#the only two people who are able to deeply understand me right now have had intense days and I don't wanna burden the

[jules-van-hering]

It's (tumblr) public breakdown time 🥳

[boredsupergirl]

They as your lovers

Summary: Scenarios where you cheat on your boyfriend with them

Warnings: sex without a condom, infidelity, oral (receiving), gun kink, power play

Ran He entered your house once your boyfriend had left for work. The moment he crossed the threshold of the door, he lunged towards you and kissed you deeply. He was in the mood, he had just left one of Tenjiku's meetings and you quickly took off his uniform, revealing his muscled torso. You couldn't wait to go to the room, so he simply threw you on the couch. “I hope he doesn't get here before then, honey” He said, before inserting two fingers into your entrance, making you moan quickly. You couldn't answer him, he only listened to your moans and delighted in them. He did so by maintaining a brutal rhythm so much that you couldn't even process your thoughts well and what was happening. You hadn't even realized when he entered you without warning without a condom, you tried to say something, but he immediately covered your mouth. You rolled your eyes because you couldn't take the rhythm he was doing it with too well. “It would be nice for him to see you like this right now, wouldn't it, darling?

Rindou Both of you were in a nightclub, you were relaxed because you weren't expecting your boyfriend there at that moment. So you were next to Rindou feeling his hand on your thigh, caressing lightly. You looked around and decided to sit on his lap, he could have made you retract with just that look he gave you, but this time you didn't, you just kept giving little kisses on his neck, leaving hickeys that were too noticeable. He didn't resist anymore. The marked neck was never a problem for him, less when people knew what places he went to. He took you tightly by the waist and laid you down on the expensive silk sofa of the club. You could see how everyone pretended not to understand and did not look you directly in the eyes. It was Rindou Haitani, no one was going to dare to say anything to him, no one would dare to tell your boyfriend that you were with him. Anyway, everyone would know who would win. “You seem to be feeling naughty today, don’t you?” He asked, unzipping your dress. “Always,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.

Sanzu You were up against his car, sitting on your knees in front of him. If you had a boyfriend, that poor boy already knew it. Well, he wasn’t discreet at all when he had you. Sanzu pulled the gun out of his pants and pointed it straight at your head. You unzipped his pants, putting his member inside your mouth, it was so messy that you could see saliva dripping from your lip. You felt him press the barrel to your forehead and knew you had little time to make him cum before he got completely bored of you. Once you felt his messy breathing, you were able to relax knowing he would release all of his seed into your mouth. When he released his full load, you noticed how you needed your own release as well. However, they weren’t there for that. “God, you’re such a good bitch,” he praised you through his sighs. You just stood there waiting for his next command. “Get up already,” he ordered you sharply. "Don't you see that your boyfriend could see you" Your heart tightened. He was mocking you. Everyone already knew the truth. “Oh come on,” he continued to mock you. “You couldn’t leave me if you wanted to. He was right.

[actuallysaiyan]

Let Me Into Your Heart(Rufus Shinra x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, use of pet names, smoking, drinking, general lewd stuff, love confessions, promiscuity word count: 1.8k pairings: Rufus Shinra x Fem!Reader summary: you were hired to be Rufus' cocksleeve when times get tough and he's stressed, but he fell so hard for you...yet he feels disgusted to confess to you because of how he's treated you before a/n: this is for he lovely @beneathstarryskies!! I love you and I hope you enjoy!!!

Rufus does all he can to control and contain himself whenever he is around you. You’re like a siren, calling to him dangerously. Your perfume smells a little too sweet, it makes his pants a little too tight at times. Sometimes he has to find a private place to take care of the issue before it becomes even worse.

You were hired specifically as someone who helps him with his stress and his problems. You soothe his needs whenever he needs it, which seems to be a lot more than you realized. When you were approached for this job, you figured you’d be giving a bratty heir to the Shinra company some tips on breathing exercises and some yoga stretches. But Rufus showed you almost immediately that you belonged on his bed, ass up and face down. Despite the sexual nature of your job, you kept your own feelings locked up tightly.

And Rufus believed he was doing the same thing. He thought for sure he could keep himself from falling so deeply for you. You were just a cute little cocksleeve. Nothing more, nothing less. But the more you tried to help him with other issues in his life, and the more you listened to him as you two stayed cuddled in his bed, the more he became aware of the growing feelings. It wasn’t long before he was growing mad at the fact that he had fallen head over heels for you.

You had been hired to soothe his needs, and here you were, invading his every waking thought.

You’re just too sweet, and too beautiful. He believes sometimes you’re an angel sent down to heaven just for him. Someone who would truly understand him whenever he wasn’t feeling very cared for. When the world wanted to beat him over and over and he couldn’t find the strength to hold on for much longer, you were there to show him that things were going to be okay. Your gentle touches and sweet kisses were what kept him up at night. And they were driving him mad…mostly because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

At times, he begins to wonder if he’ll just end up like his father. Horny and whoring himself around to anyone. He tries to hook up with a few people to forget about you, but none of these women know how to make him feel warm and loved. None of them know what he likes in bed. You know how to get him off without even really trying. He’s just worried that he won’t be able to keep it in his pants if he can’t continue to have you. If he falls deeper for you, then he’s going to have to claim you.

But the more time he spends with you, the more he’s realizing he’s falling deeper and deeper. Rufus grows angrier because this was never supposed to happen. It was supposed to be casual sex and blowjobs under his desk. Never was it supposed to grow into a warmth in his heart where your name remains etched. Never was it supposed to be something so soft and blissful like this. And yet, he can’t deny it anymore. He’s in love with you and this both scares and soothes him.

One night after a particularly long and hard day at work, Rufus finds himself feeling so antsy. He’s scared to ask you to come over, because he thinks this might be the night he confesses to you. He’s not ready for that right now. He can’t just spit out his feelings to you. It terrifies him to think about telling you how he feels about you, only for you to stare at him, or to laugh…or worse to tell him you never want to see him ever again.

Despite you being the person that was hired to soothe his needs, Rufus feels a little off about asking you to take care of him. He doesn’t want to worry you, because he knows you will worry about him. You’ll show him kindness and care, and you will offer to probably make him dinner. The thought doesn’t sit right with him. You treat him like he’s your husband, but it just makes him feel even more dirty.

He sits in his penthouse, sipping on a mixed drink and he’s indulging in his one vice he hides from almost everyone. Plumes of smoke float around as he puffs on a cigar. Usually it would be a cigarette, but he needed something stronger tonight. Something to get his mind off the aching in his cock and the aching in his heart.

One hand holds the cigar while the other begins to palm his cock through his fancy dress pants. He’s thinking about asking you to come here, but with every thought of you being on your knees for him, the more he becomes disgusted with himself. He needs to figure out a better way to deal with him being pent up, but there’s nothing else he wants besides you.

He begins to scroll through his phone, looking for other women he could contact so that he could just have a quick fuck. But he keeps seeing your posts and your selfies, and it makes his cock twitch even more. He takes another drag from his cigar, then he stubs it out in the ashtray. He finishes off the drink, grimacing as the alcohol goes down roughly.

Eventually, he gets too frustrated with himself. He gets up from his seat on the balcony. Nothing is going to quench his thirst like you. Nothing will make him satisfied like you. He texts his driver to come pick him up so he can go to you.

The minute he’s out of the car in front of your place, there’s something that snaps within him. He begins banging on the door, loudly and hard. He needs you more than even he can comprehend at this point.

“Come on, I know you’re in there. Let me in!”

His voice surprises and excites you. He’s ready to show you just how much he loves you, but you really have no idea of his intentions. You figure he must just be over for a booty call. When you open the door, he’s pushing his way inside immediately. You see something deep in his eyes, and you notice just how much darker they are. You’re hit with the scent of his natural musk coupled with whiskey.

“Rufus, what—”

But you’re interrupted with his lips crashing down on yours. It feels so good to be kissed roughly by the man you had fallen in love with. What he never realized was that you had been battling your own inner demons about confessing to him. You figured he’d never want to fall in love with someone so plain and not from a rich family.

“You’re mine, you got it?” He growls in your ear as he begins leading you towards your room.

He’s only ever been here a few times, but every time that he’s here, he’s filled with love and comfort. It’s so warm and cozy in here, Everything bears your scent as well, which only seems to make him want to claim you even more. Once inside the bedroom, he’s pushing you onto the bed. You try to ask him what’s going on again, but he’s shushing you with a deep searing kiss.

“My pretty little baby,” he groans in your ear as he begins to grind against you. “You’ve been on my mind all day.”

Your eyes widen, “Really?”

He kisses you again, this one makes your head whirl. You know nobody can make you feel the way he does. His hands cup your face, pulling you in even closer. Your hands softly caress his back, making him grunt as you begin to massage his tense shoulders.

“How am I supposed to stay away?” he asks, his eyes so dark with lust.

“You don’t need to.”

And with that, you capture his lips with yours in a passionate kiss. He drinks you in, relishing in the way your tongue is so soft against his own. With able hands, he begins to undress you. You’re doing the same to him. Both of you too pent up to take your time. You need each other and you need each other now.

Once you’re undressed, Rufus takes a moment to take you all in. You’re so beautiful, so angelic. A goddess made specifically just for him. You let out a sweet whine when his fingers begin to play with your soaked folds. He loves how you’ve become so wet for him just from some making out.

“I tried to keep myself from you,” he confesses between heated kisses. “But I can’t anymore. I need you,”

You pant, “Take me. I’m all yours.”

He spreads your thighs, and his eyes are locked onto your beautiful glistening cunt. You reach over and begin stroking his aching cock, making him hiss through gritted teeth. He’s in heaven right now, and he knows it’s only going to get better from here.

Slowly, he slips into you. Inch by delicious inch begins to stretch you out. Your eyes roll back the minute he bottoms out. Your hands weakly reach out for him as you try to grind yourself. It’s all too much, you can already feel your walls beginning to contract around him,

Rufus leans in for a sweet kiss, and he knows he won’t last long either. Now or never, he’s going to tell you just how much he adores you. He begins rocking his hips slowly, surprising you both. You figured you’d be getting pounded into the mattress tonight, but Rufus needs you to be so close to him.

“How I have longed for you,” he murmurs against your sweat-slicked skin. “I love you, my angel.”

You gasp at his words. He thrusts deeply a few more times, making the coil in your tummy so tight. You barely have time to warn him that you’re coming undone when the dam breaks. You cling to him as he fucks himself deeper and harder, prolonging that blissfully sweet pleasure. You’re sobbing and moaning and mewling, just holding onto him as he gives you the most heavenly orgasm you’ve ever felt.

“Shit–” he grunts. “Can I? Can I cum inside?”

You nod, “Yes, please! Please!”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. It’s intense, throbbing and messy. Ropes of hot cum begin filling up your awaiting womb. You both move against one another, prolonging the sweetest orgasm you’ve ever had. Then slowly, you two stop and hold onto each other.

“I love you too, Rufus.”

And for the first time in a little while, he believes that things can be okay. Things can be okay because he has you.

[pathologicalreid]

Ok, first of all, I'm OBSESSED. You understand Spencer as a character SO well!

Second of all, could I maybe request a part 2 to neophyte? Maybe where reader wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares (seeing all the faces of those she killed, all the faces of those she couldn't save, or whatever else tickles your fancy) and reaches our to Spencer?

sympathy for the devil | S.R.

previously

Following your previous talk, a bad case leads to you taking Reid up on his offer to help.

who? spencer reid x platonic!BAU!reader category: angst content warnings: anxiety, exhaustion, nightmares, gore (cm), general cm violence, suicide word count: 1.71k a/n: do you remember that episode after m*eve dies where spencer tried to talk that guy out of offing himself? that's where i got the idea for this from. thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy it!

At the shot of the gun, you launched into a sitting position. Placing your hand over your heart as if it would slow the pounding, you inhaled deeply through your nose.

Using the heels of your palms, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and groaned. That nightmare made three tonight alone, always the same, always Josh Quinn. Sighing, you pulled your loose t-shirt off of where it stuck to your clammy skin and got out of bed, walking into the kitchen to acquire a glass of water.

The team had started to notice your exhaustion. Just yesterday, Rossi had taken you for a coffee trip and tried to talk to you about it, but you just told him you were figuring it out. JJ tried to get you to go to a boxing class with her, but you could barely drag yourself out of bed for work, let alone to get your ass kicked.

You tried flipping through your scrapbook. When Spencer told you he hung the photos of people he had saved and victims above his bed, you decided to make a scrapbook.

But you didn’t save Josh Quinn, he killed himself. Blew his brains out right in front of you because you failed. You failed to talk him down off of that metaphorical ledge, and he killed himself.

Months ago, you talked to Spencer about how you had begun doubting your ability to do the job, and he convinced you otherwise. You wondered if he still thought the same. He was the only member of the team who hadn’t reached out to you, so you doubted that.

You swirled your water in the glass and sighed, it was three in the morning, and you had gotten approximately two hours of sleep. Assuming the team didn’t get called out to a case, you should be able to make it through the workday, but it had been almost two weeks since you traveled. You were pushing your luck.

Grabbing your phone off of the charger, you wandered to sit down on the couch. You scrolled through texts. Your mother, whom you had been neglecting to call back, was concerned. She threatened to call your boss, but she didn’t have Emily’s number.

For a split second, your thumb hovered over Spencer’s contact. You remembered what he had told you, ‘If you ever need help processing the job, or anything else, you can call.’

People said things all the time that they didn’t mean, but you were desperate, so you pressed the call button. On the first ring, you panicked and hung up. What were you thinking? It was three in the morning; you’d wake him up.

Dropping your phone in your lap, you set your face in your hands. You felt like you were finally losing it.

And then your phone started buzzing. Furrowing your brows, you looked at the screen to see that Reid was calling you back. Now it would be rude for you to not answer, so you swiped your thumb across the screen and brought your phone to your ear. “Hi,” you said meekly.

“Hey,” he responded, “What’s wrong?”

Your shoulders drooped, “There’s nothing wrong, I’m fine.”

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line, “You’re calling me at three fifteen in the morning. There’s something wrong, Y/N.”

Scowling, you pulled your feet up so that they were tucked underneath yourself. “I’m really sorry for waking you, Reid.”

“I wasn’t asleep. I was reading, had no idea what time it was,” he said to you. You weren’t sure if he was telling you the truth, or if he was just trying to make you feel better. “Are you alright?”

You closed your eyes tightly, “Yes,” you choked out the lie. “I’m fine.”

The other end of the call was quiet for so long that you checked to see if the call had dropped. “Hang on, I’m coming over,” he said.

“Uh, no, please don’t do that,” You spoke urgently.

There was a jingling that came through the phone, probably car keys, “Something is blatantly wrong, and you aren’t telling me what it is. If I’m there in person, you might be more willing to talk to me.”

Or maybe you’d feel forced to talk to him. You bit your tongue, “Okay, Spencer.”

Fifteen minutes later, there was a gentle knock on your door. You coaxed yourself off of the couch and to the door, opening it and crossing your arms in front of your chest self-consciously.

Wordlessly, you opened the door wider, effectively inviting Spencer in. He was dressed similarly to you, in a plain t-shirt and pajama pants. His glasses were donned upon his nose, you had forgotten he even wore glasses. Once he was inside, you shut the door behind him, and he set his things on the entryway table.

Matching your closed-off stance, he looked at you suspiciously, “What is going on with you?” He asked.

You had wholly expected his tone to be accusatory, but instead, it dripped with concern. Concern for you. Your face fell, “I don’t know,” you whispered. “I don’t know,” you said a little louder that time.

“When did it start?” He asked, gently ushering you over to your couch, he had you sit down before sitting in the armchair across from you.

Shrugging, you absentmindedly picked at the skin surrounding your nails. “Josh Quinn,” you muttered.

Slowly, realization dawned on Spencer’s features. “That wasn’t your fault,” he told you sincerely. “Are you listening to me?”

You nodded softly, “I couldn’t save him,” you rasped, your face crumpling as you did. The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Reid, and yet, there you were. “I tried; I thought that if I could just make him see what I saw that… He was only seventeen.” He had killed three of his classmates, but he didn’t need prison or to die. He was a kid, he needed someone to hug him and tell him it would be okay.

“Do you trust me?” Spencer asked.

The question threw you for a moment. “Of course,” you trusted Spencer. You trusted the entire team with your life. You couldn’t be a team without that kind of trust.

His mouth tightened for a moment, “Then trust me when I tell you that no one could have talked him out of killing himself.” You weren’t sure you had ever seen Spencer so serious.

You leaned back, letting your body meld into your couch cushions, “You could have.”

Spencer shook his head, “No, Y/N. I heard everything you told him. You did everything right; I would’ve said the exact same things.” His eyes studied your body language for a moment, “Once a person makes that decision, there is a point of no return. Quinn made that decision, and there was nothing you could’ve done or said to change his mind.”

Trying to understand what he was telling you, you nodded softly. “I killed him,” you murmured.

“No, you didn’t,” Spencer corrected you immediately, leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees.

Your brows narrowed, “I might as well have. He might still be alive if I had done something different.” Pulling your knees to your chest, you took a shaky breath.

Following him with your eyes as he moved, Spencer sat next to you on the couch. “Did you pull the trigger?”

“No, but-“ you started.

“Then there’s nothing else to it. You didn’t kill him. His blood is not on your hands, do you understand me?” He said sternly.

Begrudgingly, you nodded in response. “I don’t know what to do,” you whispered helplessly. “I see him when I sleep, his brain all over the walls. It’s…” you faltered, “it’s haunting me.”

Spencer gave you a moment before responding, “Your ability to feel so much sympathy toward people like Quinn is what makes you such a great agent – a great profiler” He told you earnestly.

You shrugged, “The firearm’s instructor at the academy told me that my sympathy would get me killed in the field.”

“Well, if the firearm’s instructor at the academy hasn’t changed in the last fourteen years, then he’s an ass,” he told you.

A small laugh escaped your lips, surprising you as much as it did Spencer. “I’m glad that’s a universal experience,” you responded as the silence between you shifted from awkward to comfortable. “Thanks for coming,” you whispered.

Spencer smiled at you, “You’re welcome, but why did you take so long to call?” He inquired.

“What do you mean?” You asked, leaning forward, and resting your chin on your knees.

He sighed, “That case was almost two weeks ago, Y/N. If you haven’t been sleeping for two weeks, that’s a problem. Why didn’t you call?” He repeated quizzically.

Shrinking back into yourself, you frowned, “I was embarrassed and tired. I wanted to try to figure it out on my own before I went to someone else.”

“You’re not alone, you know?” Spencer said, his voice was gentle like you were a wild animal that he was trying not to spook. “Wait, you do know we’re friends, right?” He asked, “We aren’t just coworkers, we’re friends. Everyone in the BAU is your friend, whether you like it or not.”

Turning to face him, “I know we’re friends, Spencer. Coworkers don’t just show up at each other’s apartments because one of them is having a hard time.” Maybe you didn’t realize how good of friends, but it certainly brought you some semblance of comfort to know that you had people in your corner.

You watched as Spencer pulled out his phone, his fingers nimbly typing on the keypad of his artifact of a phone.

“What are you doing?” You asked, being nosy and trying to read what he was typing out.

He kept typing, tilting the screen away from your view, “I’m telling Emily that you’re sick and taking the day off.”

Your lips parted in surprise, “Spencer!” You reached out for his phone, but he lifted it over his head, having already sent the text. “Do you have younger siblings?” You asked.

Spencer shook his head, “No, only child. Why?”

“Because you act a lot like an older brother,” you grumbled.

previously

please remember to like, comment, and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[doumadono]

Hii!! I wanna send an emergency request and I'm sorry if it's too much or anything but a week ago it was my birthday and the exact same day my grandma passed away. My grandma is one of the people dearest and close to me so losing her,especially on my birthday, It hurts alot. My birthday wasn't happy that day, usually my grandma would bake me a cake and my favorite foods that would always bring me joy and now it's gone, she's gone and I can't do anything about it but accept. I was wondering if you could do Katsuki comforting gn!reader? I really appreciate if you do. 💕

"Lean on me" - Bakugo x gn!Reader

A/N: I’m so so sorry for your loss. Your grandma sounds like an incredible person who brought so much joy to your life. It’s okay to grieve and miss her deeply. Hold on to those cherished memories and allow yourself to feel all the emotions

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the dorm room in a gentle twilight. The only sound was the soft rustling of pages turning as you sat curled up on the sofa, trying to distract yourself with a book. Yet, the words blurred together, your mind too occupied with the heavy weight of grief to focus.

Your birthday had always been a day of joy, a day filled with laughter, homemade cakes, and your grandma's warm embrace. But this year, the day had taken a cruel turn. The news of her passing still echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the irreplaceable loss you had suffered.

A gentle knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and Katsuki Bakugo, your classmate, walked in. "Hey, nerd," he said, his voice gruff yet unusually gentle. "Mind if I join you?"

You nodded, managing a small, grateful smile as he settled beside you.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"I know today was supposed to be different," Katsuki began, his voice low and steady. "And I know it hurts like hell. Losing someone you love, especially like this... It's not something you just get over, goddammit."

You glanced up at him, surprised by the depth of understanding in his words.

Katsuki had always been tough, sometimes even abrasive, but in this moment, he was showing a side of himself you rarely saw.

"I don't have any magic words to make it better," he continued, his eyes meeting yours. "But I can tell you this - it's okay to feel like crap. It's okay to miss her, to cry, to be angry. You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and Katsuki reached out, brushing it away with surprising gentleness. "She loved you. And she wouldn't want you to be alone right now."

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, and more tears streamed down your flushed cheeks.

"Remember the good times," your friend said softly. "The way she smiled, the way she made you laugh. Keep those memories close. They don't replace her, but they can help you carry on."

His words were like a balm to your aching heart. You leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth and strength while you choked yourself on your own tears. "It's not fair!"

Katsuki wrapped an arm around you, holding you close as you let the tears flow freely. "I know, Y/N. But I'm here for you," he murmured. "Not just today, but every goddamn day. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. Just tell me, yeah?"

For a while, you simply sat there, finding comfort in Katsuki's steady presence. The pain of your loss was still there, a deep, aching void, but his support made it a little more bearable.

Eventually, the tears subsided, leaving you feeling exhausted but a little lighter. You looked up at Katsuki, offering him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," you whispered. "I just hope I'll be able to... You know... To go through this."

"You're strong, and you'll get through this, no doubt here. And I'll be right here with you, little nerd. And you can always lean on me."

[queers-gambit]

When Pride Married Prejudice

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: in the beginning, your mother delivers disturbing news, but perhaps, not all is as it seems.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, small angst, 150% filler, small background, author breaks the fourth wall once but go with it - i promise it works. author is also given free rein of her imagination and this came out...hmm... ❗️major season one, episode seven spoilers

"What?" You asked with a beg over the sounds of the crashing waves on the cliffside your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, had lead you out to stand on. She had just delivered devastating news with a sympathetic gaze, making you beg her again, "Say it's not true, Mother, please, no, no. Th-This isn't... Mum, how could this happen?"

"I am truly sorry, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra sighed, nodding at you as her hands caressed both your cheeks to sweep stray tears as they fell. Her forehead met yours, making her whisper, "But while I could not stop the entire proposal, I was able to bargain for leeway."

"What does that mean?" You pulled back to look into her lavender eyes. They were full of sadness and regret.

"You will remain at Dragonstone with your family, so I might continue to teach you - and so you do not have to interrupt your other studies. But..." She sighed deeply, blinking a few times to clear her thoughts.

"But?"

"They want you married before you turn ten-and-eight."

"No," you blanched, shaking your head in refusal to free yourself of her comforting hold, "they cannot make me marry him. Mother, please, do not let this happen."

"I could only barter for us a few years yet, my love."

"This is the payment they demand?"

"Better this, my sweet dove, then that of blinding your brother," she countered with a frown. "The Queen was unwilling to barter at first, but the King thought it a rightful proposal."

"And who, might I ask, offered my hand to Aemond Targaryen for payment over a childish squabble - that, yes, did maim the boy, but that's not... It's not like... Oh, Gods, yes, okay, when I say it out loud, I suppose I can understand the reasoning. Then why does this still feel so wrong, Mother?"

She frowned and reached for you, pulling you in closer to hold. You clung to her in fright, allowing yourself a moment of rare vulnerability as you stood alone; the only sounds around you, that, of the temperamental sea. She spoke softly in your ear, "I am truly so very sorry, my sweet girl. I am." Her hand pet the back of your head, but her grip remained strong. "But there is honor in fulfilling one's duty. I wanted very different things for you, but fate is funny at times."

You tightened your hold on her. "Tell me the truth, Mother, what's happened?"

She sighed and laid a long, solemn kiss to the top of your head. "You are of an age now that you will understand." She gave a soft pinch to your chin, "And have always been much too mature for your age."

You chuckled softly, "I often think there's much you don't know about me. I am not the perfect child you've tried to mold me into."

"Oh, I know everything, my girl," she grinned, making you feel heated from embarrassment. "You were truly restless as a child, it was hard to keep you within the castle walls. But might I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"Ser Harwin was always looking after you," she chuckled. "He would take extra shifts in the night to patrol the city just to ensure you were safe. But what he reported back always made my heart swell with genuine pride."

"Might I tell you a secret?" She nodded and let one hand hold your upper arm and the other to caress an unruly strand of hair back behind your ear. "I always wondered if one day, you would name me your heir... So, when I could not sleep, I liked to linger around the city. I liked knowing the people, thinking, if I were to ever govern them, I'd better know them best."

"See?" She nodded. "Always far too mature for your age. Yet the matter of succession with us has differed..." You braced yourself. "You are my eldest child, and my only girl," she spoke fondly. "And when my Father named me his heir, going against decades of tradition, I always promised myself that I would not do the same to my daughter unless I had no choice. I would never make her endure what I was forced to. Yet, you were still young when Jace was born, and your Father and I had a conversation. Should the matter come up publicly, you were always to be heir to Dragonstone, and that was the end of the matter. When Luke was born... Things shifted again, but only just. You were still my heir to our home, but now, Jace is to be my heir after I take the Throne, and then Luke is to succeed his father's birthright to Driftmark."

"And now? With Joffrey?"

"Much will be discussed later," she promised. "But I have declared to the King that you are to inherit our home on Dragonstone, and there is no change in that. He approved, but..."

"But what?"

"He also approved of your hand being offered," she swallowed thickly.

"You would tell me in truth what has happened?" You nodded, holding onto her waist to keep yourselves anchored. She nodded, sighing deeply before starting her tale.

And yet, Dear Reader, to fully understand, we need to go back.

Your hand was held tightly in your father's ever since he received news of his beloved sister, Laena Velaryon, passing away due to complications from childbirth. In an effort to avoid being sliced open and bleeding out to death, Laena had risen from her bloody birthing bed, and hobbled outside to beg her dragon, Vhagar, to let her meet her end through dragon fire.

Neither your Mother, nor Father, the Lord Laenor, knew you had snuck into the study and read the scroll sent to them by your Great Uncle Daemon - who gave an honest recount of events.

Now, he and his two twin daughters, your cousins, Rhaena and Baela, were flying from across the Narrow Sea to lay the charred bones of Laena to rest on her ancestral home. And because Laena was a Velaryon before she took the name Targaryen, she was to be launched into the sea by means of an intricately carved coffin.

She'd rest with other Velaryon's at the bottom of the raging waters.

Laenor stood stoically as his Uncle Vaemond spoke in High Valyrian, proceeding over the funeral service as your entire family - both Velaryon and Targaryen - had gathered to pay their respects. Laena's coffin, which was carved to encapsulate her ethereal beauty, was set to a launching-cliff, and ropes were thread around to push and plunge her into the crashing waves beneath.

However, as Vaemond spoke clearly above them all, he was offering dirty, hardened looks to your Mother as she held your younger brothers around the shoulders. For a moment, you thought it looked as if they were shielding their mother, and you, who had inherited the Velaryon-Targaryen trademark features, stood between them and your father; creating a visual divide, unknowingly.

But you didn't think that way.

Your only concern right now was being there for your sweet, honorable Father, as he grieved silently with tears sliding down his cheeks. His hand was tight, and you knew he drew strength from your presence.

Daemon stood across the way, somewhat beside Vaemond, and could observe those around him as he stood with his hands crossed in front of him. Vaemond's words were veiled with threat, head turning to stare directly at your mother, "Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true." King Viserys even recognized the tone; sparing a look to his daughter, who pulled her sons closer. "And ours must never run thin."

And then, oddly, Daemon started to chuckle.

Oh, one could chalk it up to hysteria of a grieving husband, but you knew better. You were a sponge in the courts and listened to everything said; forming your own opinions and often needing to sort through what you'd heard to form something of a mixed-truth.

You knew of the rumors surrounding your Great Uncle and his niece, your Mother, Rhaenyra... And this moment, where he literally giggled to himself, was in an effort to get the attention off of your Mother - and shift those beady eyes who offered her judgement onto himself.

You knew half-truths, mostly content to observe and just listen. It served you well enough - now, a perfect moment to see through Daemon's hysteria. He was offered nothing but silent, dirty glares - most of which came from your grandparents, the Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; who stood, comforting Daemon's children while still grieving their own lost daughter.

Two young girls who had lost their mother and were watching her about to be laid to rest... And their Father laughs?

While Velaryon blood ran thick with salt, Targaryen blood was hot with fire - and the devastating need to protect one another. In those moments, Daemon felt the burning, pressing need to protect Rhaenyra over comforting his own daughters - something you'd come to grow used to.

The ropes were tightened, and your Father's arm wrapped around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug; something you returned with tight arms. He needed you, and you were there for him.

Salt was thrown over the coffin as it was edged over the cliff and Vaemond gave the final words of service. Just before Laena was plunged over the edge, he spoke, "From the sea we came. To the sea, we shall return."

The day had passed sluggishly and after a meal, you found yourself still with your father - but watching him sadly wade in the waters lapping at the rocky shoreline of the island. Dragons flew above you all, and once or twice, you saw your great emerald beast circling the island; playfully soaring around other (smaller) dragons.

"Daddy?" You called from the shoreline, feeling your nerves spike the longer you stood there. The sun was moving into position to sink and knew the hours grew later. "Daddy? Maybe we should go in now? 'S getting a bit cold - the waters are freezing! Daddy! Come in, please!"

He did not respond, he just stood there; waist-deep in the tide with you watching on the shoreline. Your fingers twisted together in nervousness, feet shifting in the weighty sand.

"Father! Please, come inside with me?" You tried again, but to no avail. He had waded out there after the funeral's dinner, and while everyone gathered on the stone courtyard for drinks and mingling, your father had fancied a walk. For an hour now, he's been standing in the water.

Your head looked up towards where you knew the courtyard was, and caught sight of your grandsire glaring down at your father. He frowned when he caught your eye, then nodded, waving for you to come up. You nodded in return, looking to your father once more.

"Daddy, I have to go in, it's getting late," you tried. "I do not wish to leave you, come with me, please."

"Go on, my sweet darling," Laenor finally croaked - but did not turn.

You sighed with defeat and turned for the archway, hustling up the stone stairs, and just as you reached the top, Ser Qarl was rushing towards you. "Princess," he muttered with a nod, making you smile.

"He will not come in, even for me," you spoke softly, "good luck. Might have to force him out."

"Of course, thank you, Princess," He nodded and darted past you, letting you enter the courtyard finally. There were respectful nods from those who attended the funeral; most offering words of condolences before you caught the eye of the King.

Approaching the two men, you bowed with respect and laid a hand to your Uncle Daemon's arm. "I mean no intrusion, Your Grace, my Prince," you nodded to them both, "and apologize for the interruption I pose, I only mean to extend my condolences to you, Uncle. How sorry I am for your Lady wife, and for this loss you feel."

He nodded, letting his free hand pat over your own. "Thank you, my gentle niece."

"My Prince," you nodded, "Your Grace."

As you took your leave, you heard Viserys offering Daemon to return to King's Landing - to court, or other. You did not hear the rest, finding your mother in the crowd and making a beeline for her through a slew of distant family and members of court offering their words of sorrow.

"Sweet girl," she sighed when she embraced you. "Are you all right? Where is your Father?"

"I could not get him to come in with me," you admitted with shame. "He prefers to stand in the waters, I think it makes him feel close to Laena... Like they're both together again, if only in the tide."

She sighed, petting over your head, "You shoulder too much of your Father's grief, my sweet girl."

"It is never more than I can handle, Mother," you assured. "My skin has grown thick and there is little else to be whispered that can faze me now. My Father needs me, and I am happy to fulfill that duty."

Truth was, once upon a time when you lived in King's Landing, your older cousin, Aegon, started to publicly tease you for being a "Daddy's Girl," and let that come churn-up negative connotations. Rumors grew and festered because of your complexion, where your skin was shades lighter than Laenor's and had bright white hair - while your brothers were pasty-skinned with dark hair.

Aegon liked to tease you for your close relationship and others joined in, thinking it got under your skin. Thinking it was something to laugh about when your Father started to train you beyond what others thought "acceptable". He was your biggest supporter, and helped you push yourself to new limits with horse riding, sword fighting, archery, even just a bit of spear throwing. Laenor and Coryls even once took you on an adventure at sea, where you learned the 'ropes' of sailing and how to fish "properly". You never let the snide comments and vile words taint your view of your "Daddy" because you knew the truth.

Plus, you could just say to Aegon, "You wouldn't know a Father's love even if it slapped you in the face." That shut him up every time.

Rhaenyra smiled at you and gently caressed your cheek, but movement behind your shoulder caught her attention. When you turned to stand at her side with her arm around your waist, you noticed your Uncle Daemon surging past everyone - but stopped when Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who had a public distaste for the Rogue Prince, stopped him to mutter something. You imagine it was condolences, but you were too far to hear it.

When Daemon managed some comment and then escaped down stone stairs, you mother looked around cautiously. "Mother," you warned through the corner of your mouth. "I would not, now is not the time."

"Hush now, my girl, come with me," she sighed, taking your hand, and leading you towards your brothers. When you reached them, she stooped to speak to them, "Your sister is in charge, do as she says, but I want you all to go to bed."

"But, Mother - "

She cut Jace off, "Go to bed."

With a meaningful look to you, you understood and gave her a reassuring nod with a squeeze to her hand; often thinking your minds were connected by some string - making nonverbal communication essential between you. You often found that was what you searched for in a person, first. How their body spoke, despite the words their mouths form.

"Come on, let's say goodnight," you coaxed your brothers, turning to your grandmother and cousins first. You knelt before them, offering, "My sweet cousins, I cannot say how sorry I truly am for this loss. But should you need it, I am here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, cousin," Rhaena whispered, leaning forward to hug you.

"I'm only a few doors down," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. You bid Baela a goodnight as well, letting your brothers step up as you helped your grandmother to her feet. She smiled at you and pet over a lock of hair. "We're going to bed, Grandmother, I will see you in the morning, yes?"

She nodded, sparing a glance to the kids before taking you a few steps from them. She sighed, "How's Laenor?"

You frowned, "He would not come in from the sea, Grandmother. Not even for me..."

"He always had a soft spot for you," she sighed, "surely, if you can't get him in, he'll have to be moved."

You nodded, "I did try."

"You did incredible," she praised, taking both cheeks in hand. "I have heard nothing but songs of how you have been the support your father needs. Thank you for being there."

"It is the least I can do after all he's done for me," you whispered. "I only wish I could take his pain. It is a weight that I fear he is buckling under slowly."

Rhaenys sighed and nodded. "I fear for it, too, my sweet. All right, well," she sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "You get some sleep, some well-deserved rest. You've had a day."

"We all have," you whispered, taking her hands in yours, "and Grandmother? I-I want to tell you that I am sorry for you loss. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

She sighed and nodded, squeezing your hands. "You have always been the sweetest girl - and I am so proud to be your Grandmother. I love you, thank you for your words."

Your eyes shut and let her lean in to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too," you promised, smiling at her when your eyes opened to her softened gaze. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she nodded, letting go of you so you could take your little brothers under your arms.

"Grandfather," you spoke to Corlys as you approached. "I hate to interrupt, but we are off to bed and wish to say goodnight."

He gave you all a smile and gentle hugs, speaking softly, "Goodnight, my dears. I'll see you in the morning." Finding no other family members that you cared enough to speak to, you lead your brothers into the Driftmark castle.

You nodded to those you passed, easily navigating the boys to their rooms and did not leave until they were changed and in bed properly.

"Sister?" Luke whimpered.

"Yes, my sweet?" You paused to turn back to him, single candle in your hand and one on his bedside table.

"I-Is Ser Harwin truly gone?"

You sighed, pausing to sit on his bed and pet some hair off his forehead. "I'm afraid so, sweet boy. But Mother speaks true, the Strongs are not our kin and we are needed here. But that does not mean you cannot mourn him, Luke. He was a gallant knight and truly felt part of our family - though he was not our blood."

He nodded, "Could we say prayers for him?"

"Of course," you agreed. "I'll say one for him tonight, too, all right?"

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you lean in to peck his forehead.

"I love you," you promised, letting a finger push the button of his nose.

"I love you, too," he nodded, snuggling into the blankets. "Good night."

"Good night, sweet boy," You whispered, blowing out his bedside candle and parting ways with your own single candle in a holder. You shut their door and moved for your own room, but just before you could prepare yourself for bed, you heard a strangled roar from your opened windows.

It could've been any dragon, but something felt familiar about this sound.

Something felt wrong and you were quick to change into a pair of trousers, a tunic, and boots; rushing off from your room with the intention of checking on your dear, sweet Kasta. She wasn't by any means the largest around but she showed no sign to stop growing - making her rival a few older dragons already. You worried she was being challenged, and easily snuck from the castle walls.

However, you gasped when you rounded a cliffside and almost ran straight into someone.

"You!"

"Aemond! Gods!" You hissed, glancing around and pushing him towards a small alcove of the cliffs in case of any patrolling guards. "What're you doing out at this hour? You should be in bed!"

"What're you doing out? You should be in bed, too," He retorted quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, "I have reason - "

"Maybe I do, too."

You hummed, eyeing him a moment. "What if we agreed to go about our business - never seeing each other, hey?"

He considered it before nodding. "Deal. I didn't see you, you didn't see me."

"Exactly," you chuckled to your 'uncle', though you were 18 months older than him. It was strange, indeed. "Whatever you're doing, just be careful, Aemond."

He nodded, "Yeah. You, too, Y/N."

You both snuck away in opposite directions - where you made for the mouth of the Dragon Pit, and Aemond, in the direction of open sand dunes. You were curious and considered following him, but you were distracted by wanting to check on Kasta more.

After sneaking beneath the Pit, you could not locate your great beast and didn't know if you felt relief or not. So, you spent the better part of an hour searching for the emerald green beast, sighing with relief when she was located at last. Only after you had to scale a fucking cliff, but she was worth it.

"Kasta," you panted in High Valyrian upon approach, the lazy dragon lifting her head from the sandy nest she'd made. "What're you doing, my girl? Hey?" You chuckled lightly, hearing her whine lowly. You sat at her head, giving it a loving stroke. "It is warm in there?" She lipped at your hands, making you wonder, "You okay? I heard something and worried it was you - that you might've been in trouble?"

She growled lightly, lifting her head in interest when the distinct beating of wings was heard - along with a voice shouting in exhilaration. You lifted your head to spy Vhagar circling the island, curiosity peaking; but also assuring you that it was not your dragon that you heard before.

"I thought Vhagar had no rider?" You questioned Kasta, but the dragon lifted her head to stare into your eyes - giving a knowing look. "I see," you whispered.

There was a shuddering quake to the ground, and you knew somewhere nearby, a dragon landed. When your own dragon gave a soft snarl, you felt something on the back of your neck stand on end. She left her head fall back down as you stood.

Unknown to you, your siblings and cousins had searched for you in your rooms before deciding to confront Vhagar's newest rider by themselves. Yet, unknown to them, you were expertly scaling down the cliffside to rush for the Dragon Pit.

Yet, you were still too late.

Aemond had Luke by the throat - all the kids bloodied and bruised to some capacity - and with a large, jagged rock in a raised hand above his head, Aemond was threatening, "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards!"

"Aemond! NO!" You raged, rushing to the scene out of pure panic from seeing your younger siblings, cousins, and uncle all bearing marks of a fight.

"My father's still alive!" Luke struggled in Aemond's grip, sobbing.

"So, he doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?" Aemond snipped at Jace with a sneer, and to your shock, Jace then brandished a dagger.

"NO!" You finally made it to them; first yanking the two girls further back for safety, but it left time for your brothers to attack. "JACE!" You screamed with Baela, trying to keep them back as the boys were so intertwined in a fight, you could not intercede them. And with a dagger in play, you did not risk being an accidental casualty.

Aemond had thrown back Luke and wacked Jace in the head with the rock - knocking both to the floor in whimpering pain.

"All right, that's enough, hey, hey, no more - no fucking more," you stepped in, hands held in peace. "No, you've all made your points - Aemond, please," you begged when your uncle rose the rock above his hand again, smirking in taunt, with the intention of bashing Jace's head in. "Aemond - think for a moment, do not do this," you tried to reach for him, but it was too late. Jace threw a handful of sand to Aemond's face, blinding him a moment, and leaving time for Luke to pick up the forgotten dagger. "NO, LUKE, DON'T!"

But it was far too late.

Luke swung his brother's dagger upward and sliced through Aemond's face - both boys screaming. One in exhilaration and the other in unfiltered pain.

"NO!" You screamed again, reaching Luke first and making him drop the dagger by wrangling his wrist in your hand; your adrenaline pumping so harshly that you didn't realize when the blade sliced through the skin of your palm. You turned quickly, only vaguely hearing the Knight's Guards arriving. "Aemond, Aemond," you begged, taking hold of the moaning and groaning Prince. "Oh, let me see, let me see, c'mon, lad, 's all right, let me have a look," you hushed, huddling over him for privacy and coaxing his hand away. "Gods be good," you hissed, snapping his hand back in place and using your own to add pressure. Both of your hands bloodied within seconds. "Hold pressure, hold the pressure," you told him softly, looking up to see the White Cloaks. "L-Lord Commander, the Prince Aemond needs a Maester at once."

"Let me see," he knelt.

"No, no, it needs pressure for the bleeding," you told him, keeping firm hold on your distant uncle. "Come, help me get him to his feet."

"What happened?" He demanded, doing as you bid.

"I do not know, I arrived too late," You covered, helping Aemond but turning to walk at his back to keep hold over his hand, over the sliced eye he was basically holding in socket.

It was pure chaos from then on, and once you were all gathered in the throne room, the Maester took over.

"Y/N!? Aemond!? Oh, my Gods! What has happened!?" Alicent demanded as she rushed into the room; Viserys limping with his cane in hand not far behind her.

"In a moment, Your Grace," you pleaded, the boy sitting with your hands still holding in injury.

"I need to see the wound, Princess," the Maester frowned.

"All right," you agreed with him, and then looked to your uncle. "Easy, easy, easy, it's gonna gush a little," you whispered, your bloodied hand peeling Aemond's with your own to give sight to the full injury.

You could've thrown up from the sight, but only stepped away as more members of court arrived on scene and the Maester was swooping in.

Turning to Alicent, you explained, "In truth, Your Grace, I do not know much - other than the boy has been maimed. I read it's important to hold pressure to injury before a professional can take over, so, I only helped the Prince do that," you showed your bloodied hands.

"Dear girl," Viserys took your one hand, "you're bleeding on your own, I can see the cut."

"Oh, i-it's just a small cut, Your Grace," you nodded swiftly.

"How did you come by it?" Viserys demanded. His voice then lowered as he bowed his head to tell you privately, "You alone have always told your Grandfather the truth, do not let that change now."

You gulped but held your head up to tell him quietly, his withered hand still holding your wrist, "When I disarmed Lucerys, Your Grace."

"Why were you not in bed?" Alicent asked.

"In truth, I heard a dragon roar, and it sounded so familiar, I worried it was my dragon, Kasta. She's larger than some and still grows, I worried she was being challenged and then feared she was hurt. I was only out of bed, Your Grace, to check on Kasta, I swear it."

Viserys' eyes flashed to gaze heatedly over the others gathered from after the fight - but otherwise, just sighed. He nodded at you, "You're not at fault for worrying. Go on. Clean your hands, dear girl, let someone bind them."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, nodding with a small smile, "Grandfather."

He smiled briefly in return and patted your shoulder as you turned with dismissal, a handmaiden stepping up to help you wash your hands of blood in a basin and then examine the 'wound'. "It is shallow, Princess," she informed with a nod of her head. "It will heal, but I will bind it to help protect it. Perhaps avoid a sword in this time."

You smiled mutely and nodded, letting her work as the room was stewing in anger and tension as more and more members of the court showed up.

You waited patiently for your mother, letting your anxiety fester to new heights as you began to understand, as the eldest present to the scuffle, you'd be expected to recount events. But you didn't know all of the situation, only what the children had tried to tell you in a jumbled rush on your way there. But they didn't get far as the guards couldn't stand their squabbling, telling them to silence themselves until the King asked for explanation.

As the Maester worked, Viserys was demanding answers of the Lord Commander Westerling, and his Guards; who were not watching the Princes, and therefore, assumed fault for letting everything get to this point. By extension, as second in command with the Queen's Guard, Ser Criston Cole stood under interrogation, as well.

And the King was beyond angry; making you gently flinch when his voice turned hateful towards his guards.

Your hands were wrapped, and you moved along the edge of the crowd to then take a seat on the stone stairs that lead to the throne room to take a moment and think about what you witnessed. You needed time to absorb it all, to just think; to digest.

From beside the light of the hearth, Alicent, watching the Maester work on stitching Aemond's wound closed, asked, "It will heal, will it not, Maester?"

He paused a moment, the room turning towards the Maester and Prince for the answer; and your head lifted to listen. Your brothers stood beside one another without any cleaning to their wounds - simply because they were still on trial for this entire ordeal.

The Maester answered, "The flesh will heal, I'd wager because the Princess Y/N acted quickly to hold pressure." Eyes turned to you as you felt tears of embarrassment and anxiety fill your eyes, bowing your head to avoid their gazes. "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Both of Aemond's parents looked genuinely distraught as you finally stood to near your brothers; taking each of them under your arms. They noted the bandages on your hand, but did not get to comment as the Queen was rounding on her eldest son, Aegon, to demand, "Where were you?"

"Me?" Aegon asked, gasping when his mother's hand clapped against his cheek to whip his head to the side. "Ow!" He yelped, "What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!" Alicent hissed, teeth bared; her anger tangible.

The doors above you clanged open, and Corlys charged through them, demanding, "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Baela? Rhaena!" Rhaenys gasped, following her husband down the stairs. "What happened? What happened?" She asked, taking the girls instantly into her arms.

Corlys looked around with a fierce gaze, standing before you lot as you tightened your hold on the boys. Not a moment later, your mother was finally opening the doors - looking spooked by the news she received. "Jace?" She looked around - and when she located you three, she was shouting, "Luke!"

You stepped back to let your mother kneel before the boys; and felt a hand smooth around your shoulders. Looking up, Corlys brought you into his side for a tight hug. Your bandaged hand laid on his stomach, making him take it up and examine it with a tight jaw.

"Show me, show me," your mother rushed to your little brother, pulling Luke's hands from his face and revealing his own injury. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted from his seat.

"He attacked Baela!" Jace shouted back.

"He broke Luke's nose!" Baela shouted, and then, the over-lapping voices were too great and many to make out. Yet, bits and parts met your ears as Uncle Daemon arrived on scene, and chose to lean on the door with crossed arms instead of rush for his injured daughters. You did not speak, Corlys and you stood silently and listened.

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"Enough," Viserys demanded, but the children still shrilly argued.

"He was going to kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys tried again.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent joined the efforts.

"He called us - "

But Viserys roared over everyone, cutting Jace off, "SILENCE!"

The room echoed with the aftermath of ringing voices; everyone shying into themselves, and making your father's father tighten his hold around your shoulders. Behind you, your brother whispered to your mother, "He called us bastards."

Rhaenyra stood in thought and kept the bloody boys behind her, sharing a small look with you as her eyes skated over your bandage. But nothing could be said as her hands came to wring together as Viserys called, "Aemond..." His cane struck the stone with each step he took, "I will have the truth of what happened... Now."

"What else is there to hear?" Alicent interjected. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident," Rhaenyra swiftly defended - but even she sounded shaken.

"Accident," Alicent repeated, Corlys pulling you back a step to let your mother be seen. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

You wanted to correct her that it was Jace's dagger and Luke only picked it up when her son meant to bash in Jace's head - but now wasn't the time, because your mother was snarling in defense, "It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves." You nodded in agreement, and Viserys saw the motion. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" Viserys questioned.

It was silent before Rhaenyra responded, "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"What?" The King asked.

"He called us bastards," Jace spoke up, making the room go still. This was the confrontation everyone was waiting on...

"Y/N?" Viserys asked, making you tense up.

"What?" Rhaenyra turned to you. "You were involved?"

"I only arrived at the end," you shook your head. "I do not know what was said or done in full," you begged to the King to understand through your words, and it seemed, your other Grandfather did by how he shifted slightly in front of you. "Though, yes, the word 'bastard' was hurled as insult, Your Grace..."

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," your mother swept back in, making you shudder a breath. "This is the highest of treasons..." Her words settled over everyone. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Aemond had turned in his seat to glare at your mother, his older sister; making the King look down at him. But it was the Queen who asked the Princess, "Over an insult? My son has lost an eye - possibly his life, should your daughter not of been there!"

Viserys looked again to Aemond, asking, "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster," Alicent tried to save. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

"Aemond..." Viserys prodded. "I asked you a question."

To save her son from answering, Alicent asked, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?" Viserys agreed, eyes looking to your mother.

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... Could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk," You mother answered.

"Entertaining his younger squires, I would venture," the Queen snipped, making some in the court smirk and snicker as the insult registered.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," you pushed away from Corlys to face Alicent and the King, but your gaze was set on the redheaded woman, "because I understand you are distraught from your son's injury, but do not mistake that for giving you leave to openly insult my father, or add fuel to such allegations. This is not the training yard, Your Grace, leaving no room for bluster. Mind your manners."

"Come here, girl, and hush yourself," Corlys sighed, pulling you back to his side. He sighed as Viserys chose to ignore your comment, which made the Queen stiffen her spine and avoid your heated gaze.

"Aemond... Look at me," Viserys directed to his son, making the One-Eyed Prince meet his father's angered, hardened eyes. "Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

You didn't see the Prince's eyes cut over to his mother, but saw the King straighten his spine to look at his wife - and knew.

It was as if a collective breath was held as the King was then told by his son, "It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon repeated quietly, looking truly shell-shocked to be thrown into the mix. You sighed gently.

The King now turned his sights on his eldest son, growling, "And you, boy?" He stalked up to the taller kid. "Where did you hear such calumnies?" But when his son did not answer, nor meet his gaze, the King shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

With a tremble to his tone, Aegon spoke, "We know, Father." He met his father's gaze, "Everyone knows... Just look at them," his lip curled, "and then look at her. She is true-born, that cannot be disputed."

Your chin lifted as your glare turned deadly, daring anyone to say more as the King was silently surveying the room. But he chose not to pursue this further, and snapped, "This interminable infighting must cease!" His cane punctuated his words. "All of you! We are family!" He only glanced at Aemond, perhaps finding the injury too gnarly to look at longer; turning his gaze to the room again. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

But nobody spoke as the King's words did not feel truly fair. Perhaps, the others were going to wait for him to leave to 'handle' this situation, but before he could, Alicent was speaking, "That is insufficient." The King turned to hear her words. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken!" Alicent refused her husband's words.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys growled.

"There is a debt to be paid," she decided, and the room went still. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Heads turned to look at your mother and brothers, and you broke away to then stand at your mother's side and kept Lucerys behind you. The crowd muttered with discomfort as the King approached the Queen, "My dear wife..."

"He is your son, Viserys," She begged through her tears. "Your blood."

"Do not," Viserys warned, "allow your temper to guide your judgement."

That was supposed to be that, but chaos still rained. She spoke defiantly, "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother!" Luke gasped, and she kept him back and between you.

"Alicent," Viserys tried.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son," Alicent sneered.

"You will do not such thing," Rhaenyra defended and your hands tightened on your brother.

"Stay your hand," Viserys demanded.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent refused with a shout, making it known she was desperate for action. And eyes turned for Cole, knowing he was nothing better than her leashed dog.

"As your Protector, my Queen," Cole refused - a smart decision.

"Alicent, this matter... Is finished," The King leered fiercely. "Do you understand?" It was quiet as the woman did not respond, everyone watching as Viserys turned from the room; but paused to address, "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons," he then directed at Alicent, sneering, "should have it removed."

"Thank you, Father," Your mother spoke softly from her place, something making the hair on your neck stand on end. You did not turn as your mother did, lowering herself to speak to her sons - you watched the Queen.

And thankfully, you did.

You watched her stride for Viserys and yank a dagger from his belt and turn. "Mother!" You gasped, stepping in front of her protectively as the Queen charged.

"Alicent!" Viserys screamed.

"Stay with the King!" Westerling demanded of Cole as he followed Alicent. "HOLD YOUR APPROACH!"

"My girl!" Rhaenyra pushed you out of the way in time to step forward and take hold of either of Alicent's wrists. It was chaos as they engaged; everyone trying to space out and move from the way as the King's Guards were tangled amongst each other.

Luke screamed shrilly in fear as your mother took on Alicent. You wanted to turn for the boys and huddle them close, but Corlys was back at your side, and together, you both stood as pillars in front of them while Princess and Queen struggled against one another.

"Stay your hand, Cole!" Westerling demanded of the disobedient knight; making Daemon push off his post to intercept the man.

"You've gone too far!" Your mother struggled with Alicent.

"I?" The Queen repeated breathlessly. "What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law! While you flout all to do as you please!"

"Alicent! Let her go!" Viserys demanded.

"Mother!" You worried, wondering if you should step in. Would you be reprimanded for cutting down the Queen? You eyed the sword at your Grandsire's hip - leaving it open for you to take.

Yet, you dare not.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" Alicent spoke tearfully still. "It's trampled under your pretty foot, again!"

"Release the blade, Alicent!" Otto, the Queen's father, called from the end of the hall.

"And now you take my son's eye," she told your mother, "and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Your mother countered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." She whispered, "But now they see you as you are."

Alicent shouted in anger; the women pushing away from each other and blade sliced through flesh. Corlys and you both caught your mother when she was flung back, but the sounds of trickling blood pattering onto the floor drew your attention.

"Mum," you worried when her wrist was sliced open to let blood drip freely down her hand, through her fingers; pooling to the stone floor beneath you. "Gods," you whispered, looking up in shock, muttering for those who did not see, "you cut her."

"Darling," your mother hushed, but you were grabbing at her wrist to try to hold pressure - like you were trained to do.

It was silent besides that as everyone waited for the next move to be made. Nobody did until Prince Aemond stepped into the circle; earning the attention of those lingering.

"Do not mourn me, Mother," the Prince spoke softly, looking at Alicent. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... But I gained a dragon."

Vhagar had a new rider.

"This proceeding is at an end," Viserys decided, giving everyone a stern look. Cole wrangled free and Daemon stalked forward to crowd you closer to your mother; Luke coming up to hold your waist as you were holding the wound as tight as possible.

Aemond moved to hug his mother in comfort, something you were doing in your own way. Jace took the rear, and stood with Daemon and Corlys, giving Alicent a first look at the family that would bring ruin to her own. But your mother, too, got a good look at the family who would bring your own doom.

"Could we please see to this?" You asked, nodding at the blood that seeped, again, from between your fingers.

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed. "Perhaps in our rooms."

"Let's go," you pleaded, offering the Hightower Queen one more glare before turning with your mother to keep the pressure on her wound.

"I sought an audience early this morning," your mother explained softly, "before the King and Queen were to depart for King's Landing. And I know it is feeling unfair, my girl, and I do not want to see you go, but the tension can not fester beyond this. Vengeance is a powerful weapon, and I would not see my family harmed for something as petty as this. My hope is that with Viserys around, they will warm up to you, and you will be safe."

"So, after you sent Jace, Luke, and I away this morning, you and Father discussed, what? Selling me off?"

"I know it hurts," she relented, but you sighed.

"No, no, I am only being jealous."

"Of what, sweet girl?"

"Perhaps of not having a cock of my own, so that I might have some say in these matters. Or maybe I am merely jealous of the idea of leaving you while the boys stay. Yet, at least, I will have some time with you yet before I am to marry - not many Ladies can say they have that luxury."

She took a sobering breath, "I knew you'd understand. But for all it can be worth, I am sorry."

You nodded, sighing, "For our family's honor, and for Luke's full vision, I will marry Prince Aemond when the time comes..."

"My girl," she breathed with relief, bringing you in for a bone-crushing hug. After a moment, she pulled back to sniffle; and just over your heads, three of the royal dragons took flight - with Vhagar swooping low to the waters before following the King's ship.

You both paused to stare after them.

"Do you trust them, Mother?"

Rhaenyra sighed, "I trust my father, but the Hightower claws are dug deep." You both breathed for a moment. "You will be a single spot of Targaryen Black in a sea of Hightower Green, my love. Our House words must not be forgotten..."

Your chin lifted, knowing in heart, you would always be a Targaryen Dragon more than a Velaryon Sea Horse - telling her gently, "Fire and Blood..."

"When the time comes," Rhaenyra sighed, "I can only pray I leave you with dragon scales instead of skin - so that their green flames do not burn you, my sweet girl."

You smirked gently at her, "Mother, fire - whether Green or not, cannot kill a dragon. Though I know I've salt in my veins, too, it is the blood of Old Valyria, and fire will be my ally."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned to pull you in closer with a kiss to your head. "I know it is sudden news, but we still have years with each other. Much will change, but I will never leave you feeling unprepared." Movement, again, caught her eye over your shoulder; making her sniffle and sober up. "Go on, go now. Find your brothers for me, please."

You agreed, and after a kiss to her cheek, left her be; passing your silent Great Uncle Daemon along the way with only a head nod of acknowledgement.

Time on Dragonstone was never the same. Days after laying your Aunt Laena to rest, you lost your own father, Lord Laenor, to a petty quarrel he had with his lover, Qarl. The lad was never found, apparently somewhere lost to the Stepstones, but the anger never dissipated. Your mother had welcomed the Knight into the family, and he turned blade on your father?

In Laenor's father's hall?

The devastating blow was hardest on you, who could not grieve far enough. You internalized a lot of it, but your brother's tried to help you shoulder it all - yet this was a path you walked alone. Seemingly only days after that, on your ancestral home, your mother then married her Uncle Daemon, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena were now your step-sisters.

They lived with you all on Dragonstone and your mother took your education very seriously. Professors came into port to be guests of the castle, dedicating hours upon hours a day to tutor you in a broad arrangement of subjects.

History, philosophy, reading, philanthropy, writing, specialized tutors to broaden your Valyrian, a whole class on just diction - forcing you to learn new words; first-aid training, and even drawing.

Your step-father also took up your training after your beloved father had passed. Daemon recommended you work your anger and grief out through the training yard, and you took that advice to heart. He posed as a challenger in damn-near everything, and by the Gods, you tried not to feel competitive, but it sharpened your wit and instincts. Daemon knew what he was doing, and yet, never showed an ounce of 'loving warmth', only stoic respect.

Your mother taught you what she could about being both Lady and wife - taking meals privately with you to go into more expressive details. Questions you had, she answered; and as you grew older, you wondered deeper - and she often answered with red, flushed cheeks. Yet your mother kept her promise and would not let you go off to King's Landing unprepared.

You read books. Wrote letters, kept journals. Learned from experience, learned from reading; did what you could to understand as much as possible, never quenching your thirst for knowledge.

Perhaps, subconsciously, you wondered if this would create more distance between now and your marriage - but your 18th nameday was creeping up, and you were out of options.

Three months before, your summons arrived.

Your mother tried to deliver the news softly, but tears broke her waterline; and you understood that she meant to say goodbye. Apparently, by Queen Alicent's hand-written letter, you were to marry the Prince before the week's end, and it was already midweek.

Aemond did not wish for a big wedding, but your family insisted on something. Viserys had called upon the royal dressers, and all festivities would be covered. All you had to do was show up, and yet, it felt like that was the hardest chore. Your mother had sniffled as she pet your hair off your shoulders, nodding, "It's time, my girl."

Daemon opted not to attend the wedding and after a bit of persuasion, your mother and brothers decided to stay on Dragonstone with him. You were to travel alone because you were to hit the ground running, and you were beyond nervous.

Your mother helped pack your things - sending servants and maids away to let you two have moments of privacy. She gave you last second advice, promising that when you need it, she was always there for you. Dragonstone wasn't far by dragonback and there were always ravens to send - but she warned you about the Hightowers more than likely intercepting letters.

She advised you to write in code.

Promised she loved you.

Swore to you that marriage wasn't always all so bad; and before you knew it, you were standing with Kasta's packed saddle - facing your family for the final time.

"Well," you breathed, nodding at them all, "I wish to say that I will miss you all, and thank you for the incredible years."

"Good luck, sister," Jace nodded.

The night before, the boys had snuck into your room for the last time and let you hold them; tears of sadness weeping into their dark brown locks. You smiled at him, "Thank you, brother. I will send a raven when I am settled, and... Well, you know."

"When you're married," Luke teased, giggling lightly.

"Hush," you mother chided gently, but smiled at the boy, glancing at you. "Go hug your sister goodbye, love."

Luke frowned deeply and rushed for your waist - though, no longer being a small child, he was still a young lad; and you could wrap your arms around him tightly. You kissed the top of his head and sighed, "I'll miss you with my heart, Luke. I promise to write you, you can practice writing me back if you want."

"But, sister," he worried, pulling back only so to hush, "what if the nightmares come back?"

You smiled at him, "I left you a present on your bed. I hope that helps you through the nights. Let it be a comfort." It was a red and black stuffed dragon toy, something you prayed would comfort him in your absence.

He nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "Do not go," he begged gently, holding your skirts.

"I'd stay if I could, but this is for the best," you assured, never having the heart to tell him that your marriage arrangement was made some years ago, and now, as you were a woman, it was time to 'pay up' to save him from being blinded. He didn't need to know the truth.

Jace pulled Luke back but instantly stepped up in his place, instead. He sighed into your neck; much taller than the last time you remembered, and letting yourself loose a few tears. "Do not let them change you, sister. Please, be safe," Jace rushed in your ear, tightening his hug.

"I will," you cried, giving him a squeeze. "Be there for Mother... She'll need you now."

"I won't disappoint you," he promised, pulling away.

"Be good," you chuckled at him, patting his shoulder as he moved back. Baela and Rhaena stepped up to hug you goodbye, having grown fond of their older 'sister' during the time you had together. You kissed their foreheads, bid them well, and again, promised you were only a raven away.

Daemon was next, and he did offer a hug (shockingly). You squeezed into his embrace, and when you pulled back, he wished, "Good luck in the city, niece. Remember the leech will feed, even when fat. My brother's blinded by..." He sighed. "Nevermind. It's not your responsibility. Just do not let him forget his family loves him."

"I'll be sure to be there for him, Uncle."

He nodded, "Then - good luck. Marriage is mostly political, so, play your part with caution in mind."

"Your advice has always been appreciated," you nodded. "And thank you - for all the lessons you gave these past years."

"What a student I had," he smirked, giving you a final nod as you moved on to your mother.

She took a long, shuddering breath. "You'll write, won't you?" Her hands reached, as they always did, to pet over the silver locks that spilled down your shoulders.

"Of course," you promised softly. "You will not be rid of me so easily."

"I should hope not," she chuckled, but held her tears at bay.

"Say it now, Mum, and I will stay," you promised in a whisper. "You need me, and I will stay - "

"No," she sighed, moving to hold your cheeks. "You are no longer responsible for me. I would not let you go if I thought it was feeding you to the wolves... Though I wish for you to stay, there is a duty to be performed, my sweet girl."

You nodded, letting a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I'll just miss you terribly. Who will I go to for advice?"

"You'll understand who to trust, but keep in mind that you might write in a journal. Let it act as if it's me, and write, my girl. Hide it away, burn it even, but do not let yourself feel so isolated."

"A Black Dragon in an Emerald Mine," you snickered softly, making her grin. "I will not disappoint you, Mother."

"You never do," she promised. "Be careful, and do not trust anyone. You're in the snake's garden now, and their bite is fierce."

You nodded, hands over hers to hold your cheeks. "I wish you'd be there."

"I do, too," she promised. "But you are my strongest girl, you will endure this with grace."

You nodded, leaning in to hug her one last time. She sniffled into your neck, but after a moment, you had to giggle, "Mum, you've got to let me go. Mumma, c'mon, now."

She groaned and released you, "All right, fine. Go on. I love you - so much. Do not forget that."

You climbed onto Kasta's mighty back; needing something of a rope ladder to get on her properly. With another wave, your family called their love and luck; hearing Kasta roar in departure before surging forward, spreading her wings, and then leaping off the cliffside. You held on tightly as she cut through the air, your family all watching as Kasta roared once more but otherwise, did not turn back.

You cried during the whole flight; truly afraid of what you were to encounter when you landed. Alicent and the Hightowers knew of your arrival, and you wondered why she insisted on such a swift wedding.

Last you knew, your fiancé had both concurred the largest dragon in the world but also lost his left eye.

Perhaps there was a rush so you could not back out. But you had honor, and if your hand in marriage is what it took to heal the rift between your families, to soothe the wound Lucerys inflicted, then so be it. There was honor in completing one's duty.

You prayed, through tears, it was enough.

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

[vicsbasement]

Watching Charles closely I came to believe that he might have abandonment issues (for obvious reasons), so yeah, I guess he hasn’t been taking Carlos’ departure from the team very well… Of course Carlos isn’t actively abandoning him, but anyways

Ohmygod, anon. You're absolutely right. I mean, it's a logical response to his past trauma, too. I'm not presuming to know the guy, but from what I can see, I just feel like he's really going through the trenches right now. I'm not going to say that they're extremely close, but, just from what we've been able to see about their relationship and the way they talk about each other, I'm ready to assume that they really seem to be close, especially now that we can see Charles visibly reacting to Carlos' departure from the team. I'm pretty sure there's not an ounce of bad blood between them, especially since they've been seeming so much closer ever since before Vegas. I feel like their friendship had time to develop towards the end of their third year together (trauma bonding and all things provided by a very rocky Ferrari car that put them both in uncomfortable situations that only both of them could understand) and so, now that that was blooming, to have it taken from them must be tough. Carlos has been brought up to be much less emotional about his relationships in the paddock, based on interviews alone, yet I think he's been saving up some emotion for their alone time. Charles, though... he seems to be that guy who wears his heart on his sleeve sometimes, and when it comes to this, he doesn't seem too shy to let people know that he really does like Carlos as a teammate and as a person. I mean, they have so much in common, everyone's said it, Mattia, Fred, constantly talking about their competitiveness and how close they'd become when they started to make everything a race... and they probably know each other well. They've shared small spaces, probably had important conversations with one another, they're both in a position where nobody else would get it, except for the other. And they've never, EVER shown disrespect towards each other. So, yeah. Carlos might not be abandoning Charles, but they're both in rather similar situations, and to bring Lewis into the mix, Lewis, with the bigger salary, with the seven titles, with the past experience... it should be something that makes Charles take pause and probably appreciate what he has right now with a guy who's basically in the same level as himself in terms of... I don't know, I guess gravitas. Lewis has so much, and Charles has the whole team behind him, and yet he turns to Carlos as a friend? Maybe we're not seeing how much of an equal footing they have between each other. They've probably discussed even this between them and Charles must be feeling so comfortable with Carlos by his side... This whole thing rocks his whole world, and I would love Carlos' security just as much as Charles is probably appreciating it right now. Sorry, I got totally off the rails with this, but the point is: what this shows me is that Charles really does care, deeply, about Carlos. And it's a wonder to see, honestly. If I were to be completely honest, I saw their relationship much more unilaterally. I felt like Carlos liked Charles more than he liked Carlos. But right now? Wow. I really do see how much Charles seems to appreciate Carlos' company and friendship as a teammate. And it's an absolute relief to me. The fact that he started the year defending Carlos from the italian press and insisting, on record, that they should focus on the fact that they have a whole year together out of "RESPECT FOR CARLOS"? Wow, Charles. You had my eye, before, but right now, you finally caught my attention. Thank you for sending me this ask, anon! I love analyzing stuff and the content has been pouring lately, so I love just to be able to talk about these two guys without restraints 😅

[stevie-petey]

Hi m! I had a short blurb idea for you. Could we see Jonathan's pov after his fight with Nancy, and what drove him to go to bugs house? Also his POV throughout their car ride together? Thank you! ❤️

finally had time to get to this one and YES i can <333

enjoy !

"well then i guess we just dont understand each other anymore."

the pain in nancys voice hasnt left jonathans mind since he dropped her off at home hours ago.

he lays in his bed, sheets cold as the night creeps upon him. do they really not understand each other anymore? jonathan knows he understands nancys frustration, how painful it is to be overlooked, but how can he explain to her that hes unable to understand the feeling of security?

hes never had that before in his life. ever since he was a boy, his life has been defined by instability and insecurity.

it was meeting you that brought some sense of security into jonathans life. youre the only thing jonathan considers a constant in his life; he trusts that youll always be a part of him.

he isnt like nancy. he doesnt have a mom who attends to his needs. a house in a cul de sac with freshly painted shutters. jonathan doesnt have the privilege of being a kid, not when hes been helping to pay for his familys rent ever since he was fourteen and legally able to work. he isnt able to lose a job that can pay for his college like nancy can.

security is a foreign concept to jonathan that he cant understand, yet he understands that the burn within him is his love for nancy. and he understands that he cant lose her.

sighing, jonathan gets out of bed and towards the phone in the kitchen. he has to hear your voice, soothe his nerves, maybe even cry. right now, jonathan needs his best friend.

youll know what to do. you always do.

when he calls you and you sound just as exhausted as he feels, he knows that tonight will be one of your driving nights. a few years ago, when your only worries were exams and parental issues, you and jonathan would drive around hawkins late at night and pretend you were the only two people to exist.

as you got older, the need to drive became few and far between, but tonight jonathans chest is heavy and your voice sounds frail.

hes at your house in ten minutes, and within fifteen he has you in his passenger seat with an old mix tape playing as julys cool night seeps through the car. and, within thrity minutes, youve unwoven all of the intricate strings of fear and uncertainty within jonathan.

he loves you for how easily you put him at ease.

you simultaneously support jonathans side while also vehemently defend nancys. you console him, yet you also gently pry his head out of his ass.

"it frustrates me how you always manage to say the right thing." i love how you love me.

"youve known me for years now, its your fault for not getting used to it." ive grown up learning how to love you.

its easy. its as easy as breathing when it comes to you, and jonathan inhales as much of you as he can. for as long as he can, for as much as hes able to.

and then you break jonathans heart with six words.

"im terrified he'll be another 'almost'."

its as easy as breathing, and jonathan wishes that he could exhale for you. he hasnt forgotten the lines that were once almost his to cross. how he had you, all of you, and now youre steves and hes nancys.

in the end it was all for the best, but jonathan hates the scars he left behind. he hadnt meant to, they will always mar your body, and he will never forgive himself for it.

"im sorry, bug." he shouldve apologized earlier. he knows this.

he wishes that there was more he could do, more he could say. but hes never been good with words and hes scared he'll overstep somehow. say the wrong thing, hurt you even more. so instead jonathan holds your hands, kisses away your tears, and silently prays that steve doesnt make the same mistake that he did.

youre steves now, anyone can see that. you love him so deeply and freely that jonathan cant help but admire how beautiful it is. he can see it in steve, too. how much he loves you.

that boy adores you.

jonathan understands the feeling. he always will.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Sand & Ray's Fears of 'Being a Burden'

This is a follow-up to the initial observations I made on both the characterisation of Sand and Ray. Two qualities that really stood out to me in episode 1 which made for a surprising point of commonality.

Sand's Righteousness

So many times this episode Sand comments on how Ray is being socially irresponsible. There's definitely the expectation that those who are wealthier live more frivolously and selfishly. They don't stop to think too much about how their actions have consequences and will impact those around them.

Whereas what was overwhelmingly clear in this episode is that Sand's strong sense of righteousness means he's driven to always 'do the right thing'. This means he's going to be in immediate conflict with those who do not do so, or don't care. The questionable behaviour of others may aggravate him, but when it truly matters, Sand jumps straight into action. He won't disregard someone in need.

This makes me wonder if he's predisposed to act because he feels it's objectively right to do so, regardless of someone's wishes. Funnily enough, we've probably all had instances where we chose to do something we knew was not 'right', for the sake of protecting someone's feelings. I anticipate there will be plenty of situations where his righteousness (which comes from a place of rationale) will come into conflict with his own personal feelings (which are often irrational).

This is where Ray will make a huge impact on his perspective. Because all people have their own battles and struggles, no matter what background they come from. It's not so black and white. Right and wrong. Just and unjust.

Sand also uses the term 'burden' a lot. This actually says a tonne about him. Often we can be critical of qualities in others we possess ourselves. It's because we have them, that we are hyper-sensitive to their presence in those around us. The way he chides Ray is because he himself doesn't want to feel burdensome on others. This would explain why he tries to be as self-sufficient as possible, working several jobs to make ends meet. He holds himself to the standard he expects of others. He wants to be financially independent. He wants to be able to take care of himself and not cause trouble.

If he's upholding a a high example of what it is to be a morally and socially conscious individual, he has value. His value goes beyond his financial hindrances. He can still contribute, he can still be useful.

Ray's Fear of Inadequacy

This line spoke volumes. It shows that Ray has deeply buried fears about being left behind or being surpassed. All his friends have something going for them. Mew is the clever, assertive one. Boston is the popular, astute one. Namcheum is the outgoing, social one. And he's the boisterous drunk. This is the role he often plays in the group, which no doubt really weighs on his own understanding of who he is.

It could explain why he has a crush on Mew, because Mew possesses a lot of qualities he wishes he had. Due to his bad temper and his shortcomings, he can easily come across as unapproachable and be misunderstood. He probably feels very lonely or often like the odd one out. Boston is always slinking off to hook up with a stranger. Namcheum is busy reading the room and including everyone. Mew used to be the one who was happy in the company of his own intellectual interests, but is now focused on Top. This leaves Ray as seemingly superfluous.

His friends often joke about exactly this but Ray probably internalises these comments more than they realise. On the two occasions he leaves the table, note how none of his friends follow him. No one tries to comfort him, because they've seen it all before. 'This is what Ray does.' 'Ray likes to throw a tantrum'. 'This is the alcohol speaking.'

When Ray is genuinely upset, his friends can't always tell the difference. His attitude is what isolates him, but he can't help reacting in the way he does, which isolates him further. It's no wonder Ray is so easily frustrated, because he doesn't know how else to express himself other than to get angry.

He may genuinely believe what everyone says about him. That he doesn't bring any value to the table. That he is (as Sand puts it) "a burden to society". He doesn't know what his place is.

Just like Mew's unconscious rejection of him, he may fear that one day his friends will move on without him. Like a small animal that's imprinted on others out of survival, he can't be left alone to fend for himself because he needs people to feel worth. To prove that he's not useless. To prove he's not expendable.

This has become a self-actualising prophecy he's begrudgingly accepted, mostly out of fear of losing his friends. He plays into the misnomer that's been assigned to him. "You know I'm only good at spending money", because he doesn't know what else he can offer. His friends tease him over the fact he often gushes about how much he loves them when drunk. But this is actually in a bid to keep people close. If you shower them with love, maybe they won't ever leave you.

And the sad part of this is that no one realises Ray feels this way because it's masked by his bad temper and tendency to drink.

Sand doesn't want to be a burden in a socially responsible sense. Ray doesn't want to be a burden on his friends, who may be the only people he has. We just need these two to realise they have a very similar complex here, hidden beneath their apparent differences.

[mixedup-sideblog]

Let’s talk about this scene…

I’ve seen some really unfair takes on this so far and I can only conclude it’s because some people either want completely flawless characters or cannot use a little bit of critical thinking…

First the one thing we should all agree on - this is not ok, this is misogynistic, this is unsympathetic and this is unfair.

However, it is also realistic, there are a few reasons for this:

1. His Trauma

It’s absolutely not a coincidence that we learn Kazuki never knew/met his own parents before we see this scene, it’s also not a coincidence that we know from previous episodes that he was almost a father but that horrifically his pregnant wife and unborn child were k*lled before he had the chance to even get a flavour of what it felt like to have a family.

He is being faced with a woman who has a living child, who has had the chance at family he has never been able to have and she’s rejecting it. Now I’m not saying it’s right but it’s understandable that his anger pours out here, he has these unrealistic ideals thoughts about motherhood/parenthood because he hasn’t lived them but he has so so desperately wanted to, has had that taken away from him and of course it really f*ckin hurts. Yes he disregards her reasoning, yes he’s never been a woman but if you think this traumatised man with absolutely no baseline for family values is going to say the exact right thing (or not the completely wrong thing) in a heightened emotional confrontation about family then you need to have a re-think, this was never going to be a pleasant healing encounter.

2. Miri

Something people also seem to be forgetting, he’s there to return her daughter. The little girl he is already besotted with/devoted to, the little girl he doesn’t want to give back (set up nicely in the episode by Rei repeatedly calling him a lousy liar). He’s faced with her mother saying she always wanted to hit her, no matter who you are do not tell me in the heat of the moment you wouldn’t be getting up and yelling about how they should be a better parent, his reaction is defensive, his words are lofty and that line is unfair but his empathy in the moment is not for this stranger who’s saying she wants to hit her (his) daughter, it’s for Miri, the little girl he fed breakfast and chanted ‘bananya’ with in the kitchen that morning.

I think Miri’s mother is written in a way that we are supposed to feel some empathy for her, and I do 100%, but I also think that empathy needs to be extended to Kazuki’s character here too. At the end of the day these are two flawed and deeply traumatised characters having an argument - what comes out of their mouths isn’t always going to be pretty.

This turned out way longer than I thought it would but I needed to get it off my chest! Yes it’s a bad take, but it hasn’t come from nothing. I think it’s likely a bit of a set up so we can see him move from these kind of ideals to a more realistic outlook.

[sneezemonster15]

Why is it offensive to so many SNS fans to even consider that Gaara and Naruto would make a good couple? IF (one BIG if) there was a scenario where Sasuke had died in the end and Naruto hadn't, which would never be at Naruto's hands btw but then so many others wanted Sasuke gone, would you not want to see Naruto have some comfort? Who would have given it to him? Who would be capable of it? Sakura? HINATA??? Kakashi? Sai? All of these are emotionally inept ass people.

Gaara is perhaps only second to Sasuke in Naruto's eyes, in terms of connection and mutual empathy. Gaara is the only other character to get a retrieval arc where Naruto is the pursuer. Gaara is the only other person Naruto goes absolutely feral for, and no, Hinata in Pein arc doesn't count. Totally different contexts. Gaara is the only other person than Sasuke that Naruto shows a deep personal connection with. Gaara after all was also a jinchuuriki, who shared similar and perhaps even worse predicament than Naruto, as Naruto himself acknowledged.

Naruto and Gaara share a mutual understanding. They care for each other deeply. And God forbid, if something had happened to Sasuke, I would certainly want Gaara to be with Naruto and knowing Gaara, he would be there, no matter what. If Naruto were on Mars, Gaara would find a way to be there for him. Gaara loves Naruto, he understands Naruto, and Sasuke as well to quite an extent. Naruto also is aware of Gaara in part two, even though it's Sasuke whom he loves. But there is certainly a mutual fascination and attraction between them, a certain awareness, kindredness. So if Naruto ended up with Gaara after it all, I would not resent that ending. I would be pleased to see that Naruto at least, finally gets some love and affection after starving for it for so long. As in when Sasuke wasn't there. And who better than Gaara to give it? Gaara is the only person who would even stand a chance to be able to comfort Naruto in case of Sasuke's demise. Nothing would make Gaara happier than making Naruto happy. He would make it his life's mission.

Naruto chose Sasuke over everyone, including Gaara, so there's no doubt that Sasuke is Naruto's priority over everyone. But damn, I just want to see my boy happy. Gaara won't make him happy the way Sasuke does. Naruto wouldn't even want to live if Sasuke was gone. But Gaara is quite the lover in his own right. And he loves Naruto, truly. He knows the deprivation of love, just like Sasuke and Naruto, he knows how it feels to be at the receiving end of people's hate and indifference. And he learnt what it meant to be cared for and valued because of Naruto. The same thing Sasuke did for Naruto. He gave up his life for Naruto in waves arc which in turn made Naruto realize how deeply he felt for Sasuke all along and how much it meant to him to be valued in such a way by another person. That this is what it means to be family. Gaara had a change of heart because Naruto showed him that he was valued and understood. That he wasn't alone anymore. Naruto hurt for Gaara too. So much. Naruto is passionate about Gaara. He shed tears for him, he wailed and screamed and raged and turned into a beast for him. Gaara is a very well written character and he has a well developed, actually quite beautiful relationship with Naruto. Their relationship and its development gets a lot of visibility in the manga as well.

I also recognise the fact that if it were actually possible to make Naruto end up with Gaara, Naruto would have definitely ended up with Sasuke. Heh. But that's not the point I am making. I don't actively ship Gaara with Naruto. But seeing them together makes me happy and fact is, them ending with each other would be a thousand times better than what we have now.

[wizardpink]

Hi! I read your post-finale DM meta and I think it's very interesting. The point about Armand turning Daniel because Daniel eviscerated him and made him feel seen for who he truly is (in all his flawed, monstrous glory) felt very true to his character. So I get why Armand would fall for Daniel (eventually) and turn him. But I was wondering (and this is presuming that nothing like the chase or a relationship between them happened in the past), how do you see this Daniel, this vampire who seems to have his shit together and be pretty content with his vampiric life (afawk from the finale, tho this obviously may not be the full truth), falling for Armand eventually? How do you think that will develop?

@destielonfire First of all let me apologize for having no idea when you sent this, I never saw a notification so I hope it hasn't been too long!

I think Daniel's hot girl summer moment we saw a glimpse of in the finale is a ruse by the writers. It added an air of levity to the season finale and gave viewers (and eric!) the gift of swaggering badass vampire Daniel.

But season 3 will have the time to get into it more deeply and well, I don't think anyone ever has a great time after being turned, even if you are rich and famous.

I'm not sure Daniel has ever had his shit together a moment in his life. He says he did when he convinced Alice to marry him, but it must not have lasted long. He was never able to balance his work life with his family. I doubt he'll have an easier time balancing his work life with being a vampire.

I'm also leaning towards the reads on him that this is going to pull him right back down into his addiction issues, now that he's immortal. There are no (well fewer) consequences for substance abuse as a vampire, plus he has a whole new drug, blood, and all that comes with acquiring it. In Dubai we saw that Daniel was squeamish about eating wriggling fish. How is he coping with killing and eating people? I think we only saw one half of the story in the finale. We saw the alcoholic at the bar, buying shots for all his friends while everyone laughs and cheers. We didn't see the next morning's hangover.

In the books, Armand effectively drives Daniel insane to the point the point he falls in love with him, which is hella fucked up (and we love that), so I can see the show taking one of two paths here.

The first is they just adapt that method straight from the books. Lonely and desperate Armand chasing Daniel around the world trying to figure out how to navigate their future as master and fledgling (and understand what drove him to break his vow to never make another vampire for THIS GUY), eventually coming to the conclusion its because he loves him, and Daniel later doing the same. Because they're both trainwrecks impossibly drawn to forms of self harm.

The second is a little less inexplicable and a lot less toxic. Instead of Armand driving Daniel crazy with his psychosexual torture, Daniel does it to himself with his hedonistic desires and lack of self-control. He feeds and kills and feeds and kills, pushes away his family, friends, and collegues, ruins his professional reputation. And he can't understand why he can't stop, why nothing ever makes him feel complete, etc etc. And because he is his maker, because of their invisible cord, Armand takes responsibility for picking him up off the floor and attempting to help him deal with this. Because Armand's the one that gave immortality to a man who can't stop blowing up his life and the lives of everyone around him.

I also think that on a more specific note, Daniel in season 3 will continue to be the plot device that presents the backstory to the audience. I think he'll probably go on tour with Lestat to try to get that second book, and Lestat will share his story, which we know features not only Armand, but Armand's maker Marius, and other places and characters that inform the audience (and Daniel) on Armand's history, motivations, traumas, etc. Daniel has been learning about Armand as a side character and villain in all these other vampires' stories where obviously they're the main characters, the heroes, the victims. But slowly piece by piece he is putting together the Armand puzzle, and now that they're inextricabIy linked he has even more motivation to put the pieces in place. I think those glimpses into Armand's history are going to intrigue him, maybe even endear him to Armand. When they're reunited he wont be able to resist going straight to the source. Which is good because Daniel finding him fascinating is going to melt Armand.

Also I am a romantic. Sometimes there doesn't need to be a reason why two people fall for each other. Season 2 already showed us that these two have an energy. There are strong feelings there already, they can't keep their eyes off each other, can't stop sniping at each other like hissing cats sniffing each other out. Combine that with vampire loneliness and mutual freakitude and you've got a recipe for something.

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

Weak

Pairing : More of a platonic Miguel O' Hara X Reader

Genre : Angst

Summary : Miguel hates feeling weak, something that you understand more than anyone else.

Request/story idea by: @quimerathetraveler

Wordcount: 0.9 k

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

( A/N: I’m trying different personalities to see whatever works with his character best, lemme know what ya’ll think. )

Miguel's eyes dart all over the area. 

He's injured, badly. A deep gash is crossed over his ribs, and not even the spray supplied by his suit for emergencies is doing him much good.

On top of that, he's exhausted, years of taking care of the multiverse having caught up to him.

" Boss, we got hi- Oh, no." The voice of one of the spider woman who he's come to help speaks as she notices his injury.

He's hunched over, holding his side whilst taking rough deep breaths. He feels vulnerable, hates having everyone' eyes on him.

" Boss, we should get you help!-" MJ calls, taking her mask off.

" No. I'm fine. Bring the anomaly to HQ, I'll get there myself."

MJ is visibly distraught by his words, but does what he says, not wanting to face whatever negative reaction he could bring up in his pain.

As she disappears, he doubles over, nearly forgetting that Jessica and you are at the scene as well.

Jessica sighs deeply before reacting.

" Miguel, maybe we should help. I doubt you'd be able to get back by yourself-"

He glares from the corner of his eye at her.

" I can do it, just g-"

" No you can't. "

Now his eyes shift to you.

Admittedly, he doesn't know you really well, even though your powers are the only ones that are similar to his. You have talons, venomous teeth and superhuman hearing and sight as well. He's barely ever spoken to you before though.

" I-"

" Don't argue with me. I'll jab you in your wound if you're going to be a baby about it. " You scoff, your eyes showing disinterest as you move to help him.

He glares at you, but it doesn't seem to deter you in the slightest.

He's not necessarily surprised to. You've been through a lot in your own universe, the horrors you had to face giving you a pass without doubt into the spider team. You're physically not one of the strongest, but you're fearless, making you one of the stronger ones of the team anyway. It would take a lot more than his glare to shake you.

He can't help but feel puzzled and surprised as you lift his arm over your shoulder. You sync both of your watches, and soon enough you're tearing a gateway with your claws back into universe 2099.

Everyone is surprised when the both of you step into HQ, Jessica having gone back on her own.

Miguel hates the feeling he gets when everyone shares worried glances, them never having seen their boss so vulnerable before.

You must've noticed.

" What? Did none of you ever seen someone injured?" You call out roughly.

Most of the spiders turn their heads. All except Hobie, who gives Miguel a blank look as he so often does before nodding at you.

Hobie and you get along well, the only difference being that Hobie creates a lot of trouble and has quite a big mouth, whilst you refrain in the back. The calm before the storm.

Eventually, you carry him to the infirmary, and help him sit down on one of the beds.

" Will you be okay or do you need me to call a medic?" You ask, creating distance between the two of you again as you step back, leaning against a wall.

" I'll be fine." He says gruffly.

You nod, but don't move away.

He glances at you again, ignoring the sudden spinning in his head.

" What? You can go." He pushes.

" I'm waiting for you to pass out. I'll call a medic after." You tell him nonchalantly, crossing your arms over one another.

He sighs, knowing you're right. He needs help. He can't do it by himself this time. 

He doesn't want any more people to see him like this though.

" Can you.... help me?" He asks, looking away with an embarrassing pink dust on his cheeks.

Your eyes widen, surprise evident before they harden again, and you nod.

" I've never done this on someone else other than myself though."

You don't say anything else as you wordlessly get to work.

He tends to forget that you've been alone for a very long time before you joined the team.

You stitch up his wounds carefully, and honestly quite messy. He still rather has this than having more people see him like this.

When you're done, you run a careful finger over the stitches to make sure they're secure before stepping away.

" This is the best I can do. Good luck with it." You tell him, going back to your stoic demeanor.

You turn to leave, not expecting a reply, when he grasps your wrist with his right hand.

You tense in response, not being used to physical contact. Upon noticing it, he lets go.

" Thank you.."

You glance at him, your eyes not betraying your emotions this time as you nod.

" Yeah... Don't get used to it."

[lucystark12]

tbh i think the reason i have so much byler doubt even when i know in my soul for a fact that it's real is because i am so deeply traumatized from game of thrones. literally i was able to comprehend at age eleven that the game of thrones ending was bad just because everyone was talking about it, from my parents friends to them, then i watched it for the first time a few years ago and fell deeply in love with it just to have my heart inevitably torn out from my chest and to be laughed at in the face by david benioff and d.b. weiss. i was literally gutted. it hurt me to the core of my being because other than stranger things i have NEVER put close to that much stock in characters. stranger things is the only show i have ever loved in the same way as i did game of thrones and also the only show whose characters i have literally depended on having the right endings. game of thrones has taught me not to trust writers and has made me EXTREMELY apprehensive about the ending of stranger things (specifically mike's arc, who i see so much of jaime lannister in that it literally makes me physically ill)

what i always forget about game of thrones though is that there was a clear reason for it being bad- it's because game of thrones is based off of a book series that isn't finished yet, and when the show runners ran out of genius george r. r. martin plots to adapt, they were given the reigns. and they clearly didn't understand their characters.

david and dan weren't given enough time and source material to give the characters the endings they deserved. they simply didn't know how to do it right, essentially "marvelifying" game of thrones into just a box office hit with expensive fight scenes and dull characters. they never got to set up the VERY important things that have to happen to finally get the characters to where they need to be.

matt and ross ARE. NOT. THE. SAME. these two wrote the original concept for the show and have been the ones in charge the whole time. shows like this don't become famous for being big and loud and dramatic, they become famous for having compelling characters, which is quite literally at the heart (haha) of every story. unless you are literally telling a natural disaster story, your plot is determined by the people who are a part of it. this is why you can't write a fulfilling story by just making something random happen, you have to make your ending coincide with the endings that make sense for your unique characters and what will help finish their arcs. dan and david didn't have the proper set up yet, but matt and ross do.

at the current moment, all signs point to byler. i mean, we know this. there is literally no reason that it shouldn't happen now, that all of this incredible writing and symbolism would come to a head with a rejection at the end. matt and ross haven't run out of source material, they are award winning writers who know what they're doing. there is no reason for them to waste time on plot lines that will essentially just hit a wall with no conclusive ending in the way game of thrones did. dan and david heard "subvert expectations" and took it the wrong way, subverting the character arcs that had been build up for literally decades instead of doing what is george's real plan, to subvert the tropes and commonalities that we see all across fantasy writing and even at most times in the real world. stranger things is also in part about subverting expectations, but matt and ross understand what it actually means to take on that title. subvert expectations- subvert REAL and CONCRETE societal norms, not the way the human brain and heart function.

[bullet-prooflove]

Okay, it inspired an ask. Jack Dayton speaking French to fluster/arouse his lover.

Tagging: @soultrysworld @kmc1989 @livingonthehems @tess-love @mandy426

Madness of a Genius - Jack notices you're the only one not paying attention during a donor event.

The First Time (NSFW) - Jack reveals his secret during your first time together.

Fucked Up - You and Jack each have your own special brand of fucked up.

The Professor (NSFW) - Jack and you share an intimate moment in your office.

Different (NSFW) - You and Jack are a little different from normal people.

Every Morning - Jack's mornings have changed for the better.

Cartier - Jack tries to build some healthier habits to vent his stress.

Pictures of You (NSFW) - Jack carries a certain picture of you when he goes abroad.

Bali - A vacation in Bali leads Jack to make some life changes.

You’re an ice queen, that’s how Jack hears you described during donor events.

Untouchable, infallible, cold.

That’s how your male peers perceive you because you haven’t let a single one of them between your legs. You’re dedicated to your work, dynamic, brilliant but all they see is the armour you erect, the walls you put between them and yourself.

It’s during these events that Jack begins to understand your own brand of self-flagellation. He used to cut himself to feel something and you used erotic asphyxiation. You hadn’t done it for almost six months before you met him.

“Why did you stop?” Jack had asked you when the two of you were tangled up in bed together, his thumb tracing over the fading finger marks he’d left on your throat, the ones that you had asked for.

“I almost killed myself.” You tell him frankly as you prop your head up on his pillow. “Usually when you start to pass out, you bite down on the citrus and the shock of it revives you, you stop yourself from choking.”

“That didn’t happen?” Jack asks, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

“I guess my blood orange wasn’t tart enough.” You say as your fingertips trace over the scarring that mars his chest. “The scarf I was using frayed, I woke up face down in my mattress with a voice that sounded like I smoked a hundred a day. It scared the shit out of me. I wore turtle necks until the bruising faded and pretended I had laryngitis. Tonight was the first time…”

You’d trailed off then, your cheeks flushing because the truth is despite the fact you’ve been able to abstain for so long, it’s something you still crave, deeply.

“Because you trust me.” Jack summarises as his lips brush over yours.

“With my life.” You tell him with a sincerity he feels in the very depths of his bones because that’s what you’re doing everytime you ask him to choke you, you’re literally putting your life in his hands.

When he lays eyes on you tonight from across the room, he can already tell how badly you need it. Your expression is one of feigned interest towards the man talking at you but he can see the tension coiled in your body. 

It’s half an hour later that you end up at the bar together, to anyone else it would look random but Jack has choreographed this moment perfectly.

“J'ai hâte de te ramener à la maison, je veux ma main sur ta gorge, ta chatte serrée autour de ma bite.” He says in French as you wait for the bartender to return with your drink. You are the only two people in this room who speak the language fluently and Jack uses this to his full advantage.

I can't wait to get you home. I want my hand on your throat, your pussy clenching around my cock.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his as a flush creeps across your cheeks and Jack wishes that the two of you could just bail right now, that he could take you home, give you everything that you need.

“Tu n'as aucune idée à quel point je veux ça en ce moment, tu me fais mouiller en y pensant.” You return, inclining your head towards the bartender as he sets the drink down in front of you.

You have no idea how much I want that right now, you're getting me wet thinking about it.

“Je vais prendre soin de toi ce soir ma chérie, je vais te donner tout ce que tu désires.” Jack responds, his fingertips brushing over yours under the guise of handing you a napkin.

I'm going to take care of you tonight my darling, I'm going to give you everything that you desire.

“Is that a promise?” You ask him, slipping into English and Jack he give you that look, the one that burns with such desire and intensity that it sends a surge of heat coursing through your body.

“Amélie…” He whispers, checking the time on his watch. “In thirty minutes I’m going to have you in my bed screaming my name. Go make your excuses, we’re done here tonight.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[fairuzfan]

i’ve seen so many people simply claim that jewish palestinians point blank do not exist and it’s a fundamental misunderstanding of judaism/jewish history to claim they do… 🫥 deeply exhausting takes on this website

That's the thing is that it's just a blatant rewrite of history. And I'm not saying this to tokenize Jewish Palestinians or anything or make them a construct, it's just as someone who wonders at what point "Palestinian" ends and what point "Jewish" begins or vise versa. Like it's a question of identity. If I decide, myself, that I want to convert to judiasm... well right now, I can't as Palestinians aren't allowed to convert which is weird as hell, but if I could and wanted to — am I giving up a part of identity and switching it out for another one? Am I allowed to keep both identities together? If so, how do I fit into my community at large? What decides me, a 3rd generation refugee who has never been to Palestine, as "Palestinian" enough? Someone can deny my Palestinian heritage because there are arbitrary definitions being put in place without the consultation of all community members.

Like what's the point of this separation? I genuinely don't see a reason beyond segregation purposes. Some people say that it's to keep Jewish people safe (which I don't believe but to go along with this argument), But that safety relies on segregation and division of a society. Which obviously no real safety can occur, but also like you can't lie and say that it's something it's not. You can't say a society that makes distinctions based on identity legally is in any way democratic or just for all people for that matter. Because even if there are efforts to make people equal, when you have to say "Palestinians and Jews are equal..." Well you just straight up named the two groups you think have a difference between each other. That implicitly requires the reader to perceive a divide.

And you can argue, "let's just call everyone Israeli and make no distinctions between Palestinian and Jewish people," but Palestinians in Israel would never agree to that unilaterally, even if we are operating on a two state solution (which will never happen but for arguments sake). They'd rather not abandon their cultural identification. And even then, when the society is built of Jewish supremacy with the express purpose of erasing Palestinians codified in their founding documents, is that equality, knowing an indigenous population had to give up their identity to subscribe to perceived peace? Isn't that inherently violent and anti-equality?

Indiginiety, in Palestine, as i dont feel confident to speak on other peoples cultures and struggles, has to do with your relationship to colonialism as well as the land. For me, an indigenous person who has suffered the effects of displacement of colonialism and who regularly watches from afar as their land gets tormented, to hear that the only way I can go back to visit that land is to deny my centuries worth of ancestors buried on PALESTINIAN land, then I'd be incredibly heartbroken. This is even from my own perspective, which I consider the least important in my family line. My grandmother should be able to see her father's burial place without worrying about whether or not she's considered Palestinian or fully colonized as Israeli. My mother should be able to stroll the lands she's always heard stories about without worrying that the very essense of her personhood, the thing shes been denied her entire life having to grow up in refugee camp, as a palestinian is being denied in totality at the end of her struggle. People in refugee camps should be able to go back without worrying about where they fall in the world hierarchies of weirdly defined terms.

So like what's the real purpose with this distinction, exactly?? Any sort of society which operates on some basis of understanding that it is "for" a specific group of people and not anyone else is inherently flawed.

And like, again, Jewish Palestinians are a demographic that exist, I'm not saying this as a gotcha or construct, I am asking this for myself who has stakes in the matter of how this question is answered and dealt with in this larger framework. Would I stop being Palestinian if I decide one day to convert to judiasm? Am I "Palestinian enough" to receive the right of return based on the definitions of Palestinians you come up with in an Israeli society? If I'm excluded in any way, then yeah, I'm going to be angry about it. Most people would be. The issue is that I don't see a way to go about answering these questions without inevitably excluding someone or some group, if not in the definition, in the ways we form our communities after the fact.