#sympathetic impulse

[mikodrawnnarratives]

The sheer CHALLENGES of being so ATTACHED to a character that WANTS to be wanted, WANTS to have her ppl, and does the most UNLIKABLE THINGS I- ITS- ITS A GOOD CHARACTER FLAW that technically only makes her a hypocrite via my interpretations of her yah yah

But it's just- MAN shes out there making the worst first impressions even with characters she'd otherwise have a lot in common with

[veliseraptor]

"...what is gained in granting characters some say in their own destiny might easily be lost in dimunition of audience sympathy. It seems to have been a risk that Shakespeare deliberately elected to take. In his last few tragedies, he made increasing demands on the humane tolerance (or perhaps on the Christian charity, in the most radical sense) of his audience. We are not expected to agree, in every case, that the protagonist is more sinned against than sinning; we are expected, on the basis of our common humanity with the offending protagonist, to offer sympathy unqualified by the necessity for exoneration. It is a demand too radical for Aritotle, for Farnham, for most audiences. Most are too ready to rue the absence of less deeply-flawed heroes, too ready to accuse Shakespeare of having sat down to eat with publicans and sinners."

L.T. Fitz, "Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony and Cleopatra Criticism", Shakespeare Quarterly, Vol. 28, No. 3 (Summer, 1977)

[cluescorner]

Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:

Steph (25):

Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)

Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)

Her worst trait really is her spitefulness

Cass (26)

Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.) 

Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness. 

Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)

Tim (24)

Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)

Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)

His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)

Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)

Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this). 

Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)

His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)

Dick (17) 

Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)

Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)

His worst trait actually is his anger issues.

Barbara (18)

Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)  

Thinks her worst trait is her disability 

Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)

Damian (16)

Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)

Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism 

His worst trait actually is his perfectionism

Duke (16)

Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)

Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)

His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words

Jason (14)

Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne). 

Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)

His worst trait actually is his reactiveness

[gretahayes]

This kid is such a strange, fucked up, sad little freak, I can’t believe they didn’t keep him around longer

[spekktors]

I'm tempted to blacklist Kipperlilly Copperkettle because people are so goddamn annoying about her

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Hmm.

I still kinda think these two are double agents and are secretly on the speedster's side.

I keep questioning how they're having such a hard time finding ten brightly colored speedsters when they're not even remotely trying to hide. Surely the elite task force would know how to track down some speedsters? How are a bunch of civilians outsmarting them by... doing nothing? And I kinda think that they're purposely not finding them.

But this just adds to that theory for me. Because Barry and Ace are not stealthy. Not even a little bit. I have a hard time believing that they weren't seen/heard here.

I'm high-key thinking that they did see them and they just said nothing and kept walking tbh.

[steorran]

i feel like the secret shortcut answer to a lot of interpersonal relationship issues is "you are not in control of what other people do, only what you do" but people don't like that answer very much bc they would like to be able to move other people around like barbie dolls

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

it's wild because over the years i've gone from shipping nive with some degree or other of fluff/happy endings (or at least hopeful ones; or if it does end badly, it's due to external factors) to just unabashedly wanting them to make each other Worse

[hierarchyproblem]

Kinda like this passage from Altered Carbon

[the-dalseum-duet]

does the heaviness of the entirety of The Lore hit you out of nowhere entirely sometimes or is it. is it just me

like. just thinking about crow’s childhood. you’re THE princess! but you can’t leave the palace. no one needs to see you. but WE all need to see you at all times to make sure you’re okay. we know you don’t like it when Sara has to touch you for hours on end but you’ll die if she doesn’t. you don’t understand why you have to take those pills yet. you don’t understand why Sara broke down sobbing on your first birthday. your mother is rotting away mere feet below where you first learned to walk. she was so mistreated that she could see the outline of your body in hers when she held her breath. you never got to meet the man who is the reason why you’re alive. he sewed you clothes. he embroidered your name on a blanket. he knows who you are. he watches you grow up from miles away. his couch is stained with your blood. he can’t afford a new one.

and all you have is your sister. she’s well-behaved. she has nothing wrong with her. suddenly YOU’RE not the princess anymore. sometimes she speaks in a language you can’t understand. you are not the child of the person who married your father. you are a pet— a pretty little toy worth little more than the woman they poisoned years ago. you have her nose.

she paints you things. she decorates your bandages and gives you stickers for your cane. her hair is shiny and smooth. it’s good for braiding. your father washes yours for you, and he puts some sort of cream in it. he’s gentle then. you see scars on his face when he kisses your forehead. he puts out a cigarette in the bath water when you’re done. you don’t know what “magwi” means yet. your sister taught you “kaek.” that’s your name in the language the tall pink-haired phantom speaks with her.

your father has pictures on his arms. you like the butterfly— “it’s a death’s head hawkmoth” he tells you. your love for bugs started then. he’s nice to you when he’s alone. you knew the smell of alcohol before you even knew what it was. you knew those were nights you would be staying with Sara.

Sara is kind when she isn’t hurting you. she says she’s trying to help you. her pills taste bad. she calls you her friend. sometimes she calls you blaire, then catches herself. you think she’s silly. she likes to listen to you talk about your favorite bugs. she has a picture of a snake where he has his moth. she likes to do your makeup for you. you always think Marie looks much prettier.

[felidthing]

i just had a very long complicated dream about some very ooc homestuck kids. jade might be rooted in some form of fanon at least but i dunno

[prythianpages]

Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister (reader) | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

warnings: secret love, implied smut (brief mention), you and az being impulsive and risking it all

word count: 1,900

a/n: I used the dialogue of this scene from The Witcher as a prompt for this fic.

“Hybern is still close to Spring. Though they’ve lost the war, it seems their alliance still stands. Bradwell has shown interest in her, it’d be best if she takes his favor tonight. Or even Tamlin’s, they are closer in age.”

Your gaze is fixed forward, but your mind drifts, creeping into the quiet mental conversation between your father and brother. They speak of you, as if your own desires are inconsequential, and it stings more than you let show.

“Why should she? When the High Lord of Autumn, who fought alongside our armies, has six sons and one on the way…”

Breathe in, breathe out. You force the command on yourself, struggling to maintain the composure you’ve perfected over years of courtly life. The mask you wear feels more fragile tonight, your heart threatening to crack the facade. 

You allow your eyes to wander and regret it when you meet the gaze of Bradwell–the eldest son of Spring. He is watching you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, his smirk oozing arrogance. As if you’re a prize to be won–a prize already won. The sight of it turns your stomach. 

It’s instinctual almost–the way your eyes gravitate toward Azriel as they always do at the slightest discomfort. He’s been your anchor, your safety blanket for years. He stands just a few steps below you, tall and stoic. 

His hands are clenched into fists, shadows weaving and writhing along his limbs in a frenzy, whispering secrets to him that you ache to hear. His head is turned toward Bradwell and there’s no doubt his gaze is hardened into an icy composure when the eldest of Spring suddenly peels his gaze off of you.  

As you pull your gaze away from the Night Court’s Spymaster, you catch your mother’s eye. She sits beside your father on a much simpler throne. She sends you a sympathetic smile and you cast your gaze down, mask faltering as a blush creeps up your neck.

By the Cauldron, how you wish you could be anywhere but here. You’d much rather be alongside Cassian and Mor, who are most likely indulging in the fine wine and cheeses. The only redeeming part of these insufferable court parties.

“Is it not best to keep our most at-risk enemies close? Spring–”

Your body tenses, each muscle coiling as you listen to the words between your brother and father, their minds still unaware of your presence within them. It’s laughable, almost. Rhysand taught you well. You were a later bloomer when it came to the manifestation of your powers but the daemati power runs strong in you. 

Movement catches your eye. It’s Bradwell. He begins to make his way toward you, one hand already reaching for the sage-green handkerchief embroidered with a golden beast. A token you know he plans to offer. The sight of it makes something in you snap. You can’t take it anymore.

You whip your head around, your heart pounding, and your gaze finds Azriel once more—the only one you want. The only one you’ve ever wanted.

“Azriel, will you dance with me?”

The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. There’s a brief moment where the world seems to still as Azriel turns to meet your gaze. His eyes widen slightly, shadows pausing briefly in midair–the only sign of emotion he shows. 

But you feel a flutter in your chest.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s danced with you. The two of you have danced plenty of times before. However, it’d be the first time you’d give him your first dance. A notion that seems silly but held to a high esteem in the Court of Nightmares.

You feel your father’s and Rhysand’s gaze also on you–the latter’s eyes narrowing at you. He’s already sensed the lingering presence you left in his mind, and you can feel his talons scratching at the edges of your mental walls. But you hold steady, just as he taught you and push him away.

Azriel keeps his eyes on you yet his shadows peer over his shoulders, the dark tendrils darting back and forth between your brother and father. Cautious and a bit defensive.

It’s your mother who breaks the silence. She had kept her gaze on the dance floor in front of her, that same knowing smile playing on her lips. “It is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Azriel nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward–one foot resting on the first step while the other remains on the ground floor. He extends his scarred hand to you, his shadows barely able to contain their excitement, betraying the cool mask he dons.

You smile—truly smile—as you place your hand in his, and together, you walk toward the dance floor. Your heart swells with defiance as you purposefully avert your eyes when passing Bradwell, chin held high. Rhysand’s mental claws scratch harder, desperate to break through your defenses. You continue to shut him out, strengthening the walls of your mind. 

The Cauldron simmers in your favor. As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower, more romantic melody. Azriel’s hand wraps around yours, his fingers enclosing around your palm while his other hand rests gently at the small of your back. The tension in your body melts under his touch and you find yourself leaning in closer to him, your body always yearning to be with his.

Shadows slither softly around you, hiding within the seams of your black dress like a protective shield. Azriel’s eyebrows furrow and you recognize the brief distant look in his eyes. “Rhys is not happy,” he murmurs. “Your first dance was supposed to be with the eldest son of Spring.”

His jaw clenches and you see the way his shadows curl tighter around him as if to suffocate the jealousy he dares not voice.

“Let him sulk. I get to decide who to dance with, who to be with.”

Azriel was the master of composure. He’s always calm, steady, controlled. But tonight, something in his gaze feels different. There’s something vulnerable there, something pained. He looks away for a moment, as if trying to keep his emotions from manifesting further. 

“I can’t offer you what he can..."

His hand twitches in yours, like he’s about to pull away, but you hold him tighter. “Good,” you respond without hesitation. “I don’t want anything that arrogant ass has to offer.”

Azriel’s eyes snap back to yours, searching, conflicted. He hesitates, as if still grappling with the part of himself that believes he doesn’t deserve this. That you deserve more, much better than him. Someone who can give you the world, not someone who only knows to live in the shadows.

You intertwine your fingers with his, lips curling into a small grin. “Your ass is the only one I want,” you add, your power reaching out to him and gently slipping past his defenses to show him the marvelous view you had of his backside earlier.

And as your thoughts drift to the last night you shared together, where you got to see all of him, Azriel lets out an exhale, his lips mirroring the upwards curl to yours. Taking advantage of the grip you have on his mind, you show him more memories from that night. The way his scarred hands had caressed every inch of your body, his lips following the path his hands made…

 “I can’t give you much,” Azriel’s voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed with yours, lips hovering right over your own.  “But I can give you everything I have.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing every line and contour of the male who held your heart. So beautiful, so perfect. 

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you replied and then closed the small gap between you to kiss him.

The pained look in his hazel eyes melts into something warmer, something sweeter, as he takes in the memories of that night through your eyes. He had never doubted your love, but the weight of his own insecurities—his belief that he was beneath you—constantly gnawed at him.

Every time he touched you in secret, every night you spent hidden away together, he feared that someday you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough.

But here, dancing with you, the way your eyes held him, he felt that overwhelming doubt ease. To see and feel the depth of your sincerity, as if your very soul called out to his…

“I love you.”

Your heart stilled at the words, your step faltering. In a smooth maneuver, Azriel spins you around, catching you effortlessly before you could stumble. His hands steady you as you face him once more.

 “That’s the first time you’ve said that,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, though you know Azriel’s shadows are already ensuring no one else can hear your words.

“It can’t be,” Azriel murmurs in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly. 

“You used to think it,” you quietly admit, your gaze dropping for a moment before returning to his. It wasn’t that you had ever meant to pry, but when it was just the two of you, his mind was often at ease, unguarded. Sometimes, his thoughts would be too loud for you to ignore. “But tonight, you finally said it.”

The shadows hidden within the lacey seams of your dress stir and you watch as one of the shadows lingering over Azriel’s shoulders slithers up and curls around his ear. His grip on you tightens and your ears perk up. 

The song is coming to an end and though couples continue to dance and whirl around you, your nose picks up on an approaching scent. Fresh wildflowers and oak—rich and lovely, exuding the essence of Spring. Yet it fills you with dread. You don’t want this moment to end. You’re tired of pretending, of living this life of secrecy.

“Azriel,” you say, one hand reaching out toward his face to turn his attention back to you. A bold move but tonight, you’re ready to be even bolder. “Kiss me.”

His shadows stir, swirling anxiously around him, their whispers warning that too many eyes are upon you both. You can feel his hesitation, the unspoken question in his gaze as he searches your face.

“In front of everyone,” you confirm. Show them I’m yours, you speak into his mind, and only yours.

Azriel pauses, his chest tightening at the implication of your words. He can feel Rhysand’s presence–furious and demanding– trying to slip into his mind. No doubt trying to steer him away from this impulsive display and away from you. 

He feels the weight of the room pressing down on him—the sons of Spring and Autumn watching his every breath.

But all of that falls away when he meets your eyes again. 

There is only you in this moment.

The one who had always been able to see through his walls, the one who made him feel like the most precious thing in the room, the only one he cared about.

“Kiss me,” you whisper again.

And Azriel is not going to let you ask a third time.

Not when the light of love is shining so brightly in your eyes. His hand covers yours on his cheek, and then, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that silences the room.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

a/n: It's been awhile since I wrote for Az. Miss this shadow daddy lol. Part 2 is already up 🫶🏽 you can find it here.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[autumnday19]

.

[theodysseyofhomer]

i've noticed that when people attempt to handle the horror of the hanged women in the odyssey with care, there is an impulse to make penelope sympathetic to them. one problem with this is that i've read the odyssey, and she clearly isn't, but more tellingly: we know that she used to favor melantho, but any care she had for her has been shoved firmly into the past tense since melantho put a toe out of line. because melantho isn't a real daughter, she's a slave. because this is an issue of class, not female solidarity.

whatever penelope may believe about herself, she is not capable of caring for enslaved women in any meaningful way. this also goes for the rest of the slave-owning class in homer, and probably homer himself (if for the sake of brevity you want to call "homer" a "self"), which i bring up because i think you have to understand the perspective of the text to challenge it. but i notice this problem particularly with penelope because i find her complex and fascinating and i want other people to find her complex and fascinating and give her her dues, but i simply do not think you can do so by making her care about women she owns.

[theminecraftbee]

Cleo sits next to Scott, her head in her hands, and says—

—“I really thought it’d be different this time.” BigB sighs. He kicks his foot. Ren is, at least, a sympathetic ear. He understands these things, or at least he understands that it’s hard to be alone. “I mean, I know you don’t trust those guys…”

“I don’t,” agrees Ren.

“But they reached out, man. And I thought, well,”—

—“I could always bury the hatchet, you know?” Cleo says. “It’s been what, how many games? How many years? And I can recognize when I’m as much of the problem as someone else.”

“You had a reason to be a problem. I love that you’re a problem,” Scott says supportively. Pearl snorts in the corner.

“I’m good at being a problem!” Cleo says

“I know, you are,” Scott agrees.

“But it’s like—I don’t know. Maybe I was ready to be done being angry! Maybe I…”—

—“…just wanted a change.”

BigB is quiet. He lets the thought sit in the air. Ren, normally a man determined to fill silences, at least understands the value of a dramatic pause; he doesn’t say anything yet.

Martyn, however, has grown a bit more impatient over the sessions. "What kind of change? You two have been weird about each other for years."

BigB is quiet a moment more. "Did you know that—Ren, did you know that you were the first and last person to show me trust?"

"Uh, thank you, dude," Ren says.

"But like, the thing is, people, they stabbed us then, man. And it's just..."—

—"...he didn't have to! That's what gets me! He could have like... said anything to me? I don't ask much! I offered him my hand! I said, sure man. I'm gonna forgive you, just this once. We can try again. And he just—he tried to kill you! Why?"

"I mean, Scott is one of the people with the most lives," Impulse says reasonably. "And he didn't betray you."

"That's not how teams work, Impulse," Cleo says. "You can't just get rid of the teammate you don't like. The team is only as strong..."—

—"...as weak as it's component parts."

Ren and Martyn stare.

"Jesus, BigB," Martyn says.

BigB looks away. "Yeah, um, well. I don't think that's that stupid. It's not about you two, really. And this is a death game, right? I didn't attack her. It's just... I wasn't going to, really. I wasn't..."—

—"...he was going to, that's the thing. He's always going to do... this!"

"Maybe that's what you get for reaching out to a traitor," Scott says lightly.

Impulse looks away. Pearl snorts again. Cleo sighs.

"Look, I have a long memory, but if I let that decide everything I do forever it would eat me. And people have their reasons. Impulse, look Scott in the eyes, he's not even the reason you have that reputation. Pearl, you're a part of the team. That's the thing. People can change. People..."—

—"...can't change, really." BigB shrugs. "She should know better by now."

"Uh, dude, should we know better?" Ren asks.

"Nah. I mean, Martyn's worse than I am," BigB says cheerfully.

"Martyn," Ren says, sounding vaguely disappointed. Martyn crosses his arms.

"What? You're the one who said I had evil in me. If you take in a snake, you can't be mad if it bites you. If you take in a scorpion..."—

—"...you can hope it learns not to sting you. I don't know. Maybe it's just in his nature."

Pearl makes a strange noise. "And what's in my nature?"

Cleo sighs. She steps over and throws an arm around Pearl's shoulder.

"As long as you don't bite me? I'm willing to learn." Pearl leans into Cleo's arm slightly. Cleo can't help but wonder, some days, how much of the way she flinches back again is her fault. BigB isn't the only one that Cleo hopes can change his nature. Otherwise...

"I'm not actually a traitor, despite what everyone claims," Impulse says, apropos of nothing.

"You know, you should pick better friends," Scott says.

"Nah," Cleo says. She doesn't elaborate. She just—

—breathes. BigB just breathes.

"It was never going to work, anyway," he says.

"Sometimes I wonder if everyone broke while I wasn't looking," Ren says quietly, sadly. BigB has no answer for that.

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Temptations

Summary - During family tensions and personal turmoil, emotions reach a boiling point and a shocking confrontation leads to chaos prompting a protective gesture from Jace sparking an intimate moment where long-hidden desires and a profound connection are revealed.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Strong language, violence (very slight)

Word count - 2168

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"You are going to drink yourself to death," I chided, the words heavy with both sorrow and frustration, as I watched Aegon's eyes roll dismissively before he took another indifferent chug from his goblet.

"You sound like Mother," Aegon muttered, the words barely escaping his lips before he drowned them in another swig of wine. His hand trembled slightly, betraying a deeper unrest.

"Leave him be, sister. Maybe if he drinks enough, he'll finally remember he has a wife. Though I doubt even that would stir him." Aemond retorted sharply, his tone a mixture of exasperation and mocking as he spun a dagger between his fingers idly.

I clenched my jaw, reigning in the impulse to lash out at my brothers. 

My heart pounded in my chest, a drumbeat of warnings I had long learned to ignore but tonight, something in Aegon's eyes, that hollow, desperate look, made me want to shake him, to make him see what he was becoming.

Instead, I turned to my twin sister, Helaena, casting a sympathetic glance her way. It was a rarity for all four of us to gather in the same room, an occurrence that didn't happen often.

A knock on the chamber door shattered the moment, drawing everyone's attention. I rose from my seat and crossed the room, opening the door to reveal our nephews, Jace and Luke, standing hesitantly outside.

"Grandsire has sent us here," Jace announced, his voice tinged with reluctance. 

I glanced back at my siblings. Aegon and Aemond exchanged looks of annoyance, while Helaena's smile widened ever so slightly.

It was definitely something the king would do, driven by a desperate eagerness to reunite his fractured family. His yearning for peace eclipsed any lingering complexities or reservations.

"Very well then," I replied, holding the door open wider to welcome them inside.

Jace stepped into the room, his broad shoulders now filling the space he once darted through as a boy. Despite his new strength, there was still a hint of that boyish vulnerability in the way he glanced around, uncertain, searching for an anchor.

Luke followed closely behind, his demeanour more reserved, casting cautious looks around the chamber as if sizing up the unfamiliar surroundings.

I would be lying if I claimed not to find Jace immensely attractive. We had grown up together, inseparable in our youth until circumstances led us down separate paths. Now, with his return, a rush of familiarity stirred within me, accompanied by a subtle yet undeniable flutter of feelings.

His features had matured since we last met, chiselled by the passage of years into the handsome countenance that now captivated my gaze.

As he greeted us with a hesitant smile, I couldn't help but notice how his eyes lit up when they met mine, recognizing the shared history that bound us. The years apart had only deepened my appreciation for the person he had become.

I exchanged a knowing glance with Helaena, who had always been privy to the unspoken depths of my heart.

"It would be easy for you to lie and say you had spent time with us, there is no reason to actually do it" Aegon's voice cut through the uneasy silence, his tone laced with bitterness. 

I let out an exasperated sigh, sensing the familiar spiral of confrontation looming ahead.

"Aegon, for once in your life, can you not be so dreary?" I interjected, trying to inject a note of levity into the charged atmosphere. 

Jace's soft laughter at my words offered a brief reprieve, and I turned towards him with a mirrored smile.

Aegon's eyes narrowed as he noticed our shared moment, a flush of embarrassment darkening his features. He leaned back in his chair, his retort sharp and defensive. "And could you not be so insufferable for once, my sweet sister?"

"She's far more tolerable than you," Helaena's quiet remark carried a weight of truth that hung in the air like a silent accusation.

Despite the tension, I couldn't suppress a laugh at Helaena's understated wit. 

Aegon's grip on his goblet tightened, as if crushing it could somehow silence the rage boiling within him. His next words cut through the room with a venomous edge. "Keep your mouth shut, wife."

The words stung, igniting a fiery response within me. 

"Don't speak to her like that!" My voice rose, filled with a mixture of anger and protective instinct. "Helaena deserves better than your constant disrespect."

Aegon sneered, his voice dripping with scorn, his tone turning nastier. "Oh, so now you're the defender of all things virtuous? Spare me, sister. Your holier-than-thou attitude is nauseating."

"At least I care about someone other than myself!" I shot back, the frustration of years of pent-up grievances spilling forth. "All you do is drink and wallow in self-pity."

Aegon's eyes flashed with fury, his retort laced with raw emotion. "You think you're better than me? You, who pretends to be so noble?"

"You are a disgrace," I responded, my voice cold and cutting. "Your behaviour shames us all."

Aegon stood abruptly swaying slightly, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that danced across his contorted face, twisted with anger and bitterness.

"And you think you're so perfect? You're nothing but a hypocrite, always judging everyone else while pretending to be the pure, untouchable princess," he accused, his words dripping with venom.

"Better a hypocrite than a drunken fool," I shot back, my own anger rising to meet his.

Aegon's hand slammed down on the table, the force causing the wine to spill from his goblet and pool across the polished wood. 

"You know nothing of my struggles, nothing of my pain," he seethed, his eyes flashing with anguish. "You're just a spoiled brat who's had everything handed to her."

"And you?" I countered sharply, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "You've wasted every opportunity given to you, drowning in your own misery."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, edged with a dark mockery. "And what about you? Unmarried, unloved. I wonder why that is, maybe no one wants you after all."

His words struck like a dagger, twisting in wounds I had long buried. The mask of control I had worn so carefully began to crack, and with it, the flood of years of resentment threatened to drown us both.

"You know nothing of my choices or my heart," I shot back, my voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and defiance. "You think marriage defines worth? Perhaps it's your own inability to love beyond yourself that repels others."

Aegon's face contorted with a mixture of fury and hurt pride, his retort sharp and unforgiving. "Always quick to judge, aren't you? Maybe if you weren't so cold and aloof, someone might actually care for you."

Jace stepped forward, his voice cutting through the taunting atmosphere with firmness. "That's enough, both of you."

Aemond's gaze shifted to Jace, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Defending her, are you? Have you taken a liking to our sister, Jace?"

Aegon chimed in, his tone laced with mockery now as a sly smile formed on his lips. "Yes, do tell us. Has our dear sister captured your heart?"

Jace's cheeks flushed crimson, caught off guard by the teasing. He stumbled over his words, attempting to deflect. "I—I'm just trying to keep the peace."

Aegon chuckled, nudging Aemond with his elbow. "Oh, look at him blush! Our little nephew seems quite smitten."

Aemond leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "How charming. Tell us, Jace, do you dream of her at night?"

Aegon joined in with a smirk of his own, stoking the teasing further. "Do you imagine every possible way to have her?"

Jace's discomfort only seemed to fuel their amusement. He cleared his throat nervously, searching for a response that would deflect their teasing without adding more fuel to their fire.

"Aegon, Aemond, stop," I interjected firmly, my patience wearing thin. "This is not amusing."

They paid no heed to my warning. Aegon's smirk widened, his tone goading. "Come now, nephew. Don't be shy. Share with us your feelings for our sister."

Jace looked to me for support, and all I could offer was a sympathetic glance. 

"Aegon, stop it," I repeated, my voice carrying a note of authority that demanded their attention.

Determined to put an end to the escalating conflict, I rose from my seat and swiftly moved to disarm Aegon. His drunken grip on the cup and his words had crossed a line that demanded intervention.

"You've drank enough, and you've said enough," I asserted firmly, reaching out to take the spilling cup from his hand.

Before I could complete the action, Aegon's hand shot out and seized the back of my hair, his grip tight and painful. A sharp cry escaped my lips as the cup slipped crashing loudly to the floor and creating a mess.

Instantly, Aemond, Jace, and Luke sprang to their feet, ready to intervene. Helaena, anticipating the eruption of violence, covered her ears, bracing herself for the impending confrontation.

"Aegon, let go!" I screamed, agony pulsing from his tight grip. "You're hurting me!" My voice cracked with both pain and disbelief.

His face twisted with rage, and he spat out a venomous epithet. "You bitch."

"Brother, that's enough," Aemond interjected sternly, attempting to diffuse the situation.

Aegon's response was a mocking laugh. "Is it really? Our sweet sister should learn that vying for the attention of a bastard is a form of betrayal."

"Release her," Jace commanded, stepping forward with a protective stance. 

Aegon scoffed but finally relinquished his hold on my hair, shoving me forward as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience. Jace reacted swiftly, catching me in his arms and steadying me as I stumbled.

I took a step back, trembling with a mix of fear and indignation, my hand instinctively going to the back of my head where Aegon's fingers had dug into my scalp.

"Get out, all of you," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

Aegon and Aemond were the first to leave, their departure marked by heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor. Luke followed, casting a worried glance back at me before disappearing through the doorway. 

Helaena hesitated, her concern evident in the lingering look she gave me, but I waved off her worry with a strained smile.

As Jace turned to leave, his steps measured and deliberate, he paused midway through the room hesitation tugging at him. Something in his expression softened as he glanced back at me, concern etching lines across his usually composed features.

"Are you alright?" His voice was gentle, laced with genuine worry as he approached me.

I nodded, but it was a shaky, uncertain gesture. The events of the evening still lingered in my mind, leaving a trail of raw, unsettled emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Are you sure?" His voice was barely above a whisper, a gentle coaxing that made my heart ache.

"Yes," I murmured, though the word felt hollow, lacking the conviction I wanted to convey. It was more of a reflex than a reassurance.

Jace closed the distance between us, his touch feather-light as he wiped away a stray tear from my cheek. His fingers lingered, warm and reassuring, replacing the lingering ache left by Aegon's harsh grip.

We stood facing each other, the air thick with unspoken words and unexplored feelings. His thumb brushed against my cheek, a gentle caress that I couldn't help but lean into.

Without words, without hesitation, our faces drew closer until our lips were mere inches apart.

The tension and uncertainty of the evening melted into a shared longing, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken bond that had grown between us over the years.

Our kiss began tentatively, a delicate exploration of newfound emotions and buried desires. Lips met in a tender embrace, conveying more than words could ever express.

As the kiss deepened, I felt a surge of passion that had long been suppressed. The teasing banter, the familial tensions they all ignited something within us, a fire that burned brighter with each heartbeat. 

Jace's hands cupped my face with a tenderness that spoke of reverence, drawing me closer. There was no rush, no urgency, just a profound sense of rightness in the way we fit together. I responded eagerly, my fingers tangling in his hair.

When we finally parted for breath, our chests rose and fell in unison, the shared intensity of the moment leaving us both breathless.

"We should stop," I whispered against his lips, the rational part of me aware of the complications and consequences.

"We should," Jace agreed, his voice husky with desire, but his eyes, locked on mine, told a different story.

"Are you going to stop?" I asked, my breath mingling with his as we lingered in the closeness of the moment, neither of us willing to pull away.

"No," he murmured, his voice a promise and a declaration. His arms tightened around me as he drew me back into another fervent kiss.

In that embrace, we surrendered to the truth that had been growing between us all this time. 

It was a truth that had been quietly blossoming, nurtured by shared glances, stolen moments, and an unspoken understanding that had always lingered just beneath the surface.

A/n - We should stop...no!