#to be fair my mental health suffered A LOT because of this

[nevermind-i-forgot-whats-that]

Sometimes, as much as I love internet communities and spaces, I really think a lot of people have spent so much time in sanitized, morally pure echo chambers that they lose sight of realism and life outside the internet.

I live in Alabama. My fiancée and I cannot hold hands down the street without fear of homophobic assholes. We have an abortion ban with no exceptions for rape or incest. We are one of the poorest states in the US with some of the lowest scores on metrics related to quality of life, including maternal mortality, healthcare, education, and violence. It’s not a coincidence that we are also one of the most red, one of the most Republican states in the Union. In 2017 the UN said the conditions in Alabama are similar to those in a third-world country.

Trump gave a voice to the most violently racist, sexist, xenophobic groups of people who, unfortunately for most of us in the Southern U.S., run our states and have only grown more powerful since his rise to power. The Deep South powers MAGA, and we all suffer for it.

We have no protections if they don’t come from the federal government.

I know people are suffering internationally and my heart is with them. However, this election is not just about foreign policy - we have millions of Americans right here at home living in danger, living in areas where they have been completely abandoned by their local leaders. We need this win.

No candidate is perfect, but for the first time in my voting lifetime I’m excited to vote. I’m excited for the Kamala Harris/Tim Walz ticket because they are addressing the issues close to home. They’re advocating for education as the ticket to a better life, but without the crippling student debt. They’re advocating for the right to love who you love without fear and with pride. Kamala has always been pro-LGBT+ and so has Tim. Again, if you’re queer in the South, we don’t have support unless it comes from the federal government, and we absolutely will not have support if the Republicans regain the White House.

Kamala speaks in length about re-entry programs to reduce recidivism and help people who have been arrested and imprisoned regain their lives. Tim Walz supported restoring voting rights to felons. In the South, you know who comprise the majority of felons? Members of minorities. It’s one of the major tools of systemic racism and mass disenfranchisement, and arguably the modern face of slavery (there are some fantastic documentaries and books that explain the connection between the post-Reconstruction South and the disproportionate rates of imprisonment for BIPOC). Having candidates who recognize this and want to restore the freedom and rights to people who have come into contact with the criminal justice system? And keep them from having to go to prison in the first place? That’s refreshing. That’s exciting.

I would *love* to live in a country where women’s rights are respected, where LGBT+ rights and protections are a given, where we treat former criminals and individuals experiencing mental health crises with respect and dignity. I would *love* to live in a country where education is free of religious interference and each and every citizen is entitled to a fair start and equal opportunities.

But I don’t live in that country. Millions and millions of Americans find their rights and freedoms up for debate and on the ballot.

Project 2025 poses the largest threat to the future of our democracy as we know it. We are being called to fight for the future of our country.

We have to put on our oxygen masks first before we can help others.

You don’t have moral purity when you wash your hands of the millions of us who are still fighting for own freedoms right here.

The reality is that a presidential candidate is a best fit, and not a perfect fit. But comparatively speaking? Kamala is pretty damn close.

[elumish]

In the wake of what's going on in the world, I see a lot of rhetoric that basically boils down to the idea that everyone has a responsibility to watch every bad thing that's going on in the world all the time. That awareness itself is a responsibility that everyone has always.

I'm not going to say that people do or don't have a responsibility to be aware of things, but I want to talk about how to take care of yourself and others while doing so.

For some context, I spent close to a year and a half reading about every terrorist attack in the world as part of my work on the Global Terrorism Database. It was 2015/2016, so this was the height of ISIS/Daesh, it was a major time for Boko Haram, and it was when there was a lot of political violence that we weren't sure how to classify in places like Yemen, Crimea, and Libya (stuff the GTD didn't know how to classify had all of is information recorded, and then it went into purgatory until someone above my paygrade decided what to do with it). What this means is that I was spending 10-20 hours a week reading about hundreds or thousands of attacks a month and, in my case, recording infomation about the type of attack and the type of weapon. Much of my life was reading terrible things.

Limit what you do in isolation. One of the worst changes for me during that time, mental health-wise (even though it was great for my commute) was when I went from working in-person to working remotely. With other people, there are ways to diffuse the pain. A burden shared is a burden halved and all that. That may mean talking about it, or joking about it, or finding some other way to engage with it that isn't just reading about the most horrible things in the world and then stewing in your own thoughts about them.

Find something to do that's totally unrelated. I highly recommend finding something to do with your hands, if you can (knitting, Lego, cooking, whatever), but regardless of what it is, you should have some time when you entirely switch away to something different. During a fair amount of my time with the GTD, I was also doing my undergrad thesis about terrorism on TV, so a huge amount of my life was about terrorism in some way. The only other thing I watched was Great British Bake Off, and I would just rewatch the episodes, over and over.

Be compassionate about how you share information and with whom. Use trigger warnings, and consider using consistent tagging on places like Tumblr so people can blacklist it if they need to. Also consider whether it's appropriate or necessary to share photos of bodies or other results of horrible violence. What is it accomplishing, to show that? Can that goal be accomplished other ways that don't require the equivalent of jumpscares of unexpected photos of dead or brutalized people? Are you just showing it because you think that everyone should have to see it? If you are showing it, are there ways to mitigate against harm it may do?

Do what you can to avoid an echo chamber. Sometimes, when everyone around you is upset or angry about the same thing, it just amplifies itself, and you all get angrier and more upset in perpetuity without accomplishing anything.

Work towards action. Watching terrible things happen for the sake of saying that you haven't looked away isn't as meaningful as taking action in some way. Write to your Congressperson. Donate. Do whatever is appropriate for the thing you want to stop. But penance via watching terrible things happen doesn't accomplish anything.

Recognize compassion fatigue and do what you can to mitigate it. If you spend long enough doing this, you start to lose context, and you start to become less able to have compassion about things. If you're reading about attacks with dozens or hundreds of deaths regularly, five can start to not seem like that many. If you're reading only about the worst suffering in the world, "lesser" suffering of those around you can start to seem unimportant and petty. Do what you can to mitigate that.

Be kind to yourself. You do nobody any good if you burn out. Look away, if you need to. Take a break. Do things so you can enjoy life, because otherwise you are just another person suffering in the world. Other people's pain isn't a hair shirt for you to wear.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> smut, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yunho ( centric ) x reader warning(s) -> smut, mdni. 18+ words -> 3.5k

abstract -> sometimes... the quietest are who are suffering the most

yunho’s perspective

How long have I been looking at this wall?

It was boring that I was stuck in here alone with my thoughts. I missed Mingi… even if we lived poorly. We had many stories about being on the street… but it was selfish of me to reminisce. He was happier… healthier and way better than he would be with me. 

“Yunho… cheer up today! There’s an adoption fair this afternoon!” The employee said I could only offer a soft smile to cover up my emptiness. 

Maybe… I'll get adopted and get a new start.

Maybe someone will fill the whole Mingi left… and I can atone for what I did when I was a thief, especially to her.

y/n’s perspective

“I see,” Mingi said after I finally sat down and talked to him about it. “Is it selfish to want to ask you to adopt him… but also feel sick at the thought?” he said and I smiled softly. 

“I’m leaving this decision to you, if you’re not comfortable with me adopting him I won’t” I confirmed and he nodded. “I just don’t want to feel like he’s replacing me” he muttered and I sighed. 

“He’d never replace you… look at it like this, Mingi. Yeosang and Wooyoung had the same insecurity” I said and he looked shocked.

“Wooyoung got so bad that he got into a small depressive episode cause he thought I’d abandon him… that I only adopted him because I wanted to be with San,” I said and he stayed silent… deep in thought.

“I don’t treat them differently do I?” I asked and he shaked his head. “And Yeosang thought the same thing but I'd never treat any of you differently…you’re my made family,” I said and he then hugged me in I rubbed his back hoping to comfort him. 

“Yunho had everything… he was perfect and he was never punished or anything. He would get away with everything” he muttered clearly envious. “You wouldn't be treated differently,” I said and he nodded. 

“I know… and I do really miss him,” he said with a sad smile.  “Today is an adoption fair… so this decision–” “I want Yunho back,” he said, cutting me off. 

In the end… they were a bonded pair. 

mingi’s perspective

I felt sick… nervous, anxious… What if he didn’t want to see me again? What if he decided to take revenge and steal them all from me? But I also really missed him. I wanted him by my side again…

The adoption fair was huge… It had lots of people looking at hybrids, special needs hybrids, yellow codes, some orange codes, and of course the green codes. But there wasn’t any place to see red or purple code hybrids, not to mention the black codes. 

Everyone though always seemed to be attracted to green codes, the prejudice of other codes sometimes isn’t aggression. But instead mental health or– “Jaemin told me that’s his” she whispered to me while pointing at the kennel at the end of the hall.

“Can I… go alone first?” I asked and she gave me a sweet smile and let go of my hand. I took a deep breath as I walked to the kennel. Yunho didn’t even see or hear me… he looked lost in thought lying down on his bed that could barely even fit him. 

“What’s so interesting about the ceiling?” I said and his ears twitched as he looked at me clearly confused. “Mingi…” he said and I swear I saw his eyes start to tear up. “You look… so much better,” he said as he got closer to the glass door shielding us from each other. 

“Yeah… she treats me like them. You were right about her you know… she’s one of the good ones” I said and he chuckled. He then just looked at me with a soft smile he used to… “I missed you” he muttered and I smiled. “I did too,” I said.

“Why are you here, Mingi?” he asked and I smiled. “No… I don’t want her to adopt me” he said and I was confused… “Mingi… I know you. You’ll get mad and not say anything… you’ll get jealous, and I want you to be–” “I won’t…” I know I was lying but I really wanted Yunho by my side again. 

Everyone back home was amazing but… Wooyoung and San were glued to each other, and so were the tigers. Yeosang was independent… I wanted someone who would be by my side again. Even if I regret this decision. 

But would I regret my decision?

“Want me to formally introduce you to the sweetest human you’ll ever meet?” I asked and he still looked at me skeptical but laughed anyway. “How is it?” he asked, now relaxing and I smiled, wanting to show him everything. Maybe even ask Seonghwa and Wooyoung to make my favorite dishes for them to make him. 

“Where do I even start? I just know you’ll love it”

y/n’s perspective

“Mingi worries me…” I confessed to Kun. Mingi said he wanted to talk to Yunho some more so I told him I'd get the adoption papers done. “His weakness is Yunho… he seems to have a possessive part of him. He wouldn’t want to share with Yunho but I think in a way he also doesn't wanna share Yunho” he said and I agreed. “What if in the end, I can’t keep Yunho because Mingi won’t allow it?” I ask and he sighs. 

“Then I doubt Yunho will ever be adopted… or he has a really rare chance of it,” he said and I sighed. 

“There's nothing we can do but… risk it huh?” I asked and he nodded while I signed everything. I was truly worried about how everyone was gonna treat Yunho. They treated Mingi… great and honestly had the better transitions into our home but… Yunho I was really worried about and not because of everyone else but Mingi himself. 

I waited in the waiting room when I saw Renjun and Mingi. “Yunho will be out soon but Mingi isn’t allowed in the grooming nor in Doyoung-hyung’s office” he explained and I nodded as he went back to work. 

“Are you excited?” I asked and he grinned. “I finally have him back!” he said happily and I hoped… My worries were for nothing. He talked about Yunho constantly, telling everyone stories and only good things about him. While I knew he had some jealousy and envy towards the golden retriever hybrid.

None of it had aligned with his medical records. And how he was abused more than Mingi was. 

Kun confirmed it… the file as well. 

He confessed to being starved for weeks at a time and even being physically and sexually abused. While Mingi was also abused… he was starved for one week at a time, and physically abused. His heat and Yunho’s would also sync together making his previous owner lock him in a closet while– 

“Yunho!” I felt myself snap away from my thoughts and see the golden retriever hybrid who I once thought was human now in a temporary collar and clothes while Mingi hugged him. He was attached quickly… They were a bonded pair after all. 

Yunho didn’t want to look me in the eye and I didn’t push him too as Mingi just ranted and said he was gonna love their new home. Yunho only silently nodded and smiled… he was happy but looked reluctant. 

“Ohh! And every week y/n takes me out to these cafes after my session! y/n the next time we go can we bring him a lot of the pastries!” he exclaimed and I agreed happily. 

Yunho was also given therapy sessions but bi-weekly… and on Mondays… but for now I didn’t want to tell Mingi that… I didn’t want him to think Yunho was taking things from him already 

 At the apartment, everyone gave him a warm welcome… which Mingi said they should but he already looked a little dejected. Even saying “When I first came, everyone kinda hated me since we did steal from y/n,” he said already showing him the difference… Wooyoung was the first to speak up and say they warmed up pretty quickly to him but I didn’t necessarily tell them to be careful. 

Though Yeosang and Seonghwa already seem skeptical. 

Mingi soon dragged him around to show him everywhere away from everyone… Even when Wooyoung offered, he was immediately rejected by Mingi.

“What's the wolf’s problem?” Yeosang asked and I sighed. “A long story,” I said and he hummed while taking me to his room where Seonghwa followed.

“Mingi is acting differently towards us… almost like he doesn’t want us to get close to Yunho?” Seonghwa added and I sighed. “Mingi is extremely envious of Yunho. In his file it says he has a love-hate relation with his bonded pair. Jealous that he was treated better in his eyes in their old home even saying he had more favoritism while Mingi had the hard-hitting abuse” I said and they nodded. 

“Was it not like that?” Yeosang asked and I shook my head. I handed him the file from my purse which he and Seonghwa read and they didn’t seem to read much before handing it back to me. 

“So… what happens to the two?” he asked and I shrugged. “Nothing… we have to act normal and accept Yunho cause he’s a part of our home now”

yunho’s perspective

I wonder just how much she knew about the problem of me being here truly. Seeing Mingi already trying to isolate me from the others was… not a good sign. 

Of course, he can’t do it forever. So while I had my own room, he already said how he was jealous of that but because no one could share a room with me. 

He was mated to her… they all were, which was shocking. He clearly stated how much living here was like a dream and how much he wanted me here but deep down he was a liar. 

Eventually, Mingi would show everyone just how much he hated me. Because while I do believe I mean something to him… at least in private, to others I'm soon gonna be discarded. Mingi hates when I take things from him because he assumes I already have more than him. 

But I wanted to be selfish and enjoy my time with him… at least for the time being. I really did miss him and I could only hope he missed me like he was saying. 

I don’t deserve a lifetime with him… so I'm hoping that fate can offer me a small amount of time with him until we separate again. 

Mingi was not doing well emotionally.

I was happy seeing that he could interact with other hybrids so easily and even y/n who really was the sweetest person I’ve ever and probably will ever meet. 

So seeing her trying to explain that I had a check-in with the hybrid specialist did not hit him well. Especially since I would be alone with her… doing something that was just like he would.

“Can I come with you?” he asked and she gave him a tight smile.

“Mingi…” she said trailing off and Yeosang scoffed. He wasn’t rude to me but he also seemed to understand what was happening actually… I think they all knew. 

“It's for his health… you want him to be okay and happy with us right?” she asked him and he stayed silent before eventually nodding. “You should start going any longer and you’ll be late,” Hongjoong said and she nodded but not before looking at Mingi who was silently looking at the ground. 

He didn’t even bother to look once as we left but I could see he was mad… his fists were clenched and his tail nervously moved. When we come back it won’t be a happy ending. 

“I’m hoping he comes around to the realization… that well, you aren’t taking anything from him,” I said and he smiled softly. “So you noticed it too? Sorry…” he apologized and it made me wonder if Yunho was gonna be harder to transition into being in a happy home. 

“It’s not your fault… don’t apologize when it's not needed I just hope you can enjoy it while being with us,” I said and he chuckled softly. “Everyone is really nice and you’re really exactly who I thought you’d be maybe even more… I hope so too that Mingi comes to the realization” he confessed and I nodded. 

The rest of the walk was… quiet and well by the time we were here I wondered if Yunho would ever open up to me.

“You okay?” I heard and saw Jaemin. “Yeah… just worried for Yunho,” I said and he sighed. “Did Kun tell you about Yunho not being up for adoption anymore?” he asked and I nodded. He looked sad but it was a part of this job…

“Yunho is such a sweet hybrid but… so susceptible to pretending everything is okay and that makes him an easy target you know that” he explained and it was true. With him being so easily obedient his masking of how he actually feels is dangerous. 

When hybrids are trained as well… obedient servants it makes it hard for them to find homes after since either transition will be hard or they’ll find themselves in another abusive home. These hybrids are often taken to the country with other hybrids and… well are under the hands of breeders. Which treat them well but… Mingi would regret it if that happened. 

“y/n? Can we talk privately before Yunho is dismissed?” Kun came to ask and I nodded and said my goodbyes to Jaemin. “He’s finding it hard to interact with your other hybrids due to mingi, I would probably recommend separating them in the home for the time being but be careful since it might trigger Mingi. So I would recommend to talk it out with both of them” he offered and I nodded. 

I trusted Kun’s input and Mingi needed something to push him into accepting a reality check. 

I went outside after signing papers where I saw Yunho. He was currently sharing Mingi’s clothes and… well he even said he didn’t mind so I knew it came from a place of jealousy. He’d hate to see Yunho get treated better than him… 

Mingi… didn’t like the day we got Yunho a collar either but I had to sit down and tell him it's something all of them have. Something that they have uniquely for them but from the same material each other has. 

Mingi has a brownish pink collar while Yunho has a gray one with soft yellow jewels on it. The gesture alone I know made Mingi upset. 

“Are you hungry? We could pass–” “No thanks…” he rejected and I know why. Though I didn’t want to push it… “I’ll ask Wooyoung to make you something special then?” I asked and he shook his head. 

He would continue to reject anything given to him… as long as Mingi showed his insecurity. 

yunho's perspective

I was worried about going up the elevator. Mingi exactly waiting…

“Mingi can I talk with you?” she asked and he nodded softly as she looked at me and gestured me to follow. Her other hybrids looked confused but as we made it to her room she gave us a shy smile. 

“Kun offered some advice… that the two of you should separate for a bit just to help the transition. Mingi you should let him go around the apartment alone and even with everyone else okay?” she asked and he nodded softly. 

“And please… share what you’re feeling? Bottling it up isn’t good for you” she told me and we nodded as we left her room. Mingi was angry…

“Did you go somewhere after?” he asked and I shook my head. “No, I wanted to come back to–” “I bet you did…” he muttered as he walked off but I sighed and caught up to him to grab his wrist when he suddenly jerked back and looked at me angrily. 

“Why do you steal everything from me!” he yelled at me and I knew this was gonna happen. “I went through hell with our old owner and you got off easy! You never suffered anything! You were 'Golden Boy Yunho'!” he yelled angrily and it was starting to piss me off. 

“Mingi?” I heard as I saw the panther… Mingi stayed silent, probably clearing his jealous thoughts. “Can you give us some privacy?” he asked and the panther sighed. “You do know that she isn't the type of person to replace you? She’s not a hybrid collector” he corrected and Mingi stayed silent as he left.

“They weren’t hybrid collectors either… So why? Why was I the only one punished!” he yelled again and I knew he needed to get this out of him. “I hate you… I wish we weren’t bonded so we didn't have to be stuck with each other!” he yelled and I let out a shaky sigh. 

“You know nothing about what I went through–” “Did you ever stop to think, what if I just never told you about what I went through?” I asked and he scoffed. “Like what huh?! She’d favor you always–” “If you haven't eaten for a day Mingi, I didn’t eat for two! If you were locked in a closet I was the one physically punished! You weren't the only one so stop okay!” I yelled... I am now sick of it, pretending I was okay when... just wanted to forget. 

“Don’t you ever wonder what’s happening to me when you're locked in the closet? Or how long has it been since I ate, if you were being punished? Why do you think she liked me so much huh? I did everything I could for you… and in the end, you won’t ever care! You’ve always hated me when I always tried my best!” I cried out now. 

He looked shocked but he shook his head… “Liar,” he said and I sighed and left the room. I can’t stay here if he really does hate me. I knew he’d regret having her adopt me…

I went through the fridge looking for things I could take that would last me a while. 

“Planning on running away?” I heard and I looked behind me to see them all… besides her. I was caught red-handed… “Why are you fighting so much with the overgrown wolf?” Yeosang asked and I sighed.

“He’s always hated me… ever since we were kids. He still thinks he was the only one getting punished but he would get smaller punishments from her” I explained. 

“So you took his blame most of the time?” Seonghwa asked and I nodded. “She finds every little thing to blame him and when I finally stood up for him, she said I could take his punishment. So she would starve Mingi and me but then she’d give me the choice. She'd give me one plate of food for a whole week which I'd sneak little bites but gave the rest to Mingi. Or if he was locked away in heat, she would get physical with me” I explained and I couldn’t look at any of them. 

“y/n knows… she has the records of your abuse in a file. She was hoping you and Mingi could clear things up” Hongjoong said and I shook my head. I subconsciously fiddled with the collar she gifted me.

“Mingi would never believe me… and I never corrected him. I let him hate me cause it was easier that way. I told him he’d regret me being here… so I’m sorry” I apologized and Wooyoung now got closer to me and opened the fridge. 

“If you’re gonna leave you should at least have a good meal” he muttered and I was shocked. “We’re not gonna stop you from doing anything but…we also can’t just let you go without nothing,” Seonghwa said and I noticed San was missing. 

“He isn’t gonna tell her…” Yeosang confirmed and I didn’t believe him until I saw him again. “She had some clothes for you to try on that she was planning on giving you eventually,” he said, handing me a trench coat and warmer clothes. Hongjoong also appeared with money… “This should get you around for a week,” he said and I nodded. 

“Why?” I asked confused and they shrugged. “You’re really unhappy… you can fool Mingi but everyone else can see how upset you are. Even if she can… she was planning on taking you back or finding someone to adopt you but if you're running away then there's no point” Hongjoong said and I didn’t want to cry in front of them. 

“This should be good for you, make sure to eat well” I heard as I saw Wooyoung hand me a lunch box and I couldn’t stop the tears. 

“I’m sorry I caused so much trouble” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate

@sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[kaitlyn-imagines]

Omg I just love you and your writing! I hope you're staying happy, safe, and healthy!! Would it be too much to ask for some angst ending in fluff for a Kirishima soulmate fic?? I'm in desperate need of that puppy but all the fics I find are either pure fluff or super dirty. Kiri has emotions other than happy or f-boy.. help a sister out? Thank you sfm I love you stay healthy my love!! You are so wonderful!!

Hello my gorgeous girl! Sorry it took me so long to get to this :) I looooved this ask, because yes, sometimes I feel like Kirishima can be reduced to a certain role, and a lot of people forget he’s struggled with mental health in the past. Any-who, I love writing angst, sorry it's long haha.

No Pain No Gain

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Eijiro Kirishima x Soulmate!Reader Soulmate AU where pain is shared and linked between bonds

Warnings: Angst with comfort at the end, swearing, mental health, reader is the drama kind of, sparring/canon typical violence

Words: 5310

It had been pretty easy to figure out that your soulmate was part of the hero program. Afterall, no average person would be getting hurt every other day unless they were training for a career in heroism.

It wasn’t fair that they should be so careless with their pain, particularly since you gave them the luxury of having a soul mate in the general education course. It wasn’t like you were throwing yourself in danger at every opportunity for a good grade. No, all you had to do was ensure you studied well enough for your biochemistry class.

This fact—and the constant rate and severity of pain flooding down the soul bond to your nervous system—gave you half a mind to march down to each classroom and threaten to beat the shit out of whoever was breaking your back each day.

So, one day, you made an effort to sit outside and watch the various hero classes during their sparring sessions to figure out which asshole gave you debilitating pain every other day. You sat in the bleachers with your textbook atop your thighs, studying until some new shock of pain hit your system.

You were halfway through working on a Henderson–Hasselbalch equation when you felt a nauseating explosion to your pain receptors. “Fuck,” you cry out in a hiss, feeling like the very skin on your forearm was blistering into horrific burns. Yet, as always, when you looked at the offending arm, it was unmarred and clear of any abrasions. You expected as much—afflicted injuries weren’t carried down the soul bond, just the pain of them.

You were nearly nauseous from the burning sensation, feeling dizzy as you pushed your textbook off your lap and onto the surface of the seat next to you. You forced your eyes away from your sizzling nerves and towards the training field, where two students were sparring in the center of the ring.

You bit your lip, trying to focus through the excruciating pain still flaring off in your nervous system. As you glared forward, you noticed the familiar figures of hero class 1A. The two students currently sparing included an ashy blonde, who you recognized as Katsuki Bakugo, an infamous dick. You figured you had him to thank for the sensation of blisters eating up your arm.

Though, he wasn’t the one you had choice words for.

The other student, from a distance, was unmistakably…red. You’d see the guy before in the cafeteria, though you’ve never interacted before. This was lucky for him, because if you’d known he was the cause from your daily suffering, you’d have punched him square in the nose. Though, you supposed you’d also be the one feeling the justice of your fists. It’d be worth it, though.

Eijiro Kirishima…the name came to you through the haze of your pain, and it felt bitter on your tongue. You watched, a fierce rage in your eyes as you watched him battle his friend with the explosion-quirk. Despite your anger, you couldn’t help but feel a traitorous sliver of respect. How the hell was he taking hit after hit without even flinching? It was taking everything in you not to keel over as the weight of each blow hit you in tandem.

By the time the sparring session timed out, you were breathless and moaning, a sheen of cold sweat across your forehead. Your body had felt every lick of flame, every punch, and every slice of debris-made-shrapnel. And yet, when you lifted you head wearily, you saw Kirishima walking off the field with his back straight, laughing with an arm slung over his—your—assailant’s shoulder. How. The. Fuck.

You wasted no time, shakily stuffing your textbook into your backpack despite your sweaty palms. You rose from your seat on the bleachers, and nearly stumbled as your seemingly-uninjured legs buckled.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to move as you slowly limped your way down the stairs of the bleachers. You lifted the straps of your bag onto your shoulders, and managed not to yelp with the irritation to your already sensitive skin.

You hobbled your way towards the field, where already two other students were beginning their own respective sparring match. A few students shot curious or confused glances your way, no doubt questioning why some random general education student was walking up on their class session. You paid them no mind, shooting a fierce look around in search of the scarlet headed boy.

It took you a moment, but then you spotted it—a flash of red. You pushed your way past a pink girl and her invisible friend, only just managing to grit out an ‘excuse me.’ You forced yourself to keep moving your exhausted, burning limbs… and then there he was. He was still standing next to his sparring partner, a grin on his face. He looked nearly unmarred, save from a few smoking pieces of his uniform. His skin though, which should have been covered in second and third degree burns by the judge of your pain, was without a single blemish.

“You!” you hiss out venomously, catching both Kirishima and Bakugo’s attention. You didn’t spare him a moment to react before you bridged the space between you, raising your hand and slapping him straight across the face. Except, when your palm made contact with his cheek, you didn’t feel the pliancy of flesh but a rigid, steely feeling of titanium. You felt the shock of the blow shoot all the way up your arm, and the delicate bones in your hand fractured upon impact.

To add insult to injury, your cheek stung with the force of your slap, and yet Kirishima still stood there, completely unmoved…albeit with a wide-eyed, shocked look on his face. Immediately you keeled over, cradling your injured hand, which was already beginning to swell. You bit out a curse, tears pricking your eyes. God, your entire body felt like it was falling apart.

“Oh, shit, are you alright?” you heard his masculine voice ask in concern. He reached out a hand to touch your shoulder, but you’re already jolting away from his outstretched hand.

“You motherfucker,” you hissed, and both Kirishima and Bakugo seemed just as stunned by your foul language as they did your abrupt failure of a slap. Still cradling your swelling hand, you glared at Kirishima with as much venom as you could muster.

“I-I’m sorry…?” his voice came out hesitant, unsure. He had no idea who you were, why you were here, or why you looked about ready to blow a fuse. He glanced at Bakugo, but his companion just shrugged, sharing his cluelessness.

“Sorry?” you laugh out callously. “Oh, fuck off. If you actually cared, you’d be a little less reckless and self-sacrificial. And, might I add, a little more thoughtful about who’s also taking your hits.”

Kirishima blinked at you, wide-eyed. He seemed to be floundering a little, still struggling to make sense of the situation. You sneer at him, not bothering to explain further. “How the hell are you even still standing? You don’t even look like you’re sore, for fuck’s sake. You can’t tell me you’re not feeling even an ounce of pain from all that?”

“M-My quirk…” he exhaled, shaking his head as his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s called Hardening. It allows me to harden and sharpen my body. I don’t really hurt when it’s activated…” he trailed off. At your accusing look, something seemed to click for Kirishima, and his posture shifted. His expression brightened, replacing any confusion or reservations he was feeling.

“Oh, wait!” he exclaimed, staring at you with a sudden clarity and eagerness. “Are you…?” His eyes were beaming with recognition. You couldn’t deny that such a bright look on his face made him look incredibly handsome, but the sheer amount of pain you were experiencing made you refuse to think of anything but your anger.

“Yep,” you gritted out, still cradling your hand, which had swollen to an alarming size in less than a minute. At this, Kirishima seemed to curb his excitement at discovering his soulmate. You watched him realize with a sense of alarm—and to your slight satisfaction, guilt—that you’d basically taken the full force of every one of his blows without any of his natural defense.

“Shit, that looks bad,” he winced, glancing at his hand as your injury sent small flares of pain down the bond to him. Then he stepped forward to look closer at your own hand. “I can’t imagine you’re feeling great anywhere, especially after my match…” You pulled yourself away from him, not allowing him to get closer to you. He looked like a kicked puppy when you did that.

Though, with your pain receptors firing off and competing with each other, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Nor did you dull the sharpness of your glare. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you spat, and he flinched. “You should’ve been more careful. I refuse to believe it never occurred to you that your reckless battling style wouldn’t go straight down the soul bond. Or, maybe you are that stupid…”

You were being mean, but in your mind, it was justified. His actions and selfishness had caused you physical pain for months ever since your soul bond manifested. The least you could do is inflict some retributive pain in the only way that seemed to affect him…verbally.

Bakugo, who seemed content to watch with a semi-amused smirk from the side, finally stepped in at that, his jaw clenched at your insult to his friend. “You watch your fucking mouth,” he all but growled out. “It’s not like he fucking meant for you to get hurt on his behalf.”

You barked out a bitter laugh, your feelings of injustice making you brave in the face of the notorious hot-head. “Yeah? Well, it doesn’t matter if he intended to or not, he’s still a shitty soulmate for all the shit he put me through.” From the corner of your eye, Kirishima seemed to deflate slightly, evidently weighed down by shame. Bakugo’s eyes, however, flared as he met your anger with his own.

“But,” you continued, “since you have such a hard on for him, you can have him for all I care. Fuck you, and fuck you too. Stop ruining my life and stay the hell out of it.” You shot that last bit Kirishima’s way, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest smidge of guilt. He’d forced his expression into something neutral, biting the inside of his cheek—but his eyes…they were nothing short of devastation.

You spun on your heel to leave. Despite all your pride and justified anger, the brutal limp in your step made your dramatic exit less effective.

You heard Bakugo growl from behind you, and you could only assume Kirishima was holding him back as he murmured a quiet, “Don’t. They’re right, man. I fucked up…” You didn’t care enough to look back and check. You had enough on your plate as you limped your sorry ass up to the infirmary for your broken hand.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You had been absolutely, breath-takingly beautiful. Your cheeks slightly flushed and that passionate, fiery look in your eyes…

He hadn’t even felt the impact of your hand slapping his cheek, but he wished he’d known it was coming. If he had, he’d have deactivated his quirk…just to feel your touch in any capacity. Because, if he knew one thing for certain, he’d never feel the grace of your touch ever again.

He'd met his soulmate, and in the same breath, he’d lost them.

You’d been as devastating, fierce, and hypnotizing as a roaring flame. He couldn’t forget the vision of you. Your words had been sharper than a blade, and they’d cut him more than he’d care to admit. But he couldn’t really blame you.

He hadn’t even thought about the ramifications of his fighting style before. Due to his quirk, he was a highly defensive asset—he could tank debilitating blows without even breaking a sweat. It was perfect for combat, since he never had to consider any real damage or injury to himself.

But he had been thoughtless. Because, despite how excited he’d been when his soulmate bond manifested, he never once considered the consequences his brutal, reckless fighting would have on them.

He used to like taking hits, just to show off how tough he was…but now it made him sick to his stomach, thinking about all the suffering he’d caused you. All before he even knew you.

You were right. He was a shitty soulmate—at that fact made him loathe himself all the more. What kind of man did that make him? He’d willingly, though unknowingly, let you take the brunt of every hit. God…that look in your eyes. You hated him. You hated him, and you didn’t even know him, but it was his fault.

“Kirishima!” Aizawa shouted, exasperated, from the sidelines. The sound startled Kirishima out of his thoughts. “What the hell are you doing? You’re letting your team flounder out there!”

It’d been a week since the altercation with you, and admittedly it had affected him deeply. He wasn’t putting as much effort into his training, choosing to avoid the heat of battle where he could. This, consequently, was pummeling his teammates.

“Shit,” Kirishima muttered under his breath as he watched Sero take a brutal punch to the side of the head from Shoji, sending him sliding across the rocky terrain. They were in the midst of a team versus team exercise, and once again, Kirishima had abandoned his part in the formation.

He was the one who should’ve taken that hit, up on the frontline. He could tank it without a problem. Now Sero was down for the count, and their team was at a disadvantage.

He could hear Aizawa shout again, anger and frustration beginning to bleed into his tone as he yelled at him to get in there. But how could he? How could he willingly take the blows knowing that he was practically damning you to bear the pain for him?

Yet at the same time, how could he ever aspire to be a pro-hero if he couldn’t use his body as both a natural shield and weapon—if he couldn’t use his quirk? He was torn, and his own internal conflict had left him floundering ever since he learned who his soulmate was, and what he’d inadvertently done to them.

With Kirishima’s guilt and indecision forcing him into inaction, their team inevitably lost the exercise. Aizawa glared at him from across the field, disappointment painted across his face. And his teammates—his classmates and friends—were shooting him frustrated looks too, looking a little more beat up than usual.

Kirishima made his way over to Sero, where Denki and Mina were already helping him to his feet. Sero had a nasty bruise already marring the side of his head, purple extending all the way around his eye socket. Kirishima’s gut twisted painfully as a deep feeling of shame and worthlessness settled there.

Kirishima didn’t like feeling like a coward. He was more than willing to sacrifice himself for his friends…but he felt like his hands were tied. Either he had to watch his friends get hurt, or knowingly hurt you by taking it himself.

Old insecurities from his youth resurfaced. Self-doubt and self-loathing began to settle where absence had taken residence within him—he lost the chance of a future with you, his soulmate, and now he was losing whatever chance he had of becoming a truly respectable and manly hero.

Kirishima clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides before he ran one of them through his hair. Sero was slightly wobbly on his feet, and was forcing a gritty smile despite the evident throbbing of his head. With Denki helping to shoulder his weight, Sero spoke to Kirishima, wincing slightly.

“It’s okay, man,” his said, voice hoarse. “It’s not your fault.” His words, though good natured, did little to reassure Kirishima. He knew it was his fault, and knew that Sero was just being kind because of what had happened with you last week. His friends all knew the struggles he was going through—they could see the emotions, insecurities, and guilty conscience warring in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to be strong.

Mina knew this more than anyone, and so she patted Kirishima’s shoulder gently. “How about you take Sero to the infirmary?” she offered, and Kirishima recognized this as the kindness it was. It was an opportunity to help him feel a little less useless in that moment.

Kirishima swallowed, and nodded his head, feeling every bit like a young boy again and he assumed Denki’s spot and shouldered half of Sero’s weight. As he walked him up to the infirmary, he winced each time Sero did.

Kirishima knew he was a shitty soulmate, and now he knew he was a shitty friend too.

Once Sero was settled into a cot and under Recovery Girl’s care, Kirishima allowed himself to exhale the breath he was holding. He ran a hand down his face, and felt the urge to do…something. Punch a wall, scream into his pillow, pull his hair…anything to get rid of this heavy feeling in his chest and the loudness of his thoughts.

He leaned against the wall just outside the infirmary, standing like a sentinel while his friend had his mending done. Cutting through his onslaught of heaviness, Kirishima felt a sudden ache in his hand. He glanced down at it, and something tightened in his chest. That was you, wasn’t it? Down the soul bond…the hand you’d broken against his jaw was aching now.

Would this be as close as he ever got to you? Standing on the outskirts of your existence, only ever knowing your pain? It seemed a fitting punishment, considering he’d caused so much of it for you…

He wondered where you were. He wondered if you ever thought of him, or if you did your best to clear him from your mind entirely. Stop ruining my life and stay the hell out of it. Those were likely the last words he’d ever hear from his soul mate.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, before he finally pushed off the wall. Classes were over for the day, and he couldn’t think of a better start to his weekend than sulking bitterly in his room for the rest of the night.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You rubbed your uninjured hand along your chest, trying to ease the painful, aching tightness there. It had refused to dull even a smidge for the past week. You had a small suspicion to the cause, but little idea as to what the sensation actually was.

It was Saturday night, and although the burn pains from last week had faded, the feeling in your chest was only getting worse. It was almost more miserable than the soreness beneath your cast.

You stared hard at your textbook, the lamp on your desk illuminating the words and diagrams in a warm yellow light. But as much as you tried to focus, the aching chest pain distracted you. You sighed in defeat, and closed the heavy book with a thump.

You pushed out from your desk, stretching to the best of your ability with the clunky, hunk of plaster encasing your fractured hand. Something was wrong with your soulmate, wherever he was. Ever since you presented with a soul bond, nothing like this aching feeling had ever been sent down the line. It was distracting, and…a little concerning.

You hadn’t planned on ever talking to Kirishima again after how you left things last week, but you felt compelled to get to the bottom of this. You told yourself it was because you needed to study without any distractions. Though, if you were honest with yourself, you’d been feeling kind of shitty about what you’d said to Kirishima in your anger.

You’d just been so tired of the near constant pain. You’d been at your wits end. You had resented him for it, and that resentment had built over time until it boiled over.

But this past week, you’d noticed something. The pain you’d so often associated with him and his hero training was surprisingly absent. There was only that deep, painful ache in your chest that refused to go away.

You swallowed, trying to clear your head of all these thoughts. You took a deep breath to mentally prepare yourself. Then, you raised you good hand, and gave three solid knocks to the door. You waited…but no one answered. You knew he was in his dorm. You could hear soft music playing on the other side of it. Perplexed, you raised your fist again and rapped your knuckles against the door a second time.

Once again, no one answered. Feeling slightly miffed at being ignored, you called out through the door, “Kirishima, open up.”

A moment later, you heard the music silence.

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, and you shifted awkwardly on your feet as you heard shuffling on the other side of the door. You preoccupied yourself by looking at your cuticles, waiting for what must’ve been thirty seconds before the door finally and suddenly opened. It startled you slightly, but you quickly composed yourself.

There, Kirishima stood. He was in sweatpants and a sleep shirt. His hair was mussed and down against his head, as if he’d only just quickly ran a comb through it. He looked…not well. Beneath his eyes were slight dark circles, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. He wasn’t smiling as he normally did either, as if his bright and cheery attitude had been snuffed out like a candle.

His eyes were widened slightly, staring at you as if you were a phantom, or a figment of the mind. He gaped, evidently stunned, and you cleared your throat awkwardly at the attention. “Hey,” you managed to get out.

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Then, he recovered, and leaned against his door frame. “Hey…” he answered quietly, his eyebrows furrowed. He seemed sad. “Sorry. Did I…did I hurt you again?” he asked, his voice sounding weak.

You blinked at him, and quickly shook your head. “No, no…” you said, speaking with a lot more patience and kindness than you had the last time you confronted him. “I just…wanted to check on you.”

At your lame explanation, Kirishima seemed to still. His expression morphed slightly, taking on a look of confusion. His eyes briefly glanced down the hall in either direction, as if there might’ve been a camera crew waiting to get his reaction. Then, when his eyes returned to you, you felt your heart leap into your throat. Was his attention always this all-encompassing?

This close to him, you realized that you never noticed before how pretty his eye color was. It was a gorgeous burnt-sienna.

You blinked when he cocked his head slightly, and realized you’d been staring. You cleared your throat, a little embarrassed, but undeterred. He hadn’t yet responded to you, seemingly waiting for you to continue. So, you do.

“I’ve been getting this feeling,” you began slowly, but immediately stopped as a few girls left their dorm a few doors down. You flushed slightly, glancing their way before looking back to Kirishima. “Actually, do you…mind if I come in to talk more privately?”

Kirishima’s eyes widened slightly, and glanced over his shoulder towards his room, as if a little self-conscious. “It’s messy,” he confessed after a moment, but one look at your pleading eyes had him caving. “But uh…yeah, come on in.” He stepped to the side, holding the door open to you in a way that seemed rather gentlemanly, despite everything.

You entered, ducking your head and keeping your cast tucked into your body. The room was dark, and as he’d said, a little disheveled. Some clothes piled in the corner next to the hamper, empty drink cans and snacks on the table next to his bed, a towel in the center of the floor…

Before you could enter too far, Kirishima closed the door and made quick work to tidy up what he could. You opened your mouth to reassure him it was alright, but something in your intuition told you to humor him. So, you patiently waited as he tossed the clothes and towel into the hamper, and swiped the trash into the bin.

When he finished, he ran a hand through his hair and puffed out a soft breath of air. “Sorry about that,” he muttered between his teeth. Silently, he gestured a hand to a red beanbag in the corner of the room for you to sit. You hesitated for only a second before thinking better of it, and accepted the invitation. It sank beneath you as you sat down. It felt like it was swallowing you.

“So,” he said after a moment, leaning his hips against his desk. He braced his hands on the edge of it, not quite meeting your eye, but instead looking at the floor near your feet. “You were saying?”

You cleared your throat, trying to fight off the wave of awkwardness threatening to consume this entire situation. “Yeah,” you began. “I’ve just been…getting this feeling like something was wrong.” He looked at you then, and you paused for just a second before you asked, a bit unsure, “Is something wrong?”

Kirishima seemed to search your face for something, words getting caught in his throat. Finally, he looked away and muttered quietly, “Can you feel it? Is it bothering you? …sorry, I’m…I’m trying.” He’d always been so boisterous when you saw him in the halls, always loud, cheerful, energetic, and bright.

Now he seemed so sullen and dejected. Geez, had you done that to him?

Guilt gnawed at your gut, and distantly you replayed the harsh words you had snapped at him the last time you’d spoken. You’d been angry, and you felt justified in being so. But also, you’d spoken without giving him any chance to respond or explain himself. And, he’d just let you. You’d never had a proper conversation before that afternoon, and he had no reason to quietly undertake your vitriol, and yet he did—without a single word of retaliation or denial.

“Kirishima,” you sighed, looking away in shame. “It’s not that…look, I’m sorry for how I behaved before.” You could feel the weight of his eyes back on you, watching your face. You wished you were brave enough to meet his gaze. “I was upset and… you didn’t know, did you? That it was hurting me that badly? You didn’t think of it. I’ve been thinking this past week, and I can’t imagine you would do it on purpose. You don’t seem like that kind of guy.”

You looked up in time to see him shake his head, confirming your guess. He was staring at you with an intensity, hanging onto every word as if you were the most important thing in the world. “I didn’t know,” he agreed quietly.

“I know,” you breathed, watching him carefully. He glanced away at your sudden attention, and you got the feeling he normally wouldn’t have if not for…whatever was going on. “I can feel your pain,” you said after a moment. “It’s different. It’s here.” You press your good hand to your chest, and saw him close his eyes, a strained expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and you felt your heart twist painfully. He seemed to feel it too, because he looked up at you the moment it happened.

“Stop saying that,” you frowned, and with minor difficulty due to having a cast, you pushed yourself up from the bean bag. You watched Kirishima stiffen as you approached him, and paused. “I’m the one who should apologize.” He seemed to relax a hair then, and watched you with the same rapt attention as before.

“I never meant to make you feel like this,” you said, again pressing your hand to your chest. You watched him watch you, and took another small step forward. He didn’t react, so you took it as a sign to approach. Slowly, you removed your hand from your chest, and ever so gently placed it upon his own.

You heard him inhale sharply, and could feel his heart hammering in his chest. “That’s what this aching feeling is, isn’t it?” you asked, and he didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. You could see all the confirmation you needed in his eyes.

“You’re not a shitty soulmate,” you murmured, wincing at the words you had once spat at him. “I shouldn’t have approached you like that, guns blazing. I shouldn’t have made assumptions. I haven’t felt anything this week other than the aching. You’ve been trying not to get hit during class, right?”

You watched him carefully. Again, he didn’t answer you, but instead raised his hand to rest it atop of where yours was still upon his chest. His eyes were soft with a vulnerable emotion, a lingering sadness, and what you felt might have been a tiny, fragment of hope.

You swallowed, feeling a slight warmth rise to your cheeks. No one had looked at you like that before. It felt intimate in a way. The anger and resentment you had burned with just last week was extinguished, and all that remained was a desire to reconcile and understand.

“Tell me what this feeling it?” you asked quietly, deciding to reward his vulnerability with some of your own. “Help me understand you.”

And so, he did. He brought you to his bed, and you both sat on the edge of it as he confessed how he had been feeling. The resurgence of old insecurities and mental health issues. The self-loathing, the struggle to work towards his hero dreams, to be a good person to his friends and to you, and to fight back the crushing waves of disappointment and expectations weighing down on him.

He was honest with you about everything, and you admired him for it. He was courageous in his honesty, and despite all the new and past hurt you’d triggered in him, he continued to speak kindly to you. Did you deserve his forgiveness? You weren’t sure yet, but he seemed to think so.

When he’d finished, you had slight tears in your eyes. The crushing weight in your chest, that ache he’d been feeling…it had been overwhelming. But as he’d talked you through his feelings, you noticed it had lightened considerably. It was still there, smaller yet persistent—but, you were certain with time, you might help him vanquish it as he’d done once before. You squeezed his hand with your own, and he looked at you with a slight color to his cheeks.

“Since we’re being honest,” he said after a moment, “I was always psyched knowing I had a soul mate out there.” He watched you for your reaction carefully. “Even though you looked at me like a raging bull, I thought you were so beautiful. You had so much spirit, so much courage.”

You bit your bottom lip, and realized you were still grasping his hand. You didn’t release it.

“That’s the kind of hero I want to be, you know?” he admitted with the softest smile. “The kind of person I want to be. Straightforward, honest, courageous, bold, and compassionate even when it’s hard to be.”

“You are,” you heard yourself saying, staring into his eyes. Those pretty, burnt-sienna eyes. After a moment, you swallowed, feeling your cheeks warm once more. “I don’t actually want you to stay away,” you admitted.

“I know,” he answered, and smile he gave you was familiar.

[jitterbugjive]

Memorial for Mom

Very painful news. I learned that my mother died in an apartment fire earlier today. She had been struggling with a manic episode for the past 8 months, not getting the help she desperately needed. I am going to make a memorial video for her to post on the Ponies With Pockets channel, and I want to ask if anyone wants to draw something in remembrance of her. You can submit to my inbox or email jitterbugcommissions@gmail.com Things to know about her that might help with ideas: -She loved birds, especially robins and cockatiels. Her name was Robin. -Her favorite movie was Hook, with Robin Williams who was her favorite actor -Her biggest special interest outside the Bible was the Beatles. She was especially obsessed with John Lennon. -She wrote the Derpy lullaby people might know, the "Wrap You in Rainbows" one, it was originally for me as a baby -She deeply believed in angels -Her favorite authors were JR Tolkein, and CS Lewis -She loved going to renaissance faires -She adored Dr Demento and Weird Al -Her favorite Disney movie is Dumbo because like Dumbo's mother, she was almost separated from her baby for being "too dangerous" due to mental health -She loved playing guitar -She was insanely kind, to a fault, so kind that many awful people took advantage of her kindness. She suffered a lot through life but never stopped being kind and hopeful, and seeing the best in people. -Favorite colors were purple and robin's egg blue -Was a writer and often represented herself with a robin, her slogan was "writing that sings"

Here are some photos of her:

[the-peak-tmnt]

Hey The Neon Void readers, quick update from the author's sister!

(art commission by @kaysdenofchaos)

Hi readers of The Neon Void fanfic. This is the author’s older sister. She’s been getting a lot of fan art and asks lately. She’s sent me screenshots of a few unanswered ones looking for advice on how to respond.

While all the love and support of TNV is genuinely appreciated, my sister @sugarpasteltmnt is not equipped to respond to a small handful of these asks/comments that are, quite frankly, inappropriate.

Sugarpastels is not a therapist, and she’s certainly not an internet stranger’s therapist.

She’s an adult with an extremely demanding and stressful job for a very large client. Some of you have already experienced and enjoyed her work IRL without knowing it. Her company is close to finishing another project that will bring a lot of joy to hundreds of thousands of people every year, but working on a project of that scale is extremely stressful.

She is writing this fanfic for fun. TNV is a way for her to decompress and put her creative energy towards something other than work.

What’s not fun is coming home to asks/comments from readers who are projecting their own struggles/mental health onto TNV, and even Sugarpastels herself, and demanding some sort of attention from her over it.

Let’s be real: it’s fun to watch our blorbos suffer! So much of fandom is just us putting our favorite characters in Situations because it’s fun. Simple as that. But I think another reason TNV has resonated so strongly with readers is because of the way Sugarpastels writes the internal struggles of these characters.

We are both aware that TNV deals with mental health topics. Since the early days of “modern” fandom, fanfiction has been a way for people to explore complicated, difficult and sometimes even taboo subjects. There’s no shortage of complex feelings being explored in TNV, which is why we’re all having so much fun reading it.

But that’s all it is; an exploration. Sugarpastels is not a mental health expert. I’ve read a handful of books on PTSD and mindfulness for research while writing my own fanfic, and I would never consider myself prepared to help someone else.

It’s okay if you relate to things from TNV. I know I do! Again, fanfic has always been a way to read about things rarely dealt with (or handled poorly) in published fiction/tv shows/movies. I will always argue one of the greatest things about fanfiction and other fanworks is being able to see ourselves and our own struggles through our favorite fictional characters.

But Sugarpastels is not a fictional character. She’s a real person. Most importantly (to me at least) she’s my little sister, and this big sister cannot handle watching some of her readers expect more of her than is appropriate.

So I’m asking you to please be mindful of what you ask/say to not just her, but literally everyone on the internet. Unless you’re chatting with someone regularly, they do not know you. Whether it’s friends, family, teachers, coaches, etc, there are people in your life who know you personally, and are therefore better equipped to help you than a stranger on the internet.

Sugarpastels is so full of empathy that it’s hard to not feel for you when you send things like this. But it just isn’t fair to put that kind of unnecessary pressure on someone who is, at the end of the day, just trying to have some fun writing about ninja turtles bein’ sad.

(That being said, PLEASE DON’T BE SCARED TO SEND HER ASKS AND FAN ART!!! They make her day every single time and are seriously so, so appreciated. She’s texting me about it constantly how much she loves all of TNV’s readers. This whole post is really directed at an extremely small percentage of her readers, but there have been enough I felt something needed to be said.)

[gizmocreates]

assorted canto 8 p 2 thoughts

part 2 dungeon jumpscared me!!! While it definitely was super fitting and a wonderful way to show the full scope of the hierarch war, it also is terrifying to see a dungeon… and know what lies within isn’t the end of the journey.

seven hour dungeon torment nexus. jia qiu fight whittled down all my sinners until it ended in a solo duel between fanghunt lu and jia qiu. i escaped that fight by the skin of my teeth

Honestly. I’m gonna say this one’s more difficult than the Canto 6 boss rush. Considering that your sanity gets reset right before every major fight the only real things you have an advantage with are ego resources and maybe ego gifts. And with how intense so many of the fights are… yeck, they don’t really provide much relief. (to be fair the teams i use aren’t The Meta but still. Jia Qiu’s Zilu skill can go to hell.)

i know it’s early to say any current survivors are actually, yknow, surviving, but we had a shockingly low death toll for the City’s Version Of The Hunger Games. fully expect Lin Daiyu’s health to deteriorate since she was shot with an EGO bullet, but she’s still alive, somehow.

they didn’t make xue baochai Secretly Evil (tm) thank fucking god. I was fully expecting it but i would’ve been a bit disappointed if it’d happened

jia qiu really just walked up, aura farmed, beat the shit out of hong lu until he formed an honest opinion and then fucked off. goodness i need this man carnally

speaking of which, between the frequent trauma dumps and him trying so goddamn hard in the end to say *anything* Jia Qiu would want to hear to avoid actually having to say something as simple, and yet profound, as wanting kindness… god, I felt hard for Hong Lu in this chapter. It may seem silly that it took him so long to get to such a seemingly vapid conclusion, but like… when you’ve been the vessel of suffering your entire life, so consumed by an inability to let your choices matter, why would you ever see the pursuit of kindness as something attainable? Not just some lofty, selfish goal, sinful to even utter a word of? Not something you feel you deserve, no, and not something you have a right to give others.

seeing garion made me ill bro i need her too (to kill me)

Gubo toxic yaoi is funny as hell. Bro really just tried to guilt trip Yi Sang for leaving his bum ass and Yi Sang said “you are NOT turning this around on me mister”

the duality of jia huans is really interesting. a young and innocent boy who simply was jealous because he didn’t understand Hong Lu’s actual position in life… had his life taken from him, and his name was taken by a embittered, violent man who still does not— and now likely refuses to— understand Hong Lu. Not that Hong Lu did him any favors.

Heathcliff, Yi Sang and Sinclair have been trying so fucking hard to reach out this canto, bless them. Too damn bad that they’re talking to a brick wall. Hopefully in part 3 their slow but methodical cracking of his facade will bear fruit, especially now that Jia Qiu has shaken him.

anyone else think about how sinners usually only resonate and show their memories at the peak of their emotions?? and how that entire time, while his face was still a near-perfect mask, hong lu was practically strobing us with a million memories a minute?? Yeah this man’s mental state is in shambles and he will Not let anyone see it. The allusion to prey animals near the beginning of the chapter is notable to me because… a lot of prey animals hide their injuries, too. Any sickness or hurt they might have, they’ll hide it until it kills them, because otherwise they might be seen, and to be seen is to be hurt further. he very much knows that the elders are watching. That jia mu will Know if he actually speaks his mind. And so. He’s given up. All he can do… is smile.

also xichun becoming the hierarch instead of Dying is rad as hell but also what a way to do it lmao. We knew it was coming but god the fact that even in character everyone’s just like “what the fuck just happened. What” is so funny

please let us fight jia mu/the elders next part please please please

[keepittoyourshelf]

Since the algorithm on my various socials thinks I actually want to see a ton of people simping over Rhys and ACOTAR, let’s get down to the bones of why that algorithm is fucked beyond all comprehension, shall we?

I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m pro-Tamlin, not in the sense that I approve of what he did, but from the place that I believe he’s worthy of forgiveness in the same way any of the men that SJM otherwise glorifies in her work is worthy of it for any of their transgressions.

I shouldn’t have to do a paint by numbers thing here to make this obvious, but based on the actual text written by SJM in her own words, Tamlin has objectively done nothing better or worse than Rhysand has.

The big complaint is his temper, of course, and pro-Rhysies love to bullshit about how the red flags were all over book 1 and SJM is such a master at foreshadowing.

He locked Feyre in a house against her will to protect her, when she clearly didn’t want to be caged. How is that any worse than Rhysand…drugging her and making her give him lap dances, in order to protect her, when she clearly didn’t want to be dancing naked in front of strangers?

Go on. I’ll wait for your rationalization.

Rhysand’s whole shtick was that he’s only playing the villain to keep Velaris (and only Velaris) safe…those fucks in the Hewn City can eat a bag of dicks, right? But tell me again how Tamlin is the really bad one for enforcing a tithe because it’s unfair to those who can’t afford it (fair point). But Rhysand chooses to save the one city in his court that has zero problems. Let’s let those that might already be suffering from poverty get kidnapped and tortured by a psychopath. That’s probably better than a tithe, right?

And let’s not forget how Tamlin mocked Feyre and Rhys at the High Lords meeting. While funny, it was in poor taste. At least Rhysand didn’t publicly mock Tamlin. He had the decency to do it privately when he went out of his way to go to a deeply troubled man’s house and, in the midst of an obvious mental health crisis, not only had the gall to ask for resources from a man that has no resources because his own wife fucking destroyed them out of spite, but proceeds to rub in his triumph over a man that has nothing left. Nothing to see there, right?

Even if you could ignore all of that (and you’d have to be willfully fucking thick to do so, which a lot of these people are), I shall leave you with Tamlin’s role as a spy for Hybern. That’s obviously supposed to be a real shock because TaMliN BaD at this point, so why would anyone believe him? It’s not like he had a really good explanation like Rhys gave when he murdered literal children and innocents just to ensure Amarantha didn’t know how noble he actually was. Right? RIGHT?! And it’s not like anyone would have a harder time believing someone who had played evil and done actually evil things for the “greater good” (a collectivist dog whistle if there ever was one) for fifty fucking years over the dude that suddenly goes bad after being a progressive and respected high lord for the same period of time? I mean, it’s not like we’re dealing with severe mental anguish and trauma here. That’s crazy talk.

Shadow Daddy does no wrong. Even when he does. Because reasons.

Those idiots on TikTok making stupid videos showing their bf’s being all shocked and I KNEW IT when Tamlin “turns” can chew glass along with all those dipshits selling mugs that say “Tamlin’s Tears” on Etsy right next to merch glorifying a man that literally gaslit his soulmate into believing that forced drunken naked lap dances were actually a good thing, when you think about it.

SJM isn’t a master of foreshadowing. She’s a sloppy writer of moderately entertaining fiction that has a kink for glorifying severely unhealthy behaviors without the benefit of a trigger warning.

Fuck off if you think that’s all okay and think that anyone that says Tamlin isn’t any worse comparatively is the crazy one. Projection is a real disorder. Look it up. Right after you order your 543rd Rhysand candle.

[waynewifey]

aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

sumary: aporia suggests “an impasse”, a knot or an inherent contradiction found in any text, an insuperable deadlock, or “double bind” of incompatible or contradictory meanings which are “undecidable”. [reference]

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

warnings: mental health struggle, miscarriage, car crash, a lot of internal dialogue

word count: 2k

A/N: the more i write, the more i put myself in this story. i feel like this ‘you’ is so complex i can’t help but try to explain her further. part four will be bruce’s perspective on all of this + an epilogue. i’m so grateful for the amazing feedback given on the last two parts and for the new followers, thank you so so much. i hope you enjoy this. (also this gif??? HELLO???)

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

the uncomfortable silence makes you want to scream. she told you that was a normal reaction and they couldn't get rid of those moments, they were essential for your self reflection. the problem was being alone with your thoughts, even for just one minute. they keep deciding you won't recover any time soon. everyone keeps holding you like a cracked vase. even negligence was better than being put under the microscope.

"i don't know what you want me to say" you respond, your gaze anxiously shuffling between the objects in the room. the woman's eyes, however, don't ever leave your face. she holds that journal like a scientist analysing a mutation. like you're some weird thing.

"you should say whatever you feel like saying." that's what she always answers. dr. quinn was extremely stoic, even for a therapist. you still liked her, though, because her pragmatic approach helped you shift your point of view and see yourself from an outside perspective, which made you want to help yourself. after weeks of feeling extra irritable, still trying to forgive your husband for lying to you, you realised maybe everything was too much for you to handle by yourself. you wanted to go back to the real world but before that, you had to do this. a quick chat with your psychiatrist and he gave you the contact to harley quinn.

"i think i've been way too mean to bruce" your confession has her nodding, like that observation had been made sessions before and she was waiting for you to realise that. "he's been so supportive and helpful, but sometimes words just fly out of my mouth and i don't even mean them"

"do you think it's easier to blame him than to come to terms with what actually happened?" you can't answer, because this was all you've asked yourself lately. you were a coward, hiding behind his suffering to prevent confronting yours. it's easy to curse him, to reject him, but it's not what you want to do. lately it feels like you don't have any control over your emotions and actions. you thought maybe if you pushed away the last person that still cared for you, you could disappear in your loneliness and finally stop hurting. "y/n you've been through something terrible. the kind of thing we never think it's gonna happen to us. i know it doesn't feel real, but you have to face it that it is. the thing about trauma... you have to keep living with it. you have to keep going, because it doesn't go away. but this is your life and you don't get to stay on standby. you hurt the people you love because it's better than hurting yourself. you told me you feel bad about it, so why won't you change?"

why won't you? you don't even know where to start. it felt comfortable living in sorrow forever. horrible, but comfortable. again, it was in fact easier to blame him than to accept this was reality. but he's right outside, been waiting for you for two hours, as he has done twice a week for over a month. you weren't being fair to him. he didn't deserve this. dr. quinn sees the defeat in your eyes and sighs in a mission accomplished type of breath.

"think about this, okay? we'll talk on friday." you nod, as if you weren't already overthinking it.

bruce sees you before listening to you. he's created the habit to stay in the waiting room with headphones in, blasting loud music. he didn't want you to feel like he was prying on you. he also didn't want to listen anything you had to say about him. you had the right to be mad at him, given everything that had happened. he knew you didn't mean it when you bomb dropped the word 'divorce' every now and then. it would take you some time to get back to normal and he wouldn't rush you.

you walk to the car quietly and get into the driver's seat. he agreed to let you drive to and from therapy. the office was actually in dr. quinn's house, a little bit on the country side of the city, if you could call it that. it was a 50 minute drive with no traffic, roads empty enough for you to drift off in you thoughts. he watches you drive, eyes brightening up a little more everyday. he realised that trying to shield you from the world wasn't going to work out. you need to learn how to be on your own. he needs to learn how to care for you while away.

"i'm sorry," you caught him off guard, observing the curves of your face. he frowns at the unexplained sentence. you glance at him but look back at the road. "for the way i've been acting. for pushing you away. for being too complicated. i know you're trying to help… thank you for staying."

"darling, of course. for better or for worse, remember? i'm never leaving you. we're getting through this, together. and don't you worry about me, i'll be okay when you are too, alright? you're doing great, i can see how much you're working towards it." he holds out a hand for you and you take it, intertwining your fingers. his calloused palms are softer now, courtesy of the months without batman-ing. they still embrace yours entirely and warm the cold tips of your fingers.

"i love you" the sweetness of that feeling dominates your tastebuds and it's almost like the day you started dating. that innocent type of love that consist of the pure enjoyment of each others company. however, your attempt to savour the moment is ruined by a shape in your peripheral eyesight.

"i love you too" bruce's voice is muffled by the anxious thoughts taking over your mind. the panic starts to overflow. he notices your body getting stiff and the wheel looking loose on your hand. your breathing lost it's rhythm to creaking gasps. there's something wrong. your eyes are frozen in a vehicle. he's seen this van before. maybe not this one, but an identical one, in a security camera tape in court. it looks exactly like the one that took you. "baby, hey, hey. i'm right here." you don't pay any mind to the man beside you. you can't, not when your instincts are telling you to run. not when you can feel the gun getting knocked on your head over and over again. bruce is saying something. the tears are blurring your sight. this is too much.

he's calling you screaming at this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you still haven't looked away from the van. there's a bump coming up, the car is dangerously fast and you're not driving at all. he goes for the wheel but isn't quick enough. the tires wiggle, going in their own direction. the car changes lanes, getting in the wrong way of the street. another car is coming and the impact isn't light. your head is thrown forwards, the airbag covering your face. the windshield shatters and little pieces of glass get stuck in your hair. the crash isn't too bad, you're both still awake and only the front has been smashed. but you get out hyperventilating, falling onto the ground and weeping.

bruce gets out as well, only a scratch on the forehead. he has to kneel on the dirt to hold you up. for a while, he doesn't say anything. the other driver is standing, phone in the ear. he's also fine. the cars were the only damage. two other drivers stop by, offering help. you wish he could help you, but it seems as if there's something inherently wrong with you.

— depression.

the weeks following the accident were harsh. it took a while to get you believing in recovery again. you still weren't sure. somehow there was press at the site, so pictures of you crying next to a car crash made it to the papers. there's minor commentary online about you faking it for your husbands popularity. most of the netizens feel desperately sorry for you and have painted you to be their new princess diana, the comparison seems wild to you.

you only go online every three days or so, because you can't resist the urge to know what bruce hasn't been telling you. jokes on you, he's actually been a lot more transparent lately. you agreed that the batman would show up to the sentence of edward nashton, to pressure the jury with his presence. it worked and the criminal got life without parole. the lawyers said that your public presence impacted on his trial, as 20 years was the standard. you were just glad he wouldn't do that to anybody else ever again. the case got national and your family from outside the state, that you not-so-kindly kept in the dark, started making contact, victimising you all over again.

but things were getting better, gradually. it had been almost a year and it felt like that chapter of your life was finally being finished. you were trying to get your life back, including your driver's license. it was suspended for a while after the accident, so now you had to submit a bunch of medical records to prove that you were mentally fine to drive again. that's how you found yourself in bruce's home office, searching everywhere for your documents. you could've asked him where he put it, but he had just fallen asleep in the living room and you didn't want to disturb him.

in one of the desk's drawers, you find a folder with the local hospital logo on it. you open it, shuffling through the papers you've seen before. only one stands out, with "ob/gyn" on the top of the sheet. you wonder if there's anything helpful there. your eyes start reading the words one by one, listing the examinations they've done on you. the subject changes abruptly.

the ultrasound analysis reports the miscarriage of an unknown pregnancy to the patient's spouse.

you feel like you're about to throw up. the world starts spinning as you force yourself to continue to read.

the fetus was estimated to be in the development stage of the beginning of the second trimester. the miscarriage was most likely a result of several mechanical trauma. dilation and curettage was performed with the patient in a medically induced coma.

you try to remember to breathe in and breathe out just like dr. quinn taught you. you expect the tears but they don't come out. the panic doesn't come. it's suddenly so quiet. it's not like a hole has been punched through your chest, it's like you have no chest at all. it's like you don't even exist. you somehow sit down, your body does. you feel as if it's moving on it's own and you're just watching from afar. your thoughts sound so distant, so irrelevant. you can only think of the baby that had once been inside of you and you didn't even realised. you didn't have the time to love him. you've had him there, right there, the thing you wanted the most in the world and he was taken from you. everything was taken from you.

if a tree falls on a forest, and there's no one around to hear, does it still make a sound? it felt like your fall was silent.

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 31 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: All gather in the Throne Room to hear Ser Vaemond Velaryon's petition. Never a dull day at the Red Keep. Word Count: 6874 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Show canon scene. Violence, gore, slut-shaming/misogyny, bit of angst, canon death, fat-shaming/fatphobia, bullying mention, depression/mental health mention. Lots of fun things.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I'm BAAACCKK. Hope everyone had happy holidays and a great new year. Mine was adequate, nothing to report other than get a lil annoyed at the bf. But that was overshadowed by a band I listen to dming a happy new years. I won't say who, because I'm trying to manifest something rn, and I don't want to jinx it. but hint: 😴🚶🐕🐈 Now, this chapter still is around the time I was really struggling to write. Re reading it, it's not entirely as bad as I thought it was, but you might be able to tell where I was getting frustrated and losing my muse. Or not, idk, maybe I hid it well.

There was nothing more intimidating than the Iron Throne when it sat unoccupied. It was almost like the ghost of Aegon the Conqueror still lingered there when the current king did not, watching and judging his dynasty before him. Valeana wondered if this is what he imagined for his line of Fire and Blood; had he predicted his grandchildren, and great grandchildren to fight amongst themselves? Did he predict that his heir to be a woman, where a son with his name stood idly by? Did he predict that his legacy would be put into question?

Valeana also wondered if Targaryens would have ended up this way, had it been Visenya’s line that survived, and not her sister’s. Perhaps their people would not see them as weak, as they once thought of King Aenys.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds,” The Lord Hand spoke after the King had descended upon his throne of iron and war. “We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.”

His words were not appreciated by those that suffered for this petition. Valeana stood by her family, who stood behind Alicent and her children. The Throne Room was not at full capacity, but the Lords of the Great Houses had gathered, some with their wives, some with their heirs. The Baratheons, the Starks, the Hightowers, The Arryns, the Lannisters, the Tyrells, the Tullys, the Greyjoys, even representatives from the Martells were present. The Realm knew what this moment meant – It was not just a petition over who would inherit Driftmark, it was a petition to prove or disprove that Rhaenyra’s three eldest were illegitimate. Bastards. It would not only take away Lucerys’ inheritance, but Jacaerys' and Joffrey’s. If that happened, the Realm may very want Rhaenyra to be removed as heir to the Throne as punishment for her carnal transgressions, and effectively move the line of succession onto Aegon the Elder, bypassing even her legitimate fair-haired sons she sired with Daemon. 

“The crown will now hear the petitions: Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” Otto stepped away, and all in the room watched with bated breath as Vaemond moved from the spot he stood next to his uncle’s wife and grandchildren and took his place at the foot of the dias. 

“My King,” he bowed, then looked upon Alicent and Otto. “My Queen, my Lord Hand.” His eyes return to Viserys, whose face was already set in stone, his lips thinned and already showing his disapproval. Alas, Vaemond’s confidence was bordering on delusion, and did not let that deter him in the slightest. Valeana took a step forward, putting herself just behind the backs of Aemond and Aegon, so she could have a better look. 

Aemond slightly turned to her, a silent look that communicated everything. He could not yet show his affections publicly – he had not taken the time to converse with Maris just yet to end their very public courtship (even if it had grown apparent that it was dwindling). Aegon, however, took pleasure in taking advantage of that fact, for when Valeana appeared at his side, he wove his arm around hers and laced her fingers with his own. 

Valeana wasn’t entirely sure what horror show she should dare to look at: Vaemond’s petition, Aemond’s fury, or her brother and father’s heated disapproval behind her. 

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria,” Vaemond began his speech, hands clasped in front of him as he not only spoke to his monarch, but to the audience, to the lords and ladies of Westeros. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas.” 

Not entirely true, Valeana mused. House Celtigar and House Velaryon ruled ceremoniously, while the latter was more naval and militant, the former was more in trade and piracy. Though that last bit was more of an unsavoury historical anecdote that her father will never acknowledge. 

“When the Doom fell on Valyria, House Targaryen, House Velaryon and House Celtigar became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this land knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name

“I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my uncle’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins–”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Leanor Velaryon,” Rhaenyra spoke up, interrupting the knight without remorse. Her face was remarkably neutral despite the bite of her words, reminding everyone in the grand room of her sons’ birthrights. With eyes trained onto the floor ahead of her, she went on, “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir.” She said this now looking at him directly, and Valeana could only watch, enraptured and captivated by her strength and conviction. “No, you only speak for yourself, and for your own ambition.” 

“You have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Otto interrupted, overlapping the princess’ words. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

King Viserys was rubbing his eyelids, already tired and weary. Valeana watched his face carefully as Vaemond continued his speech, claiming that Rhaenyra did not know a thing about Velaryon blood. Eyes darted around the room, as she watched Jacaerys catch Aemond’s eye, and Lucerys watched Vaemond with contempt. Daeron looked impossibly uncomfortable, eyes flickering around to everyone to gouge how he should react. And Aegon… Aegon simply shuffled in his spot, free hand moving to scratch his jaw. 

“This is bloody torture,” she heard him whisper. The only thing she could do was give his hand a squeeze in response and he gently squeezed back, rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm. 

When it was Rhaenyra’s turn to petition, her words were cut short when the King placed up his hand to halt her. 

“I must admit my confusion,” his words were laced with exhaustion, but with an underlying strength of a king. He had been patient, polite and courteous as he allowed Ser Vaemond to speak, since he did come all this way to do so. But now it was his turn, and he intended to speak on behalf of his daughter and Lord Corlys, the latter of which could not speak on his own behalf. “On why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

His statement was met with a second of strained silence before he continued, moving his head around the crowd before settling on his cousin. “The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” 

“Indeed, your grace,” The Queen Who Never Was spoke once everyone had settled their attention onto her. Her eyes flickered from Vaemond to Rhaenyra, then she moved over to place herself at the foot of the dias, before the Throne that in another life, would have been hers. 

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Leanor, to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him.” 

Rhaenys’ confession garnered a group reaction of surprise. It was under the assumption that the older princess had always disapproved of Rhaenyra the moment each son she birthed looked nothing like hers, and the circumstances of Leanor’s death seemed to put a rift between the like-minded princesses. Though it now seemed that bygones had become bygones. 

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire for her son, Luke, to marry Lord Corlys’ granddaughter, Rhaena… A proposal to which I heartily agree.” 

Hushed chatter befell the Throne Room. Rhaena and Luke shared a look with each other, subtle smiles upon their youthful places. This development certainly put a wedge in Ser Vaemond’s petition. He cried about blood purity, and yet here the solution laid plainly in front of the Kingdom. For those who believed that Luke was a bastard, the seat of Driftmark would no longer belong to the Velaryons in name only. Rhaena held that blood from her mother, and what's more, their children would be dragonriders, with their matching Targaryen blood between them. 

Valeana was quick to notice Vaemond’s displeasure and shock. 

“Well…” Viserys lifted his hand dismissively, “The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Just when people believed matters were settled, and the chatter started up again, Vaemond stepped forward after Rhaenys stepped back. “You break law and centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon–No,” he shook his head minutely. “I will not allow it.”

The King furrowed his brow, mouth popping open at the man’s gall. “Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

This is where things had taken a turn for the worst. When Vaemond shook with anger, Valeana knew that all sense was lost. At the shout of “That!”, she startled next to the princes. Aegon turned to her slightly amused, and Aemond had moved closer to her until their shoulders touched. 

Vaemond pointed viciously at Lucerys, who surprisingly shrunk under the angered man. “Is no true Velaryon, and certainly, no cousin of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra whipped her head to her son, who also vibrated with emotion, lip curling over his teeth as if he wished to lash out on his own behalf. Then she turned to Vaemond, “You have said enough.”

Lucerys didn’t move, but his step father still kept a hand on his shoulder. 

“Lucerys is my trueborn grandson,” The King spoke lowly. “And you are no more than the son of the second son of Driftmark.”

“You may run your house as you see fit,” Vaemond bit back. Valeana held her breath, finding herself squeezing Aegon’s hand. “But you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned,” He swiveled back around to glare at the boy again, as if he were the reason for all his troubles, and not the adults that surrounded him. “I will not see it ended on the account of this–” His lips folded in between his teeth, and the air in the room stilled. Then as the slow seconds went by, Vaemond’s face relaxed, as if he could lose no more than he already had.

“Her children… are BASTARDS!”

“Seven Hells,” Valeana breathed out. The entire room was filled with loud murmurs, the King himself leaned forward on the Throne, his anger building in his chest, as weak as it was. 

“Oh, this is turning out to be quite the show,” Aegon whispered, his words laced with mirth.

A horror show. 

A very horrific, bloody show. 

“And she is,” Vaemond continued, punctuating every word as he burned his eyes onto Rhaenyra, then Daemon, and then finally the King. “A whore.”

The chorus of gasps filled the Throne Room. Everyone paced around, looking at each other in disbelief. Valeana glanced up at Aemond and saw his smirk, no different to Aegon’s. She knew of the princes’ animosity towards their half sister, who coveted all their father’s love, but as a woman, she could not help but feel disgusted by their reactions. With one glance of Helaena, she was relieved to see that she did not approve either, and when the two princes noticed their disapproval, their smirks dropped. At the very least Daeron had the decency to look scandalized, regardless of what his opinions were of Rhaenyra. 

The king ascended from his throne, his cane forgotten as he reached into his cloak and pulled out the cat’s claw dagger that was always strapped to him. 

“I will have your tongue for that–”

Valyrian steel sung in the air, swiftly and without mercy. The sound of blade cutting through flesh and bone dirtied Valeana’s ears, and the sight of Vaemond’s nearly headless body slumping on the floor now seared into her mind like a brand. Never before in her life had she seen such violence. Not even her fall down the stairs could compare. She had thought she would be impervious to such displays, having seen her own bone out of her flesh, and then watch her leg rot away before it was severed off with a saw. Though that was nothing in comparison to seeing a man’s head chopped off from his cheekbones, leaving his jaw and tongue atop what remained of his head. 

Helaena had turned away with her hands placed upon the sides of her head, her mother Alicent on her protectively to shield her from the gore. Daeron’s eyes widened in shock and horror, his hand flying to the sword on his belt as if it was muscle memory. Behind Valeana, Shyla and Floris both screamed, flying into the chest of Bartimos and their mother, with Clement shielding them from it. Arthor merely stood agape, the first time he, too, ever saw such an act. 

Valeana had jumped away, retching her hand out of Aegon’s in the pursuit to put herself as far away from the corpse as possible. It was Aemond who moved in front of her, hand upon her arm to keep her behind him, whilst Aegon stood like a statue, lips pulled into a frown and eyebrows up to his hairline, staring at Vaemond’s lifeless body as if he could not believe what he had just witnessed, what he was actively staring at. 

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon stood there, hand placed on the pommel of Dark Sister. 

“Disarm him!” The Lord Hand shouted, the Kingsguard poised to attack.  

“No need,” the Rogue Prince replied casually, using the ends of his black tunic to wipe the blood off his sword and sheath it back into its scabbard.

Valeana tore her eyes away at last, blinking away rapidly, as if that would rid her of the image. It was then she brought her attention to where her hands had found rest. She gripped onto Aemond’s sleeve, both of her forearms caging his arm to her chest like a shield or a life preserver. 

“Valeana,” Clement’s presence loomed over her shoulder, his large hand firmly on her bicep. 

Valeana followed Aemond’s arm until she reached his face. He stared at her with a wide eye and a gritted jaw. His fingers flexed at her own sleeve, not wanting to let go either, but they were not in the privacy of their library. It took all her courage to let him go from her vice and allow Clement to pull her into his orbit. 

But when Valeana tore her eyes from Aemond, she landed them on Aegon, who saw the whole thing. His face was crestfallen, but only for a moment before his features pulled into a scowl, eyes glaring up at his younger brother. 

The petition had inevitably delayed the anticipated dinner of the Valyrian Houses, of which Vaemond had been invited to, mostly out of respect. It would be pushed to the next evening, as everyone was collectively in a state of shock and displacement. 

Valeana longed for solitude, she wished to be tucked in the reading nook of the late Aemma Arryn’s library, or laying in a nest of cushions and furs on the secret platform amongst the cliffs. Though for now, she settled on her bed chambers. Shyla was absent, she seemed to disappear after the Throne Room, along with Daeron it seemed. She was particularly distressed and the prince was concerned for her, leaving poor young Floris in the wind. Gods, Borros Baratheon is going to absolutely loathe the Celtigars after this Conclave was over with. 

Valeana was sitting cross legged in the middle of her bed, embroidering an image of a milkweed plant on a dark grey canvas. She intended to give the loop to Helaena as a thank you for her part last night. It was still such a bizarre recollection, that now felt like it was eons ago. Seeing a man’s head lopped off from the middle would do that to someone. 

Still, she wove every memory she made that night into the fabric of her mind. From the moment she saw Aemond splayed on the chair at the table, to that very morning when the warm orange glow of the dawn reflected against the silver tresses of his hair and pearlescent complexion of his skin. Valeana had woken up before him, and she took that privilege gently, savouring every moment. 

Aemond had tucked her under his arm at some point, and she was nestled on his upper arm, hand slayed on his chest while his nose nestled in the crown of her hair. They were both lying on their sides, legs tangled with each other, his hand resting on her hip and thigh. With gentle fingers, she traced the lines of his jaw, his nose, his scar, the gnarl frame of his sapphire eye, and brow, and then his lips that were parted as he breathed gently. Valeana noted how the skin around his perfect lid was red, the corner had a little sandy crust as if his eye had been tearing up during the night. 

With boldness, her hands moved southward, running along the muscles of his chest and stomach, humming in satisfaction at the warmth and feel of his body. It was art, truly; every ridge and curve, every bone and muscle, expertly carved by the Smith himself, designed in the likeness of the Warrior. 

Aemond roused from his sleep when her fingers trailed over the area below his belly button. He blinked away the sand from his good eye and gave a soft, grumbly hum. 

“Still not convinced I am a man?” He questioned softly with a hoarse, sleepy tone before his hand moved to her wrist and guided her to the crotch of his breeches. Valeana gave a soft gasp, or more of a hitch in her throat. She could feel him through the fabric and while he was soft, the muscle twitched at the contact. 

“Aemond–” He interrupted her with a peck on her lips, moving his hand up to the curve of her jaw to keep her there, so he could stare into her eyes. And that is where they remained until there was a knock on the library door, and Helaena’s gentle voice reminded them it was time. 

Valeana sighed contently down at her embroidery. Basking in the perfect evening and the perfect morning was enough to drown out the macabre events of that midday. Now the image of Aemond’s hardened body and Aegon’s thick cock permated her mind, creating a warm stir in her core. Alas, she was still bleeding, and she was not going to risk getting blood under her fingernails and all over her sheets to satiate her carnal hunger. Besides, there was a knock on the door, effectively ending her lewd thoughts. Clearing her throat, she called out: “come in.”

Clement entered the room, closing the door behind him as he did, “How are you doing?”

She offered him a half shrug, “Fine, I suppose.” 

Her brother took a seat at the edge of her bed, his body twisted so he rested his knee on the mattress, where he could look at her properly. “You’re doing remarkably well for someone who just witnessed their first execution.” 

“I do well with gore, I suppose. Finding severed feet on the beach on a regular basis could desensitize you to it,” her jest came out awfully stoic, as if she was serious. Though Valeana tended to joke when she was on the verge of anxiousness or sadness, if she wasn’t already thrown into the maelstrom of a fit. 

“And watching yours decay whilst attached to your body,” Clement added, his dark humour similar to her own. 

“Hm, that too. Perhaps the Stranger’s mark on me still lingers.” 

He hummed in agreement, unserious in his consideration for the statement. But then his face fell, and Valeana geared herself up for the real reason why he was there in her room. 

“Valeana…” He looked down on the bed, where his hand laid flat. He drummed his fingers on the duvet, like he was stalling so he could find the right words, or to rein in his censure. “I feel like you have become a stranger since we arrived at King’s Landing. You have been pulling yourself away every day from our family…and I can’t help but believe it is because of the princes.” 

Valeana leaned back into her headboard with a sigh, her loop forgotten in her lap. “Clement, I have been a stranger to this family for years…” Her eyes drifted over to the balcony. The Hydrangeas that Aemond left her were now placed in a vase next to her bed. 

“Not to me,” he shook his head vehemently. “We are full blooded siblings, Valeana. You and I have a bond that cannot be separated.”

Val tilted her head at him, a single eyebrow raised, “Clement, for half my life we were separated. I was here, and you were on the Isle with Ursula and Arthor. I am twenty, and yet I’ve only ever spent half my life with you, brother, and during that time I spent the better part of it locked in my rooms, despondent and longing for death.” 

Clement let his head sag at that, then raked his fingers through his short silver hair. He did not like dwelling on that dark part of her past, it still made him feel like a failure of a brother that he was not there for her when it happened, nor was he able to coax her out of the abyss in the aftermath. He reached out then, placing a hand on the ankle of her prosthetic, and although physically she could not feel it, the phantom of his touch tickled in the back of her mind as if she could. 

“You are the closest thing I have to mother, you know,” he said quietly, thumb moving along the ball joint. “I might have lost her, but I gained a sister in her stead, in her very image. I vowed over her grave that I would protect you, and I have failed thus far… I do not wish to continue that path any longer.”

When Valeana felt her eyes begin to water, she shut them immediately and bowed her head till her chin laid on her sternum, “Clement–”

“I saw you,” he said a bit forcefully. “You held Aegon’s hand one moment, and then clung to Aemond the next. Whatever it is you are doing, you must know it will end in heartbreak. Please, for your sake, sister, let them go… Jacaerys is an honourable man, who can offer you a great future–”

“I do not love him,” the words came out before she was able to filter them. 

Clement furrowed his brow as he tilted his head at her disbelievingly, “Then who is it you love? Aemond the Blackhearted or Aegon the Whoremongerer?” 

Sorrow was quickly being pulled into frustration. Valeana shook her head, “You only know the princes by their reputation, you do not know their character, the way they are with me–”

Clement pulled away, scoffing loudly, “I know Aemond is the cause of your first heartbreak, the reason why you walk with a wooden leg, and I know Aegon is the cause of your self hatred and the reason why you hide yourself from the world. This is all I need to know… So excuse me if I cannot fathom why you wish to consort with either of them, let alone harbour feelings.”

Valeana took a steady breath through her lips, her eyes closed to ground herself in the darkness behind her lids. “They have both reconciled with me.”

“Oh, they have, have they? When will they seek out father’s forgiveness then?” His question took her off guard. “Father was just as hurt as you were. He ended his friendship with the King over it… let go of his position on the Small Council, and left King’s Landing. Do not think you are the only victim here, sister.” 

“Please leave, Clement,” she ran her fingers over her eyes, where a headache was starting to bloom.

“I will not. I am not going to let you ignore the truth, Valeana… You have been causing an immense amount of stress on not only Ursula and father, but our sisters and brother as well. Everything has been revolving around your scandals, your love life, and it has put poor Shyla and Floris on the backburner. Floris, the poor thing, weeps at not being married still at her age. How do you think she feels seeing her step sister being the centre of attention? To have this many men flock to you and not her?”

“Floris,” she nearly yelled her name. “Floris is the reason why people whisper about me! Her insecurities are not my bloody problem, Clement! She could have been married off years ago, but she lets her pride and narcissism get in the way of it.

“She envies me, that is the truth of it. It’s always been like that – do you even notice the comments she makes of me? Floris is just as terrible as Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys was to me, even worse because we are family! It has been like that my entire fucking life with that woman… And you, father, mother, Arthor, and Shyla choose to ignore her belittling comments about my figure, because of what, Clement? Because you do not wish to cause strife among family? To choose sides? Or is it because you all believe her? You all agree I’m too fucking fat, but unlike Floris you keep your opinion behind your buttoned lips and avoidant eyes?”

Valeana did not give him room to respond, if he had any intention to, if he had any strength to. She pulled herself from her bed, embroidery loop forgotten, and slipped her feet into her shoes. Then, she bent down and secured the shoe’s strap around her wooden ankle, mindful to not run off on insecure shoes like last time.

“Where are you going?” 

“Since you refuse to leave, I will,” she marches over the door, and pulls it open with a violet jerk. 

“And which prince will you flock to?” He is standing up now, looking at her retreating back.

She paused in the threshold, her hand flexing on the handle of the door. “Neither,” she replied flatly, then slammed the door on him. 

When Valeana left her family’s wing, she had spotted Ellyn and Wylla walking in the gardens arm in arm from the loggia above. She fled to find some corner of the Keep for solitude, but when she saw them, she craved friendship more. They were whispering about something, giving each other looks that Valeana could not quite make out from where she stood. When she called out for them, they looked up, completely startled. Their bodies pulled away from each other as if they were caught committing a crime. 

Valeana tried not to think too much about it, especially since her thoughts were already at full capacity. Though as they sat in the grass, underneath a cherry blossom tree, away from courtiers and servants, Valeana couldn’t help but feel suddenly paranoid. The two were sharing looks with each other that she could not decipher, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had been talking about her. 

Eyeing them warily, she decided to test the waters, “You two seem quiet.”

They looked at her slightly surprised, with Ellyn the first to speak, “Sorry… That nasty business in the Throne Room, it… it was just not expected.”

Wylla hummed in agreement, “I’ve seen a few executions, done by my father… Never seen anything so savage, however.” 

Valeana nodded, still unconvinced. Did they see her cling to Aemond after it happened? It was possible, though she was behind the Targaryen princes at the time, and she was fairly certain that people were more preoccupied by Ser Vaemond’s scalp rolling around the floor. 

Narrowing her eyes, she decided to press further, a little more boldly, “Are there any more whispers about me?” At their collective confusion, she added, “Only because you two seem quieter than usual, and I’m starting to wonder if you’ve learned something unsavoury that I should be concerned about.” 

Ellyn’s cheeks went pink, her eyes darting from Wylla, to the grass she was picking and peeling. They both shook their heads and cleared their throats. 

This time, Wylla answered, seeming genuine.  “No, nothing new. Only that bets have been challenged now that Jacaerys is in the running for your hand.”

Valeana rolled her eyes, “He isn’t. It was simply a brief moment in order to appease our parents.”

Ellyn raised an eyebrow mockingly, “So there we are back to two princes?”

Wylla tilted her head, “Or just one? I saw you and Aegon holding hands in the Throne Room.” 

“Is that all you saw?” They both looked genuinely confused. It was a bit of a relief, at least she knew they weren’t gossiping about her clinging to both Aegon and Aemond so publicly and judging her for it. As of right now, Aemond and hers reconciliation was not public knowledge; as far as the court is concerned, he was still courting Maris, and it was only the whispers that breathed life into the rumour of him yearning for Valeana. It was…  true, and well observed, but Valeana knew better to encourage the truth. Aemond needed to gently rid himself of Maris Baratheon, now more than ever. Having noticed how Shyla was slowly usurping Daeron Targaryen from Floris Baratheon, the tensions between Celtigars and Baratheons were becoming very tense, and it did not bode well for Valean’a own precarious circumstance.

Wylla’s eyes narrowed, “What else was there to see, Valeana?”

Val’s eyes flickered to Ellyn, who stared at her expectedly. She trusted this Baratheon with her past with Aemond, her feelings for him, but she did not know Ellyn’s relationship with her sisters very well. Did she approve of Maris’ match with him, or merely tolerated it? Would she choose Valeana or her sister? And the issue with young Floris and Shyla was a whole other added problem. The last thing Val wanted was to put Ellyn in a position of choosing between friendship and family. 

After kneading her lip with her teeth in thought, Valeana tentatively asked: “Ellyn… Is Maris… quite fond of Aemond?”

Ellyn seemed quite taken back by the question, but otherwise she appeared almost like she was harbouring knowledge she had yet to share. With a great sigh, the brunette nodded remorsefully, “She is. I’ve never seen her quite smitten but… She seems a bit agitated lately. Ever since the Hightower dinner, which…I know you’ve told me about. Maris has given me her own version of it, as did Daeron when he visited Floris one afternoon. My sister was quite affronted. Her intelligence is her biggest pride.”

“So suffice to say she isn’t my biggest fan.”

Ellyn huffed a soft laugh, “An understatement really. Um, she has also noticed… Aemond has become distant with her, and she has deduced it may be your doing. From what I overheard from her and Cassandra yesterday, your step-sister has been insinuating that you’ve been trying to seduce him.” 

Valeana sighed, rubbing the spot between her eyebrow and nose, “Of course she’s doing that. I somehow wonder if my beloved step sister has a plan, or she is simply lying freely, trying to see what people will believe and if it will ruin my character.” 

“I am surprised you aren’t trying to seduce him,” Wylla admitted thoughtfully, regarding Ellyn’s statement, “Given what you’ve told us. Didn’t you want him back? Or…has Prince Aegon snuffed that flame?” 

Valeana has done nothing but disprove the whispers about her and Aegon, particularly after the Hightower dinner when they publicized their (fake) courtship just to make Aemond jealous. It worked, though faster than she anticipated, and now she gathered how confused her two new friends probably were, given how much she had not shared with them since their last conversation about Val’s lovelife. The context between that drunken night to the present had not been divulged to them, and that was not just because she simply hadn’t the opportunity, but because she wasn’t accustomed to sharing vulnerable secrets. Valeana never actually had friends she could trust, she painfully realized; not since Aemond, and look how that turned out. 

She glanced around them, making sure they were very much alone. They had trailed far from the path, hidden in the grassy knolls, underneath the cherry blossom tree, surrounded by hydrangea bushes of various colours. The bushes and florals do a good job at muffling their voices as well as the noises of the world outside of their little sanctuary.

Licking her dry lips, Valeana geared herself to confess her sins, hoping that they would not judge her too harshly for her weaknesses. Hoping that Ellyn would at most be impartial to Valeana’s hand at effectively ruining Maris’ chance at a royal betrothal. 

“There is much I should– no, need to tell you. So much has happened…I do not know where to begin.”

Ellyn reached out and patted her arm, “Start from the beginning then?” 

With a harrowing sigh, Valeana nodded and began her complicated, long tale. She tripped over her words and backtracked when she remembered information that added more context, but she recounted everything. From the moment Aemond pulled her drunken self out of the Throne room, to her eve spent with Aemond in Queen Aemma’s old quarters. Yes, she even told them of Aemond’s apology on Maiden’s Day eve. Valeana even admitted to Aemond ravishing her tits that drunken night in the passageways, the morning before the Hightower supper. Even told them about the night at the secret terrace with Aegon. She also mentioned how she lost her maidenhead to a bloody horse, which was her attempt at humour and alleviating the tense conversation. 

In the end, her fingers were pressed in the corners of her eyes, head bowed over her crossed legs in exhaustion. Her head felt dull and heavy from a steady headache, one that began with Clement earlier. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed defeatedly. “This is all so new to me… All my life, I was prepared to either be a spinster, a septa, or a despondent wife to a lord that did not care for me. I never even entertained the idea that a man might… desire me at all, let alone two.” It was addicting, she admitted to herself. Selfishly she thought perhaps she could have them both, like Catelyn Redwyne’s story, but she knew that was impossible…Aemond and Aegon would never share her. They would spend the entire time trying to lay claim on her, like two opposing conquerors. 

Wylla’s hand patted her knee comfortingly, “Your life never ceases to amaze me, Valeana. Most women would kill to be in your position.”

“I am not one of those women,” Ellyn commented good naturedly. “Though I admit that it is a privilege to be fought over by two princes of the Realm.”

Valeana pulled her hands from her eyes and blinked tiredly at both of them, “What would you two do if you were in my position?”

“Choose neither and become a Septa,” Ellyn shrugged dismissively, but at Valeana’s pointed look, she sighed. “Honestly, I do not know. I suppose I would try to figure out who I could not live without.” 

Wylla nodded her agreement, “You will be spending the rest of your life with this man… I personally don’t think it is disgraceful to explore who you are compatible with, both emotionally and physically. Most of us do not get the leisure of testing the waters before we are thrown in.” 

Val nodded, because she had no choice but to agree. It still did nothing to ease her stresses, though. “The problem is that my decision will be at the expense of the other’s pain. And I do not wish to cause anyone pain… Not even your sister, Ellyn. Even if – and forgive me for saying so – even if she is a pretentious bitch.” 

Ellyn huffed, shaking her head, “Oh, do not worry, I don’t take offense to that. Maris loves to call me stupid whenever she gets a chance, so she deserves the insult.” Suddenly the brunette looked down at her hands for a moment, brow furrowed as if she was in a battle with her own thoughts. “I love my sisters, truly… I wish to see them contented. Though… I do not believe that the princes would ever give them the happiness they hope to have with them. I think Maris and our Floris both are blinded by their titles, of the little fairy tale of becoming princesses rather than actually understanding the gravity of it all.

“I saw immediately that Daeron is far too self-centered to care for my little sister truly, and she is far too meek to stand up for herself. He never asks questions about her, and if she does not ask questions about him, then there is no conversation to be had. As for Maris, well…she likes the idea of Aemond. Of someone who actually enjoys her mind, and shares academic conversations, but,” Ellyn lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “As far as I’m aware, they have not shared anything deeper. Though, I dare say, with all my sister’s intelligence, she isn’t particularly educated in matters of the heart. If it wasn’t Aemond, any man that showed an interest to her intellect and mind would be enough to convince her that they are in love with her.” 

“That does not make me feel any better, Ellyn,” Valeana picked at the grass too, covering her skirts with it. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m trying poorly to convey something… What I mean is… Do not feel guilty about it. My sisters are not compatible with either Aemond or Daeron. Floris is young, beautiful, she will not suffer singledom long. However, I do worry about Maris, but not for reasons you think. Maris is not stable.” 

With a furrowed brow, Valeana peered at Ellyn carefully, “What do you mean?”

“She does not like being insulted, which you did, but she also sees Aemond's sudden distance from her as an insult too. Maris is calm most of the time but, when she feels like she has been aggrieved, or humiliated, she is… reactionary, for lack of a better word. And with your step sister’s ill counsel… I fear she plans on doing something explosive to get back at you. I just do not know what, or when, or if it’ll happen at all. I just know my sister… And since you are my friend, I only wish for you to be cautious. Perhaps do not make your affections for Aemond so obvious, until the sky is clear, until Maris cannot do anything.” 

Tentatively, Valeana gave a soft nod, “Thank you for telling me. Though now I have to deal with your sister on top of my own. Is there anyone else out there that is trying to sabotage me for reasons unknown, that I should be aware of?” She turned to Wylla, “Do you have a sister I do not know about that is plotting to kill me?”

Wylla softly laughed, “Gods, no. Well, I have a half sister. She is baseborn, but she is not here, anyway. Besides, we northerners have no interest in pretty white-haired princes with soft bellies or thin waists. We like our men towering, hairy, and smelling like a campfire.” 

Ellyn wrinkled her nose at that, but otherwise said nothing. 

Valeana hummed, lifting up her leg to rest her arm on her knee, “Your brother smells cedarwood and raw masculinity, which also smells a bit like roasted venison. It does things to me.”

“You still try to covet my brother even with two Targaryen princes at your beck and call?”

“Key word is try,” Valeana shook the grass from her skirt in exasperation. In total unseriousness, she continued, “Though he seems too preoccupied with Alysanne Blackwood, and I cannot compete with a woman who breaks horses and looks like she can kill a man with her thighs.” 

“And I am sure she has!” 

Their laughter pulled their outing to a lighter conversation about this or that, leaving the stress of courtships and family behind. Though despite the change, something dreadful settled in Valeana’s gut as Ellyn’s warning about Maris echoed in her mind like a bad omen. She couldn’t shake the feeling; it felt like she was an animal, sensing the impending doom of a large, disastrous storm. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO SNEAK PEAK Valeana flipped back over, only to see a shadow looming on the right side of the bed. Her heart leapt in her throat, momentarily gagging her as she jumped and gaped, a scream nearly escaping her lungs. His hand flew to her mouth.  “Shh, shh,” Aemond crouched down next to her bed, his grip over her mouth softening when he saw her shoulders cave. “It’s only me.” When he removed his hand from her mouth, she gave him a sharp whack on the shoulder, “Aemond, I swear to the old gods and the new, the next time you do that I’m going to throw you down a flight of stairs.” “Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight,” Said another, causing Valeana to jostle a second time. She and Aemond whirled their heads towards the door with wide and alarmed eyes. And there in the dim light she could make out the short wavy silver hair of Aegon. 

Notes: I hope that was worth the 2 week wait )x I still didn't do as much as I wanted in the last two weeks. Didn't realize how much I just needed to unplug during the holidays, what with work stress, among some other things and stuffs. Though the chapter I'm currently working on is nearly done. I just hope the one after doesn't take me just as long, otherwise I may need to do another two-week wait. Also I just wanted to point out...the amount of times I had to watch that Vaemond and dinner scene just to write this chapter, and the Fem!Aegon one shot was so absurd. It used to be my favourate episode, but now I can't even watch it again XD Anyway, once again, I hope everyone had good and safe holidays, <3

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[alocon]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [6] - Max Verstappen

written by alocon

Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko

Summary: After a lot of rumours on twitter, all is revealed in an episode of your podcast

Before you read: Use of Y/N (sorry!!), angst (kind of), THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE CONTENT. LIST BELOW, PLEASE BE WARNED THAT IT WILL CONTAIN CHAPTER SPOILERS. Look after yourself

WARNINGS: Discussion of pregnancy, loss of a child, and other difficult subjects such as mental health and cheating

NOTE: There is social media at the end which is important to the story but I can summarise at the start of the next chapter so don't worry if you can't read this, you will get a summary next chapter x

fc: Blanca Soler

[Previous Part Here][The Masterlist]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [Part Six] - MV¹

youruser

liked by maxverstappen1 and others

youruser: Hi all! I know that recently there have been a lot of rumours about the end of the 2018 season and my break up with Max, as well as allegations of me cheating on him. I have already discussed these rumours and clearly stated that it is not true, as has Max. However, I feel that you still haven't been given enough of an explanation on the situation as a whole and I am finally in a situation where I am able to talk about it. I am making this post for a fair warning that this episode of my podcast will contain themes which may be sensitive to some individuals. The warning list is written below...see more

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maxverstappen1: Proud of you for being able to discuss that

youruser: Thank you Max

user1: Any guests or just you?

youruser: Me, Max, Charles, Seb and Kimi

user2: Not her trying to make money out of this situation

youruser: As has been stated since I started my podcast in 2018, all money goes straight to charity. Earnings from this week's episode goes to The Pregnancy Association of Europe, a charity that looks into why pregnancy goes wrong, if there is a way to prevent it and gets help for those who suffer loss during pregnancy. (A/N: MADE UP CHARITY FOR THE STORY X)

charles_leclerc: Might've cried a little bit whilst filming this, but I think we all did.

maxverstappen1: I did

----

Pole Position Podcast - Episode 75: Let’s Talk Babies w. KR7, SV5, CL16 and MV33

Y: YOU, M: MAX, C: CHARLES, S: SEB, K: KIMI

The podcast started off with Seb sitting in the middle of the sofa. There were two people sitting beside him: Charles and Max. Then, on one of the mini seats to one side of the sofa was Kimi and to the other was an empty seat for you, you were behind the camera. 

Y: This is a very different episode of the podcast. Right, can we check our audio syncs up before we start? 

You placed your headphones on, counting down for everyone to clap. They did and the audio synced up perfectly from each mic. You returned to your seat. The table, which was usually bare apart from the notes from the episode, including questions and other things, had no paper, instead having a variety of foods. You looked at the camera. 

Y: Alright, hello everyone. Welcome to the Pole Position podcast. Hope you’re all doing well. This is episode 75 and I am here with four lovely people, rather than one or two like I usually do. So, one by one would you guys like to introduce yourselves? Char maybe it’s best if you start because you’ve done this many times before?

C: *he nodded* Hello everyone, I’m Charles Leclerc. I am a Formula One driver who drives for Scuderia Ferrari. I’ve been on this podcast a lot. I’m basically the co-host at this point.

You chuckled

M: Hi, I’m Max Verstappen, I am a Formula One driver who drives for Red Bull, and a 3 time world champion.

S: I’m Sebastian Vettel, a retired Formula One driver who has driven for BMW Sauber, Toro Rosso, Red Bull, Ferrari and Aston Martin. I am a 4 time world champion.

K: And I’m Kimi Raikkonen, also a retired Formula One driver who has driven for McLaren, Ferrari (twice), Lotus and Alfa Romeo… Did I miss one?

Y: Sauber, right? When they were sponsored by Red Bull and Petronas?

K: How did you remember that and I didn’t? You’re basically a child.

Y: How am I the child here, both of those two are younger than me.

C: Wait, we are?

M: Yes??? She’s August 23rd, I’m September 30th, you’re October 16th.

C: 1997? *He looked at you, still confused*

Y: Yes, how did you not know that? We’ve known each other since we were 3, Charles.

C: I thought you were ‘98 for some reason.

K: Come on, even I knew that.

You clapped your hands, getting everyone’s attention.

Y: Right, back on track. Today’s episode is a more emotional one. As you know, when I started my podcast, I didn't really properly explain why I started it. I kind of summarised it, I think I said that it was something recommended by my therapist to talk about life. But I’ve never really used it to talk about the deep stuff. So today we’re going to talk about why I actually started this podcast and what happened in late 2018.

Y: I know people will be wondering why I need 4 other people to explain this with me. After the end of 2018, my brain kind of suppressed most of the more minor details and stuff so some of it I don’t remember much of, which is why these 4 are here, to kind of put all of the pieces together. So… Where do we start? With the breakup or the tests?

C: What one happened first?

M: You told me that the tests happened on Thursday evening so maybe the breakup.

Y: Alright. Max, do you want to take the lead on this one?

He nodded.

M: Alright so I broke up with Y/N on the Thursday morning before the Brazilian Grand Prix in 2018, aka Media Day. In hindsight, that was a really shitty thing to do. Everyone was really surprised by it because I absolutely was a dickhead when we split up. However, what I should’ve done is been completely honest and discussed my reasoning. I broke up with Y/N because my dad threatened me with an inappropriate sexual photo of her which he had somehow got his hands on. Likely egged on by Christian. I didn’t know how he got his hands on it, I don’t know what happened, but he had threatened to have it leaked if I didn’t break up with her, so I deemed it for the best and I did it. But the real issue was that I didn’t tell her why. I didn’t keep her in my life, I completely pushed her away. Again, a beyond stupid mistake, possibly the worst of my life. 

Y: Yeah, so that happened, it impacted me pretty badly. 

S: I think that’s an understatement there, no?

K: Just a bit. I remember her completely breaking down to me over it straight after it happened because she didn’t want to worry you two and she didn’t want to ruin Max’s friendship with Charles.

Seb, Charles and Max all looked at you. This was new information for the three of them. 

M: I’m still, genuinely really sorry about that. I feel so bad about the way I did it. 

Y: Max I’ve already forgiven you for it.

M: And yet I will apologise until the day we die if you let me.

C: ANYWAYS, so then in the evening I get a text from her basically saying “Hey, can you come over, it’s kind of important.” And I know this woman’s tendency to underreact in situations so when she said kind of, I took it as “likely very important” and headed straight there.

Y: Do I underreact or do you overreact?

M: Both

K: Both

S: Both

Y: Great.

You reached for a tortilla chip that was in a bowl on the table and took a bite after dipping it in salsa.

Y: So Charles comes over, asks what's wrong without hesitating. I didn’t even get a hi out, just opened the door and boom. Question. So I explained to him how I had been feeling kind of weird and I’d been feeling sick and tired all the time but it had been happening for a couple weeks and I knew it wasn’t sickness. That’s as far as I remember before the tests.

C: So I was like “oh, that’s weird. Have you had your period recently?” You said no but it didn’t usually anyway, I don’t know how it works.

Y: Basically, a side effect of the contraceptive pill that I take is that it stops my period. So either way I wouldn’t know just from that sign.

M: You still take it?

Y: Yeah, I do.

M: Are you actually getting laid?

Y:... Anyways, moving on.

Max laughed at that as Charles continued talking.

C: So, because it would probably cause some media attention if she went to buy tests or I went, we asked Hanna to and she was more than happy to. So she and Seb came over with pregnancy tests and dinner and like a LOT of ice cream just in case because we decided that we can risk our trainers yelling at us to cheer her up. I was not aware that her and Max had broken up by this point. I don’t think any of us except those two were.

K: And me.

C: And Kimi. 

S: So anyways, me and Hanna come over and we sit on the bed and talk whilst Y/N is downing water like there is no tomorrow, you know, so she could take the tests. And then she did the tests and we spent the next 5 minutes talking whilst we ate some of our food and then she checked the test and she was pregnant. We were all happy for her because, and correct me if I’m wrong here, guys, weren’t you two like kind of casually trying at this point?

Max looked at you and you smiled, indicating that he could answer.

M: Kind of. We were to the point where we wouldn’t complain about being parents so it was a kind of situation of “if it happens, it happens but if not, so what”.

C: So then she got a little upset and we were like “why are you sad, weren’t you guys okay if this happened?” and that’s when she told us that they had split up earlier that day. So, really, like god awful timing. 

Y: The rest of that evening was just kind of like them cheering me up. I tried to contact Max but he had blocked me, which I didn’t really understand at that point.

M: It was so I could not call or text because I didn’t want the photo to be leaked.

You nodded.

Y: So I think it was me, Charles, Seb, Hanna, Kimi, Minttu, Lew, and Val, except Lewis and Valtteri didn’t actually know. The others did though. I think, before this podcast gets released, the only people who know are the people here, Christian Horner, Fred Vasseur, Hanna, Minttu, my mother…

M: Christian knew?

Y: Yeah, we’ll get into that later, though. And Fred knew because I had to call him to be like “I have to go to the hospital about this tomorrow, I can’t race this weekend. And he’s family to me. So rather than racing, I went to the hospital. Hanna and Minttu came with me. Turns out I was 8 weeks along. I was like “shit, if I have this baby I’m going to miss so much racing” but apparently I was safe to drive after the 20 week mark until like the start of the 8th month as long as I was more careful than usual and got check ups after every race. SO overall I would’ve missed maybe like 6 races, so I was like, right. I should tell Christian, you know? Warn him. So I told Christian and he instantly started complaining, being like “What if this what if that? This is why we should’ve hired a man to drive”, that kind of stuff. But I think that was the heat of the moment. But then he doesn’t change and he tells my mother for some reason because he knows her and she kicks off and basically disowns me and tells me that I am not making a good choice and that I’m crazy and stuff. Fun. Anyways, going into December, I was really really overwhelmed. I don’t know what it was like from an outside perspective but it was shit from mine. 

K: Terrifying.

You all turned to look at Kimi. The entire 20 minutes of the podcast so far, he hadn’t had much to say, which you got because he’s Kimi Raikkonen.

K: From an outsider perspective it was terrifying. From my perspective, at least. Seeing the way you were so stressed and you wouldn’t eat as much. You were no longer happy, you were constantly anxious, even about how you looked, if people could tell, if you weren’t looking as nice even though you looked fine. It was really scary seeing you go down such a path, especially after everything your mother said to you. 

You sniffled slightly, getting emotional as you never really publicly opened up about this stuff. Charles and Seb agreed at this point.

Y: So then, a couple weeks into December, I can’t remember the exact date.

C: December 11th.

Y: December 11th, I was feeling strange. I had really bad stomach pain. Like awful. I just figured, for some reason, that it was because of the fact I hadn’t eaten much yet that day so I decided to sleep it off, see if I felt better in the morning. And, before we get into this, this may be slightly graphic and it’s a lot more graphic than I described to Max and Seb and Kimi so please be warned. I wake up in the morning, about 3am. And I sat up in my bed and I felt something wet on my lower body. So I was like “What the fuck” and I turn on the light and, uhm.

You paused, taking a deep breath in an attempt not to cry. You felt a hand slip into yours and squeeze. You looked to see Max looking at you with those soft, beautiful eyes. He was looking at you in the most gentle of ways. You felt yourself tipping over the edge slightly, voice cracking as you began to speak again.

Y: I turned on my light and I just saw red. Like, my bedsheets, which were usually white, were just red. Everything was red. I don’t remember too much after that, other than just feeling numb. Charles had been staying with me at that point. Max had just moved out and Charles’ apartment had flooded so I invited him to stay in my house until the apartment was sorted. I don’t really remember much, I don’t know if you do, Char.

C: I do. May I?

You nodded.

C: So I wake up because I hear a scream. Like not a happy one. Just a shocked sounding scream. So of course I went straight into her room to see if she was okay and the lower half of her bed was covered in blood, her shorts, her legs were all just covered in blood. It was, excuse the explanation, like something out of a horror movie. And she just… kind of sat there. Frozen. It was like she couldn’t move or speak, she just sat there. Kind of void of all emotion on her face other than her crying. I remember taking her phone and calling her baby doctor person, because she gave her phone for emergencies. And she answered and I apologised for calling so late and explained the situation because of the amount of blood just… Didn’t look normal. And she said to take her to the hospital if I was concerned. So I did and we went to the hospital and they sorted everything out. I don’t remember exactly what it was but either way we went home and we spent the next week or so just camping in, eating junk food, trying to relax and at least attempting to be calmer. I think it wasn’t until the new year that you told Christian. 

Y: Yeah, I started therapy like a week after the miscarriage. And then, on the 29th of December was when you two, Han and Mina found out, I think?

S: Yeah, I remember Hanna sitting down when we got there.

K: You being late, as usual

S: Yeah, yeah. So Hanna asked how you and nugget were, which is what we had nicknamed the baby and you just kind of cracked. You started crying and they asked what was wrong and that’s when you told us that you had miscarried. So we went out and tried to make sure you had the best day of your life. 

Y: That’s where the photo came from as well. The photo of me and the “mystery guy” whose face was blanked out was just a photo of me and Charles hugging because I got a little upset. I will post the photo here and if you’re listening on Spotify or Apple music, the screenshot of the story with the date attached is on my Instagram story highlights.

Y: So then I told Christian and he told my mother once again and also then proceeded to use it against me. BUT that’s all we have time for today. If anyone wants, we can do an episode purely based on my RBR treatment. Just let us know. Have a lovely day, I’ve been your host Y/N and we will see you next time.

Max, Kimi, Seb and Charles all said goodbye before the episode ended.

-Word Count: 2.6k-

Hi all!! Here's part 6, more drama unfolding. This story will continue to slander Christian Horner btw. In this story he is an awful person because it made the plot better x Anyways hope you enjoyed Max going on a podcast (well, two) because she asked him to so it was worth going on. Have a good day x Alocon

Taglist: @c-losur3 @itsjustkhaos @reidsworld @d3kstar

[archivedblog16]

I don't talk about/avoid talking about proshippers on here because if I do, and even I make sure to tag any proship post using the anti tags, proshippers will find a way to try to harass me, and I don't want my mental health to suffer all thanks to these sick fuckers (as my mental health is already suffering thanks to my job and other offline stuff).

But I want to get this off of my chest in terms of my chest. As an antishipper, I'm concerned about minors entering these kinds of spaces and consuming content that has proship themes (including Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss). The fact that there's a trend of minors watching Hazbin and Helluva Boss is concerning. Despite the shows having some sort of content warning at the beginning of each episode (and minor, of course easily ignoring that), Vivziepop has yet to make a statement regarding minors watching her stuff. And the fact that she has yet to address that issue, it seems like she doesn't care about her minors supporting her since it's just another way to gain income so she could use that money towards paying those A list celebs she hired while paying her animators pennies. And it's bad enough that she hasn't addressed the issue about the one child that asked Angel Dust's VA about how he felt recorded scenes involving very sexual themes.

I feel like, as a result of Vivziepop ignoring the issues of minors supporting her work, interacting with fans, and cosplaying as characters that they shouldn't be cosplaying, there's going to be a lot of grooming accusations coming forward about adults grooming child fans. Vivziepop, as a creator, especially as a creator of an animated series targeted towards adults, has full responsibility as to who should or shouldn't be consuming her work. And knowing she's not going to come out with a statement anytime soon, people are going to use that as an excuse to prey on the children in the fandom as her remaining silent on the matter is going to make people think that she's okay with minors supporting her (basically the whole "silence = acceptance" thing).

I'm also concerned that it will go beyond adult fans grooming minors to people who work closely to Vivziepop grooming minors. As of right now (but please correct me if I'm wrong), I haven't heard about anyone who works under her being groomers, but I'm worried that it will eventually lead up to that all because Vivziepop doesn't want to take a minute out of her day to tell minors not to watch HB and HH.

And it's not just Vivziepop that should be held accountable. The parents of these children who are supporting her need to be held accountable, too. These parents need to look into what their children are watching both online and on TV. A lot of (if not all) adult media contains content that children shouldn't be consuming. And what doesn't help is that there are parents who don't care if their kids watch this kind of stuff, including porn.

I highly doubt that Vivziepop will do the right thing by issuing a statement about minors consuming her work. From what I've witnessed, it's clear that she's putting profit over minor safety. As long as these kids are giving her their money, she doesn't give a shit if adult fans are acting predatory towards minors. And she'll do everything she could to sweep things under the rug if anyone who works for her are grooming on those minor fans.

Fair concern. Minors in the Helluvaverse community have always been a problem ironically despite Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss being for mature audiences. The closest thing Vivziepop has done from what I’ve seen so far is liking tweets that parent shouldn’t bring their children into adult panels.

Then Vivziepop said this:

I don’t know if things changed now with their booths/panels but both booths and panels ideally should be strictly 18+ (ID included too obviously), so they avoid situations like how a 9-10 year old asked Blake Roman inappropriate questions or any other uncomfortable situations. For Helluva Boss, Vivziepop could actually age restrict but if she does that she would lose more viewers.

Adult fans grooming minors have definitely happened. For example, an Anon mentioned their concerns regarding adult fans encouraging minors to ship ValAngel and how it happened to them. Luckily their friends got them out of that situation.

Right now at the moment there haven’t been any allegations of any Spindlehorse employees being groomers. I’ve only heard of drawing incest and rape fetishization. But only time will tell. Either way, Anon hope you are doing better.

[cutielando]

addressing the hate.

i have a lot to say about this entire weekend, so buckle up.

there have a lot of ups and downs for us this weekend, we can all agree with that.

hope was there on Friday, with both cars up there both in FP1 and Sprint Quali.

then came the Sprint.

i support both Lando and Oscar, and i can admit, and proudly at that, that Oscar 100% deserved to win that Sprint. but at the same time, he knew that at that point, Lando was close to Max in the championship and needed every possible point that he could take. so, Oscar played the team game. i know some people don’t agree with it, but in my opinion, it was kind of fair play. Lando took one for the team when he switched positions with Oscar in Hungary (for this one, i blame the team and the team only because they fucked up their pit stops and made the whole thing much worse than it needed to be), Oscar took one for the team today in the Sprint, which realistically does not bring a lot of points for the top 8.

qualifying for the race was when things started to not go in our favor. Lando barely managed to get in terms with the car to make it to Q2, by the skin of his teeth, and even though he put an incredible time on the timesheets and got Pole, the race was where it all went to hell.

losing the lead after the first corner, admittedly making mistakes that had no room to be made yesterday when the opportunity to close the championship gap was so great, the team once again fucking up his race with that pit stop (which Russell also suffered from), nothing went in his favor.

despite everything, i am very proud of Max and his performance yesterday. to come from P17 to P1 and finish the race with a 19 second lead to 2nd place is something beyond amazing, and Max truly deserved that win. he has shown, once again, why he is a master in the wet and despite everything that has happened in the past few weeks that we are not proud of, he has shown why he is a soon-to-be 4 time World Champion. i bow my hat to you, Max Verstappen, because you are the best driver of your generation and one of the best drivers the sport has ever seen.

however, this brings me to my main point.

the hate that i’ve seen thrown Lando’s away from the moment the race ended is baffling to me. i know a lot of people are saying that Lando never deserved to win the championship, that he’s not talented enough or he’s just lucky to have won.

let’s not forget that Max has been undefeated for 3 years straight, especially last season, and this time around Lando is the only driver who has managed to get even remotely close to him in the championship battle. you don’t have to like Lando, but you have to give some credit for putting in the work and making it at the top.

i find it very funny that a lot of you talk about how mental health is really important for these drivers because of the insane pressure they’re under, but you jump at the occasion to send death threats to one of them like it’s nothing. you defend your favorite driver when someone hates on them and you complain about the people that hate on your favorite, but you do the same to Lando, someone else’s favorite driver. you guys are no better than the people you complain about and claim to hate.

these drivers are first and foremost human beings. they know what’s at stake, they know what they’re dealing with, and they feel these wins and losses on a different level than we do.

Lando has been very vocal about his past struggles with mental health, and now everyone is sending him hateful messages and threats? when he’s proved time and time again what a kind soul he is?

you people have no decency.

these are human beings. how would you like it if your every move was scrutinized and judged to the maximum? how would you feel if you were in their place, seeing so many people’s hateful comments and wishes of harm towards you?

think about how you would feel if you were on the receiving end of your hateful comments.

please, do better.

stop the hate.

congratulations, Max Verstappen, for this incredible win.

congratulations, Lando Norris, for all the work you’ve put into becoming better and actually fighting at the top.

shame on you, the people who pretend to be their fans.

do better.

[toomanythoughts2]

what are your thoughts on autistic murderface or murderface with bpd???

I could make an argument that all of the members of Dethklok are autistic, but I won't because it wouldn't be much of an argument. Lots of folks see the members as autistic already, in one way or another. I have nothing against autistic Murderface (or any character of MLT), in fact, I love HCs stating that a member(s) are autistic because, honestly, I see it as well.

(I'm just going to go off of what I am aware of autism and BPD as a whole and I am in no way, shape, or form an expert on them.)

Autism, especially untreated and/or undiagnosed autism (which is what I believe Murderface would be experiencing), would affect his personal hygiene as a teenager and they would have followed him into adulthood, like they have in episode like "Dethsub" and "Dethcarraldo". Same thing with his grandmother, Murderface states that she had always had a smell to her that he hated. Stella might also have autism, especially since autism seems to be contributed more from the father's side than the mother's side (but it could come from anywhere, and I'm assuming that Stella is Murderface's paternal grandmother.) Autism affect your sensors, so Murderface having problems with certain smells or food textures also makes sense. He has a very strong interest in history and "morbid crap" like Pickles once said, so a special interest would explain that characteristic of his. With autism, Murderface could also be suffering from emotional deregulation, which explains his outbursts, like anger, his sense of defense, and depression.

Murderface having untreated BPD could be very very real, and honestly a very fair assumption to his character, maybe even more so than autism (though the two could co-exist together). The impulsivity, the anger issues, than suicidal ideation, the emptiness, the intense relationships, I mean, it would hit the nail on the head for a lot of things that Murderface goes through.

Murderface's character is very troubled and mentally unwell. I don't think anyone would fight on the fact that Murderface has mental health issues, especially about self-worth and image. He has this idea that all of his problems would disappear if he was handsome because he believes that all of his problems started because of he was born ugly. BPD unfortunately doesn't have any concrete causes (yet) but emotional trauma, the witnessing of his parents murder-suicide, living with an unstable grandmother and grandfather, neglect; those all could have been causes for his BPD.

So my thoughts on him having autism or BPD or both is that it's very likely. I accept it, if someone were to write Murderface as such, I would believe it was in-character for him. That's the beauty with fandom is that if you can fill in a lot of blanks or underdeveloped areas and really see the fandom shine through.

I would also accept Bipolar Disorder, but I think that would fit Toki and Pickles better than Murderface, only because BPD seems to hit a lot of his characteristics.

[rynnthefangirl]

Thoughts on Aegon III, his character flaws, and his relationships with Viserys and Daenaera:

(Note: this is all just my personal headcanon and interpretations. You may disagree, and that’s totally fine. There’s a lot of leeway in how to read these characters given the lack of POV stories and info on the post-Regency years.)

So, first to be clear— I love, love, love Aegon III. He’s my favorite Targaryen, I think he is a good man and a good king, and I empathize with his situation a lot. But it’s interesting to consider the darker side of his relationships, and how his experiences in the Dance affect his ability to connect with others. He’s such a fascinating character, and while I like the fluff of his family dynamic (and think there was a lot of mutual love there, with his siblings, Daenaera, and his kids), I love all the rich angst there is to read into it as well.

So that being said, in my opinion Aegon’s greatest flaw (at least when it comes to his personal relationships) is his lack of consideration and understanding for the emotions of others. Not a lack of care— Aegon cares deeply and wishes for his loved ones to be safe and happy— but rather a failure to recognize others’ emotional needs. I think this results from Aegon drawing a false dichotomy between himself and others. Aegon suffers from PTSD and depression, but he lives in a world that lacks the support or even the terminology help him understand and process his mental health issues. As such, he considers himself to simply be a broken individual. He is broken, while others are whole. And so in Aegon’s mind, everyone else is far happier, more put together, and more resilient than he is. Which, to be fair, is not entirely inaccurate, but I think this manifests as Aegon assuming that what people appear to be on the surface is how they truly are. He never smiles unless he is happy— so anytime anyone smiles, he assumes they are happy. If he is struggling, he shows it, through retreating into himself, hiding in his chambers, anger, panic attacks, etc— so if someone isn’t showing such behaviors, he takes it to mean they aren’t struggling. Aegon may understand in his head that people can put on an appearance, but I think he still underestimates to what extent that can hide their true feelings.

As such, I think Aegon is a man who is not in tune with the needs of people around him. He is very much centered around himself and his own emotions. This can lead to him being very casually cold or cruel without realizing it. Of course, when it comes to people not in his inner circle, he simply does not care— he knew he was being rude in his dismissal of Torrhen Manderly, that he’s cold to the lords of his court, but their feelings don’t matter to him, as long as they do their duties to the realm. But I think this can also leak into the way he interacts with the people he does love and care for— his siblings, his wife, his children. Aegon does not wish to cause them any hurt, and is quick to apologize, take accountability, and attempt to do better if someone tells him that he did something to upset them. But that’s the thing — you have to tell him. Because Aegon oftentimes will not realize on his own.

While both Viserys and Daenaera understand this about Aegon, Viserys has a much easier time dealing with it. This is due both to their personalities but also how they are raised.

Viserys is a very practical and assertive man. During his time in Lys, he had to grow up fast in an attempt to earn the respect of the Rogarres and older wife Larra, who was a very judgemental young woman. He did not wish to be seen as a sullen or emotional child, but rather a proper mature husband. So he learned not to take things personally, to be very direct with his thoughts, and above all to not be needy. As such, he has an easy time applying these traits to his relationship with his brother. If Aegon does something that bothers him, he will simply tell him, and Aegon is pretty good about apologizing and at least temporarily changing his behavior. Knowing this, Viserys is not sensitive to Aegon’s unconscious cruelty or casual indifference, often time just brushing it off as Aegon’s nature and not something to be offended by.

Daenaera on the other hand, was taught since she was a little girl that it is her job to care for and support the king. As a woman, she is expected to do the emotional labor of her marriage. This isn’t an expectation that was placed upon her by Aegon, but rather by the sexist and patriarchal society in which she was raised. While all women in Westeros face such an expectation, this is especially true of a woman who was Queen since age 6. She also is naturally a more sensitive and gentle individual than her brother-in-law. As such, while Daenaera knows that the best way to deal with Aegon is to simply be direct and forcefully honest, she really struggles to do so. She has been taught to suppress her emotional needs and to not put such burdens on her lord husband. With another more emotionally intelligent husband, this may not have been such an issue. But Aegon being Aegon, will not pick up on or give thought to her needs, and Daenaera feels she should not bother him with them. This is the biggest divide in their marriage, and Daenaera often feels resentment towards Aegon for not being anywhere near as present and attentive towards her as she is towards him. She feels guilty for this as well, thinking it unfair of her to hold resentment towards Aegon when she has not properly communicated with him. She also sometimes feels selfish, since her own issues and traumas are so minor compared to Aegon’s. (To be clear, this is how Daenaera feels about herself thanks to the gender roles of her society, not how I feel about her).

(Though, one area where this isn't an issue is when it comes to intimacy-- as someone who is extremely touch averse himself, Aegon is very cognizant of any indication of discomfort from Daenaera).

The issue has been brought up to Aegon, demurely by Daenaera and more forcefully by Viserys. And for a time, Aegon does try to be more attentive to his wife’s emotions… but eventually falls back into his old ways. In truth, Aegon does not see why it is an issue— to him, if he upsets Daenaera or she wishes something from him, she need only tell him and he will oblige. Same with the others in his life. He feels it is difficult enough for him to deal with his own issues and emotions, and he cannot be expected to also constantly interpret and deal with those of everyone around him. (Aegon does not realize to what extent Daenaera has always done this for him).

Anyway, those are some of my thoughts. I think the relationship of these three is so interesting, because there is no "bad guy" in any of this. Everyone is coming from an understandable place, everyone is trying and cares for each other. But they are all victims of their circumstances and the society they live it. Aegon was put through horribly traumatic experiences and is left to try to deal with the mental effect this has had on him, with no real understanding or guidance. Daenaera was married off at age six, taught by her society to play the dutiful wife and put her husbands heavy emotional needs before her own without complaint. Viserys may deal well with being a source of support for Aegon, but he is not superman-- he's running the realm, trying to help his brother, raising his children, being the face of the Targaryen dynasty that everyone looks to, trying to save the dragons, being a source of support for Daenaera, keeping the lords of the realm in line, dealing with his own trauma and grief, juggling so many balls that one eventually is going to drop (spoiler: it's his children). These are three kids who were forced to grow up so fast, they've never been able to rely on the adults in their life, their only support and trust is each other. And maybe they don't always handle everything perfectly, but damn they are trying their best. They are always trying their best.

[drdemonprince]

I recently finished reading your book Unlearning Shame, and I absolutely loved it. I found the conceptual framework of Internalized Shame and your techniques for it so very helpful, especially when most ideas of mental health (anxiety and depression, trauma, etc.) have seemed insufficient and useless to me.

However, there was one thing that kind of bugged me the whole way through reading it. Your primary focus was the shame people face as part of marginalization, but often, this too felt insufficient for me. Like, I do face a lot of this flavor of shame: I'm an autistic trans woman, feeling like I'm cringey or childish or creepy or obscene or whatever are things that bug me daily, and restrict a lot of my freedom.

However, a lot of the shame I deal with stems from some kind of awful things I've done in the past, and this is perhaps the loneliest and most difficult kind of shame I deal with. To be fair, I think a lot of this has been very closely linked to my marginalization: people would interpret genuine mistakes of mine as signs I was some awful, manipulative predator, and quickly oust me from their friend groups as a result. If I had been an allistic cis man I would have faced far gentler behavior, or at least far more people would have justified the shit I did.

Regardless, very little in the book dealt with shame tied to guilt and wrongdoing. I remember there was mostly just this one tantalizing line about how even previous members of neonazi groups can benefit from speaking shame, but other than that, I didn't see much.

So my question here is, do you know how to deal with the shame of doing something really bad, and facing the consequences?

Thank you for asking, I'm glad you liked the book!

There are answers for you throughout the book, I think. Arguably, many of the examples of shame I outline involve feeling regret or shame over one's actions. People who do not recycle "enough" and feel profound shame and anxiety about it are people who have done something "wrong," in their minds. So are people who have repeated internalized transphobic/racist/fatphobic/etc messages to other people who share the same identities as them. These people's actions are systemically caused, and they are suffering from those same systemic forces that provoked them to take actions they feel bad about.

You aren't any more morally culpable than any of them, and you aren't qualitatively different from them -- even if you are likely telling yourself that what you did is so much "worse" and so much less justified.

You can find much of the advice that I apply to people who feel ashamed about an experience (a rape survivor, say), apply equally to you as someone who might have done something you view as "wrong." You can also look to the material in chapters 7 and 8 about finding grace and perspective for others who have done wrong to us, and apply much of that yourself. A person must be held in community before they can be held accountable, for example. Understanding the circumstances that contributed to your behavior is important, which it sounds like you've already done some work on, as is contemplating the needs you were attempting to meet with your actions, and the social supports you currently still need in order to move forward.

If someone has taken actions that go against even their own morals and they feel profoundly ashamed about it, I'd say they are generally still in a state of far-reaching systemic shame that goes far deeper and requires far more healing and support than just addressing the morality of their own actions. There's usually a lot of shame about one's identities, deprivation one is facing, fears of abandonment and attachment insecurities, and other major issues going on. Because a person wouldn't just violate their own moral precepts for no good reason.

No one wants to feel that they are a horrible person according to their own personal standards of goodness. A person's actions always make sense within their own context, and so when someone does something "wrong," either they have done something that they do not actually believe to be wrong, but fear societal judgement for, or they have been pushed to the brink by extreme distress, deprivation, abuse, indoctrination, political repression, exclusion, or likely a combination of those things.

I hope this is making sense. If you feel ashamed of something you have done, you need the exact same healing, safe vulnerability, social support, and trust as someone who is ashamed about something over which they have no control. There is no difference, you are no more deserving of that shame, and shame still will not prevent you from changing your behavior for the better. You can believe wholly that your actions in the past were wrong, and uphold your current values in the present, without deserving to feel any more shame about it.