me. if she did, she would’ve stopped me from joining this war . she wouldn’t have me here …mama says hylia loves us all but no one loves me. she doesn’t either .”

continuing on, ayrin was stuck by the goddess blade causing a horrible scar that glows similarly to TP! ganondorf’s scar. due to it being a holy blade , it couldn’t go away as easily as death or other wounds for the demonic weapon & he was out of battle for weeks. ( visual ref of rays scar here ! ) i have been debating it be hylia who struck him , but it can just be the first link . regardless , he sat there — scared & angry , not just because he failed his father , but hylia hurt . her blade hurts so so much . hylia is pain .

further down the timeline ; he continues to see princesses & queens struggle with their magic or are forced into horrible situations of the cycle born of demise . he sees link , so young forced into battle & losing his childhood only to become a shell . he’s seen ganondorf turned into a monster of anger & greed for what was once a king has become nothing but a pig . if hylia stayed a god perhaps things would be different . perhaps not . regardless, he blames them all : the golden goddesses , hylia & demise . none of them are free from his hate .

but hylia worship has grown strong again by botw & by then — he is a tired , cynical old man . he works hard to make sure his solders are ready for the war that is coming against calamity ganon . he sees the princess struggle to awaken her powers . he scoffs at her & wonders if the blood of the goddess is finally gone from tainting the royal family.

& he prayed to hylia to save them from the calamity when the calamity came & took over all the sheikah technology & his men died trying to get to akkala .

& she did not answer .

so for the hylia rpers i totally understand if you’re like “ damn he a hater idk if i wanna interact “ because he’s never ever gonna warm up to her . also if you wish to discuss what happened between them during the ancient battle please feel free to DM me ! my default does not need to be canon minus 1: ayrin / bby ray going to the war & 2: ray being struck goddess blade . those two are the only requirements — im flexible with anything !

[kyndaris]

Way to Dawn

There is something to be said of old turn-based games with pixellated graphics. For many, they hark back to the good old days where things in the world actually made sense. In these halcyon days, things were simple. There was not as much grey in the world because everything was black and white. Unfortunately, as time has passed me by, games have become grittier with worlds as drab and bleak as the one we face in reality. Octopath Traveler, however, is a series that knows exactly how to tap into the nostalgia we have for our childhoods.

When the first game released in 2018, I was immediately hooked. In 2023, the second game came out. Due to the fact I was drowning in far too many lengthy games that released in the back-half of 2022, coupled with an overseas trip, and a host of other compelling titles, I simply could not find the necessary time to sink into Octopath Travler II. Enter January 2024.

After finishing off a few key games like Assassin's Creed: Mirage and Spider-Man 2 over December, I managed to eke out some time to give Octopath Traveler II my undivided attention. 90+ hours of it, in fact.

While I started with Alfyn in the original Octopath Traverl, this time I decided to go with my gut and pick my favourite class in almost every single role-playing game I've ever had the chance to dabble in: a thief. Unlike the happy-go-lucky apothecary, Alfyn, Throne finds herself trapped in an endless cycle of death. Her opening chapter sees her scurrying through the sewers of New Delsta with three other members of her gang, the Black Snakes. As the chapter progress, we see the internal struggle among the members of the gang before Throne is then confronted with a long-time friend as both are keen to escape the chains that bind them.

Despite the bleak nature of this first part, Throne's story is still one filled with optimism as she fights for freedom and to break free from the cycle that has kept her trapped for all her life.

From there, I slowly recruited the rest of the Travelers, starting off with Temenos and Osvald. From there, I jumped on a ship to Beastling Island, recruited Ochette and moved to the Eastern Continent - nabbing Castti, Hikari, Partitio and Agnea. The journey took me all across the world of Solistia.

Later, as the game progressed, I would hop to and fro from both continents as I chased after each dangling story thread for my odd band of characters.

And while I liked all of the stores, the two that stuck out to me belonged to Partitio and Agnea. Possibly because of how positive their outlooks were, and how undaunted they were of the cruelties inherent in the world. I know others on the internet may disagree but given the state of the world these days, I was in the mood for something light-hearted and fun.

Let's start with the Dancer shall we?

Agnea is a girl from the village of Cropdale. Her mother was a dancer and, like her, Agnea dreams of becoming a star. Her story, although simple, sees her travel all across the world to show off her dancing talent and bring a smile to people's faces.

Along the way, she meets a colourful cast of intrepid performers from Gil to Giselle's Travelling Troupe.

Of course, it wouldn't be a video game without a villain. And Dolcinaea serves as the perfect foil to Agnea's optimism. Hers is a tale of hardship growing up in the deserts of Sai, being inspired by Cuani (Agnea's mother) and working hard to become a star to take her away from her roots. But while she views her past with disdain and wishes to eradicate it, Agnea is there to remind her of the people her actions will affect, culminating in a dance battle at the Grand Gala in the Merry Hills region.

Plus, there's some fruity goodness along the way with a few key lines between Veronica and Dolcinaea.

Who doesn't like an uplifting journey, anyways?

As for Paritio...where to begin?

If all merchants were like him, I'd think the world would be a much better place. Growing up in a silver mine, Partitio has experienced both prosperity and the depths of poverty when the former land owner of the silver mine takes back the land and levies a huge tax on the silver that is mined in the area. Crushed underneath the weight of oppressive capitalism, Partitio and his gang of friends push back against the enforcers (including a man named Giff - which felt like it was ripping off Biff from the Back to the Future series).

From there, Partitio seeks to do away with the devil that is 'poverty' and seeks out a means to make money but also give back to the community at large. He does so by buying the rights to the steam engine. But not before securing himself a grand sum of 80 billion leaves!

And instead of running away with the money, makes good on his promise to make the world a better place.

While there are some forums that declare Partitio as a capitalist in the truest sense (where human greed does not enter the equation and people know how to share the wealth), I thought many of his ideas somewhat left-leaning. True, he is no communist but Partitio is a person who understands the plight of the common-man and knows how to utilise the talents of those around him to the greatest benefit. More than that, though, he is filled with empathy for those around him and isn't shy to splash his own money around to improve the lives of those around them by 1. giving them a living wage and 2. not push people down in order to get ahead.

Plus, when his theme starts playing and the saxophone kicks in...you know you've got a winner on your hands.

I also really liked Agnea's Song of Hope theme. But I'm also a sucker for any fiddle or string instrument. Which is also why I'm in love with Throne's and Osvald's themes. And that is something else I wanted to praise about Octopath Traveler II. The music! My goodness, the music!

Both Octopath Traveler games are scored by Yasunori Nishiki and he is a genius when it comes to composing such great music. There is something so magical about all the tracks in Octopath Traveler II that I loved.

And that's saying a lot because I very much enjoyed the tracks of the game. Heck, I even bought the CD for the first game and had my mother play it while we drove back up from Melbourne.

The music also proved great at selling the emotion of the song and kept the story aloft, proving to be very poignant at several points. It always kept me engaged during the boss battles. Such a shame it was overlooked at The Game Awards in 2023. I'm sure Flute Guy would have kicked it out of the park if Octopath Traveler II had been nominated for Game of the Year. He certainly was living his best life when Xenoblade Chronicles 3 was nominated and was grooving out to Tears of the Kingdom.

But back to the story of Octopath Travler II. Like the first game, the stories of the Travelers are connected to a central antagonist. But whereas Galdera was a hidden boss hidden behind several side quests, after finishing off each of the Traveler's stories and the Crossed Paths storylines, the Travelers come together and ACTUALLY interact with each other.

When the world plunges into darkness, the Travelers soon piece together that the Moonshade Order was behind it all. Together, they set about re-igniting the flames scattered around the world before confronting the big bad: Vide after Oboro sacrifices himself to the God.

And like many games of the past decade, Octopath Traveler II is a game that explores themes of despair and hope through the lens of nihilism. In fact, I was reminded very much of Danganronpa. True, we didn't have a crazy antagonist obsessed with despair, but we did encounter individuals who saw a cruel unforgiving world and gave into the darkness (or Shadow) within their hearts to quell the suffering.

It's a sentiment I can understand. Humans are cruel. Wars are started for petty reasons, be they for resources or simple pride.

Worse, we turn a blind eye to certain inconvenient truths. Especially if they would only serve to make us feel bad.

Sometimes it's easy to think: what would life be like if humans were all wiped out from existence?

Our Travelers, though, are made of sterner stuff. Despite witnessing atrocities, they continue to fight for the dawn. In their hearts lay a glimmer of light - of hope - for a better world. And in a video game, their actions do bring on positive change.

Together, they drive back Vide and look to the future. Thus bringing a happy end to it all.

But while the overarching story might feel quite simplistic, the themes explored in Octopath Traveler II, I felt were especially poignant. In each Traveler's story, we got to see elements of our current world - be it corrupt bureaucracy, the inherent greediness in humans or their lack of care for the natural world. Each time, though, the Travelers managed to triumph over their foes and bring new understanding.

It's a story I can get behind. And it's probably why I fell in love with Partitio and Agnea's story (but also, who wouldn't want to fight a steam train?)

Gameplay-wise, Octopath Traveler II doesn't stray too far from the first game. It does, however, have a few tweaks that make the game fun and exciting such as Latent Powers and character abilities. For example, Throne is able to increase the strength of all characters at the start of battle when it's night-time. Hikari, on the other hand, has access to learned skills which can be gained by challenging NPCs scattered around the world.

This brings a whole host of different ways to play the game and to optimise the party. Even as weigh in on when to use brave points to unleash on our foes and break past their shields or to hoard them for a devastating attack later on.

Combined in this way, Octopath Traveler II is a marvel of a game. True, there were moments where I felt the story was a little bogged down, but I certainly enjoyed my time with it. Better yet, it never felt like it was a grind. The 90+ hours I sunk into it flew by without me even realising it as my characters levelled up and grew stronger with each passing hour. Beyond these factors, it also added elements of fruitiness between NPCs but it never tried to shove it in the player's face.

Still, in my head-canon, Dolcinaea and Veronica are a couple. As are Temenos and Crick (before his untimely demise - but he was giving off mass death vibes in Chapter 3. Just saying), Pala and Mikka, and possibly Castti and Malaya (although Malaya, too, is dead).

Plus, I loved the dynamics between all the Travelers with Castti being the mum of the group, Osvald the dad, with the others being chaotic siblings.

[redjadethewriter]

Caitlyn and Jinx: The Ultimate Power Couple... Well... I Wish...

In my last blog, I realized my take on Caitlyn, Vi, and Jinx was vague. I only had three episodes to work with, which limited my response. However, in this blog, I want to focus specifically on Caitlyn becoming like Jinx and how they mirror each other. These are just assumptions, but as I dig deeper, it makes sense to me why Vi would be attracted to Cait and why she would say that Cait is acting like Jinx. Cait resembles Powder in a way, even having blue hair, but it's deeper than that. As a viewer, I can see the similarities, but I can’t fully comprehend it from Vi’s perspective, as she is still fixated and grieving on the idea that her sister has changed. Vi is basically stuck in the past, and I don't blame her. Her entire life was a shitshow, and she was denied her adolescence so, we can't give her crap about being so dense and tone-deaf. While Powder evolved into Jinx, we must recognize they are one and the same, not separate individuals. Except, Powder, who likes to be called Jinx, is mentally struggling with her trauma and probably other conditions such as BPD. We even see her having trouble with killing her own sister, Vi, in this current season. We also have to recognize she wants someone to end her life because of her long-term suffering.

Now let me touch on Vi for a bit. To understand Vi’s mindset, we have to consider her time spent in prison. Being locked away for such a long period is an incredibly isolating experience. During that time, the only person she thought about was her sister, Powder. When Vi was finally released, she wasn’t given any time to adjust to the outside world. Prison is stagnant, with routines that remain the same while the world outside evolves. For Vi, it also meant enduring a lot of abuse from the system. So, even though she was running through the Fissure like a free bird and enjoying food she hadn’t experienced in a long time in season 1, she still hadn’t fully grasped that the world and its people have changed.

When Viktor revived, he immediately split from Jayce for a reason. This separation was something that was supposed to happen in Season 1 because of the different paths they took. Viktor hails from the Undercity, while Jayce comes from the Topside. The divide between them started to widen when Jayce, much like Caitlyn, began to dehumanize the so-called threat, Undercity, labeling them as violent and animalistic. I want to be blunt about this: the upper-class citizens of Piltover are truly terrible people, and their wickedness surpasses that of the criminals they persecute in the Fissure. They are truly the villains of the show, even though we are seeing the cycle of perpetrator and victim playing out through each episode. When Cait’s mother, along with some council members, perished, I couldn’t help but feel it was just. It was the result of their prolonged mistreatment of the people of Zaun. I can't stress enough, that the elites in this series are despicable individuals who exploit their wealth and power unlawfully to satisfy their own desires. Unfortunately, Jayce fell into that very trap.

Let’s be honest, you can’t play both sides and expect a good outcome. Jayce made his choice, which differed from Viktor’s. The same situation occurred with Cait and Vi splitting up. As sad as it may be about Cait’s mom’s death in the mix of things, Cait had the chance to be better than her mom. Her mom’s death is a byproduct of the corruption and bullshit of Piltover that led to that situation. If not Jinx, someone else would have done it. Meaning someone else would have pulled the trigger on the weapon or found other means to stick-it to the system. It just happened to be Jinx who had the guts to do so. That's why I see her as the hero of the people versus the villain she claims to be. We have to be honest about this. Jinx grew into a badass character who literally let her rage and grief spark the fire for change unknowingly. The trailer for Act 2 shows that she becomes a leader, just like Cait has been given the role of leader representing Piltover. I see the parallels. Cait and Jinx represent change because they are the most underestimated characters that grew into their roles.

However, Cait and Jinx, just like Vander, Silco and Sevika are gray characters. Sevika lived by not giving up one of their own. Silco chose Jinx over his empire. Vander chose his children over the community. Cait is willing to do what it takes as well even though she's driven by revenge and betrayal. Maybe because she wanted a true partner, but Vi didn't live up to it. Vi is most likely the true villain of this show because she opposes her sister who truly wants change. And remember Jinx is the way she is now because of her sister abandoning her and not believing in her. Vi doesn't unconditionally love her sister. We see how Vi believes her sister is a monster, when in reality she lives in guilt and shame, and tries to fix things, but fails. The problem is Vi wants Jinx to be the weak and defenseless Powder again. An identity that Jinx doesn't want to be associated with anymore. Because of that, Vi sided with the enforcers, who were her enemies, and with Cait to go against her own people.

So many people of Zaun tried to free themselves from their oppressors and Jinx was the only one who could get the motions going when others failed. Silco wanted to end Piltover, which resulted in him being betrayed by Vander. Vander, who also tried to change things, ended up adopting 2 sisters because their parents died by the enforcers because of his actions and choices. But those choices had to be made. It’s the reason many in the Lanes switched over to Silco’s side because they didn’t want to be under the thumb of Piltover and he was gaining power at all costs. The peace that Vander tried to have with the enforcers and Piltover's greed was just a short-term bandaid. As we watched, it barely lasted.

However, Cait, being one of the more intriguing characters chose the route of the enforcer to break free from the elite status. In season 1 no one truly accepted her, which she didn't take as a hint she wasn't wanted. When she saw how the lower class was living, for a second, her compassion shined through and she pleaded to the council, but it led nowhere. That should have taught her something, but it didn’t. Her mother gets killed, and she starts to dehumanize the people of Zaun, the Fissure and seeks revenge against the person who was hurt and a victim of the system. Yet, she can’t see that, because she is fixated on revenge. So, she is going to make the situation worse.

Despite me thinking Vi is most likely a villain, she just hasn’t found her own identity yet, while Cait is actively evolving her own character. It’s worth noting that Powder has officially evolved into Jinx, but it’s important to understand that Jinx is not a split personality. In fact, Powder and Jinx are the same person, with Jinx simply choosing to go by that name. Many of us can relate to the desire to change names when the previous one is associated with trauma. In Powder’s case, her old name was seen as a symbol of weakness and an inability to stand up for herself. However, when she became Jinx, she became someone to be feared and not to be messed with. This transformation occurred because Silco embraced her skills despite his intentions to twist and use her to gain what he wants. Unfortunately, Vi never embraced Powder’s skills when they were younger. Instead, she and the other boys wanted Powder to focus more on being like them, using physical strength and her fists, rather than nurturing the natural skills she already possessed. This dynamic was clear in their origin story in season 1, where it was obvious that Powder was a skilled shot with remarkable accuracy. In fact, she can be compared to Caitlyn in terms of her abilities.

Cait is a skilled marksman, and Jinx’s skills match hers. But how do Cait and Jinx mirror each other? Let’s remember when I mentioned Cait’s tendency to dehumanize the people in the Fissure. Well, Jinx’s actions also reveal that she doesn’t see the people of Piltover as human either. In fact, she doesn’t care too much about anyone because her fury consumes her. It’s worth noting that Jinx even wanted to die, as we saw in season 1 when she pulled the pin of a grenade next to her and Ekko. However, Silco intervened and subjected her to a mad scientist’s experiments, injecting her with Shimmer and who knows what else. Even in season 2 episode 3, she was waiting for her sister to end her life before Isha came between them.

On the other hand, Cait wants revenge, just like Jinx. However, Cait suppresses her rage by following her family’s bad habit of not addressing it. In contrast, Jinx lets out her emotions through her destructive actions. Both Cait and Jinx are highly intelligent and capable, yet they are often seen as weak and underestimated by others when, in reality, they are quite the opposite. Also, they both have compassion that shines through, but gets suppressed by their circumstances. Jinx is in denial of her compassion, while Cait wants to do away with hers. Jinx even made Sevika a new arm and gift-wrapped it with a bow, and even saved a child from a gang. Jinx, is just playing the dead inside card when in reality she wants connection and wants to experience something different other than pain and suffering. Remember, she doesn't like being left behind or abandoned.

Cait did show compassion, especially in the Fissure. She was open and vulnerable with Vi, even though they don't make the best couple, and I don't blame her for wanting to be a villainess herself, because her empathy led to her mother's death even though her mother was not a good person. However, Cait doesn't accept mistakes well. She believes she can fix things that can't be fixed and she doesn't take the time to acknowledge or reflect on what happened. While Jinx wants to fix things she broke, but doesn't even try because she believes it's impossible. She only sees herself as the person who breaks things, and those mistakes cost lives. Cait might end up doing the same, believing too arrogantly in her skills and righteous cause. Humans make mistakes. They fail and make horrible choices in the process. She's not exempted from it. Just as Jinx has to live with her mistakes and choices, she has to acknowledge them first and allow herself to feel them.

To me, the final battle should have been between Cait and Jinx, rather than Jinx and Vi. Looking back, I can see that Vi saw Powder in Cait and wanted to protect her, disregarding her capabilities, just as she did with Powder. Now that Powder has fully embraced her identity as Jinx, this hurts Vi. Cait, on the other hand, has gained confidence in her fighting abilities, as we witnessed in her successful encounter with Sevika. We all saw how Cait was willing to harm Isha as collateral in order to finally exact her revenge on Jinx. Naturally, Vi is hurt by these changes in everyone around her, as she herself has not evolved or changed. However, it’s important to remember that Vi was involved in a situation where a child became collateral, making her a hypocrite in her own right.

In a perfect world, Cait and Powder, also known as Jinx, would have been great friends. It may seem silly to think so, but they both possess incredible shooting skills. They have honed their combat abilities, adapting their fighting styles based on their unique builds and marksman skills. Both of them possess an unwavering determination to pursue their interests and excel without needing external support. Jinx, in particular, has demonstrated her genius by independently mastering the intricacies of stones and runes with limited resources. Her intellect surpasses even the most brilliant scientists in Piltover, including Jayce and Viktor.

On the other hand, Cait has shown her competence by conducting her investigations independently, despite others dismissing her as merely an upper-class lady playing the role of a cop. In fact, I can’t help but imagine a potential power couple dynamic between Cait and Jinx if their world wasn’t so segregated by class. It’s amusing to envision a fanfic love story between them, one that would undoubtedly involve an age-gap romance situation. Picture them competing in marksmanship, with Jinx swiftly taking down every target and Cait keeping up with her precise long-range shots. I wholeheartedly believe that Cait would eagerly test every new weapon engineered by Jinx. In fact, perhaps Jinx would even build the perfect rifle for Cait, transforming her into a force of nature that no one would ignore or question.

Furthermore, Jinx’s keen mind would undoubtedly contribute to Cait’s investigations as an enforcer. Jinx is far from dense; she even saw the relationship status between Vi and Cait even before they realized it themselves. This suggests that Jinx would be exceptionally attentive to Cait, being able to read her like a book without uttering a single word. Just take a moment to consider how well they complement each other as a couple. Cait and Jinx embody the qualities needed for a harmonious partnership, not to mention their contrasting personalities that could bring balance to their relationship. Jinx is outwardly expressive while Cait maintains composure and keeps her emotions locked inside.

Vi stands out as the sore thumb in the mix. However, despite that, I believe she would accept Jinx and Caitlyn as a couple. Admittedly, in their current world, such a relationship is not even possible. Nevertheless, I strongly feel that the ultimate showdown must be between Cait and Jinx. It is time for Vi to step aside and prioritize her own personal growth and development as a character.

Well... There's my idea for a fanfic romance. Jinx and Caitlyn. The ultimate power couple that will never come to be.

[starres-stuff]

Day 11: Surrogate FFXIV Write 2024

Surrogate: relating to the birth of a child or children using surrogacy.

CW/TW: Mature themes include talk of pregnancy, children bearing through surrogacy, and polyamory themes.

“Mom” Liri whispered as they left one particular house in the deep woods that day. Xixa's eldest daughter, Liri, had joined her on her rounds this morning wanting to learn more about healing and using magic; to do so. 

“Yes, Liri?” The Viera sighed, slowing her normal walk to listen to the questions she knew were coming. After nineteen years with this particular child, Xixa knew that questions always came about anything that Liri found different from her standards about life. 

“Erm, why is Miss Jandie’s friend carrying her baby for her? Doesn't that mean she had sex with Miss Jandie’s husband more than once to get that way? Who would do such --” Xixa had managed to get a hand over Liri’s mouth before she could say the rest and down the road she pulled the girl until they were a good malm away from everything else. Then she said in a harsh whisper. 

“It is not your place to ask that question girl. What goes on behind those doors is none of your business.” Xixa was furious, which tended to take a lot, the normally calm woman's cheeks were flushed and her nostrils were flared. No daughter of hers would say an ill word about personal choice, not as long as she was alive. 

“Mm mmfn mrfj mmpfft.” Liri said through the hand clamped over her mouth, even trying to bite it a time or two before Xixa pushed her towards a bench that marked a rest stop along the many malms long dirt path. 

“There is nothing wrong with Miss Solei carrying that baby. The three are very close and Miss Jandee can't have her own. It's a natural thing, girl and you will get your head on straight about it.” The truth was the three had been a couple for cycles now and with Jandee being the first wife it had been decided that she would have the first child when she couldn't Solei offered to do it for her, which bonded the two even closer than they already were. Xixa knew Liri was going to protest even more but reluctantly she removed her hand to let the girl speak. 

“Isn’t that cheating? You hate cheaters! Why are you being so nice about this?” Liri rubbed her jaw lightly, and she stayed at her Mother demanding an explanation. Which she soon got. 

“I shouldn't have to tell you at your age that it is possible to love more than one person. Look at Lady Vi and her two husbands, you've never said anything bad about that. It's called polyamory, girl, and it happens in many ways. I've known Jandee since she came to the Shroud. She prefers to have a husband and a wife. She enjoys both dynamics equally. It makes her happy, Solei and Montague get along wonderfully, it took them a few years but now they are all together, Menphina blesses them.” 

Liri still looked grumpy, her head shaking vehemently  “I couldn't stand the thought of another woman touching my husband in front of me like t-that.” 

“That is where I wish I had raised you amongst our people. I regret I didn't. Our tribes are made of all women, the men are not allowed. They come home once a year for mating and it is not uncommon to find two or more women sharing one man.” Xixa shrugged, her eyes closing as she remembered her upbringing, it had helped shape who she became as an adult. 

“I still don’t like the sound of it.” Liri crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose in the air. This made Xixa groan inwardly and she instantly gave thought to her other two girls she still had time left to teach, a rare moment of feeling like she failed with Liri washing over her. Perhaps, her life had been too busy. 

“I do like that Miss Jandee has someone she is close to like that, who is willing to help her have her dreams. I, would help my sisters if they ran into Miss Jandee’s problems though I would not be involved with whatever man they wanted to be the Father. I do not exactly like men.” 

Xixa found herself staring at Liri, there was more in that statement than Viera was expecting. The kindness to her Sisters was heartwarming and took away the worry for the most part but the revelation about Liri not being interested in men made her reel sharply, her eyes widening in shock.

“What?!” Liri started to laugh, her Mother’s expression a great source of amusement to her suddenly. “I don’t blame Miss Jandee for having a girlfriend” she shrugged “After Lunah’s Father, I’m not too keen on another one.” 

“Ah hells girl, don’t turn out like your Mother.” Xixa snorted her eyes rolling up to look at the blue sky filled with clouds above their heads “I’ve been mad at your Father for getting himself killed not too long after Volhi was born and that’s thirteen years too long.” 

“You could always date Laurent and Dimitri.” Liri teased, then darted off the bench before her Mother could swat at her “Then you would be like Lady Vi! You seem to like her relationship.”

Xixa scowled at her daughter, rose from the bench, lifted her long skirt, and then started to run towards her “Don’t let me catch you, girl.” She called back, which sent Liri fleeing off into the Shroud, their conversation left to be continued another day. 

[abby420]

SUCCESSION HAS DOG MOTIF???? this is convincing me to watch it even more isn’t it

yes!! and it's one of the heaviest and most consistently used motifs in the show! there are many references to dogs throughout the show and its often used as motif for the siblings (kendall, shiv, roman, and connor) and their abuse. though roman is most often the target of the dog motif due to being the "weakest dog".

one of the earliest uses is in episode 1.08 in which roman confronts kendall about a game they used to play as children where kendall would lock roman in a cage for hours and make him eat dog food (it's later revealed it was cake. not dog food.) kendall insists roman enjoyed the game. i'll insert a ss of the script

later roman confronts his other brother connor about the game

in which connor reiterates that roman enjoyed it and even asked to go in the cage (feel like i should also note that roman has previously described waystar [their father's company they are all fighting to inherit] as being "like a cage" to him. the cage is also often used as a metaphor for the abusive cycle they are all stuck in.) after which connor states that dad sent him away to military school because of this and that "dad's theory was you have two fighting dogs, you send the weak one away. you punish the weak one."

another one of my favorite uses is during a conversation between shiv and her mother in which her mother confesses that she believes she never should have had children, that she should have had dogs. shiv says "well you could have had dogs" to which her mother responds "no, not with your father. he never saw anything he wouldn't kick, just to see if it would still come back."

the children are all his dogs that he continually kicks to see if they'll come back. and they do. they are his loyal subservient dogs. he kicks them and they come back obediently wishing to be wanted. they're desperate for his approval. they are his beaten dogs that keep coming back for more! and the cage is waystar! and the cage is the abusive cycle! and they won't leave the cage! even when the door is wide open.

here are some other honorable mentions of dog references i won't go too deep into analyzing (unless anyone wants me to lol):

this quote from roman: "guess i finally broke out of the cage. can't keep a good dog down, right?" spoiler alert: he did not in fact break out of the cage.

this quote: "can i stay? but with you as a human dog, just at the foot of your bed?"

"he looks like a dog without a person"

the use of mondale - shiv and her husbands (tom) dog who is always seen in his cage in their living room. tom often uses mondale to project his feelings onto

there is a scene in which roman throws himself in a crowd of protesters and ends up injured, you can hear a dog whimpering in the background.

annnd many more!

[zeciex]

Saw this comment r/HOTDBlacks and had to share it with you. The post put up the question of whether Alicent and Rhaenyra would still be friends if Criston never received the white cloak. The following comment goes very in depth in Alicent's charactization and I think hits the target on a lot of great points.

"I think their friendship would've lasted *longer*, but I think it would've deteriorated nonetheless. Fundamentally, at least in show canon, the reason that Alicent hates Rhaenyra is that she represents rebellion against the rules to which Alicent has dedicated her life, but more than that, she represents the fact that rebelling against those rules is maybe a good idea, and that Alicent's unfailing obeisance to those rules is the reason she is so fundamentally unhappy.

She hates Rhaenyra because she had an affair and fathered bastards, and is happy - she has a good relationship with the father of her children, who loves their kids absolutely, and Rhaenyra loves her kids, who love her in return.

Meanwhile, Alicent is trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who barely even really sees her, who forgets they have children at least half the time, and it seems like she's had a really hard time loving her kids because of what they represent - something they can obviously feel, so they don't really love her back either. She has stuck to the Women in Westeros playbook, obeyed her father, obeyed the king, and it's put her in a situation where she hates her life and she hates herself.

Her hatred of Rhaenyra, then, is I think as much a manifestation of her own self-loathing and resentment as it is ambition or affront at the idea of her having bastards. Alicent hates Rhaenyra because she represents everything Alicent doesn't have and feels she is owed because Alicent did what she was "supposed to."

And if you factor in the idea that Alicent and Rhaenyra were crushing hard on each other as kids, which it seems the show does want to say is true, then Alicent has lost her relationship with the only person she ever really had any sort of romantic connection with, and been miserable all her life, while that person moves on, flaunts the rules, and has happy and fulfilling relationships without her anyway.

TL;DR, some sort of major reconciliation notwithstanding, no, I don't think their friendship could have survived."

This is exactly what I've been thinking about Alicent and Rhaenyra, and it's very much what I think of when I write her POV's.

This is excellent put--so thank you for bringing it to me, because this puts it so much better into words what I've been thinking.

Rhaenyra is the representation of everything Alicent wish she had/have given up on AND everything she loathes. And, in a Vow, that representation extends to Daenera, who follows 'in her mother's footsteps,' so to speak, in the way she presents herself; her indulgences, her affair, being easily loved and admired, the 'freedom' she has, her opposition to the binds of being a woman in this world.

And, I also think that a part of Alicent looks upon Daenera with envy about her relationship with Aemond, Helaena/the children, Viserys and so forth. A bit of it is also the snow white/evil queen thing of seeing someone younger than yourself rise, as your own power wanes--the cycle of abuse against women aging.

But yeah, this is what I think of too, and I'll be tagging it as meta so I can find it on my blog if I need it <3

[misetiverecon]

It's supposed to get better. I've seen it time and time again, and all it does is annoy me .

When am I ALLOWED to get better? When is it enough? When do I stop punishing myself for things that happened almost a year ago? When do I get to be happy without feeling like shit after? When do I get to eat and not worry about weather or not your treating yourself right? When do I get to feel human?

I'm so sick and tired of having little to no motivation. I'm tired of falling asleep with cut and bruised thighs, even if it's self inflicted. I'm tired of being and feeling powerless and useless. I'm tired of feeling like an emotional sack of shit. I'm so tired of feeling like I don't matter. I'm so sick and tired of feeling disgusting in my own body and mind.

What I've done and said to you cycle around in my head all day. What you've said and done to me cycle with it. Every single day I relive the moment when I first lost control. Everyday I feel guilt when I remember you saying that you'd feel bad for me if I didn't kill myself. Every fucking day, I'm forced to go back to that room that you almost died in. It doesn't stop. Sometimes the cycle will pause, but always starts again. Sleep is my only escape.

I still cry for you and what you went through. It tears apart my heart to know I could have and should have done so much better. I hyperventilate over the fact that I'll never be able to get back what I lost when you ended our relationship.

I knew we were toxic together. But we thought in the end everything would be fine. You and I overlooked every red flag because of it. Instead of solving our issues, we ignored them. We only talked about how we could have avoided things after a breakdown. We never told each other what was really wrong until after we blew things to pieces.

You say you knew we wouldn't last long, but I trusted you when you made promises. I believed you when you said I'd be yours forever. I trusted you when you said we'd truly be together one way. I was naive and stupid, but I still feel like you led me on. I also feel bad for thinking it, and I'm angry with myself because you felt like you had to protect me from the reality of what was happening.

I know I hurt you, and that what you did back, I deserved. But the time you called the cops on me, the time you lied to my mother... I can't over look those. You trust me with so many things, yet I can't trust you. It's always double standards with you. You'll tell me to be safe, but at the same time be hurting yourself every night. I know it's not your fault. I know you have mental health issues. But still upsets me. You have such low standards for yourself.

It makes me feel like crap that I can't help you. That I can't fix your problems.

I hate how you've moved on, while I'm still stuck here in this never ending loop. I want it stop, but the only way to do that is to end my life. I know you don't care weather I'm alive or not. You've said that to me directly. But if you don't care, why do we still talk? Why do you still want to know how im doing? You say so many things that contradict over things you've said. I know you don't mean to be, but your so goddamn confusing.

All that said, I'm still in love with you. Unlike you, I ment it when I said I'd love you forever. But God, I wish I didn't love you. It hurts to love you.

[fallinghorizontally]

The cause of your anxiety is your mother

Mine is, that's for sure. I've been having panic attacks almost every other day for the past 5 weeks now. They happen because my body randomly shoots out a physical symptoms like fast heart rate, chest discomfort, a feeling of dread, or weird spasms in my neck. It's so hard because I can never know if it's something serious or not. It's hard trying not to completely freak the fuck out in the middle of a symptom and most of the time I will. Sometimes I'm able to get ahold of myself but sometimes even if I do, for a moment, I'm stuck with nothing but dread that will turn into anxiety again and I'll feel another symptom again. It's so hard to be brave and tell myself that I'm fine in the moment when part of my brain tells me its serious and to top it off the fight or flight just makes everything seem so much more dire.

Whenever I have a panic attack and my moms around, I run to her for help and perhaps comfort. I wonder why I do this. It's almost like an instinct. I know she will be of no help so why do I keep running to her. Before shit hit, I would get anxious and it was a direct cause of my environment, I think. I think that if I am constantly under stress and emotional hardship it will manifest itself as anxiety and physical symptoms. Of course, I haven't been normal for a while. I constantly check my pulse and do other shit that "helps" my symptoms or anxiety. But that was manageable. I could live my life peacefully and still do those things even if I knew it was not normal. Ever since I moved back home, my anxiety has increased so much and maybe that's why I'm now in this fucking cycle of panic and anxiety. My mom is is too fucking much. I play many roles in her fucking house. I am an assistant, translator, baby sitter, therapist, accountant, DOCTOR, advisor, and so much more. It is too fucking much and the worst part is that all that shit is expected. I can't even get a sincere fucking thank you. I barely ask for anything, just empathy and it seems like I'm asking for the deed to the world. She's religious and she tells her church friends all of my ailments and according to them my mental illness is because of evil. That my anxiety is caused by problems that go beyond the physical and my mom thinks that I am constantly thinking about my past traumas. I mean sure maybe but it disregards the fact that hypochondria and mental illness in general is very fucking real and I feel like she does not fucking listen. I feel so lost and lonely. To her and her fucking church friends, I am empowered by the devil and if I don't submit to their religion then I'm going to hell. Like why the fuck would you tell that to someone who's already going through so much mental anguish not to mention the fact that I am not even religious. I simply don't believe in the white mans religion which they've been indoctrinated into believing. I don't need my mental problems to be pushed aside and labeled as "evil spirits." I want to ask all those old hags to stop taking their fucking diabetes and dementia treatments and to trust God with their sickness. That little plastic box with Sunday through Saturday labeled on it? Yeah toss those the fuck out, God has your back sister! Just because mental illness is something they can't ever understand, it is treated as something other worldly and it pains me so much because I am simply not heard and threatened with eviction if I don't submit to my moms religion. And I don't do it because I simply don't believe nor do I trust those people. They simply would not understand what I am going through and they would tell me to pray it away. It is such hypocrisy. I wish you could see my mothers medication cabinet as well as the boxes of diabetes injections in the fridge. I just wish someone would listen and actually understand what it is I am going through. Instead, I just get more shit, threats, stress, and terrible advice from people who don't understand this kind of disease.

And it just makes me more anxious.

Oh and I mention their medications because I am currently taking lexapro (just started) and my mom is so against it. She says I'm just gonna be a fucking addict and all fucking stupid and that it's a clutch or whatever. Basically she's against modern medicine when it comes to mental health, something she doesn't understand, hence the hypocrisy.

[holiciouspursuitofenvy]

It took me a really long fucking time to acknowledge why i can't handle boundaries/end up being manipulative as fuck to real and sometimes online people.

EVERYBODY FEELS LIKE I HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS WITH! I truly did not understand stand that consciously, i only ever chalked it up to social anxiety. No matter how many times i told myself i wish there was a class on how to talk to people and what people will judge you on.

I grew up with parents who would be gone from home long periods of time (due to their jobs bc we were poor and childhood divorce). And when they came home would either fight eachother or their children (me and my siblings). Belittling us for little things we did or want which oftentimes was extremely normal kid stuff. And because i was the youngest, i was an honorary child of the eldest teenage sister who obviously was a bad mother but also actively bullied me for years.

Not to mention parents who would constantly tell me don't trust anyone, everyone is judging you and out to get you. So they sheltered you home minimizing play time or hanging out with other kids. I actively remember being a kid and trying to set up healthy boundaries like "hey mom, it really hurta me when you yell at me for crying when i get shots or needles, I'm trying my best." And her going "fuck off, you're just sensitive and you need to get over it by now." Or my dad actively triggering me when he does his angry sound tell so i asked him to please do it less and he angrily calls me a child in a long drawn out paragraph and huffs away.

I was/sometimes still am stuck in a toxic cycle of needing to learn how to set up boundaries for myself and telling people, namely my family, to fuck off if they don't. I used to have a hero complex where i would help people at the expense of myself to often but then i said fuck that and now I've made my over defensiveness even more obvious.

But i also couldn't acknowledge this extends to EVERYTHING. In real life when someone says you did a bad thing suddenly it feels like a volcano of the most angry emotions stir inside of me BECAUSE I AM FURIOUS.

I'M FURIOUS that no one acknowledges how hard it was to walk on eggshells all the time. How I'd need to pat myself on the back every time i completed a social interaction successfully or comb through every detail of them to find something to improve on. I never felt i was progressing to normal but that i was stuck incompetent forever.

I get told a lot that I'm very mysterious and never tell anyone anything and this is why. I HAVE MAJOR TRUST ISSUES. This is where the hyper-independence, the closed offness, the combative nature against people i trust especially comes in. Why I'm always surprised people who don't see me everyday or run to me anytime the see me say I'm their friend. I'm sure i came off super cold when i asked them why but i was genuinely surprised. Because being teased, bullied, and dismissed by everyone close to me growing up fucked up my view of people and relationships.

I don't mean for any of this to come off as an excuse but as an explanation. And me trying to reach people who've gone through the same things i have but kept getting back into the cycle of needing to defend yourself by all means possible to people who just said "please stop, i don't like this," or any other variation of you have done something wrong. Especially if you went over the line online and someone said "hey thwt way too over familiar, don't talk to strangers like that." because yea STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET ARE NOT YOUR THERAPIST OR PUNCHING BAGS.

I really need people to understand this isn't from entitlement, it's subconscious mistrust in everyone you meet bc subconsciously i believed everyone was out for me. Someone i needed to defend against before or after they talk to me. No matter how nice and gentle it comes doesn't matter. Everyone has to be lying and think it's the biggest deal in the world actually or this is a greater sign of you being awful all along. Like everone did that to everyone elae. And if anyone just casually calls this narcissism I'm hitting you with a 2x4. Those posts never resonated with me. They felt dismissive for me personally.

I AM ALWAYS IN A PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE VICTORIAN ENGLAND TEA PARTY WITH A BAD REPUTATION. Or better yet I'm always walking on eggshells with people.

Coming from someone who knows they're mentally fucked up but not knowing exactly how for all your life but especially in the past 5+ years of not going to therapy except when it was closeby and free a couple times but never being truly open with them because you learned vulnerability equals dismissal and pain 99% of the time.

So yeah, i highly recommend looking back on your childhood and examining when you were dismissed or had your boundaries broken. Then work on active trust with people and be open to more people because not processing my trauma but trying to steamroll being a functional persom also fucked me up.