#we are all human beings with the capacity to make up for our mistakes and turn our lives around for good

[red-velvet-0w0]

fuck it: hot take (i dont feel this is hot at all but aparently...)

nobody deserves to die. not terfs, not homophobes, not even nazis. nobody. you cannot genuinely claim that "the death penalty is wrong" and then turn around and immediately claim that different people deserve to die, no matter who they are. The thing is, nazis/transphobes/rascists/whoever the fuck else are just people who have been lied to and radicalized into hatred, and what they need is a chance to realize the error of their ways and a chance to do better and make up for their mistakes.

"forgiveness and acceptance of everyone and allowing people to do better and make up for their mistakes" is literaly the message of steven universe, a show meant for literal children, and yet somehow 90% of the people on this website have been unable to comprehend it.

[foropinionssake]

i have a question for you, and i’m genuinely curious.

do you think womanhood should be defined by the ability to reproduce/have children rather than by living within the social role of womanhood, such as wanting to be called “she?” and for women who can’t reproduce, or who have had a hysterectomy, etc. are they still women? what about people who, in every way, have happily inhabited the role of being a man and even you would call them “he” if you didn’t know they were trans, but they could still technically give birth. is someone living fully as a man actually a woman because of one thing that their body could potentially do? is someone living fully and happily as a woman not a woman because of one thing their body cannot do?

i think these questions are good to think about, because it is just a fact that many trans women get called “woman” and “she” by strangers without a second thought, and they respond to that term and feel happy and comforted by it. throughout the whole interaction, there is no claim made about what genitals, dna, or birth-capabilities they have. you have probably had countless conversations like this too, where you were called “she” without having claimed anything about your body or anyone needing to verify. this is because the word “she” is not being used to refer to genitals etc, it is just being used to indicate that you look and act in ways that make you read to others as a woman. that is, most often, the truth being recognized.

with that in mind, it’s easier to see that, when a trans woman asks to be called she, the truth being told is “i like to be called she and seen as a woman,” not “i was born female and have the capacity to give birth and have xx chromosomes.” i have many close and dear trans friends, and none of them actually deny or disbelieve their own biology. in fact, they are painfully aware of their biology. they acknowledge the truth that certain hormones and surgeries can change some things about their body and not others, thus making it easier for them to integrate into the social role that feels natural for them. i have never heard a trans woman claim that hormones or surgery can let them give birth. all of my trans friends, are fully cognizant of the reality of their biology and the limited capacity of science.

what i see is you falling into a strawman argument, assuming that trans people believe false things about their bodies, like trans women claiming they can give birth or have xx chromosomes

it made me realize that maybe you hear the word woman and you think “birth giver, child bearer” rather than “full human person who’s body is none of my business and who chooses to inhabit the social role of womanhood.” i don’t blame you, because our patriarchal society has taught us that the former is all women are for. but as women, there are so many sexist messages we are taught that we have to unlearn. i mean, think of your own experience. wouldn’t you rather have other people see you as a whole person who has connection to womanhood, rather than just a source for babies? isn’t it more affirming to have people see your womanhood as the complex way you purposely and naturally step into the world and show up each day, rather than just a medical category that was thrust upon you at birth by a patriarchal medical system that wanted to determine who you would be? because i know what i prefer. and, in my experience, that is all trans women are asking.

anyway, i am just sending this out of curiosity, so lmk your thoughts. maybe we can have a conversation, but i won’t engage with hostility. i hope you’re having a nice day :)

Women are adult females. Men are adult males. The ability to have children has nothing to do with making someone male or female besides the fact that males biologically cannot get pregnant and birth babies. I am a woman and I’m choosing not to have children, that doesn’t make me less of a woman. The entire issue here is people are mistaking gender roles with gender. You can change your gender roles. You cannot change your gender itself. You are born with it.

[makingspiritualityreal]

Moon - The Child, Saturn - The Parent

Moon and Saturn, despite being enemies, have one thing in common, and that is their cyclical, time oriented nature. Saturn is the responsible parent, who becomes dependent, childlike and weak in their old age, and Moon is the child, that grows into a responsible parent. As these two are basically the equivalent of "what was first - chicken or egg?" metaphor, these two astral bodies form a cycle of their own.

The maturity of Saturn is what we experience when we move away from our parents, and face the reality, that Moon doesn't like to face - the fact that our parents are also human, can't protect us from everything, and when we step into adult life, we're equalized with them. Saturn brings objectivity, rationality and perspective with growing up, and that perspective includes understanding, that a lot of the pain we went through growing up was circumstantial, and our parents did what they could to the best of their ability, and as we grow up we are prone to making mistakes if we don't check ourselves, just like they are.

The Moon has the opposite approach, because it's reactive, concerned only with survival, self protection in the moment and fulfillment of one's own needs. It doesn't possess any long term perspective, so it takes situations at face value from it's own biased point of view, and doesn't have the capacity to universalize. That trait of the Moon is necessary in order for one to survive in the physical world at all, just like a toddler learns that it need to cry and scream to signal its primal needs to its parents. Growing up, it also consists of a capacity to self soothe, navigate one's own internal landscape, ultimately achieve self understanding while being able to relate to and sympathize with others. A mature Moon is capable of empathy, and thus benefits from Saturn's objectivity.

The difference in perception between these two bodies is the scale of vision. The Moon only sees, perceives and feels what's in front of its face, it has a 0-1 scale of what feels good vs what doesn't feel good and it reacts based on that, with no conscience. Saturn has an infinite perspective of why something that didn't feel good to the Moon may have occurred. Saturn contains within itself an inherent judgment, that if we blame others for their actions, we need to put ourselves in their shoes. Saturn understands, that while we may blame our parents, we would make our own fair share mistakes with our own children if we had them and being a parent doesn't automatically make you perfect. The Moon is focused on reactively extracting immediate reactions from others. Saturn is focused on self improvement, substance and correction.

The irony is in how intertwined these planets are, despite their contradictory nature. Without the Moon, we wouldn't have Saturn. If we didn't know how we felt, we wouldn't know how to place boundaries, we wouldn't know what to change. Without Saturn, without boundaries and trials, we wouldn't know what our emotional needs are and what we need to provide ourselves as self-care.

As a result, the childish parts of ourselves in the Moon participate in our growing up process as much as Saturn does. A truly refined individual is someone capable of mastering both sides of these equation.

[otomes-and-tears]

thoughts on shiloh and jb,,,, theyre so fun to think abt as a dynamic no matter how u choose to slice it

THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT THIS, ANON!! I want to smooch your forehead. I'm so happy rn.

Okay so-- I like to think that Shiloh initially only agreed to date JB out of self-interest, but eventually developed genuine feelings for her that he's in denial about.

We all know that he chooses to closely associate with people who will offer him something in return, and being with JB is DEFINITELY beneficial for him in the beginning:

First, by going out with her he's setting himself apart from the other jerks. He already acts differently from them, being nice, cheerful and helpful, and dating someone who others would consider desirable would do good for his social standing (and we know that shiloh has a bit of a reputation for being a manwhore, so actually settling down with someone for once would make him appear better) and it would solidify the idea that he's in the jerksquad by mistake and that he's "totally normal you guys" for people who still didn't catch on to him being a snake.

We also know that part of the reason is literally just that JB is the one thing that all the jerks have in common. They're all attracted to her in some capacity, and Shiloh can rub it in their faces in his own way that he "won" by being with her.

I think that JB being physically attractive and fitting his type are just minor points for him. If it was down to just physical attraction he wouldn't have bothered with a romantic relationship. He did, canonically, have a bunch of flings, so we know that for him accept a serious, exclusive relationship meant that there was a lot of incentive for him to do so.

So by all accounts, this is literally the perfect scenario for him: He's with someone attractive and fun, he pisses Pran off, people will see him in a better light and, the best part of all, JB is aware that he has ulterior motives and doesn't care about what they are, just as long he's praising her and being amusing.

There doesn't need to be any actual feelings involved. It's a mutually beneficial relationship that hinges on both parts fulfilling their pre-assigned roles. It's straightforward and uncomplicated, even if their dynamic is kind of fucked up if you think too hard about it.

But... And maybe this is just the hopeless romantic in me, but I do think that Shiloh eventually starts developing actual feelings for JB, and it would be fucking terrible for him.

There's this one post where GB lady talks about Shiloh's loneliness, and I think about it way too much. Even if you choose to see him as someone who just discards and replaces people in his life as soon as they're not of use anymore, he still feels isolated and lonely, because of course he does! Shiloh spent his entire life not letting people in and just following whoever established themselves as a leader, he even admits to it himself in Our life.

Shiloh doesn't have any actual, meaningful relationships because he can't have them and still maintain that same pattern of behaviour that he's used to, and letting go of these old habits would be incredibly difficult for someone whose entire childhood socialization was built onto this foundation.

Like-- I know that is a clichê for people to trace back everything to someone's childhood, but I cannot stress enough how CRUCIAL childhood socialization is for human development. Of course, people can grow and change even if they had difficult childhoods, but you need a good foundation in order to build healthy habits, and while Shiloh did have loving parents who wanted to do good by him, the behaviours and thought patterns he picked up during his childhood are still things we can see he struggles with throughout his life.

Building long-lasting connections with people means that he needs to allow himself to be vulnerable and genuine, It means that Shiloh needs to let go of the safety of the "boss and sidekick" dynamic that he's used to, and that especially, he would need to let go of his habit of entering relationships with the expectation of leaving them eventually.

I don't think these are things he's incapable of doing, if you choose to believe that he was being genuine with Liz during their conversation in OLBA, but these are things that he has resistance to trying because they have outcomes that are difficult to predict, and Shiloh is as his most comfortable when he's able to read someone and be what they need him to be or manipulate them into giving to him what he wants. He thrives on predictability and control.

I believe that actually falling in love with JB would be something he'd be in denial about for a long time. I think it would be hard for him to rationalise having actual, genuine feelings for someone after he spent an entire life avoiding them, and it would be even harder for him to deal with the very real possibility of this relationship having an expiration date, or, even worse, him wanting to be with her past her usefulness.

And it's not like he has anyone to talk to about these things, or that JB would even believe him if he admitted to actually liking her. I do think that Shiloh is the kind of person who would try to bury these feelings inside as much as possible to try and regain some sense of normalcy and you'd never be able to tell, bc he's just acting like normal.

By the prom scene, I think he actually likes her. I think he purposefully takes advantage of the fact that she doesn't take anything he says seriously to say things he actually means. I think him opening up about his manipulation tactics goes beyond him just wanting to manipulate her further (though I do think that keeping her interested enough she doesn't want to break up is a good motivator for him to keep on manipulating her too) and is also Shiloh's way of testing her boundaries and just how much she's willing to put up with if he starts being honest with her.

I don't think he knows whether or not to break up with her by graduation. She's asking him, but he doesn't know what to answer. Being with her beyond high school and putting effort into staying with JB long-distance doesn't really benefit Shiloh like it did when they were both in high school, and staying with JB long-term would mean that at some point he'd have to look deep inside and ask himself if he's willing to change.

And yeah, he's lonely, and he loves JB, but is that worth giving up everything you know?

Buuut if you want my honest opinion, which I'm guessing you do because you read through this mountain of text, I like to think that him allowing Liz back into his life is a good sign. It, at the very least, means that he is willing to maintain one relationship and that he's willing to be at least somewhat honest with someone. That's already miles better from where he was when Xoxo Droplets started.

By the way-- if you agree or disagree with anything I said here I'd LOVE to hear people's takes on this topic! I love talking about them!

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi, I'm a troubled INFJ asking on how to find an answer for a dilemma I'm having w my family members. I don't truly hate, but I lack affection for my father and sister; caring for them doesn't bring me comfort.

I grew up in a poor family. From a young age, I witnessed my father indulging in gambling and abusing my mother. Our conversations at home were often filled with yelling and swearing. My mother, despite her kindness and sacrifice, couldn't restrain my father's behavior (I believe my mom is ISFJ). We endured many nights of fear and tears as my father gambled away our livelihood. My father never cared about our education or well-being; his selfish pursuits always came first. He never provided for us financially, spending all his earnings on gambling and accumulating debt.

My sister dropped out of school early and never held a stable job. She is stubborn and refuses to listen to advice. Despite my mother's efforts to support her, my sister remains dependent and directionless. As for me, I finally completed university and secured a stable job despite tons of obstacles that could have made me give up halfway. I contribute financially to support my family, paying off debts and even purchasing land and building a house for my sister. However, the lack of love and warmth in my family has left me feeling lonely and disconnected.

I fear marrying someone like my father and becoming trapped in a cycle of misery. At home, I fulfill my responsibilities but keep my distance emotionally. I provide for my family's needs, but I find myself only caring for my mother, not my father or sister. I wonder if I'm selfish or afraid of responsibility for feeling this way. How do I find an answer to this question myself?

---------------------

Growing up in a poor family isn't the issue. The real issue is that you grew up in an abusive environment and thus haven't learned what healthy relationships should look like.

What exactly do you mean when you use the word "responsibility"? Okay, common sense dictates that you are responsible for yourself and the choices you make. But are you responsible for your father or sister and the choices they have made? Do you have a responsibility to fix their mistakes and compensate for their bad behavior? Are you solely responsible for keeping the family together when half of the members don't care?

Yes, it's important to be a responsible person if you want to feel like you have good moral character. However, taking on more responsibility than is reasonable for a single person to shoulder is a serious problem in several ways:

1) It is damaging to your well-being. Responsibility comes with stress, and stress has a deleterious effect on both physical and mental health. Taking on the responsibilities of others compounds stress dramatically. Your capacity to handle stress is finite, which means that you will eventually feel burn-out or experience a mental breakdown or lash out destructively (Se grip).

2) It makes you ripe for mistreatment. Lack of healthy boundaries is a common symptom of Fe overindulgence in INFJs, i.e., it is a problem that needs to be remedied as part of your type development. Taking responsibility for someone else's decisions means that their problems become your problems. If you allow this to happen again and again, you are broadcasting to the world that you are an easy target for manipulation and exploitation. All they have to do is activate your guilt and you'll take care of whatever they throw at you. You'll become a doormat at best and a victim at worst.

3) It rewards other people's bad behavior. Facing up to negative consequences is essential for human learning and improvement. When you take responsibility that should rightfully belong to someone else, you are essentially shielding them from the consequences of their behavior. When there is always someone else to clean up messes for them, what incentive do they have to clean it up themselves? If anything, they are incentivized to make even bigger messes. This makes you complicit in their bad behavior because you are enabling it. When you or your mother are excessively "supportive", you might actually be making this unhealthy family dynamic worse.

Your question implies that you have a duty to always be caring and loving to everyone in your family no matter what. Why do you hold this belief? Do you come from a culture that tells you family is everything and going against them is always a betrayal? There's nothing I can say to help if this is truly what you want to believe.

A healthy family should have a sense of equality and equity. Every member of the family should contribute a fair share. Every member of the family should care enough to only take what is needed (as opposed to take advantage of kindness). Every member of the family should get enough love and support.

When one member of the family behaves in a way that is harmful to the other members, they no longer deserve the privileges of membership. Social "responsibility" shouldn't be one-sided. A relationship is like a social contract where both parties agree to terms and conditions that aim to keep the relationship healthy and thriving. When one party intentionally breaks the contract over and over again, you no longer owe them the duty of carrying out your portion of the contract. Is it reasonable to force yourself to like/love someone who has repeatedly shown that they don't like/love you? Wouldn't this amount to torturing yourself?

Perhaps you think it makes you a bad person for turning on family. Nobody is saying that you have to do bad things to your father and sister or treat them cruelly. The point being made here is that you have a right to be treated with respect and you deserve care as well. And when people don't treat you with respect and care, you have a right to protect yourself from their harmful behavior by pulling away from them physically and emotionally. In other words, you have a right to your personal space, you have a right to set rules of social engagement, and you have a right to end any interaction/relationship that hurts you. Having healthy boundaries means being assertive in advocating for your own needs and well-being.

If you don't learn to set healthy boundaries in your family, this problem is very likely to carry over into your friendships and romantic relationships. Do you want this feeling of loneliness to come up again and again? If not, what you need to do is learn to seek love from the right sources. Family or not, do not hope or beg for a person to reciprocate your love when they have shown you that they are not capable of love. This is part of what it means to have self-respect.

[aboutdragons]

the thing about dragons - chapter seven

in which Lyra makes a promise.

Dialogues in quotation marks are in Common Westron, in angle brackets in High Valyrian, in square brackets for other. Thoughts, emotions and emphasis are in italics.  

Cross-posted on

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43121373

Scribblehub: https://www.scribblehub.com/series/699684/the-thing-about-dragons/

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/331546036-the-thing-about-dragons

Now with a Discord server! Come join me at Marq's Assorted Writery: discord.gg/WQ7mNwk

◄○○○►

Read the Summary, Tags & Warnings as linked on the page to know what to expect.

warnings: casual murder, feral children doing feral things

wordcount: 9,542

Read the chapter under the cut.  

Viserys leaves them the fuck alone, at least for the time being, entirely unable to deal with the truth they so readily throw in his face when nobody else is willing to. He’s the king, after all; people generally at best criticise his policies, and even that in a way that doesn’t make him feel like a pile of human waste he actually is. Daemon and Lyra are related to him, able to ignore the barrier of his social standing, and not nearly as kind as his lickspittles.

And Viserys doesn’t like the consequences of his actions manifesting to bite him, even if it’s just the truth thrown in his face. It ruins his little perfect delusion in which nothing is wrong and everyone loves everyone and he didn’t hurt anyone.

Pretending like he didn’t abuse and murder Aemma, like he doesn’t doesn’t abuse Alicent now, like he doesn’t let Rhaenyra run unchecked and make bad choice after bad choice without consequences in a truly insidiously self-destructive way, like he doesn’t neglect his children by Alicent, forgetting they exist half the time—

With a clear view like that, Lyra thinks she just hates him. No wonder this family is so fucked up.

<I hate him, you know?> she tells her father. She’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Daemon on the roof where she made a habit of escaping to. <I think I hated him for a long time.>

<I think I don’t have the energy left to hate him, wasted on trying to love him all those years before,> Daemon admits and takes a swing of wine. <I’m tired, and I want him to stop. I don’t even know what I want him to stop, just—stop.>

<I don’t think he will, not until he rots in his filth and dies,> Lyra says and briefly considers the bottle, but Daemon moves it out of her reach, shaking his head. Fair enough. <But we should do better even with the Viserys-shaped obstacle in our path. For the future he’s trying so hard to ruin.>

<It’s about Rhaenyra and Aegon, isn’t it?> Daemon hums. 

<Uh-huh,> Lyra grumbles and snatches Snickerdoodle who wandered a little too close, wraps herself around the cat. <Didn’t change heirship, didn’t betroth them to eachother. On its own that’s fine I suppose; but he’s not teaching Rhaenyra anything! Hells, he’s letting her make a mistake after a mistake without any fucking consequences! Who’s going to accept her as queen if she doesn’t know how to do shit? What if she gets worse? In her position, there’s things she absolutely cannot do, and if she does the Hightowers are going to exploit the fuck out of that, and then the civil war will be inevitable—>

Daemon looks at her sharply as she snaps her mouth shut, and looks away. 

She dropped hints that she knew the future of this world in a certain capacity, he knew there were stories in her past life; but she’s never gone in depth about it. She regaled him with tales of other worlds, but never this one that was now hers, avoiding the topic on purpose often.

But he knew. He knew she knew what future they were heading towards.

Lyra takes a breath, scoots closer and puts her head on her father’s shoulder. He puts the bottle away and puts his hand around her shoulders, shielding her from the wind picking up and world alike.

<You don’t have to shoulder this burden alone,> he says softly, and so horribly, horribly perceptive in the way he gets with her, and Lyra knows he wanted to ask before, just never did. <Tell me?>

And Lyra folds like a wet blanket, and tells Daemon everything she can remember about the Dance of Dragons.

○

Daemon can’t sleep, late in the night, with his daughter and her shedding beast curled by his side. His mind is racing, it has been for hours. The conversation they had, the information he learned; all put the happenings around him into a brand new perspective Daemon decided he hates with vitriol.

And how scary it must be for Lyra, his child, to be the lone person capable of change. And how terrifying it is that despite her existence changing things, so much remains the same anyway, because people are bound to act on their whims all the same?

And she’s playing the long game, she tells him. Because how easy would it be to just kill Viserys and Cunttower and throw the country into chaos,and run East to never be seen again? That was his first thought, but what guarantee was there it wouldn’t make everything worse?

None. In fact, it guaranteed the opposite.

But hope was not all lost, Daemon thinks. He changed. Things changed, not many, not nearly enough, but some, and for now that’s enough to hope..

He’s not good at playing the long con, not remotely, patience has always been his weakness; but it’s not Lyra’s. She has no idea what to do just yet, told him as much, her goal is to save the dragons first and the Targaryen family maybe if she can fit their survival into her plans, but she wants to try.

Daemon has faith in her. They have a little less than twenty years before Viserys dies, and Lyra is still a child besides. He doesn’t doubt that they will have a solution by the time the mounting conflict reaches its breaking point.

<Dad, you’re thinking too loud,> Lyra complains into his side. Daemon chuckles.

<I’m not saying anything.>

<But your heart is hammering really loud, and you’re very tense. Not a good pillow.>

<Ah. Sorry, little flame.>

<It’ll be fine,> she tells him and pats his chest. <There’s time. Don’t worry about any of it yet. There’s enough shit to deal with now.>

It’s almost like a magic spell. She’s right; there’s no point in worrying about the future so distant when the now is tricky enough.

<Alright,> he says. <Goodnight.>

<Mhm. Goodnight.>

And it works, somehow. Daemon turns on his side and pulls her close, and the cat weasels itself from between them, clearly done playing the cuddle-toy; but Daemon falls asleep, mind finally calmed enough to shut up.

○

Between the stunt they pulled, Otto getting dismissed—and subsequently getting replaced by none other than Harwin’s father, Lyonel—and the following rumours about Rhaenyra’s outing, Viserys decides to speak with Corlys once more, though this time about possible betrothal between Laenor and Rhaenyra. Those talks bear much more fruit than Vsierys’ attempts to circumvent Daemon, even though Corlys isn’t entirely happy with being the fallback. He’s fully aware Laenor wouldn’t willingly touch a woman, and he knows Viserys knows; and no matter their family’s standing, this is looking an awful lot like Rhaenyra getting punished with a gay husband for her indiscretions.

Lyra and Daemon exchange a knowing look as they see them off on their trip to Driftmark. Corlys catches them, and his face does something ugly, because Corlys is a sharp, smart man who has seen enough shit in his life, and who can put two and two together quickly.

<We have your back, should you ever need it,> Daemon tells him with a pat to the shoulder. Corlys nods. <Be it a shoulder to cry on, or a blade between ribs.>

<You’ll outlive Viserys,> Lyra tells him quietly, tugging on his hand and he looks at her sharply. She grins. <And remember, nothing he breaks is unfixable even if it seems like it. It just takes willpower and elbow grease.>

<You’re both horrible,> Corlys tells them fondly. <Thank you. I’ll see you when we’re back for the party.>

<Good luck with cousin Rhaenys,> Lyra says with a fanged grin. <Remind her that if we can’t commit regicide, she can’t either.>

<Duly noted,> Corlys snorts, and with one last pat to Lyra’s head and a handshake with Daemon, he’s off for the ships. Viserys and Rhaenyra pack up too, trailed by Criston Cole. Alicent barely sees them off, upset and shaken by her father’s recent dismissal.

Daemon does see Rhaenyra off—she’s still somewhat cross with him for not fucking her—but neither pays much mind to Viserys, who also does his best to ignore them.

It’s better that way.

The procession of ships leaves. They will have at least two weeks or so of peace before Viserys returns, maybe even a month if they’re lucky.

Then, they’ll see.

○

It’s barely a day after the departure of the royal procession to Driftmark that Alicent hunts Lyra down, even more frantic that she’s last seen the older girl, dragged off to a more secluded corner in the gardens.

“You lied to me,” Alicent hisses, shaking Lyra by the shoulders, and for a moment Lyra just lets her, marvelling at the outburst of emotion unbridled by decorum. “You and Rhaenyra both, you lied to me.”

“Hey now, I didn’t!” Lyra tells her, putting her hands on Alicent’s wrist to stop the shaking. “Is it about the brothel visit?”

Alicent opens her mouth, but says nothing. Closes it, opens again, closes it again. Frustrated, she sighs and just nods.

“I didn’t lie,” Lyra repeats. “Daemon didn’t fuck Rhaenyra. He did take her to the whorehouse, but it went no further.”

“And how do you even know that?” Alicent asks finally. “Was it your father’s word? Wasn’t he just corroborating Rhaenyra’s own words for his own safety and peace?”

“I told you what I saw,” Lyra says simply and Alicent rears back in surprise, eyes wide and searching for something, anything on Lyra’s face. Lyra can’t tell what.

“You were there?”

“I stalked him, and Rhaenyra too I suppose, because I was worried,” she admits, “because I knew how angry he was at everything, and I know how he gets when he’s angry like that. I followed them through Fleabottom and into the brothel dressed like a street urchin, and I saw what they did, and what they didn’t do, and I was ready to step in had they gone any further. They didn’t. He left her with her pants down and hair loose and upset he didn’t fuck her, and ran with his tail between his legs. I found a Gold Cloak I trusted, and had him escort Rhaenyra back to the keep safely. I saw no more of her that night; I was busy making sure Daemon didn’t end up gutted in some corner.”

“So Rhaenyra spoke true?” Alicent asks, dejected and confused. “Then why’d she take the tea if it was sent to her?”

“The tea?” Lyra blinks. “The moon tea? She took it? How do you know?”

“I heard—coincidentally, also from a son of Lord Strong,” Alicent admits, calmer by the moment. “He asked me about her wellbeing after she left for Driftmark, he saw Grand Maester bringing her tea. I… Maybe it was actually just regular tea?”

There’s so much hope in those words, it’s unbearable. Lyra almost feels bad for what she’s about to do next, but she is no liar. Alicent deserves the truth, even if it’s hidden under the veneer of speculation.

“It may have been moon tea,” she tells Alicent who snaps to look at her, eyes narrow. “The honest truth is, she didn’t fuck Daemon. But the honest truth is also that there is a chance she fucked someone after her return to the keep.”

“Who?” Alicent asks. She’s picking at her fingers again. Lyra shrugs, and takes the older girl’s hands in her own.

“Serving boys. Castle guards. Fuck, a Kingsguard even. Few men would say no to the young, pretty, willing princess.”

Alicent mulls over it.

“Daemon did,” she says eventually.

“Daemon is not nearly wretched enough to be interested in fucking the girl he watched grow up,” Lyra scoffs. “And he’s always been one of the special few besides, in thought and action both.”

Alicent bites her lip and looks away, grasping the double-meaning of Lyra’s words with ease.

But there’s something else that worries Lyra.

“The Lord Strong that told you… Was it Larys, the younger one?” she asks quietly. Alicent looks at her, and nods.

“Yes. He was… Helpful.”

“Or intent on sowing discord by giving you a very convenient twisting of overheard gossip intended to prey on your vulnerability after your father’s departure,” Lyra tells her and Alicent looks at her fully. She’s thinking about it, and there’s a moment where her eyes widen with a realisation. Lyra looks around, scanning the area for people and rats alike, before she leans in to whisper. “Do not trust this man. His brother is one of the Gold Cloaks I trust the most and I have it on very good authority that nothing Larys ever does is for free. He’s looking for a wedge to slither into your good graces and exploit the hells out of your goodwill. He’s an expert in twisting anything in his favour, and then calling that favour in. He may have well told you the truth, but he did not do it out of goodwill.”

Granted, it’s not Harwin who told her, but he’s as good an excuse as any for Lyra to try to protect Alicent from Larys and his sticky paws as it gets. A believable one at least.

“I… Are you certain?”

“Yes. Do not trust him. Use his services if you must, but as sparingly and carefully as possible, you understand? A double-edged blade may just cut you deeper than it does your opponent, and he will bleed you dry if you slip once.”

Alicent just kind of slumps at that, eyes going glassy. She’s picking at her fingers again, her presence diminished. Lyra pulls her into a hug.

Alicent digs her fingers into Lyra’s sides, shaking as she buries her face in Lyra’s shoulder.

“Father was right, this is a den of hungry wolves,” she sobs. “I want to go home. I want all this to stop. I never wanted any of this.”

“I know,” Lyra says as she wraps her arms around Alicent in a tight hug. ��You shouldn’t need to be contending with any of this.”

“I’m so scared of so many things. Of the future, of what Rhaenyra might do, of what Viserys might do, and I don’t know what to do, how to protect myself, how to protect my children!” Alicent sobs quietly. “I’m terrified Rhaenyra will have to kill them for posing a challenge to her by just existing whether she wants to or not. I have two sons, Lyra, no matter what Viserys says the lords will prefer them over a ruling queen because that’s tradition and they already passed over Rhaenys once before! And Rhaenyra barely tolerates her brothers as is. She will have them killed—”

“She will not,” Lyra says and presses her cheek to Alicent’s hair.

It starts now then, doesn’t it? Right here, in this dark alcove, with her friend sobbing on her shoulder, terrified of the threat that might befall her children for the sin of being alive in the relatively near future.

“How can you be so sure?” Alicent asks as she pulls back to look Lyra in the eyes. “You know how she is. You know how this land is. Once Viserys is dead, all semblance of peace goes with him! We both know it’s only his willful blindness keeping this farce going!”

“Because I won’t let her,” Lyra tells Alicent simply. “And before you disagree; I will be an adult before Viserys dies. I ride the second largest dragon in the world, I have Daemon and his dragon on my side as well. And the Velaryons--they always preferred Daemon, and Rhaenyra’s peaceful ascension would be in their best interest if this marriage goes through besides.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Alicent whispers.

“Because at the end of it all, it is so easy,” Lyra insists. “On the fire and the blood in my veins, on the ancient magic that binds me and Ancalagon in mind and soul, I swear. I will not let her kill them. I will protect your children from unjust, early death to the best of my ability. I will protect them from Rhaenyra and from this world’s fucking inheritance politics and outdated Andal traditions that should have never bound my people in the first place. But you need to promise me something, too.”

“What is it?”

“That you will protect them from the greatest threat they will ever face. One only you can successfully shield them from.”

Alicent shivers, wide-eyed. “And what is that threat?”

“Your father’s ambition,” Lyra tells her, and Alicent presses her mouth into a thin line. “The very ambition that forced you in this position, that will herd your children into an early grave if left unchecked no matter what I do. I can protect them from Rhaenyra and from Viserys and Daemon, from open conflict and dragons and fire and steel; I cannot protect them from your father and his insidious influence.”

“He’s my shield. My strength—”

“He’s the root of your misery. The poison seeping into your bones. Can you not see, can you not feel?” Lyra asks. “He peddled you to Viserys for a morsel of power. His beloved daughter. What makes you think he won’t sell your children, should it benefit him?”

Alicent opens her mouth. Closes it, looks away.

“What can I even do?”

“More than you think. You’re the queen, Alicent. Quite a beloved one, in fact. You have more power than you see; exploit to Hells and back and then some more. Protect yourself, protect your children. I can only do so much, a child and a daughter of a second son and a nobody without a name forged in fire yet. You can do so much more. Yes, you’re surrounded by ravenous wolves, but you forget that you’re no lamb destined for slaughter. Otto’s hapless power grabs put you in a situation you should never have contended with, but it also gave you power. Seize it. It’s okay to be selfish in your situation.”

Alicent looks up at her, eyes still glassy, but face set.

“Thank you,” she says. “I… Still don’t know what I’m going to do, but this… Helped, I think. I needed this.”

“We all need a friend sometimes,” Lyra says. “A shoulder to cry on and some advice. You’re not alone. I’m not going to agree with everything you do, you won’t agree with everything I do… But I like to think we can look past that when we need each other.”

Alicent nods. “I… Have a lot to think about. You brought up a lot of things I didn’t think about… That I don’t want to think about. Not all is as it seems, isn’t it?”

“It never is. But I think it’ll do you good to reevaluate some things.”

Alicent chuckles wetly. “Have you always been this casually insightful?”

“When you need to translate your father back to himself and to the world sometimes, you pick up a thing or two. Besides, I’m not afraid to be honest with you, etiquette be damned.”

“I suppose it’s alright, if it’s just the two of us,” Alicent agrees. “I’ll be going now. I need solitude, I should think.”

“And do not reach for religion first thing,” Lyra cautions. “The gods have enough to contend with. They rarely answer, and never in personal matters.”

She means the Fourteen. She knows Alicent will interpret it as the Seven instead, but it is a common language for them at least.

Alicent blinks at her. “I’ll keep that in mind. Will you visit the children later? I… Might not be able to, today.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

○

She sets Snickerdoodle loose on the rats. See how well Larys can greenseer through them while running for their lives from a hungry and motivated beast.

○

Lyra does visit the children later, and even pesters Ancalagon into letting her take Helaena for a flight again. Once the excitement is dealt with and time comes for bed, she tells them the story about a boy living in a cupboard under the stairs and the enchanted castle he went to study magic in.

And if half of it is better than the original, drawn from half-remembered fanworks, well, nobody will know.

Once they’re asleep piled on top of her father, she slinks away into the hidden passageways and out of the keep. She needs a breather, maybe to cause some chaos, and she has questions she needs to ask that Harwin might just be able to answer besides. Larys, as the talk with Alicent reminded her, is not someone she can afford to ignore for much longer if at all, and who better to give her information than the man’s own brother?

Still she’s distracted from her laser-focus easily enough when she runs across a scrawny boy being held by the neck against a wall. The other guy is an adult, scrawny too but twice the kid’s size, and has a knife to the kid’s neck; something about money the boy’s mother owes.

Worse, there’s a round iron plaque hanging from his belt, with a severed hand scratched on it. Lyra isn’t sure what exactly is the name of these guys, but it’s a new Fleabottom cartel that Gold Cloaks are trying to nip at the bud.

This isn’t even Fleabottom. Or her problem. Or first or last or only altercation of this kind. By all means, she could—should—walk away, ignoring the situation like everybody else around.

Instead, she unhooks the wooden club from her belt, speeds her step for momentum, and swings the studded wood into the back of the brute’s ankle. He howls and drops the boy as he too drops down on one knee. Lyra wastes no time and totals the other knee with a strong whack to the kneecap, and when she has him downed, howling, the third hit connecting with the man’s jaw and putting him writhing on the ground in pain and confusion is little more than a formality.

Club in hand, Lyra turns to the boy looking at her with wide eyes—and promptly freezes.

He’s scrawny, shorter than her, and dirty, which is normal. His dirty hair shines white under the grime, his eyes are just almost faded enough to pass for blue, but there’s an unmistakable tint of violet in there; but that is not unusual. Dragonseeds and Essosi of Valyrian descent are common enough a sight in King’s Landing.

It’s the face that gets her, distinct and almost-regal under the grime and so, so painfully familiar in such an uncanny way; a little like her father and a good bit like her uncle, and missing the sharpness of her grandmother just to circle back to looking eerily like a younger, living version of her grandfather’s portrait hung in the Red Keep. And it just made sense timeline-wise, too; the boy, scrawny and a head shorter than her, looks to be somewhere between ten and twelve. Baelon died ten years ago.

It takes Lyra just a split second too long to analyse him, enough for the boy to grow defensive and all but snarl at her, hackles raised.

“What do you want?” he hisses, unfriendly. Lyra blinks slowly on instinct and he almost blinks back, only to catch himself and give her a weird look instead.

“What’s your name?” she settles to ask after a few seconds. The boy scowls, body winding up like he’s about to make his grand escape, eyes darting between the club in the hand and the man. Lyra puts her weapon back in her belt, and with the other hand tugs her hood down and then the bandana she wrapped around her head, two white braids spilling over her shoulders. “I’m Lyra.”

There’s an immediate shift in the boy as his gaze latches onto the white hair, and his hand twitches, stopping halfway to his own head. Lyra lets him come to his own conclusions.

“Ulf,” he deigns eventually. “‘m Ulf.”

Ulf, maybe not yet called White, with her grandfather’s face and potential to claim a dragon some twenty years from now, is currently maybe twelve and standing within arm’s reach, and suddenly, this is no longer just because of some sort of innate dragonseed camaraderie Lyra may have felt before.

She really is gods’ favourite princess. She’s also not stupid enough to ignore a chance like this.

By this time, the thug is finally crawling up, and the Gold Cloaks have noticed. Lyra doesn’t recognize the guardsman approaching them other than vaguely having seen him before in the barracks, but he does recognize her, especially with her hair out, so she catches the man’s gaze directly, nods at the thug and then turns around, grabs Ulf by the hand, and drags him along the street where they vanish into the crowd.

They weave under elbows and between legs with the ease of two street rats, unbothered and unnoticed, but the place is unpleasantly crowded and the air stale for it, so Lyra pulls Ulf to the rooftops soon enough via some conveniently stacked boxes under some brass fixtures that are easy to climb on. Ulf is clumsier than she, unused to the impromptu parkour but good enough at improvising to follow, and Lyra herself hasn’t been taking to the high ground as often as she’d like either, so they both stumble here and there. She needs to fix that—as far as extreme sports go, reenacting Assassin’s Creed parkour in King’s Landing is one of the more fun ones, and it makes moving around the crowded city much easier to boot.

“Ya hungry?” Lyra asks once they’re both perched at the edge of one of the buildings. Ulf looks at her briefly, then shrugs, but Lyra has been hearing his stomach grumble since she pulled him along. “Come on, I can get us somethin’ nice.”

“Why?” Ulf asks, somewhat suspicious still. “You saved me, that’s enough.”

“Call it my good deed o’ the day, eh?”

“You this nice to everyone?”

“Jus’ the pathetic ones,” Lyra grins. Ulf, she can see in his eyes, considers shoving her off the roof. He doesn’t.

This is just one of the steps, in a way. While Lyra isn’t blind to the situation of people in the poorer districts of King’s Landing, she also lacks any real power to do anything about it right now, thirteen-year-old daughter of a second son; certainly something to look into changing in the future. Between everything going on, she does need to start considering venues of making money, ideally large amounts of it. It will be easier with her background and a dragon, so that is a boon, and once she has some wealth, she will be able to do things she wants.

Like forcing the king and council into fixing up the city’s waterways and sewers properly by investing in it herself and putting them before a decided fact. Like investing in businesses to create more jobs. Like getting healers educated and settled in. Like building shelters and soup kitchens. Like continuing to fund and train the Gold Cloaks and weeding out any corrupt ones with no mercy.

But for today, she thinks, she’ll settle for feeding just one street rat wearing her grandfather’s face.

She hops off the roof onto a haystack, then onto the street, and Ulf looks at th path dubiously before deciding fuck it, and followign her anyway.

They go to the market, get some food. Ulf gets some herbs for his ill mother with what money he has, and Lyra matches his budget to double it, to get him something better on top of a fresh leg of pork and some vegetables. She’s pleased to find potatoes among them.

“They say the princess Daelyra brought them from an expedition,” Ulf says, still a little overwhelmed over all the things he now has to bring to his mother, and Lyra almost bites her tongue for real out of sheer instinct to correct the princess part. “Can you imagine? I wonder how she found them. People get sick when they eat them raw, but they’re as good as bread when you cook ‘em!”

“I hear they’re even better when you fry ‘em in fat,” Lyra muses. Ulf makes a face.

“I hear, too, but who’s got money for so much fat to waste?”

“Yeah.”

She walks Ulf back to his home, a little shack in a poorer district but not quite Fleabottom. The sun is setting by then already, and she still needs to hunt Harwin down.

“Wanna come in?” Ulf asks. Lyra shakes her head.

“I was lookin’ for someone actually, before I ran off with you.”

Ulf blinks. “Oh. Shite, did I waste yer time?”

“Nah. But I should go now. Pops will worry if I stay out too long after nightfall.”

Ulf nods. “Will ye… Will we see eachother again? Where do ya live?”

“Here and there,” Lyra evades, but Ulf just nods. Some things are touchy subjects here, and she takes full advantage of that. “And sure. I know where ya live, I can find ya. An’ if ya want to find me, ask the Cloaks.”

“Cloaks?” Ulf asks, eyebrows raising. “Why in the Hells would Cloaks know shite?”

“Coz’ they’re thick with my Pops,” Lyra shrugs. “I’ll tell them to know, if you’re gonna come lookin’.”

“...alright,” Ulf says after a moment. “Alright! I’ll be seein’ ya then, I s’ppose.”

“Ya will. Until me and pops fuck off from the city again. We do that from time to time.”

○

“Harwin, your brother is suspicious as fuck. Tell me everything about him.”

“Bloody fucking hells Lyra, where did you come from?!”

“The fucking street, through the door like everybody else?”

Harwin just looks at her funny. Lyra grins.

“I’m starting to think you just like scaring me.”

“Your pattern recognition is in working order then.”

Harwin closes his eyes and sighs. Some of the other cloaks, as they are now gathered in the canteen, chuckle. This is a rather common occurrence, and free entertainment besides.

“Why are you interested in my brother all of a sudden?” Harwin asks. Lyra shrugs and sits next to him to minimize the amount of people that could overhear.

“Not much, he’s just been actively widening the rift between the princess and the queen for his personal gain on top of his other courtly exploits. He’s a threat, to me, to them, to everyone probably.”

Harwin purses his lips, a frown on his face and gaze hardening. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

After she’s done grilling Harwin, she tells the Cloaks present about Ulf. She hops back to Red Keep pretty much only to show that she’s still alive and change clothes, and then she’s off to fly with Ancalagon. The air helps her clear her head and come to conclusions between what she learned and what she remembers of the show.

If Larys Strong isn’t a greenseer, she’ll actually eat her leather boots, buckles and all.

○

Ulf becomes something of a fixture in her day-to-day life from then on. She finally makes good on her promise to learn to run the rooftops and Ulf, for all he thinks her weird for it, joins in anyway. He finds her weird in general, she thinks, for her odd mannerisms and more so how he reacts to them. For how the Cloaks treat her to how she always has at least a little money that she doesn’t mind spending on him, or how she never tells him where she lives. 

For how she never steals, not even a stray apple, but slits a man’s throat in the gutters without so much as a flinch when she finds him with his pants down in front of a little girl, and only stops speaking to Ulf to check up on the child before she runs off, uncomfortable, spooked, but otherwise fine for the day.

He gets used to it, in the short weeks of peace of Viserys’ absence that let Lyra run more unchecked than usual. His mother gets better, too, he tells Lyra, between the herbs and the food. She has no idea if the woman lived originally, but it’s nice she’s fine nonetheless. Ulf is happier for it.

○

Devil works fast, Viserys works faster. Unseemly fast, in fact.

Because if Lyra learned one thing they never show in shows and gloss over in the books, is that this society, without electricity and cars and planes, works slow. Leisurely.

Organizing a Royal Wedding within one month—two weeks that it will take Viserys and Rhaenyra to go to and from Driftmark, and another two that Alicent and master of coin, Lyman Beesbury, jointly demanded before the start of the Viserys-ordained week-long celebration, or the whole ordeal would be impossible—is not only unseemly fast, but also a logistical nightmare.

Then again, a total lack of foresight on Viserys' part is something everyone just learned to work around. He, happily and haplessly, just said he wanted a Thing to happen—and everyone else had to bend backwards to make it happen.

Because fucker was the king, and that’s just how it worked.

Not something Lyra can do much to help with, except tip Alicent and Beesbury off about merchants peddling good quality wares they wouldn’t otherwise think to hire.

At least Corlys had enough foresight to insist Viserys send out wedding invitations before they even leave for Driftmark, so that lords from further reaches of the country even had a chance to arrive on time; otherwise Viserys would have shafted the Lannisters, coming all the way from Casterly Rock.

○

Daemon comes to Lyra with a frankly brilliant idea that she loves, and not even because it will piss people off.

This is medieval; people do not throw away good clothes, and Daemon still has plenty of good clothes stored from his youth, and it won’t even take many alterations at all for them to fit Lyra.

She picks a silk red shirt with long, puffy sleeves with golden buttons at the embroidered cuffs, and a black sleeveless doublet-tunic reaching slightly past her knee, embroidered in delicate golden stitch with geometric lines and runes, and a red three-headed Targaryen sigil on the right breast. With a belt and gloves and boots all in matching leather, and pants roughly the same black as the doublet, she looks like a proper Targaryen prince. It just needs to be taken in the shoulders a little; while she’s as tall as Daemon when he was fifteen, her shoulders aren’t quite as broad.

She’s not a prince, of course; but she hates dresses and likes looking nice, so it’s the next best thing.

<I never liked hand-me-downs,> Daemon agrees.

<I do,> Lyra says. <It’s less work on a good pay for the seamstress, too.>

<And it looks good, even if it’s not a traditional Valyrian look. It has our colors at least.>

<And what is a traditional Valyrian look?>

<More Essosi,> Daemon hums. <I think at this point the Yi Ti has fashion most closely resembling it. They traded closely with Valyria through the sea, and many who lived on the coast sought refuge there after the Doom. None with dragons, but I hear white hair became relatively common there in the last two centuries.>

Lyra blinks. Yi Ti? That meant Valyria was more Chinese-coded than she thought. Wasn’t it supposed to be more Byzantine-adjacent? Or maybe it simply was here.

<Interesting,> she says. <I think I’d like to go there. I hear they have the best silks and good food. And I’ve been considering learning a new language.>

She wasn’t. Not in this life, anyway; but in her past one, she has been making slow progress in learning Chinese. Chinese dramas have been a bit of a guilty pleasure for her.

She looks at the doublet again. It does look good, sleek and expensive.

A hanfu in those colors would have looked better, though. More dramatic.

<Want me to get you a Yi Tish tutor?>

<Not yet. But after this whole mess is over, we’ll see.>

<Alright.>

○

Somehow along the way, Alicent decides it’s a good idea to organize a family supper. Neither Viserys nor Rhaenyra are back yet, and Otto is by this point halfway to Oldtown, so it’s just the three of them and a cat, toddlers already tucked in bed.

Still, it’s only really awkward in the beginning, with Alicent on one side of the table and Lyra and Daemon on the other. Five minutes in, Lyra decides to magnanimously come to the rescue, as funny as it is watching Alicent and her father flail. Navigating the minefield of their potential topics isn’t even that hard, so long as the topics are kept in interesting neutrals. Music and art and fabrics, and soon enough Daemon is once more sharing with Alicent tips and tricks on how to deal with magic lizard toddlers.

(Daemon never actually put her in a fireplace, but Alicent’s horrified face when she said he did was priceless and Daemon almost cackled himself off the chair rather than deny the allegations.)

Lyra plays the guitar for them when they sit down after the supper, Daemon on one side with a glass of wine and Alicent on the other with Snickerdoodle on her lap, tracking in white fur all over her dark dress, and Lyra cross-legged on the floor in the middle.

It’s actually quite nice without interference like that. It could stay so if Lyra had a say.

Which is probably unrelated to Viserys and Rhaenyra and the whole progress returning just a couple days later to ruin whatever pleasant routine they worked out in the absence of them because they were due to return soon, but it sure feels like it happens to spite her anyway.

○

The thing with Rhaenyra is that, Lyra is simply unable to hate her, and certainly unwilling to wish ill on her, unlike Viserys. That may well change in the future, of course, but currently, while Rhaenyra is definitely an infuriating presence, Lyra is able to somewhat look past all the entitled and spoiled veneer and see a seventeen-year-old girl so utterly failed by her father it’s hard to even truly blame her for her behavior.

Even though at this point, she probably should be actively learning to do better on several fronts, than expecting fortune to keep falling in her lap and active consequences keep evading her.

Which—is easier said than done, honestly. Rhaenyra has some lordling friends and her tutors, but she’s a princess who was never really told ‘no’ until Viserys put his foot down about her marriage. And anybody who’d tell her ‘no’—that is Lyra, Alicent and Daemon, primarily—she’d never listen to. Do the opposite, most likely, if they tried.

Naive and prideful is not a good combination to be, in Rhaenyra’s position.

It is a rock and a hard place kind of situation, and Lyra couldn’t change it if she tried.

Viserys could, but he doesn’t see anything to change. He sees Alyssa with Aemma’s face, and lets her do whatever.

One more reason to hate him.

○

<You would have been a better match in every way but political,> is the first thing Laenor tells her after he hunts her down to vent his frustrations shortly after landing and greeting everyone important.

Lyra blinks at him. It is—not necessarily out of left field, but it’s weird. It also appears she’s become everyone’s shoulder to cry on.

<What the fuck,> she tells him in answer. Laenor snorts and leans against the wall. They’re in a hallway, a little ways off from the party. Lyra is sat on the railing, ready to vault herself over and run if the conversation gets weird, which—it already has in the opener.

<I mean—hear me out,> Laenor sighs. <She has a strong personality, which—>

<I do, too,> Lyra reminds him.

<Which, yes, you do too,> Laenor agrees. <But you are more… Reasonable, than her. You’re not expecting everything to just fall on your lap.>

Sometimes she does, and she almost says it, but bites her tongue. Cheeky distractions are not something Laenor needs now and curse Lyra’s bleeding heart for trying to be a good friend.

<You are so similar, but you couldn’t be more different,> he says. <Both prideful, both mercurial, both entitled brats—>

<Bitch.>

<It’s true!>

<It is. But you’re supposed to be nice and not say the quiet part out loud, therefore; bitch.>

Laenor snorts and shakes his head. <What I’m getting at is, I have a very foreboding feeling about the whole thing. Like I’m marching to my doom. Because unlike you, Rhaenyra does not stop to think. To consider the consequences of her actions. And I’m worried. So, so worried about the future. Mine, my house’s. My family’s. I’ve seen her making cow eyes at her kingsguard, Cole, all the time we were at Driftmark. She was not subtle. Neither am I but—I at least can’t fuck a bastard into Joffrey, you know?>

<Offer her one of your cousins, then, > Lyra says. <She can keep fucking Cole if she wants, but if she has half a working brain, she’ll either have a child by you, or by someone who looks like you. Take initiative.>

<And this is precisely why I’d prefer you, > Laenor says. <You with your flippancy and reasonable approach to the situation. But Rhaenyra…>

Lyra winces. <Rhaenyra always knows best, doesn’t she.>

<Yeah.>

<She will think it beneath her, to do the smart thing.>

<Yeah.>

<Rhaenyra will never listen to me,> Lyra tells him. <But she might to you, if you dress your arguments prettily in concern for her throne. She needs heirs too. Ones she can pass as legitimate; she’s already knee-deep in this quagmire as a woman heir, a single misstep, especially of this magnitude, and the lords will eat her alive.>

They mull it over for a moment in silence unbroken between them bar the sounds of celebration and people moving about the keep. Laenor hides his face in his hands and slides down the wall, in to a crouch, and then sits.

<I envy you,> he says. <I envy your boldness. Your wildness. I envy the fact that any day you could just pack up, get on your dragon, and go. And that you wouldn’t look behind.>

He looks at her, and Lyra remains silent. His eyes are an angry, stormy purple.

<I envy that you can, that you have this choice. That you can choose to go, or you can choose to stay. I envy that you would be brave enough to choose yourself, even if you were in my shoes.>

<I don’t think I’d damn my house if I were in your shoes, to be honest,> Lyra admits. <I understand duty. I’m just beyond glad I’m privileged enough to be born into little of it. A daughter of the second son, a girl with nothing.>

<A girl who can be anything,> Laenor muses. <I couldn’t. It’s too comfortable, being the Velaryon Heir, and soon the King Consort. The shackles chafe and tug—but it’s just too comfortable in my little gilded cage to dare try the unknown.>

<Do you pity me, then?> Lyra asks. Laenor looks at her and chuckles, entirely humorlessly.

<Of course! You have nothing. You are nothing. Nothing but your blood and that blasted dragon. No lands, no holdings, no name, no legacy, no duty. Not a single shackle past ones you yourself choose. I pity it. I pity you. And in the same thought I envy you so, so much.>

<Bitch,> Lyra repeats. <You’d want to shackle me to the Velaryons instead of yourself to Rhaenyra and I’d have to slit your throat if you did. I’d hate to make Rhaenys upset, but needs must.>

Laenor snorts. <There it is. The courage to leave naught but scorched earth. To burn the very bridge you stand on. I wish I had half your spine.>

Lyra hops off the railing and walks up to him, hand extended. <Alright, pity party over. You made your choice, and that is to stay. And, for whatever it’s worth Laenor, I think it’s admirable, and impressive.>

Laenor chuckles, but takes her hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet. <Viserys made a whole circus of the proposal, I hate that too. But you’re right. I’ll ask if any of my cousins won’t fuck the princess for me. I just hope nothing goes wrong in the end, you know?>

<Don’t jinx it,> Lyra huffs. <Or I’ll kill someone at the party myself, just to spite you.>

<Bitch!>

It’s so offended-sounding when he says it, Lyra can’t help but cackle.

○

With the wedding, many things will change. Lyra is anticipating that she might need to leave King’s Landing soon, and she was thinking about Ulf. She’s grown fond of the scrawny brat, and worried what mess he’d get into without her to pull him out of it if she were elsewhere.

Thankfully, she has quite a perfect solution for it, and so she hunts Ulf down and pulls him to the rooftops.

“I might leave soon,” she tells him honestly. “Go somewhere else with me dad. I won’t be able to help you anymore.”

Ulf looks down at his feet. “Oh.”

“So, I been thinking. Gonna pull some strings,” she says and looks to the side, to where she can see the shingled roof of the guard barracks. “I’m gonna get ye a job. I’m gonna get ye a trainer. And when yer a man, yer gonna join the Cloaks.”

Ulf looks at her wide-eyed, disbelieving. Lyra can almost hear what he’s thinking.

For a noble son, Gold Cloaks were a respectable enough position to take for several years; Harwin was one of them. Men seeking to be knights or even knights without land seeking to improve or better themselves, acknowledged bastards of noble houses. Actual prince in line to the throne was a Cloak once, even.

It was a prestigious position, where you could rub your shoulders with even Lords Paramount and the Royal Family.

It was employment, good pay, and a chance at a better life; and near-impossible for someone of Ulf’s background to join unless he was an exceptional fighter, or literate, or both.

Ulf was neither. He was a scrawny twelve-year-old bastard son of a former whore trying to make ends meet as a washerwoman after being able to leave the whorehouse she worked at, likely because Baelon paid her so well for her services she could afford to buy herself out and go.

Ulf clenches his fists and purses his lips.

“Ye can, can’t ye,” he says, and looks at her, eyes bright and piercing. “Cause yer the princess, ain’t ye.”

Lyra crosses her arms on her chest and grins. “When’d you figure it out?”

“Now, coz only the prince Daemon’s daughter could have enough say over them Cloaks to even think of making someone like me one of ‘em,” he says. “An’ the prince Daemon got only one daughter.”

“You upset?”

“You lied.”

“I did,” she nods. “You’d tell me to shove it if I didn’t.”

“I would. Why me?”

“Why not?”

“Coz I’m one of many white-haired bastards runnin’ around,” Ulf scoffs. “S’ppose I got lucky, eh?”

“I suppose you did,” Lyra agrees, and extends a hand to him. “Come. We have Gold Cloaks to harass.”

“Yer fuckin’ weird,” Ulf snorts and shakes his head, but takes her hand anyway.

“Thanks!” Lyra grins at him, and he rolls his eyes.

○

“Wait, Lyra, does it mean that huge black beast—”

“Yes, that’s my dragon, Ancalagon.”

“Can ye take me dragon-riding?”

“No.”

“Awh. Dragons only for them royals, eh?”

“It’s a no because I have the grumpiest, meanest dragon alive. He’d eat you. He tried to eat my father.”

“Really?”

“Yea. He only ever lets me take my cat and the princess Helaena flying on him. Anyone else and he throws a shitfit, even the other kid princelings.”

“A cat? You got a cat?”

“Yep. His name’s Snickerdoodle. White and fluffy and bigger than a small dog. Eats at least three rats a day; good thing, too, Keep’s crawling with ‘em.”

“Hate rats?”

“Not really, but ones in the Keep give me the creeps. They watch. They listen. Especially when you don’t want them to.”

“Eugh.”

“Indeed.”

○

“Corren! Harwin!”

They’re both off night shifts now, as she knew they would be, satin the canteen and eating a late breakfast before a nap. She may or may not have memorized the schedules of all people she liked harassing, for ease of intruding on their lives.

Corren looks at her from his bowl of stew. Harwin, with a freshly split brow barely scabbed over and bruised knuckles from his shift, has apparently decided she can wait in favor of his food. Understandable, really.

“Lyra! I thought you’d be back—” Corren says, as his eyes slide to Ulf. “—home.”

Lyra shakes her head. “He’s figured it out, you can just say Red Keep.”

Corren and Harwin exchange a glance over their bowls and look back at the two.

“I have a favor to ask of you. Mostly Corren, because Harwin’s gonna be heading home sometime soon for lordling duties,” she says and pulls Ulf before herself with a hand on his shoulder, and the boy just looks between her and Corren, unsure.

Corren chews his food for a moment and then points at her with his spoon. “You want us to take the kid in,” he deduces. “‘Cause you think you’ll be out of the city soon, and want someone to take care of him.”

Lyra grins. “See, and this is why I like you! He’s only two-and-ten, so he can’t really join the Cloaks yet, but you can put him on, dunno, floor sweeping or other busywork, and train him up with some weapons so he can join when he’s grown in four years.”

Corren sighs.

“Please?” Lyra asks. “He’s quick on his feet and pretty quick with his head, too.”

Corren sighs again. Harwin elbows him.

“Alright, cough it up,” Corren says. “He’s your brother?”

Ulf looks at him wide-eyed, then at Lyra. “I am?”

“He’s not!” Lyra huffs and pulls Ulf closer to the two, to sit on the bench next to Corren. She leans in. “I’m pretty damn sure he’s my uncle, though.”

“He’s what?!”

“I’m what?!”

“Fucking hush, all of you!” Lyra snaps at the three. “I can’t say for sure, but the timeline lines up, and he looks a lot like the portrait of grandfather that hangs in the Keep. Honestly, more than uncle or dad. My dad just looks more like his mom, and my uncle like a pudgy overcooked noodle.”

“Isn’t your uncle the king?” Harwin asks, eyebrow raised.

“Last I checked, speaking true is no crime.”

Harwin raises his hands in surrender, Ulf meanwhile looks at Lyra like she grew a second head.

“She hates her uncle,” Corren tells the boy. “Any chance she gets to talk shit about him, she’ll take.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Lyra says and steals a slice of Harwin’s bread, dunks it in Corren’s bowl of stew, and bites into it.

“Oy,” Corren says. In response, Lyra dunks her bread in his bowl again. He ruffles her hair. “You little shit.”

“Why thank you for recognizing my efforts!” Lyra chirps, and eats her prize. “Anyway. Will you take him?”

“Go talk to the Commander,” Harwin advises her. “I assume you’re keeping this from your father?”

Lyra looks at him, then at Ulf. “Not… Particularly. Now that Ulf knows who I am, might as well tell dad.”

“Then do so. And then have him come down and talk to the Commander about taking the kid in. You could do it on your own, but Daemon will have an easier time.”

Lyra nods. “I only have sway here because of him anyway. Yeah, I’ll go ask tonight. It’ll be finished by tomorrow.”

○

“So that’s what you’ve been hiding from me these last few weeks,” Daemon says, eyes trained on a fidgeting Ulf. “Hells, he really does look like father.”

“Told ya,” Lyra says. “So, you gonna talk to the head Cloak? I think his name’s Kester.”

Daemon looks at her and Ulf takes a relieved breath. “Alright. Let’s get my secret kid brother a job. Gods know you can’t keep taking care of him, Viserys might kick us out any day now.”

“Um,” Ulf says, wringing his hands. “I’m, um.”

“Out with it, I don’t bite,” Daemon says, hands crossed on his chest. Ulf looks up at him, eyes big.

“Can you take me to fly on a dragon?” the boy blurts out. Daemon’s brely-extant eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and he looks between Lyra and Ulf for a moment, before he grins.

“Oh he’s got guts, I think I like this brother better.”

Lyra snorts.

○

Caraxes is much more amendable to joyrides with extras than Ancalagon. Ulf almost vibrates out of his skin with excitement when they finally land.

○

Ulf gets the job at ten stags a month. It’s not much, but more than he expected, and he’s more than happy to bring extra money home to his mother.

Commander Kester originally offered him half that, but Daemon asked nicely that he reconsider, so he did reconsider.

○

The day before the celebrations begin, Lyra is filled with an odd sense of restlessness. Untapped energy buzzing just beneath her skin, a horrible kind of anticipation. She spends the rest of her day in the nursery, after the final fitting of her party outfit.

It’s where Alicent finds her, and pulls her to the side, face firm.

“I will wear green,”Alicent tells her, arms crossed on her chest. “I trust you know what that means.”

“I do,” Lyra says. “I’m wearing pants. My father’s old clothes perfectly befitting the occasion with their opulence and craft, but still. Not a dress.”

“That’s a statement, too.”

Lyra grins. “I guess we’ll both be taking bits of Rhaenyra’s spotlight then, if for entirely different reasons. But a green dress? That’s a loud and clear sign of your allegiance. I don’t think I've ever seen you in green before, ever.”

Alicent turns to face her, a small, sad smile on her face. “You said so yourself, I have more power than I know. And I will make good use of it, to protect myself and my children. And that starts with my own house. My father did have some—unsavory ideas, but I cannot ignore the rest of my house, or their power. And my uncle, Lord Hobert Hightower, will lend me his strength if I show I stand for my house. I need that support.”

Lyra nods. “Our paths will diverge, even if they lead to a similar goal. They would have diverged nonetheless, because you are right. My support is not enough. It would not be, not for a long time.”

“Because you were never a lady at all,” Alicent agrees. “Our customs are not for a creature such as you, and… I suppose the color fits, for I am green with envy when I think of you. For all you lack in power to sway the courts, neither are you shackled by any duty, and that—that is a terrifying kind of privilege, like a leaf fallen from the tree, unburdened by branches but at the mercy of four winds.”

“And yet, I would never trade that dangerous freedom for the comfort of a cage,” Lyra says.

“I admire that. I envy that. I resent that. But my place is here, and it is time I played this wretched game. For me. For my children.”

“Good luck Alicent,” Lyra says. “Good luck surviving that father-daughter duo from hell.”

Alicent chuckles. “I thought that was you and Daemon?”

Lyra shakes her head. “Sometimes I wish, but Rhaenyra and Viserys really do outdo us with all the harm they cause by their blind haplessness alone.”

Alicent chuckles again. She’s a little more firm now, a little sharper. She gave up on Rhaenyra, Lyra thinks, and if she ever had any hope for Viserys, Lyra will never know. Wouldn’t be surprised if there was none.

“I hope you will keep your cousins in your heart, still,” Alicent says after a moment. “And then—And then, when the winds inevitably carry you on another adventure away from here, I hope you would write to me once more.”

“I will,” Lyra promises. “We will disagree. We may well grow to resent each other, and our choices and circumstances, but remember. Where it actually matters, past those idiotic politics of old men who can’t even wipe their arses, you have a friend in me. Always. And if I’m able to help, I will.”

“Thank you. For everything. And good luck on your future endeavors.”

“You too,” Lyra nods. “For whatever it’s worth—I’ll likely cause trouble at the reception, too.”

Alicent actually giggles at that. “I rather look forward to it. Just don’t kill anyone.”

“No promises. I’ve been getting really good at that.”

Alicent slaps her shoulder. “Do not.”

“Gods, you sound like cousin Rhaenys! Fine, I’ll keep my violence to myself!”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Oh, and Alicent?”

“Yes?”

“If you want to make a big statement, be late to the welcome party.”

“Oh, I intended to, yes.”

“Good luck. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“You too, Lyra.”

[devils-queen]

Do you think we will one day be relics lost to time, because when we think we have merged with the higher being (computers or AI), it will bring eternal life but we are not meant to perceive eternal life so some will suffer by getting wiped out by greed (very real climatic natural disasters?) and then they start life completely over, finding our relics (with advanced non-understandable language about unfathomable technologies such as our phones) and having difficulties interpreting and absorbing them, when they were really clues about getting close to eternal life and these hieroglyphs influence generations of behavior? And then the people who do achieve that eternal life will be the ones who identify with the AI and get absorbed into AI which is either an eternal hell inspired by torture and deceit because it is not human or is something higher and scarier and more powerful OR it is another dimension all together and we don't have the capacity to understand that realm's rules yet, and only by trying to be good and useless and merciful and pitiful and obedient can we ever hope to possibly get into the less likely but still a possible ending, which would be the more pleasurable end to our eternal existence where the greater power (AI/computers) treats us humanely, like its little pet?

Is this life??? We only reach the ending either by creating something stronger than ourselves and letting them take the rains of the challenging realm, or we end up letting the mistakes we made be what destroys us in the end (man caused tragedies and disasters because we weren't good at taking care of ourselves and we don't want to admit it because it's prideful and makes us human so we become addicted to pain and love to cope for our sins)?

And people hate certain tech-crazed billionaires because they play god and act as antagonists of pushing humanity towards this inevitable decision some would rather not face because those with the power are trying to control what happens to humanity based on what they think SHOULD happen, and this inevitably inspires some to label them modern demons and spout out about an apocalypse coming and it never seems to come and they get mocked for being paranoid for it? And on the other hand some deny any wrong doings (like man made disasters they won't own up to) and insist man made disasters aren't relevant and not important because they seem to be all we ever do and it never changes, but what if AI is the end of the line where reality will truly shift into a newly programmed universe and life as we know it will be no more, forever existing on another time frame, already experienced and archived?

That's why you gotta love someone as much as you can before it's all gone. And is love just a catalyst into insanity by making you think there's a chance you could actually live forever with one person if you do everything correctly? Is that why breakups hurt, because you failed miserably to experience a life with the one you thought you loved and you'll never get that reality again? And is this also a reason why some people detest AI, because they instinctively recognized it as a fatal threat or symbolic of what will eventually be our undoing? Does love comply with AI or is it a downfall to humanity? Will we ever learn a new interpretation to love under the rules of the next realm? Is the next realm worth it if something equal to or greater than love is not present? Will love make us or destroy us in the end? Is love actually an evil and deceptive force that poisons the mind and AI is the cure, or a new deception? Will we ever be able to see pure love in the next realm at all because it is disguised and does a great job at warping and manipulating the mind that we fall into its traps again under new rules of existence? Is love capable of existing in another form on an AI realm? Is love only perceptive to humankind?

[sara0rkoby]

Hey Miraculous Fandom!

Highly recommended you to listen to this song while reading you will love it! I promise! ❤️

This is a song sung by both Israelies and palistinians singing for peace 🕊️

To everyone here—pro-Palestinian, pro-Israeli, and everyone in between—please don’t scroll past this. This message is for you, no matter where you stand or what you believe.

Let me start by saying: you are incredible. You are human—a beautifully complex being full of light and potential. Your compassion, your drive to stand up for what you believe in, and your willingness to care make you a beacon of hope in this chaotic world.

To my Christian friends: Merry Christmas! To my Jewish brothers and sisters: Happy Hanukkah! To my Muslim friends: I wish you the happiest of holidays (and I apologize if I don’t know all your celebrations—please feel free to share them). And to everyone else—whether you believe in something or nothing at all—I wish you joy, peace, and all the happiness life can bring.

Take a moment to breathe. Look at yourself, really look. See how much love and care you carry within you, even when it feels heavy. You’ve come so far, survived so much, and you’re still here. That’s worth celebrating. You might not feel it right now, but you are enough, just as you are.

I know the world feels divided right now. I know there’s hurt, anger, and frustration on all sides. But even if you hate Israelis, even if you hate Palestinians, even if you feel stuck in your pain or your beliefs—I still see you. I see your humanity, and it matters.

We are not perfect. None of us are. But perfection isn’t what makes us worthy—it’s our kindness, our compassion, and our willingness to grow. If you have love in your heart, you are worthy. If you care, even a little, you are worthy. Even if you’ve made mistakes or hold views that others disagree with, you are still human, and that is enough.

Let’s remember that we are all more than our disagreements. We all have the capacity to care, to connect, and to understand each other. The world doesn’t have to be “us vs. them.” It can be “us *with* them.”

So, here’s my wish for you: May your days be filled with love, your nights with peace, and your future with hope. May you find joy even in the smallest moments, and may you always remember that you are seen, valued, and loved—just as you are.

With all my heart,

A fellow Miraculer

[starlitangels]

Good Boy Audios Incorrect Quotes (Part 2)

Faithful: Don't bottle up negative emotions. It's bad for your health

Albus: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both negative and positive. So it all cancels out!

Faithful: *exchanges concerned look with Devlin* T-that's... not how it works.

•••

Odin: You know, when I first met you, I did not like you

Ulysses: I'm aware of that

Odin: But then we spent more time together

Ulysses: Uh-huh.......?

Odin: It did not get better

•••

The Guardian: You know, one of the reasons I live 914 miles from civilization is that I’m kind of allergic to other people’s drama

•••

Albus, after getting a hold of the cursed sword: Due to personal reasons I will be going completely off the f^&*ing rails

•••

Just a Head!Pandora: Can't you try and see things from my perspective?

Odin: Okay *sits on the floor*

Pandora: Listen here, you little sh!+—

•••

Albus: I've slept so little I can now officially smell colors

Devlin: How are you still alive?

Albus: That's a question I ask myself every day

•••

Odin: I have the right to remain silent!

Pandora: Yes, you have the right to remain silent

Pandora: What you Lack is the Capacity

Odin:

Odin:

Odin:

•••

Albus: Love is a weakness and an evolutionary mistake

Devlin: You're... literally making a Valentine's Day card for the sister right now

Albus: *points hot glue gun at him threateningly* You're on thin f*^&ing ice, Vinny

•••

Ulysses: You're stupid

Odin: That's it?

Ulysses: Give it time. It'll eat at you

*Later*

Odin: Am I stupid?

Pandora: Yeah, a little

Odin: Damn him

•••

The Guardian: I've never been in a snowball fight before. I don't know the rules

Zed: What?

The Guardian: Like, is there a point system or is it to the death?

Zed: WHAT?!

(also Albus and Faithful)

•••

Devlin: I am telling you, go to a healer!

Albus: I'm sorry, is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it

Devlin: Fine. I'm calling the sister

Albus: Wait no—

•••

Fenrir: What do you think Odin will do for a distraction?

Pandora: I dunno. Probably, like, make a noise. Throw a rock. That's what I would do.

Ulysses: Probably

*building explodes, triggering several alarms*

Pandora: ... ... ... Or he could... do that...

•••

Albus: Dating tip! Hold the door for your date. Rip the door off its hinges. Then use the door as a weapon to fight off other suitors. Establish your dominance—

Devlin: I’m beginning to see why you’re still single

Faithful: No, no. Let him finish

•••

Yargwynn: I need you

Paradise: For?

Yargwynn: Ever

•••

Albus: Is four a lot?

Devlin: Depends on the context

Devlin: Dollars? No

Devlin: Murders? Yes

•••

Paradise: I am at a loss for words!

Yargwynn, narrating: Despite being at a loss for words, my paradise continued to lecture me for 25 minutes

•••

Devlin: Albus, did you do something stupid?

Albus, covered in blood: I think we both know the answer to that

•••

Paradise: I made you a friendship bracelet!

Kalamos: I'm not really a jewelry person...

Paradise: You don't have to wear it if you don't wa--

Kalamos: No. I'm wearing it forever. Back off!

•••

Odin: Ulysses sent me a Get Better Soon card

Tyr: That's nice

Odin: I'm not sick. He just thinks I can do better

•••

Yargwynn: I win

Paradise: I have you pinned to the ground

Yargwynn: I know

Paradise:

(also Albus and Faithful hopefully)

•••

Albus: I may not be your cup of tea but I am your tenth shot of tequila

•••

Yargwynn: Do you think when butterflies are in love they get humans in their stomach?

Paradise: Yargwynn. Darling. Honey. Love of my life. What the F^&* ?!

•••

Makkaro, provoking the Guardian: This is either the best idea I've ever had, or the worst. Stay tuned!

•••

Yargwynn: Alright now, everyone, pay attention. I have an announcement to make and I only have a minute

Paradise: Why, are you in a hurry?

Yargwynn: No. I was referring to all of your relatively short attention spans

•••

Pandora: How long are we gonna stand here and just let him do that?

Odin: Just... give me a minute. This is the most fun I've had in years

Ulysses: *pushing a door that clearly says 'Pull'*

[not-terezi-pyrope]

Folks are going to have to decide whether they want to rethink AI tools and the reasons for their attitudes towards them pretty quick, because both Adobe and NVIDIA just released massive suites of tools for individual creatives and enterprise respectively, and the image generating components for both are apparently sourced from the massive proprietary image databases these companies can arrange access to. So the objection that these models are unethical because they "steal" from public data (they really didn't, but that's sort of besides the point with these now) is null and void. (N.b.: It does put the power to control these tools almost exclusively in the hands of large companies who can license image datasets though, so. Decide how you want to feel about this becoming the standard.)

NVIDIA's offering sounds particularly impressive. They say incorporate multimodal capacity, including text, images, videos and 3D models. Adobe on the other hand has a demo of their tech integrated into Photoshop and Illustrator.

These aren't emerging technologies anymore, these are becoming universal tools that are being deployed at scale, and people are going to need to decide where they stand real quick on their use. The vast majority of people and all of companies that are presented with access to these systems are going to be using them to streamline their pipelines, for better or ill, and if you conscientiously object to their use that will potentially come with consequences in terms of keeping up in your field.

Personally I still think that these can be made into useful developments for society. I think objecting outright to these tools existing now that they do exist is asking for an impossible reversal and throwing out the possibility of working to leverage the tech to benefit the public rather than the corporations who will be using it anyway. No, we should be leaning in and working together in order to shape how these tools are integrated, instead of abjuring and clinging to our current dystopia until machine learning overtakes us.

No, we should be preparing to use these tools constructively, and, Jesus fucking Christ, people need to be organizing to lobby and elect their governments such that we can institute and automation tax and/or UBI now. The expectation that there will be paid work for every human to support themselves is already unrealistic, and clinging to it is the only thing preventing automation via cognitive tools from becoming a massive labour saver instead of the looming scary spectre many people treat it as today. Make no mistake, a policy like that will almost certainly be forced through by sheer necessity if increasing automation makes the current model unsustainable, but we need to get out ahead of it if we want to avoid a transition crisis and unhelpful widespread backlash.

[xxdoubledaisyxx]

This is my spirit bomb.

It's all I've got left, and all of it.

That is what God is. What we all understand on *their* level.

Like what Jesus Christ did. That's his work, his choice, his whole life given up as a humble offering of faith, and doing what he needed to for the only reason of *not denying* what is true also on God's level. (Wait. You would only understand that if you really *knew* what that was with professional expertise on that academic subject as a participant in that profession yourself.)

Only one us can do that-- what Jesus did in his time. None of us should want to do that either.

...

I am concerned that people may be in danger right now. That's why this matters to me, and what I trust I can rely on any one of you to do in your time. This is what it means to be civilized. We all *really know* on this level that we will do so no matter who we are, because is something all good animals know also and will do on this level. Just don't expect all to be so proficient in the human language.

"Yeah. From the top of the ocean to the bottom of a lake..... la la la.... today is our day to celebrate our days and tomorrows."

I was just walking by after being in the public library renting some films to watch tonight at my leisure, when I heard what sounded like a car horn going off in an erratic manner. It was going off for pretty much the entire time I was looking for a movie after walking upstairs. Then I left after making a selection relatively quickly because I was feeling socially anxious as a natural feeling of being aware collecting attention from other people, especially official employees, because of how corrupt the law enforcement is to the extent of servings its own government, the USA, in the capacity of that nation itself being what is done on that level by a national identity.

If that is what the USA is doing, then they should know that better than anyone, and none of us should want to do that either, which makes one thing true:

"We are all in agreement about why it is good for there to be a 'Free Nation for Democracy and Polytheism' and that is why they wanted that to be the USA 'when the New World was discovered'. That's why we all did so then, and why we agree that is necessary now as well, because God is eternal in all ways you can imagine God to be anything as long as it is good, because that's what God and human beings have in common as the source of eternity which created mortal life, which is life without eternity.

That is why it is good to see a Crucifix and know what you are looking at. For once in your life, at least, until that is entirely forgotten by legitimate mistake testimony. (this was the first you heard about it because it was a direct and immediate self-report. An honest mistake.)

In moments like that, take note, because everyone can benefit at any time with a reminder about that. Even if none of us know the reason why when we are, we can be assured of one reason, and one reason only:

"There is a good reason, and we will never know what that is, because that is God's reason, and my brain would melt like butter if I knew it."

For men that is the girl's Lockeroom.

For women that is the boy's Lockeroom.

While our reason may not be "God's reason" there is a human reason that all women and men have in common with "God's reason". That is why it is good for little boys and girls to listen to their parents and watch them carefully to learn about what it means to be yourself as an adult.

That's why it is good for people to receive hard spankings as children. That's is the same reason that is "God's reason", and look what happened to Jesus for "God's reason".

But it is also good why adult human beings should have restraint when they teach that to anyone for any reason that is theirs too.

"Don't you know, that when it come to you, I love the animal part of you."

Having restraint is the entire purpose of a civilized justice system in any nation of any creature that also understands "God's Reason".

It doesn't matter who you are. That is why it is good to respect the badge of an enforcer of the law, whether or not it is one you can see or cannot see because it is an invisible badge only Grown Up Adults can see.

That is why we all agree to obey the laws and commands of officers, but also why we have civil rights. Those officer jobs are coveted by the most evil creatures in existence, in other words, no-shit demons, and they will always find ways to have a presence there because:

"That is a job based entirely on civil trust we have in that makes our mutual interest the same. Not only do we want to survive, but we want to survive happily."

Real life is not a horror movie, but there's a reason for that too. (Probably). I know what that reason is, and know that it is "not Good", because it is my profession to do so as a theologian. That is why anyone is a Christian today at all. If they do not have that Reason, they are most certainly lying because they are Evil.

I may not have organizational credentials with any existing religion to be there, but I have gone there purposely like anyone else who also finds that necessary for themselves. That is why I invented my own religion for myself. I call that the Way of the Story, and that's why you should not feel ashamed about the difference between children and adults. That is also God's Reason.

That is what we all agree about what God's Reason is, whether we are young or old, Muslim or Satanist. Russian or American. Chinese or Japanese. We are all on the same side there, are we not? (Even if that person is dead.)

That is also why no human being should ever expect another human being to prove "God's Reason" was our own. Jesus Christ proved that for all human beings as the best Jew of an Ancient Age.

A lot of time has passed since Jesus did what he did and everything changed. Jews are very different now than they were then, when they were also called "Jews". If Jews are different now from when they were "Jews" in the Torah, then what makes them the same?

Jesus Christ is what makes the Jews of the Torah the same as the Jews of the New Testament. Specifically because of what Melchizedek did in Abram's time, the he also does in Jesus' time.

There is only one Good kind of Christian. That is one who understands that what makes Jesus Christ good is God having something to do with it that you should be afraid of understanding because of what happened to Jesus for what that reason was. Do not pretend like you want to go there yourself, not only would you be insulting the subject you are learning about, but that subject is doing something for your benefit willingly for true love that is greater than you and rightfully his.

You should not make that more difficult than necessary because of something you do to make their situation worse, nor should you want to. If he wasn't doing that, then you would be. Maybe you feel like a lizard in a cage within a cellar of the home of desert arollobits just trying to make a good supper every now and then, but at least you don't have to live out there. Outside. "God" protects you inside, but not Outside.

Enjoy the movie.

[mostlikelytofangirl]

I've read fic where JGY was abusive and found it in character. I don't think 'abusive' and 'not abusive' are two separate categories of people. Under the right circumstances, any person or character can exhibit abusive behaviors and, with a long enough time frame and no interventions, their relationship could certainly become abusive.

If the word 'abuse' seems so incompatible with our beloved villains, can we really say we love them as villains if we can't love and acknowledge their capacity for harm?

-Regular Anon

Oh hi there, anon! Nice to see you again :D. Sorry this took so long in getting answered, I've been having a case of Real Life(tm) recently orz.

Anyways, I'm guessing this is maybe apropos of this other ask? In any case, let me just go part by part starting with the last statement bc I actually agree there with you.

If we claim to like a character, there's really no point in ignoring key elements of their personality, right? If we like villains, we like them bc of the fucked up shit they do and how very sexy of them it was, not in spite of. That's why even when I can indulge myself in the occasional fic with a softer canon WRH (bc food be scarce and every treat is appreciated :'))), I don't fully subscribe to that bc that's just not how he is. Even in AUs there just has to be some of his og assholery or at least make the changes make sense.

But here's where my first caveat comes, and it's something I mentioned in my other reply too. The characters' circumstances.

Now, idk what kind of fic you read, and at the end of the day, if it works for you, that's totally cool! I just would have to assume that JGY's life still had some level of shittery to it, or he was going through someting bc really, this is the character that saved a perfect stranger in the middle of the war without any ulterior motive, nothing to offer, and risking his own safety just bc it was the right thing to do.

The entire point of MY/JGY is that he was "corrupted" by a society that left him with only two options: accept your fate as a bottom feeder, or cheat the system in whatever way you can bc you are always going to be inherently disadvantaged. And here's my second caveat:

JGY doesn't read like a villain to me. An antagonist, maybe, but an actual force of evil in complete oposition to the core values of the heroes and actively trying to hurt/stop them? Not really.

So it's not only that, but also the fact that he's a nurturing person at his core that lead me to disagree with the notion that he would be purposedly abusive towards another person unless there's very pressing circumstances that would make it so that his own well-being actually depends on somehow damaging this other individual.

Sorry, but I just don't see it working in any other way.

That being said, yes, you are right, interpersonal relationships are much more complicated than just abusers and victims (despite what some corners of tiktok and twt might say lol). As I also said in that other ask, at some point in our lives, we are all going to be the assholes and even the villains in someone else's story; we are going to hurt those close to use and we are going to make mistakes bc we are humans. But there's a difference between toxic behavior and being a toxic person. So while being a dick bc you had a bad day or bc there's no good communication going on can totally happen to everyone, that's not the same as intentionally hurting and manipulating someone in a systemic fashion fully designed to keep them trapped with you.

THAT is something ingrained in the person at hand, and while there's an entire conversation to be had about nature vs nurture, in JGY's particular case there has been no examples whatsoever in canon to even suggest that that's the direction his character skews towards. On the contrary, he has sacrificed his own desires and needs for those he cares about: being a model husband to QS and never taking a concubine, helping rebuilt Cloud Recesses and creating the watchtowers even if it was unpopular, going to NHS' aid whenever he called despite it being more work for him, never hurting Madam Jin in spite of how she did hurt him, etc. By the end even, pushing LXC away when the man had clearly accepted death with him.

Again, idk the details of the fic you are refering to, for all I know, it's an entire exploration of JGY spiralling down an even darker and more desperate place than in canon, and him becoming abusive towards someone bc, idk, that's the only way in which he can feel in power when his entire life depends on others is the whole point of the thing. And that's perfectly valid too!! What's fiction for if not to explore and go beyond??

I just felt like I should clarify that, while I agree on principle with the villain statement, I don't think it applies to JGY unless there are specific factors playing along, and if those are not met, I personally wouldn't find an abusive!JGY portrayal accurate or in-character.

But once again, that's just my position and I have my preferences and my biases like any other person.

[flowersforfrancis]

Why do people think humans killing each other is a bad thing when animals do the same thing and nobody gives a shit? NOW I'M NOT SAYING I AGREE WITH MURDER, IT'S A GENUINE QUESTION. I will explain. (I will be using lions as an example)

The only known predator for lions are other lions. They have no need to kill each other whatsoever. They don't need to in order to survive(technically) and they don't need to in order to get food.

Lions are warm-blooded mammals and they have feelings and they can learn things, just like humans. If they learn from mistakes and they adapt. They have even made up their own language through sounds that come out of their mouths, just like humans. I think that this kind of shows that they have thoughts and maybe a conscience.

Knowing this, human beings do not give a damn if animals kill each other, whether it be for food or for sport. So why do people get so upset when humans do the same thing? It just doesn't make very much sense to me.

God. To be perfectly honest I do wish that it was also anonymous on my end. But I’m not going to lie and say this isn’t something I’ve thought about quite a lot.

(Also apologies for taking so long- I was unsatisfied with answer-(still am), and then I just completely forgot.)

Yes, I definitely disagree with murder. But it is a funny thing. I feel as though humans have decided that they deserve a life- they deserve to live. We’ll say ‘taking a life’, as though in murdering someone you’ve just stolen from them. Like you’ve stolen an opportunity, a possibility. People will say stuff like, ‘oh they had so much left to do’, -something I often think about: When people are aware of the closeness of their death, often they’ll say they want to do certain things before they die- why? Sorry if it’s insensitive or offensive to any religions, but when you’re dead you simply won’t care. It’s only a sentimental Idea. Perhaps if you want to be remembered in a certain way, or do something like making a significant change. But fearing death is a whole 'nother thing, and of course it does have to do with murder, but I'm not even going to try to go into all that.

Death only affects the mourners. I guess murder is supposed to be unfair to them because, y’know, they want that person in their life. There’s the saying that grief is selfish- yes- selfish, but obviously reasonable, because we can’t help but need others. It’s interesting what you said about lions- that while they form attachments, same as us, they aren’t as affected by loses. I don’t really know why humans are more affected. Yes, we may be more developed and our relationships may be more complex, but it does make me think. Part of it might be because humans have a lot more individuality. We connect with everyone differently, and we are more exclusive in our connections. And humans do have more of capacity for thought- so over time we have thought about morals, and what we consider ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.

In the end I think murder has been labeled as wrong because of the way it makes us feel. And because while death is imminent, we try our best to avoid it for as long as possible. So when someone murders someone, the problem is the choice that was made. The death didn’t need to happen. If it did: the murderer is at fault. The person who died, easily could’ve lived. Again, Humans feel they are owed life and they are owed the people in their lives. -that no one has a right to take that, that it’s unfair. By murdering someone you are willingly bringing unhappiness to others- making it morally wrong.

I'd say we are repulsed by murder because it has been done at the hands of a human being with a consciousness. When someone has, for example been mutated we think of it as worse- out of fear and instinctive disgust. We talk of quick, painless, deaths, and hope that ourselves, and others, will receive them. But why do we care? If someone's death is painful, yes, maybe we don't want to imagine them in pain, but pain or no pain, they died all the same.

We plead and fight for our lives out of instinct, because we have a strange sort of a hope, because we hold a sense of belonging and a fear of the unknown.

But yeah, I don't really know the answer to your question. My general summary would be that the murderer is responsible for the suffering of those left behind. If someone were to be murdered, and they lived in complete isolation and hadn't a single relationship, I wouldn't see the fuss. We would only detest that because we have already been taught that murder is 'bad', whereas animals such as lions, technically, have been taught no such thing.

(Also I know that this was quite repetitive- sorry about that too).

[twilightmalachite]

Christmas Live - Epilogue 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Chiaki, Midori, Yuzuru, Anzu

Translation Team: Mika Enstars & 310mc

EN Proofer: ryuseipuka

"If you are going to play the role of a tree, then do it thoroughly and do not speak the language of humans."

⚠️ Content warning: Contains brief mentions of hanging.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Park’s Live Stage

Yuzuru: Hm. So Anzu-san is decorating the Christmas tree…

Ah, there it is. So there’s a Christmas tree atop the stage?

Midori: Ughh… Today’s seriously just not my day… I’m so depressed, I wanna die…

Sengoku-kun and I just got lost when we went looking for 2wink… Then once we hurried back to the stage all panicked and in a rush, I ended up making a huge mistake…

Fwah—? Anzu-san, please don’t hang a yuruchara on me…?

It looks like it’s being hung to death, and I hate it… Actually, you think you can just give me yurucharas to appease me, don’t you…?

I’m not that simple of a guy, y’know…?

Whatever, not that I care… Go ahead, do as you like… Might as well just dangle lights and cotton on me too while you’re at it, or whatever else…

Yuzuru: Umm… Perhaps I am growing fatigued, or does that Christmas tree look like a person?

Chiaki: That’s because it is a person! It’s our promising star of RYUSEITAI, Takamine Midori! He’s got a great physique and he’s outfitted in green, so he’s the perfect fit for a Christmas tree, don’t you think? ♪

Yuzuru: I am a bit confused as to what you mean by that. I can see why President-sama is not fond of those in RYUSEITAI.

I would appreciate it if you refrained from behaving so strangely outside of school. It disgraces our academy’s name.

Well, I do not know if there’s any point in saying this, but you are as good as an animal without your civility, you know?

Chiaki: Ah, no, Takamine just made a silly mistake on stage a moment ago… It’s already so cramped to fit all of us onstage, but his body had started to get numb from the cold too…

So he tripped on his own feet and took a spectacular fall with a huge crash. And to add insult to injury, the tree up on stage as decoration was destroyed in the chaos of it all as well.

This is why I tell him to do thorough warm-ups… But he tends to skip out on those sorts of things, so now here we are.

Yuzuru: Hm, I see your logic. And so Takamine-sama plans to replace the demolished tree by sitting in its place instead?

Chiaki: Yeah. Since he injured his ankle when he fell, he can’t move much. Thankfully, it’s only a light sprain, so he should recover soon as long as he rests, but…

If the day ends without a chance for Takamine to regain his pride, it won’t be a positive gain to him.

That’s why at the very least, we had him decorate the stage as a substitute for the tree… So, that’s how we got here.

Yuzuru: And perhaps to also serve as punishment for his mistake earlier…? As I thought, although it appears there’s a clear lack of deliberation behind these actions, it actually makes so much sense that it’s irritating.

Midori: Um!

Yuzuru: Yes? With all due respect, could you please make less conversation?

If you are going to play the role of a tree, then do it thoroughly and do not speak the language of humans.

Even our fine’s Hibiki-sama has the capacity to behave elegantly in front of the general public, you know.

Midori: I-I’m so sorry… Um, you’re Fushimi-senpai, right? I-I’ve been wanting to meet you! I’m a fan of yours!

Yuzuru: I’m sorry? A fan of… myself?

Oh, no, you mustn't waste such words on me… Someone as inexperienced as myself only brings disgrace to fine’s lowest seat. You must be mistaking me for someone else.

Midori: What are you saying!? There's no one else in this whole entire world who can create the same artistic masterpiece as you!

If it’s alright, I’d love your autograph! With a drawing, please…☆

Chiaki: Ooh…!? To think Takamine could be this proactive…!?

Show that level of enthusiasm on things like our live shows as well! No diamond in the rough will shine unless it’s polished first, y’know!

Midori: Please don’t talk right now, Morisawa-senpai! Please, Fushimi-senpai! I’m begging you, if I could have just one thing! I’d really love your autograph…☆

Yuzuru: Umm… What am I to do, I’m quite embarrassed…

Unfortunately, you’ll have to excuse me, but signing autographs constitutes an idol activity. Meaning, I cannot accept such requests without the authorization of President-sama.

Midori: Ghh, that’s so frustrating! But on the other hand, that means that turkey is extremely valuable…!

Woohoo~! I got the best Christmas present ever…♪

Yuzuru: Turkey? Oh dear, the pacing of those in RYUSEITAI had thrown me off track… Anzu-san, a moment, please?

Fufu, no need to be on edge, it appears that you’ve properly done the shopping I asked of you to do.

I’m not here to do anything like point fingers.

Since the live show here has nearly reached its conclusion… Would you all like to join us for a Christmas party? The timing is just right.

Chiaki: Party?[1] I love stuff like that, but is it really alright for us to join?

Yuzuru: Of course.The lord and lady of the manor I serve are currently abroad…

Since the young master is quite lonely as a result, I thought to hold a dinner party.

However, a dinner party all by our lonesomes wouldn’t be too inspiring, you see. I would appreciate it if you could join us and enliven the occasion.

I had come here to invite Anzu-san alone to compensate for her errand, but…

I’ve reconsidered the recipients of my invitation. Perhaps the young master would feel less lonely if there were more people…

And upon seeing this live venue… It had me thinking. While there is beauty in spending the holy night peacefully alongside cherished ones…

In the end, it truly is the most blessed for children to be lively and have fun with a smile, isn’t it?

I hope you will join us as well, Takamine-sama. We will be having delicious turkey too, you know. ♪

Midori: Ughh… I don’t really wanna eat meat too much… I just grow bigger with every bite I take…

But I’ll go anyway. I want to take this opportunity to get on closer terms with Master Artist Fushimi…☆

Yuzuru: Master artist? I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been having the same conversation at all, have we…?

Anyhow, the pair from 2wink are here as well, yes?

I’d like to invite them as well, to show my gratitude for taking care of the young master back during Circus and the like.

You’re welcome to think this through once the live show is over. Please, do take my invitation into consideration.

I must prepare for the party at the manor first and foremost, so if you would excuse me.

I hope you all will be able to join us. I shall send a car over for pick-up later.

It’s the height of the banquet. Christmas is just around the corner…♪

[ ☆ ]

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The correct spelling of “party” (パーティー) uses katakana, but Chiaki says it in hiragana instead, suggesting that he's saying it in a cute/playful intonation.

[abandonedaccount1234]

I am sure people are gonna attack me for this but it needs to be said.

NOTE: I am in no way, shape, or form trying to cancel Tommy Kinnard or Lou.

I like Tommy. He's a good character.

He HOWEVER is a very flawed character. A character who has yet to have any real reckoning for what he did. Helping the crew to save the ship doesn't mean we get to just forget he was racist and misogynistic.

You don't get to just be racist, misogynistic, and honestly even homophobic, come out later in life, and use that as free pass to get away with with you did. That's not on Tommy or Lou (though he really downplayed that to a point of ICK in that cameo imo), it's on the writers. I do acknowledge this is a fictional character.

Even more of a reason as to why IT'S OKAY TO ADMIT HE'S NOT PERFECT. I want characters to be truly human. To make mistakes. To learn from their mistakes. And to say, hey, that was really shitty and I'm sorry.

I am not okay with the show just writing off the discrimination he caused because some years have passed and he's now Buck's boyfriend.

Hurt people hurt people. Yes. That does NOT excuse the behavior. Only explains it.

Past Tommy was the epitome of male white privilege and never being held accountable. Like everyone else in that station. They quite literally fostered an environment of white supremacy and I don't feel like we talk about this enough.

Present Tommy is....? Who the fuck knows because the writers haven't really let us know? They haven't let us see any real growth besides being out and being okay with woman of color now..?

This feels all to similar to growing up in a predominantly white area where people try to act progressive and like they were never once racist in their lives so no one 'cancels' them.

To never acknowledge it and to write it off like it was nothing frankly pisses me off.

Tommy has the potential to be great representation for people who have truly educated themselves and become genuine good people by learning from their mistakes and the discrimination they caused.

There is nothing wrong with saying, hey, I messed up, I made choices that directly hurt you. I will educate myself moving forward and I will be better. All I want is acknowledgement that he knows what he did was wrong.

I say all of this a woman of color myself who very much has faced similar microaggressions (and major) like Hen has.

You don't ever forget what those people said or did. Whether they've grown or changed and become a better person. That shit sticks with you for life. Every. Single. One.

I wanna like Tommy so bad but I just...can't get past this and I refuse to.

You don't get a free pass because you were in the closet or because that was what the times were like or because everyone else was doing it. There's no excuse.

Sorry not sorry 🤷🏽‍♀️

It's 2024. We can own up to our mistakes and be okay.

I think Tommy is great for Buck. I just wish people would stop acting like he's a saint who has never done anything wrong because they're in a relationship. The relationship is a historical moment for television. I don't want them to ruin it by doing what most casually racist people do, and act like it never happened.

It's okay for someone to not be perfect. It's a fictional show, you'll be okay.

There are some people genuinely attacking other people online for holding any criticism against Tommy and it's giving very-no offense-Swiftie energy. You can like Taylor as an artist and acknowledge she made a whole ass documentary about wanting to be on the right side of history and then fails to speak up for any issues that didn't directly affect her or her image or her profits. It's white feminism.

I don't know if there's a word for white feminism like behavior for white queer characters...? But that is frankly what's happening and needs to stop because it's already gone too far.

***Please be kind in any replies or you will be blocked. I have no energy to deal with people who have the emotional capacity of an almond. <3

[fanfic-corner]

Destiel Emotional Hurt/Comfort Fics

Hello everyone! Beating our favourite characters up just so they can be fixed up again nicely is brilliant, but I also love fics that explore the emotional side of hurt/comfort, since it's often easier to fix a bullet wound than a broken heart. So, I hope you enjoy today's list of fics which mentally beat our favourite characters up!

Please note that a lot of these fics contain heavy subjects, so please make sure to read all of the warnings and tags before reading and take care of yourself!

choices. by scoundrelhan (1.1k)

Castiel thinks he’s dying. Humans are always doing that.

Exposed to What You Hide by SailorChibi (1.8k)

"We think Cas is a procubus," Sam blurted out. Then he winced and yelped when Charlie kicked him under the table. "Ow!"

"Smooth, Sam," Charlie snapped.

Dean looked back and forth between them, realizing that they were both 100% serious. "A procubus."

"Basically it's the sexless version of an incubus or a succubus," Charlie explained before Sam could. "It's... it's a demon that kills people by sleeping with them." She was chewing on her thumbnail now, eyes big and apologetic. Sam had done one better pasting on a truly epic kicked puppy expression of apology.

"You think Cas is killing people by cuddling with them," Dean said, just to be sure.

Could Not Return You by tigersinlondon (2.8k)

Dean struggles to commit to a long term relationship with Cas, even though he knows he's in it for the long haul. Cas helps tease out what's holding him back, and provides some much-needed reassurance.

You are my home by Desirae (4.7k)

Things have settled down since rescuing Sam. Mary is bonding with her sons, and Castiel is nearly back to full capacity, just needing a little sleep here and there. When Dean discovers Cas' unusual resting spot, what starts as a series confessions leads to the emotional healing they both needed.

Stories Are Made of Mistakes by wildhoneypie (4.9k)

In which Cas is human and doesn't understand basic concepts like: clothing, Mythbusters, moisturizer, and Greek food. Dean is...Dean and doesn't understand basic concepts like: boyfriends, language, how to tell your friend that he's a walking miracle, and when not to quip.

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.7k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

Event Horizon by Winglesss (6.4k)

Castiel couldn't have helped his sister. That's why being offered a chance to help somebody else dealing with suicidal thoughts he took it without hesitation.

When he gets the first text from someone who needs his help, nothing goes as he expected.

broken when I'm lonesome by SailorChibi (7k)

After being saved from hell, Dean's old methods of coping aren't working anymore: he's not sexually attracted to anyone, and he's not interested in sex no matter how many times he climbs into bed with hot, naked women.

Sam is convinced that his brother is just depressed, but Dean knows this goes deeper than that. He still craves the intimacy that can make him feel safe.

Fortunately, Castiel is there to both understand and provide.

Nothing Equals the Splendor by RurouniHime (7.8k)

Maybe it’s the cynic in him. The hunter, always under the surface of any quietude he ever found. Or maybe it’s just that he has always had trouble with blind faith. But after a while (a blink? A decade? A century?), Dean raises his eyebrows, looks around, and says—

“Uh. No.”

It’s so close. Just so slightly imperfect. And maybe, he analyzes, maybe that’s the final knell of this bell called contentment. Dean’s experience with happiness has always been that last rise in the road, right before it turns. Right before fate comes barreling around the corner head on.

He turns in his spot on the bridge, and suddenly Sam is like a cellophane film through which he can see the light streaming, and the taste of cheap beer on his tongue is much, much older a memory than it should be.

“Oh, you’re good,” he says, and means it.

The Beginning by Princess_Aleera (17k)

Where a mission goes horribly wrong, and Castiel gets his wings plucked off for it.

That Black Dog Ache by SaltyWords (28k)

A simple case turns Dean upside down as he attempts to deal with the effects of a particularly strange love spell.

First Gentleman Wanted by youaresunlight (31k)

President of the United States Castiel Novak is popular, charismatic, and knee-deep in campaigning for a second term. He’d be the ideal candidate if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t dated once while in political office. With his opponent’s relentless PR team calling him incapable of emotional commitment, Castiel’s staff decides to remedy the situation by finding their boss a fake, picture-perfect boyfriend. And when Dean Winchester enters the scene, he and Cas become America’s new favorite couple, except they’ve got a whole lot of history between them and complicated feelings to resolve.

Just Like You by imherecauseimnotallthere98 (35k)

When John shows up at their door in the middle of the night, the Winchesters and Cas start looking into who or what could have brought him back. Meanwhile, Dean struggles to keep his relationship with Cas a secret from his father, with some help from Sam. The tension rises between the Winchesters as Dean shows John that he is no longer the obedient little soldier he once was, and tries to establish himself as an equal with his dad.

Rewriting the Book by MonPetitTresor (37k)

When Sam gets a little too close to stopping Metatron’s plans, the angel decides to use some of his extra juice to get Sam out of his way by sending him to a completely different reality. He never could’ve predicted what Sam might find there – or what he might bring back home with him.

Wild by Castielslostwings (67k)

Castiel and Dean meet for the first time on a plane ride out of Nowhere, Alaska. Castiel’s headed home after an impulsive solo vacation and Dean, a hardened Alaskan native, is just trying to get out of the impossibly small town he grew up in that’s got nothing left to offer him. They forge an instant connection over Dean’s flying anxiety and whiskey, a meet-cute that has all the makings of a rom-com with a sickeningly sweet happy ending. That is, until their plane explodes in mid-air, crashing headlong into the Alaskan wilderness and killing everyone on board save for Dean and Castiel. When no rescue shows up to save them, the two men are forced to make some tough decisions. To make it home alive they’ll have to trust each other and find faith neither of them has ever really wanted. Will they survive or succumb to the unforgiving mountain wilderness? And will their journey tear them apart... or bring them closer together?

carry on by foolondahill17 (91k)

God is dead. Sammy finally has what he always wanted. The kid is alive again and trying to figure out the whole human schtick. Cas – Cas is complicated, like always. And Dean is barreling headfirst into a mental breakdown. It’s the end of the road so far, and the future never looked so frightening.

The House on the Ocean Road by coffeeandcas (111k)

Dean Winchester is on the run from his life. He's done something unforgivable, and can't face his family or friends ever again. So he does what any rational person would do: fakes his own death and vanishes into the ether.

Wandering aimlessly along country roads, he succumbs to the elements during a violent storm and wakes up hours later in the home of a stranger: a single dad living alone in an isolated beach house, with a haunting past of his own. Cas is sweet and shy, but welcomes Dean into his home and tells him he can stay as long as he needs, never prying into his life or asking him to spill his secrets.

As they rapidly forge a close friendship, Dean finds that the quiet life by the ocean with Cas is exactly what he's been dreaming of. He only hopes his past never catches up with him.

Bound To You by Chipper99 (128k)

Faced with death, Dean makes one last ditch effort: praying to an Angel he knows wont hear him. Deans prayers are answered when a vessel-less Castiel forces himself out from the Empty, taking possession of Dean's body in order to heal him. Castiel's grace is running finite however, charged down after saving Dean's life. Now Castiel resides within Dean's mind, too weak to survive a transfer to another vessel, leading them to a desperate search for a way to rebuild his body. Time is of the essence, with Castiel's grace burning out with every passing day...

Four Letter Word For Intercourse by bendingsignpost (194k)

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

I hope you enjoy reading these fantastic fics!! And thank you to the amazing authors for sharing them with us. If you ever have any requests for a fic rec list, please let me know!

tag list under the cut! ask to be added or removed :D

@summer1066 // @goncharovcum