#would that benefit or harm the story being told

[writesvani]

coming down | 01

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to-enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): emotional distress and anxiety, body image issues and weight-related comments, mentions of food, dieting, and restriction, verbal abuse and manipulation, self-harm ideation, substance use and abuse references, mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, insecurity), intimate situations and explicit language, abandonment and neglect, self-deprecation and feelings of worthlessness, bullying or being belittled

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— previous chapter / next chapter

wc: 4,7k // date: 5th of March 2025

CHAPTER ONE - The Morning; proceed with caution...

AN: okay, first of all, let’s talk about ren. he's liteeerally the only reason i'm posting this chapter earlier. REN. If you didn’t fall in love with him in this chapter, then honestly, i don’t know what to tell you because he’s an absolute gem. like i’m literally obsessed with him. he’s my favorite character HANDS DOWN. i’m talking top-tier, i would throw myself in front of a speeding bus for him if i had to. i mean, he’s got the charm, the humor, the flawless sense of timing. he’s a walking chaos machine and i’m here for it. can we please get a round of applause for ren? seriously, he’s out here living his best life, making questionable decisions, and somehow being the best friend anyone could ask for.

this chapter? oh yeah, it’s the introduction to the story, the one that sets everything on fire (in a good way, don’t worry). we’re finally giving you the ren experience in full force because he’s that important. his energy? unparalleled. his bad decisions? iconic. his ability to get people into ridiculous situations? absolutely legendary. and don’t even get me started on how much i’m loving writing for him. i know you can’t tell, but i’m literally typing this while holding back tears of joy. like, this man could ask me to jump off a cliff and i’d probably do it because i’m just so in love with his chaotic little soul.

stay tuned for more chaos, more fun, and more ren being ren.

love, [@writesvani] (ren's #1 fan)

No one ever told you opening your eyes while fighting a horrible hangover would be this hard—well, they did, and you’ve experienced it millions of times—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Fluttering your eyelashes, your eyes barely open as a blurry flash of sunlight enters your narrow line of vision.

Ugh.

Why did you drink so much last night? You don’t even know.

Never drinking again.

Noted.

Lying to yourself won’t make the situation any easier.

Noted as well.

Hardly awake, you shift, trying to lift yourself up to sit—except your bed isn’t yours at all.

And this isn’t your room.

Or your apartment.

Your head throbs as you blink away the lingering fog in your vision, forcing yourself to take in your surroundings.

A small studio apartment. Cramped, slightly chaotic, and definitely unfamiliarly familiar.

The sofa beneath you is worn, the cushions flattened from years of use. Next to it, a tiny coffee table is cluttered with splattered magazines and old computer science textbooks, their spines cracked and bruised from relentless study sessions. Among the mess, a dirty ashtray overflows, its stale scent clinging to the air.

Gross.

A ginger-scented candle sits beside it—maybe an attempt to neutralize the overwhelming stench of smoke, though it clearly isn’t doing its job.

Your eyes drift further, landing on the tiny kitchen area. Greasy, dimly lit, its sink overflowing with dishes that look like they’ve been abandoned for days. The counters are barely visible beneath the chaos of unwashed mugs, instant ramen cups, and a suspiciously sticky bottle of what you assume was once honey.

Unease coils in your stomach.

Where the fuck are you?

Your fingers clutch the blanket draped over you, a thin, soft thing that smells like cheap detergent and cigarette smoke.

And then—

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave, so strong it almost makes you dizzy.

Oh.

Thank God.

Thank God you ended up here.

“So my worst best friend is finally up! What a lovely surprise!”

A voice—far too loud for this hour, far too cheerful for your current state—pulls you from the lingering haze of sleep.

You groan, pressing your palms into your temples as if that could somehow will away the pounding headache splitting your skull. “Please, for the love of God, let me enjoy my peace and quiet for five minutes before coming in with your unnecessary comments.”

A dramatic gasp. Then, “Okay, bitch. Rude. I understand you’re hungover, but please just be civilized for a second there. You don’t have to throw your defensive mechanism in—I didn’t even start my lecture yet.”

You crack open one eye just to glare. “Cut the crap, Ren. I’m not really in the mood right now.”

Ren smirks, crossing his arms as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Oh babe, if I were into women, I’d already have gotten you in it.”

Your lips twitch despite the throbbing in your skull. Because no matter how much you despise him in this exact moment—for being loud, for being happy, for simply existing when all you want is to die a slow, miserable, post-hangover death—a wave of relief crashes over you.

You’re safe.

Safe from last night. Safe with him.

You’ve known Ren for ages. Just to be more precise, since you were eleven. He’s your other half, your soulmate in a way that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with the fact that, if it weren’t for his overwhelming love for ass and balls and dicks/men, the two of you would already be married.

It’s a thought you’ve had more than once. A parallel universe, maybe. One where you’d be an old married couple on some tropical island, far away from the bullshit of everyday life. Where you’d smoke weed all day and piss him off, and he’d play The Sims 4 all night and piss you off right back—screaming at his Sim for cheating on their husband with some new guy, courtesy of Wicked Whims.

But that’s not this universe.

This one’s a little messier.

This one’s full of questionable life choices, painfully slow mornings, and an unspoken pact:

If neither of you find an unrespectably hot, respectable man by the time you’re 35—

The wedding’s on.

“How the fuck did I end up here?”

Your voice is raw, thick with exhaustion and regret. The world tilts as you sit up, and for a brief moment, you genuinely consider throwing yourself right back into unconsciousness.

Ren, ever the dramatic one, sighs as if this isn’t the millionth time you’ve asked him that exact question. “What do you think?”

You blink at him. “First of all, don’t answer my question with another question. Second of all, IF I FUCKING KNEW, I WOULDN’T BE ASKING.”

Ren groans, tossing his hands into the air like a cartoon character about to launch into a monologue. “Okay, calm your pretty ass down, missy. You were too wasted. Or high. Or probably both. And you got a cab to my place. Probably the only address you could remember, considering we all know you can’t remember your own after one shot.”

His words are a jumble in your aching brain, but the general gist is clear: you fucked up. Again.

You huff, crossing your arms, but the sudden movement sends a sharp pain straight to your skull.

Yup.

Yup.

Never drinking again.

“Oh, Rennie,” you mumble, pulling his blanket over your head and collapsing onto the silky mattress. “I don’t think I’m ever going to drink again.”

Ouch. Bad decision. Pain again.

You’re dizzy, disoriented, sinking into the pillowcase you got him for his twenty-second birthday—the one he pretended not to like but still uses anyway.

Ren sighs. Not annoyed, not even surprised. Just—accepting. Because this isn’t the first time you’ve stumbled into his apartment, destroyed beyond reason, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

You feel bad. You always do. But you can’t help it.

Ren is the last remaining fragment of the old you, the one you buried deep in the back of your mind, the one you so desperately tried to forget. But he’s Ren, and he’s been your Ren since you were eleven.

And you hate it—hate that you keep dragging him into your mess, ruining his perfectly fine days with your self-inflicted chaos. But for some unfathomable reason, Ren still loves you.

He loved you at your best.

He loved you at your worst.

And somehow, he still loves you in whatever the fuck this is.

“It’s okay, babe. I know you’re lying.”

Ren’s voice is steady, soft, almost knowing. He doesn’t call you out with anger or frustration—just that damn patience of his, the kind that makes your chest tighten and your throat burn.

“C’mon, don’t go all crocodile tears and fake regrets on me now,” he continues, settling down next to you. “You know there’s always a safe space for you here.”

His hand finds your cheek, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. His touch is light, barely there, but it still feels like an anchor. You lean into it instinctively, your head still pulsing with the aftermath of last night’s recklessness. Yet somehow, his presence dulls the ache, lulling your discomfort into something almost bearable.

Ren always had that effect on you.

“Now, now,” he hums, voice teasing but gentle. “Tell me what got you so worked up that you drank like a dog let off a leash last night.”

You tense, but before you can even think of an excuse, he sighs.

“Sorry for not coming, by the way,” he murmurs. “But you already know how I feel about Yumi and all your other friends.”

And just like that, if you thought you couldn’t possibly feel worse, Ren effortlessly proves you wrong.

Because the only person you actually wanted to spend time with on your birthday wasn’t there—and it’s all because of you.

Ren doesn’t like them. It’s as simple as that.

He doesn’t like your friends, your environment, or the people you surround yourself with. He thinks they’re a bunch of problematic teens trapped in grown-up bodies, incapable of making rational decisions. They seek validation from whatever reckless or idiotic thing they did just to be considered “cool enough” on campus.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s exactly what they are.

Ren isn’t shy about speaking his truth, especially when it comes to them. And you’re used to it by now. Hell, you wouldn’t want him to lie, to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not. It’d be too toxic for your best friend to step out of his comfort zone just to match your lifestyle, to accommodate what you think you want.

He doesn’t need to.

Ren has been the only constant, the only good thing in your life for the past few years. And, in a way, that’s enough.

"It's okay, lovie. We’ll be together today," you murmur, your voice quieter than usual. "I tried to bail on the party, but you know Yumi—she just wouldn’t budge."

You shift, mind working at lightning speed, lips parting and closing as you try to piece together the mess of last night. It’s all a bit blurry, details slipping through the cracks of your memory like sand through your fingers. But one thing stands out.

Gojo called you cheap.

The words flash in your mind like a neon sign, burning hot, humiliating, cutting deeper than you’d ever admit. And, of course, you being you, there was no way you’d just walk away, let him have the last word like that. No, you had to strike back.

So you did.

In front of Geto, the guy you’d actually wanted to take home, you called Gojo out. Laid it all bare. Exposed your past, your messy, embarrassing, mistake-ridden history with him. Let the words roll off your tongue like venom, staining the air of Nanami’s pristine beige living room.

The degradation of admitting you’d once fucked the beautiful, white-eyed demon was almost unbearable. Almost. Because underneath that shame, there was something else—something undeniably satisfying about the way Gojo’s face drained of color.

Ha. Should’ve taken a picture.

The man was sweating.

But, of course, that satisfaction was short-lived. The moment passed, leaving behind nothing but a thick, awkward silence that hung in the air like a bad smell.

Mood? Ruined.

Horny? Not anymore.

Gojo? Pissed.

Geto? Not having it.

And honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. Who the hell would still be in the mood after witnessing an argument that never should’ve happened in the first place?

Gojo left quickly, tossing a sharp, “This isn’t over” over his shoulder before disappearing.

And Geto?

He just sat there, staring at you, dumbfounded.

So, as any sane person would do, you decided to self-destruct with tequila and dance to the INNA Party Mix some random guy snuck into the playlist while no one was looking.

Gojo’s words didn’t touch you. Not even a little bit. And losing your dick of the night? Whatever. Hot guys were everywhere. Besides, it was probably for the best—you really didn’t need the extra drama of Geto’s girlfriend finding out about whatever almost happened.

So that’s probably how you ended up at Ren’s place.

Even though you have zero recollection of getting here in the first place.

“So it wasn’t just weed and shots,” Ren squeezes your hand, his voice softer now. “It was Gojo.”

Your throat tightens. No. It wasn’t Gojo. Of course, it wasn’t Gojo. You just wanted to let loose, enjoy the night, without anyone ruining it for you. Right?

Right?

“Who cares about that assface? I just wanted to get drunk and high, simple as that.”

“Okay, okay,” Ren lifts his hands in surrender. “I won’t mention it again. Promise on Charli XCX.” He nods toward the poster on his wall, and for the first time since waking up, a laugh escapes your lips.

His eyes light up at the sound, and in that moment, you swear you love him even more.

Because Ren never pushes. He never pressures you to explain yourself or dissect your feelings. He just lets you be.

And you love him for that.

What you don’t love is the flicker of knowing in his gaze—the way he reads you like an open book. Not many people ever managed to do that.

But it doesn’t matter. Because Ren never says it out loud.

It’s different with him.

Sometimes you wonder if things would be easier if you could have this kind of connection with anyone else. But then again, if you did, maybe what you have with Ren wouldn’t feel so rare and fragile and beautiful.

“Swear on BRAT,” you say, extending your pinky.

“I swear on BRAT,” he echoes, linking his pinky with yours.

And just like that, Gojo isn’t mentioned again.

Or last night.

Or Yumi.

Or Nanami’s obscenely expensive house.

"C'mon, babe. Let's go get some breakfast."

Ren tugs you out of bed, dragging you into the world of the living, and just like that, you’re not a mess anymore. It’s stupid how easily he does that—how he makes you feel a little less like a disaster with nothing but his presence. And maybe, just maybe, you love him a little more than you did mere seconds ago.

The place Ren takes you to is… odd.

Some kind of coffee shop-slash-restaurant-in-the-making. It’s close to his apartment, but it’s way too edgy to be a normal breakfast spot. But hey—a free meal is a free meal, and who are you to complain when he offered to treat you?

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating a little. It’s not that edgy. Just… offbeat.

It’s called Radio, and by some wonderfully bizarre twist, the entire place is literally filled with radios.

They’re everywhere.

The walls are made of them, stacked up like some chaotic art installation. Car radios serve as makeshift stands, holding the food and drink menus. The menus themselves? Coquette-coded, decorated with bows and big-eyed deer like they were plucked straight from some Tumblr fever dream.

And then there’s the rest of the decor—ripped anime T-shirts hanging in the corners, stickers on the counter with millennial-core quotes like Eat. Sleep. Coffee. Repeat.

The waitress who approaches your table looks dead inside, eyeliner smudged into a mess so perfectly disheveled it’s almost intentional. She definitely doesn’t want to be here. But then again, do any of us?

"Stop judging," Ren hisses.

You blink at him. Judging?

"I’m a broke college student, and this place is cheap enough to actually fill my stomach," he defends, crossing his arms.

"I’m not judging," you retort. "But you have to admit, this place is weird. Look around. The interior designer who made this was probably on coke. Or MDMA. Or both."

Ren sighs. Deeply.

"Not everyone has to get high to come up with weirdly fun concepts," he says, exasperated.

"Now that’s just a lie, honey," you shoot back, leaning on your hand. "All artists get their inspiration somewhere, and the good ones? They get it on something. Look at Van Gogh. Dickens. Bukowski—"

"That’s not something to be proud of," Ren interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Those people were addicts. They needed help. Jesus. There's no proof that they made their best works because they were high—who knows? Maybe their art would've been even better if they were sober."

You hum, pretending to consider his argument.

"Well, you can’t prove that, can you?" you say, smirking.

Ren narrows his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. Checkmate.

You love throwing these hypothetical what ifs at him just as much as he loves throwing them at you. His argument about sobriety is well-executed, you’ll give him that.

But he’ll never understand the euphoria—the way inspiration thrums in your veins when you’re tipsy, or better yet, high. The way stories are born from that space between reality and delirium. You swear your best ideas only exist there.

(Not that you’ve ever tried making them sober, of course.)

"Let’s not argue about the lives and works of people we’ll never truly know," Ren sighs, finally relenting.

"Okay," you agree, lips twitching.

For now.

“So, we can’t talk about your Voldemort, but you can for sure tell me more about that black-haired hottie you met last night?”

Ren’s rosy lips curve into a playful grin, his eyes lighting up with excitement. And just like that, you can’t help but melt at how much he lives for the gossip. Some things never change.

“He has a girlfriend, you mentioned?” Ren asks again, clearly wanting the details.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I care,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t go after a taken man who didn’t want me—that’s just not cool. But this guy, I’m telling you, from the second he laid eyes on me, he was eye-fucking me. Like, full-on, taking my clothes off telepathically and sinking his cock into me. It was intense.”

Ren snorts, amused.

“And if you saw him—he was all black long hair, a bandana, A BANDANA hanging from his neck. Made me wanna strangle him and lick him at the same time.” You pause, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “And the polo shirt, okay, I thought it was kinda lame for a college party, but it gave me a peek at his abs and, oh my god, his happy trail. And his lips, babe, I’m telling you. Pink, soft, begging to be bitten. Ugh. I should’ve tried harder and just fucked him.”

“Wait, you saw his happy trail?”

“Yeah, his shirt rode up when he was stretching after playing billiards with the guys. I was already plastered, but trust me, I saw it. It was practically an invitation to drop to my knees.” You take a bite of your fries, half-listening to yourself as the images replay in your mind.

“Well, if it were me, I’d be licking that happy trail into the midnight and riding him ‘til sunrise, baby,” Ren quips with a grin, taking a bite of his crepes.

You can see the look in Ren’s eyes—the way he’s already imagining it all. It makes you laugh, feeling a rush of affection for your ridiculous, perfectly in-sync best friend.

“Got a pic of the hottie?”

You freeze.

Your horniness deflates to zero. You forgot. You didn’t even get his number, his Instagram, nothing. “I forgot to follow him. I’m so fucking dumb.”

Ren rolls his eyes.

“Follow him now, duh. Who cares?”

“I care,” you say quickly. “I don’t want him to think I’m some creepy-ass loser who’s randomly looking him up.”

Ren looks at you like you’re nuts. “He won’t think that. Plus, if he doesn’t follow you back, then he’s blind and needs a check-up.”

“Let’s just try looking him up on Insta. Maybe he has a profile pic so you can see him, but I am NOT following him.”

You whip out your phone and start typing.

And there he is. Geto Suguru.

And oh boy.

His profile pic isn't just a pic, he's shirtless, his shorts hanging low on his hips, and there it is—the happy trail, long, dark, and deliciously inviting. His face is perfectly smirking, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You feel a shiver run down your spine, practically drooling as you stare at the picture.

Ren, ever impatient, snatches your phone from your hands before you can even blink. His mouth falls open in shock.

“Sweet Jesus, oh my God,” he breathes, his eyes flicking between you and the picture, blinking rapidly like his brain can’t handle it.

Then he moves his thumb. And you know exactly what he’s doing, but it’s too late. It’s too fucking late.

Ren has just sent a follow request to your “almost fuck.”

You feel a panic rise in your chest. No. This is it. You’re going to strangle him. Watch as life leaves his annoying body and his breath gets lost somewhere else because you know—you just know—he did it. He followed him. From your phone and your goddamn Instagram account.

“Are. You. Fucking. Insane?”

You stare at Ren in disbelief, heart pounding in your chest as your brain tries to process what he’s just done.

“I did what had to be done,” Ren grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “This man is too fine and too sexy not to be tried out at least once. Honestly, pardon his straightness, but I’d blow him like my life depended on it. Since I can’t do it myself, you’re gonna take the sacrifice of doing it for me.”

You feel a mix of anger and embarrassment bubble up inside you. “Ren, I’m going to kill you. I’m literally going to kill you.”

“Relax, girl,” he snickers, waving you off like it’s no big deal. “And when you fuck him, pretty please think about me, so I can, by some miracle, feel it as well.”

You roll your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but there's that nagging fear lingering in the pit of your stomach. “What if he doesn’t follow me back?” you whine, your voice a mix of real concern and dramatic flair. “I’m too old for this humiliation. I don’t need more rejection stacking up on my list.”

Ren just shrugs, completely nonchalant. “He will. Trust. Now eat your food, ho, and let’s go shopping.”

You don’t believe him, though. Deep down, you know he’s lying—because by the end of your shopping spree with Ren, Geto still hasn’t followed you back.

You’re losing your mind.

Even after you’ve showered, eaten, and taken a power nap, you find yourself glued to your phone. There’s still no accepted request. No follow. Just a stupid pending ‘follow request sent’ sitting there, mocking you.

You panic. You called Ren probably ten times and sent him thirty messages, all containing some combination of death, you, kill, and didn’t follow me back. You’ve become a mess—unrecognizable even to yourself.

The worst part? You know he saw it. You just know it. There’s no way in hell he didn’t check his phone at least once in the eight hours that passed. He’s leaving you hanging, like some peasant who isn’t even worth the time to be acknowledged.

It stings. It fucking stings.

You were dramatic before, sure, but you were deep down thinking he'd follow you back. Everyone does. He was all over you last night, wanting you, practically undressing you with his eyes. There was no way that stupid little spat with Gojo could have ruined things with Geto. Or maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were just stupid.

How dare he?

How dare he act like you weren’t worth even a simple follow? You start pacing around the room, frustration boiling over as your mind spirals into overdrive.

Then it hits you.

Gojo. That bastard. He’s always meddling in your business, always making things harder than they need to be. He loves getting involved for no reason, just to mess with you.

Just like he did before.

18 years ago

It’s an usual Friday afternoon, and you’re sitting with your great grandma on the front porch, her wrinkled hands steady as she writes down the words you dictate to her. You don’t know how to write yet—not really. Yes, you know the alphabet, but putting words together, let alone sentences on paper, feels like an impossible task for your six-year-old mind. But you know how to speak, and that’s all that matters right now. So you speak, and she writes, and together, you create a poem. It’s about winter, and comfort, and there’s a line about soup cooking on the stove, messily tossed in there.

You swear, in that moment, you’ve never been prouder of yourself. You are creating something—your very first poem. And even though it’s messy, even though it doesn’t follow all the rules of the world that you’re still figuring out, you did it.

Gojo, your next door neighbor and self proclaimed best friend sits beside you, shyly drawing you, your grandma, himself, and his favorite teddy bear, Teddy (of course) on what he insists is a train, even though it looks more like a stinky snail. You laugh, but then your excitement gets the best of you, and you run to your dad to show him the poem you just made with Nana. You can’t read it, but that doesn’t matter because Nana’s going to read it to him, and you’re so excited.

You just know he’ll be proud of you.

Nana reads the poem out loud, and you watch your dad as he listens. He smiles, and you’re filled with warmth, because he’s so pretty when he smiles. His eyes crinkle in that perfect greenish light, and his mouth—those dimples—just make everything feel perfect.

But then, he speaks.

“Nana, it’s great you’re teaching her all that, but she doesn’t have to write about food. There are many more beautiful things to write about. Our little peach is already a bit too chubby, and we’ve really been trying to help her lose weight, so I don’t think writing or thinking about food is good for her right now, right?”

Your heart sinks. Your excitement crashes to the ground.

You don’t know what it is, but his words make you feel so small. Your eyes drop to the ground, and you can’t hide from the uncomfortable, overwhelming feeling that floods over you. You already feel too big in your skin, too big in your body. Too big in your dad’s mind.

And then you feel it—the rush of anxiety. It sweeps over you like a tide, drowning you in its force. The weight of his words, the weight of your disappointment in his eyes, it’s too much. You couldn’t even keep it together for a stupid little poem.

Again.

You’ve disappointed him. Again. And there’s nothing you can do to make it stop.Nana says something, her voice soft and reassuring, about you being a normal, healthy little kid. She shakes her head at your dad disapprovingly, but you can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. His words hang around you, clouding the air, and the warmth that had once bloomed in your chest shrivels up. The mood is ruined. And even though you fight it, even though you don’t want to, your eyes grow heavy and the tears that have been threatening to spill finally break free.

You try to hold them back, but they come anyway.

"I don’t think you’re chubby. You’re cute, and I liked your poem," Gojo whispers to you, his small, warm hand slipping into yours. He squeezes it gently and beams a pretty, innocent smile at you.

But instead of feeling better, you feel worse.

His hand is smaller than yours. And he’s a boy. He’s smaller and slimmer than you, and you’re a girl. You shouldn’t even be thinking about these things, but you can’t stop. He’s smaller and slimmer and better, and you're chubbier, and nothing about this is fair.

And then you hear your dad again, his words ringing in your ears, harsher this time.

“Satoru, you don’t have to lie to make her feel better. Y/n’s a big girl. She can take it. Besides, she knows it’s for her own good.”

You nod, but it’s sharp and harsh, the motion of your head quick and jerky. You pull away from Satoru’s embrace, feeling like you might break under the weight of everything. His eyes are sad. You can see it now. The pity. The pity in his eyes, in your dad’s eyes, in everyone’s eyes. It’s there, it’s so clear, and you hate it.

You don’t understand pity yet, not fully, but you understand how it makes you feel small.

You’re not a little kid anymore.

Satoru looks mad now. He gives you one of those looks—‘It’s okay, I’ve got you’—the kind that only makes you feel worse. You can’t stand it.

You want to run. You want to hide. You want to be alone, away from all of this, away from their pity, away from the shame building up in your chest.

So you do.

You run. You run to your room, and when you’re there, the door shuts behind you, and you fall onto your bed. The tears come in waves, and you cry until evening falls, until your eyes are red and sore. You don’t come downstairs for dinner.

“Tomorrow, I’m not gonna eat anything. Then all of them are gonna see.”

You whisper the words to yourself, not fully understanding the weight of them, but in that moment, they make you feel like you have control. Like you can make everything better. And that's how it all begins.

taglist: @heh123321 @kazupop @mintcheery @krispywhisperswhispers

[snifferish]

Never in my life did I think that re-tweeting resources for SA, and supporting victims would be considered problematic or performative.

I should not have to bare this, but I'm going to tell just one of my stories, because I need you to understand where I'm coming from. TW // Sexual Harassment

--

When I was 15, I had my wisdom teeth removed. I wanted to avoid using the pain medication they prescribed. I struggle a lot with sensory issues, medications and substances made it worse.

However, my surgery was for impacted teeth, and only two days in one of my stitches fell out. I was in so much pain, and couldn't eat solids w/ out pain for up to three weeks.

So, a week into my recovery, one of my friends invites me to their house. They were having our friend group over, it was just a little bonfire get together kinda thing. I took my pain meds a few hours prior, and only half a dose, but I was out of it to some degree, and somehow still in pain.

I was sitting on a lawn chair outside, when one of my close friends came over and asked to sit on my lap. Honestly, I said yes at first, because this was my childhood friend, someone I trusted, and I thought our relationship was incredibly platonic. Then he started to shift/grind about in my lap, and I started to feel things of theirs I did not want to. They made a noise that deeply unsettled me, and I told him to get off, they didn't. It was only when I told them that he accidently triggered the emergency call shortcut on my phone (it was in the pocket of the lawn chair, yes they were moving that much and I was moving trying to push him off) that he finally got up.

I was bewildered, and a bit confused, and also embarrassed that my phone nearly called 911. I claimed I wasn't feeling well, and went home early.

That was the first time someone touched me in a remotely sexual way, but I didn't dare to label it until I talked to my therapist. It made me dwell on a lot of experiences with this person as well. How obsessed they were with being taller than me, how often they'd grab me and force me to see if they were stronger than me. At the time, I was in a friend group of predominately non-men, and they were all friends with this person.

However, when I told them about this, when I expressed the discomfort it brought me. I was brushed off. "He's just like that!" oh "He probably didn't mean it" etc.

I didn't feel comfortable in the same room as this person. My friends would continue to invite them to hang outs. One of my other friends told everyone about what happened without my permission. I started having breakdowns in my classes with him. I had panic attacks all the time. I felt as if I had to continue this façade of being nice to him, or else I would lose my friends of years and years.

I was happy when covid started, because for the first time I had breathing room, but by then so much of my trust was dismantled.

Due to my friends association with this person, and the fact that not being their friend excluded me. I eventually got over it, and told myself I'd grown past it.

Three months ago, this same person admitted to me they hold extreme grudges against me, that they projected their "mommy issues" on to me, and quite literally said the words, "Yeah yeah, you're a woman who's outspoken and challenged me and that bothers me yeah yeah." in regards to that. They said it with sarcasm, like it was something they knew, and their mother was reminding them for the 12th time.

--

I bring this all up, not to make you feel guilty, but to discuss the harm of not supporting victims, not listening to them. It puts them in a position of isolation, and in a position to potentially be hurt again.

So yeah, I'm gonna be a little upset when people say I'm being "performative" about supporting victims of sexual harassment and SA. I'm not doing this because it benefits me, in fact it's caused a lot of backlash, horrible dms, and very triggering memories.

I'm doing it because I was once not heard, and i've sat with Caiti behind the scenes for months watching her lose passion for something she loved (content creation).

I didn't do this because I'm secretly sniveling behind the scenes tapping my fingers praying on peoples downfall. I'm not a Disney villain dude lmfao.

Honestly, this narrative that is being pushed, that people are doing it "because it benefits them" is quite ironic, considering most of the people talked about within the last 72 hours were under Wilbur's weird ass apology doing just that.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate how people are okay with this narrative, the misogynist undertones of it. I've seen people admit that they didn't like me or my friends the entire time, while simultaneously "calling us out" about this, so I ask you,

Are you calling us? Because it benefits your motives? Your feelings?

[verdantwyrm]

On that topic though, I would like to touch more on the subject of Jimmy being also a victim to himself. I fear this might anger a lot of people, but Jimmy is an almost exact perfect example of someone with BPD (As someone with it myself) and how his spiralling is directly tied to Curly.

The game never once insinuates that Jimmy is like this because he's mentally ill, the line of him having it "hard" back on earth doesn't mean anything either, but it also means a lot coming from Curly. Curly is a representative of a Favorite person, and everything Jimmy did in the game, who he hurt, how he did it and the language he used, is very close to how real-life people with BPD sometimes treat their own FPs and the people around them.

They become erratic, jealous, driven by fear, apologetic, desperate and cling to everything and everything. Jimmy insults Curly, twists his words and makes him out the be the villain, he drives everyone away from him at the birthday party and spends months feeding lies to the others that Curly is the one that crashed the ship despite this lie not actually really benefitting Jimmy all that much in the long run.

Jimmy wanted to kill everyone on the ship, he could have lied and instead said that it was simply a fault of the ship, a miscalculation, an accident. Instead, he took every opportunity to make Curly out to be the one who ultimately decided that this was the best way to go about it, and then also blamed it on Curly's mental health dropping after being fired.

This is all extremely elaborate, and a very difficult lie to keep up with, as almost everyone on that ship has plenty of reasons to believe otherwise that Curly didn't crash the ship. What with Anya's psych eval of him being "the same as usual" and being sane enough to continue doing his job. Anya also trusted Curly enough to tell him about the pregnancy, and to also tell him about the gun. And even though it's not very well expressed in the game (possibly intentional since we are seeing through Jimmy's eyes.) She does trust Curly, and she probably continued to trust him even when all was wrong around her.

And Daisuke also has no real reason to distrust Curly, we don't know much about their relationship, but there was definitely a sense of trust and reliability between the both of them. This is also evident through Swansea and Curly, where Curly trusts him enough to hold onto the axe, despite being told to return it to the case as everything has to constantly run through him. He was taking risks, he was terrified of being abandoned, left behind in Curly's shadow. He was having fits of rage, outbursts of suicidal thoughts and harm to himself and to those around him.

Jimmy twisted and kept twisting that knife in an attempt to turn away everyone from Curly even when he was at his lowest to isolate and to make him cling to the only thing he had left; Jimmy.

This adds even more to Curly's eventual condition, being completely reliant on Jimmy, being completely subject to his will and power. And something that he even admitted to liking, he likes power. And he likes that the circumstances given, might not have turned out the best way, it gave Jimmy that power over Curly. Something he had been climbing for a long time, and something he so desperately wanted because he was sick and tired of hearing just how fantastic he was at something Jimmy wasn't.

And yet, despite all of this, Jimmy praised Curly. He hated how much he adored him, hated how much he idolised him. And even at the end of it all, his main focus was just Curly, making him out to be the hero of the story despite spending such a long time attempting to make him out to be the villain.

And then even further to make the situation out to be that he was also the hero of the story, that all of his actions were justified to some degree because it was all for Curly. He fixed it, he fixed everything for Curly. Because despite what he did to Anya, Swanse and Daisuke, his only real concern behind all of it was Curly.

Every hallucination leads to him, every goal, every path. He was so concerned with him, that even when it was directly in his face, the only apology he ever muttered was to Curly. Using Anya's words.

Our worst moments don't make us monsters.

Jimmy is a victim of only himself and the consequences of his own actions, and he is by far one of the better, unintentional examples of BPD.

[baphometsss]

Sometimes, the lack of romance actually benefits characters more than the alternative. There's a whole host of reasons why I think this can be the right narrative choice, but I need to be clear first in saying that I don't think romance is bad, or inherently reductive, or anything like that. Romance can be incredibly powerful and profound and make a story better, if it's done well. It's just that sometimes, adding this particular dynamic to a relationship does more harm than good. It's kind of a very broad issue, but I'm using Solas and Mythal as a jumping off point for why I think that is.

The problem with turning their relationship into a romantic love story is that it takes it in a direction which is reductive, and overly simplistic, not just for their relationship but for the two as individual characters. We are told that it's a very old, very profound bond that was marred by narcissism, pride, trauma, betrayal, magical bullshit, and myriad other issues. It's underpinned by an overwhelming devotion that to some reads as romantic. Yet this misses the point and demystifies a relationship steeped in gorgeous lore, one rooted in a state of existence that is described in canon as inherently asexual and aromantic. The story is made more profound in every way by that relationship not being romantic, especially in the context of all the lore surrounding their origins.

For example, Mythal is described as being charismatic and beloved by her people. Even though we know she wasn't as kind as she's made out to be because some of the shit she did was pretty fucking heinous. Nevertheless, the sentinels spent an eternity protecting her temple. Abelas changed his name when she died. He leaves once the Well has been drunk from, and never drank from it himself. In 'memories of a duet', she is described as having followers who are 'mindlessly devoted' to her. The point is, Solas is not the only one who was devoted to her. She was obviously extremely charismatic and powerful, even if she didn't actually live up to her hype, or had motivations that were not so kind. This is because she was benevolent in comparison to the other Evanuris, who were tyrants.

The problem with Mythal as a love interest begins with the fact that she lacks a lot of autonomy in the story already. We don't get to see much of her that isn't coming through some kind of filter, whether that's Solas, Flemeth, Morrigan, or from other ancient elves. She gets two opportunities to speak directly (in optional content no less) and that's it. I get that she's dead, but I think she suffers for the narrative choices they made in dealing with her remains. There's far too many people telling us about her and not enough opportunities to talk to her directly. Needless to say, she does not pass the Bechdel test.

Adding a romantic bent to hers and Solas's relationship only makes this worse. She doesn't benefit from it at all; you could argue that Solas does, but it's not all about him. She suffers because she's secondary to Solas when she should've been the main big bad; she should've had some narrative thread that didn't revolve around a man. We know she loves Solas, as her Crossroads fragment says so to a Qunari Rook; yet the love comparison that's being made there is actually to Shathaan and Taash, who are mother and child. Once again, we have a female character who is being reduced to either a bride or a mother by the story. No wonder she abuses those roles, as wife to Elgar'nan and all-mother to the elves. No wonder she turns into a dragon for fun. It's the only way she gets any autonomy. All she wanted, I would argue, was to preserve Benevolence in the world so she would not lose her original purpose when it became lost to Elgar'nan's Tyranny.

For Solas, we know he never wanted to be a person. He was peacefully semi-existing in the Fade, reflecting Wisdom as he was made to do. He connects as a spirit for most of his existence. One of the reasons he's bad at relationships with others is because he doesn't know how to connect as a person in the way they do. He only knows how to connect as a spirit. A romance with the Inquisitor, like the friendships he forms in Inquisition, are made more profound by the fact that he is only able to connect like that specifically because they are not, with the exception of Cole, spirits, and he is hiding his spirit origin from them. Cole is his comfort zone; it's part of why he's against making him more human--without Cole being spirit-natured, he's forced to connect with him like a person.

It's here that I think Trick was spot on when they said that you can only appreciate Solas's character in Inquisition fully if you romance him; in the romance, he is able to connect as a person and a spirit for the first time without sacrificing any part of himself. A romanced Lavellan loves him for who he chooses to be, who he wants to be, who he always wanted to be, and by Trespasser and Veilguard, for a whole lot more than that too. He himself says he doesnt want them to see what he becomes, which I think is partially true; he knows it will get ugly and he doesn't want them to see that side to him. It breaks his heart when they say 'I never thought of you as someone who would do that.' Lavellan reflects his best qualities, everything he loves, that is why she is literally his heart, and he can't bear to lose one of these final reflections of who he truly is. In Veilguard, Lavellan accurately points out that it's also because he knows that, with more time, they'd be able to make him give up his plans, like he almost did already. Ironically, it's only through this process of trying to restore the world of spirits that he too becomes more like a person.

Turning all these bonds into the second time all of this has happened to him does make his story in DAI less compelling. Solas never having been in love, never having been able to connect with non-spirits easily, is what all this change hinges on. Especially considering how close he came to abandoning his plans and doing what he wanted, which was to stay with his lover and friends. Quite simply, it does not make sense without it having been the first time he'd been in love, or bonded with non-spirits and come to appreciate personhood fully, because he'd never have risked falling in love or befriending anyone if he'd known. He himself says he tried not to.

Of course, it's mixed up with his feelings around personhood that defined many of his conflicts with Mythal. His relationship with Mythal, from his end, is largely underpinned by a yearning to return to a simpler time, when they were both spirits semi-existing in the Fade. No doubt Solas had many friends like her in the beginning; he is described as being very beloved by the spirits. His friends are all spirits with a 'shared heart'. Many of them were likely killed in the war, or given bodies and changed until he didn't recognise them anymore while he struggled with his own nature. It's what makes Solas's character so tragic.

So Mythal and Solas have this bond formed in something deeply primordial; I still really like my siphonophore analogy. They're fragments of a much larger cosmic body, children or fragments of the Maker. There's something very cosmically horrific about this; it quite literally cannot be compared to anything because we, the player, have no reference point for this. Spirits are meant to be weird and inhuman. They're meant to be abstract and difficult to understand. It's what makes them so damn cool.

So I think, no matter how hard some people try to spin the romance angle, it always comes off as reductive and frankly boring for them, not just because everything else we have is so much more interesting without it, but because romance inevitably eclipses everything else. People start to put them in neat little boxes--highly gendered boxes too. Furthermore, once sex and romance are involved, it becomes the motivating factor in every little interaction, intentionally or not. It doesn't have to, but few people are good enough at writing romance to avoid doing this. Either the devs were aware of this and this is partly why they avoided going down that road with Solas and Mythal--like they abandoned the apparently intended path of Solas being under a geas--or they just couldn't figure out a way of including a romance there without letting it eclipse everything else. So it's not canon. It's just vague, which I think they lean on far too heavily, but that's a different matter.

This isn't meta about shipping, but I do think that this is why shipping can be detrimental to enjoying a piece of media. Shipping is fun, but it very quickly becomes repetitive. I don't know how many times I've seen the same tropes thrown around in fandom again and again. People sometimes twist characters so much to fit a ship that they lose what the character was originally about, and this can be annoying when you love a character and the lore so much.

Considering how poor fandom can be at reading the actual content, it doesn't surprise me that some people choose to interpret it in the most simplistic and demystified way possible.

THAT SAID I do have another post in my drafts about how mysteriously Solas and Lavellan's relationship is portrayed in DATV, but that's kind of in a very different vein and I'm not done with it yet. I still need to mull it over a little more.

[flowery-mess]

the bet: part two

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / punching / slaping / a bet related to a sexual topic made by Noah's friends, but no actual harm to the reader - consider whether to continue if this topic is sensitive for you.

Words: 2,1k

Author's note: please read warnings for this one! I wouldn't want to upset anyone and as always let me know if there's anything else that should be tagged!

the bet: part one | frat boy Noah masterlist

✨This two part fic takes place just a few weeks into Noah and Ella’s friendship with benefits, so it’s kind of a flashback story. In their storyline this would happen before the “uh oh” one shot.✨

“Hi, you’re Ella right?” tall man with long hair approached you next to the bar when you were getting a drink for yourself.

“Hi, yeah. I’m sorry, do I know you?” you answered, not sure if you already knew this man or not, feeling bad if you forgot.

“No I don’t think we officially met, I’m Jolly, Noah’s friend.” you shook his hand and smiled at him.

“Ah, okay.” you didn’t really know where this was going, you haven’t officially met any of Noah’s friends and didn’t feel any need to when your and Noah’s relationship wasn’t anything serious to meet his close friends.

“Do you wanna sit with us? Noah just went to grab something from his car. He'll be back in a minute.” uh oh, hanging out with his friends without him? It didn’t feel right, but you panicked and said yes.

“Hey everyone, this is Ella. Ella, this is Nick, Folio and Matt.” he pointed to each of the guys with each name he said. You noticed some girls sitting there with them, but they were probably not part of the friend group.

“That’s Noah’s spot, you can sit there.” Nick pointed to the empty space on the red couch and you sat down enough for Noah to have room when he comes back. On your right was a girl with long black hair that introduced herself as Nina.

You listened to their conversation, being on the shy side you didn’t really join them and rather stayed listening. You cursed yourself out for joining them in the first place and scanned the room for anyone you could know and use as an excuse for leaving. Before you could do that, you heard Folio calling your name.

“Shit sorry, I wasn’t listening. What did you say?” you told him.

“That’s okay. I was just asking you the same question as everyone else, if you feel comfortable answering of course.” he told you first, shifting in his seat before spilling his question, “What is the most orgasms you had in one night?”

“What?” you didn’t hide the shock on your face, feeling uncomfortable from the stares of everyone.

“You don’t have to answer.” Nina told you and squeezed your hand in a supportive way.

“Why would you ask that?” you were confused and kind of offended by that question, but tried to look casual.

“Just curious.” Folio shrugged his shoulders.

“Because these assholes had a bet a few years ago about who can make the girl they sleep with have the most orgasms in one night. Ignore him, they’re stupid.”

You turned to face Nina, but you were left speechless.

“Can you give me another one?” from last week replayed in your head and Noah’s face flashed in front of your eyes. It couldn’t be, right? He wouldn’t.

When Noah walked back inside the house and saw you sitting with his friends, he froze. You were sitting with your back facing him, but he didn’t have a good feeling.

“Ella?” he said with uneasy feeling when he reached the group.

It took him one look at your face and he knew you knew. You didn’t say a word to any of them and started walking towards the door.

“What did you tell her?” Noah’s eyes went immediately to Folio.

“Bro I just-” Noah didn’t even let him finish the sentence, just yelled “Fuck you!” and turned around to go after you.

He saw you walking in the direction of your dorm so he started running to catch you before you could go inside.

“Ella!” he tried getting your attention, “Ella! Wait, please!”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him running after you, so you started walking faster, not wanting him to see you cry.

You didn’t make it to your dorm fast enough, you felt Noah’s hand around your arm so you stopped walking.

“Ella, I-”

“You what? What do you want, Noah?” you didn’t let him finish, not wanting to hear any of his excuses.

“Let me explain, please?”

“What is there to explain?” you looked at him with tears in your eyes, feeling humiliated. By him and by his friends.

“I don’t know what they told you but I promise it’s not true.”

“Oh really? So you don’t have a bet with your friends?”

“No. I mean yes, but no.”

When you didn’t say anything and just looked at him with a look full of sadness and anger he continued.

“We had a bet, but we stopped with it years ago. Folio brought it up last week and I’m an idiot for not shutting it down immediately. I’m an fucking idiot okay? I said yes, but I never told them anything. I never talked with them about you, I promise. I would never do that. I paid them their fucking money to shut up, I didn’t expect them to talk to you about it. I’m sorry Ella, really.”

“What?” you whispered, trying to understand what the fuck he just said.

“I didn’t tell them anything and I swear I didn’t plan to. They have their money and I promise you they’ll never talk about it again.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better, Noah?” you asked him, feeling really stupid right now.

Tears continued to run down your cheeks and Noah wanted nothing more than go back and punch his best friends.

“I promise I never wanted to hurt you.”

“What we did last week,” you took breath before you could finish your sentence, “was just because of this bet, right?”

Noah didn’t have to answer, the silence and his guilty look said it for him.

“Oh, okay.” you nodded and turned around to walk away from him.

“Wait.” he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, but you were quick enough to land a slap to his left cheek.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Noah.” and with that you ran up the stairs that lead to your dorm and left Noah standing there by himself.

—

That night you couldn’t fall asleep and Noah didn’t stop calling you until 4AM.

After you ran away from him, he went back to the house and had a fight with Folio who ended up with a black eye.

On Monday you thought about faking being sick to get out of sociology class to avoid Noah and his friends, but you didn’t.

When you entered the class you already saw Noah and his two friends, Matt and Folio, sitting in their usual places. You tried to avoid eye contact with all of them, but you saw Folio’s face and the ashamed look on his face when he saw you. He immediately turned his head down, as if he was the one who should feel ashamed.

Then you saw Noah, he was looking at you, seeking any reaction from you, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

You sat with Molly and Clara and didn’t turn to spare him any more looks for the rest of the class.

It went like this for three more weeks, you avoided him at school, at parties if you went and didn’t pick any of his calls or replied to his messages.

Until one Friday night. Noah saw you walk in the direction of a bathroom, so he followed you, feeling like a creep waiting for you outside. When you opened the door and wanted to leave he stopped you.

“5 minutes. Give me 5 minutes and then I’ll leave you alone.” to this day you’re sure it was the alcohol in your system that let you let him take you back to the bathroom and lock the door.

“I know you’re angry, I would be too. Before we left that night, Folio brought the bet up after a long time. We used to do it in our first year with girls we took home for a hookup. He and the boys were mocking me and telling me we should start doing it again. They asked about you, but I promise I didn’t tell them anything. Before or after the night.” he spoke quickly, scared he’ll run out of time and you’ll leave.

“I don’t wanna blame it on them or on the alcohol, but I was an idiot and said yes, but I regretted it immediately. I felt bad even when we left, but after we started kissing I forgot about the stupid bet and just wanted to feel good. To make you feel good. I didn’t expect you to let me do what we did in the cab and it just made me eager to get more from you, but because I wanted it. I never had this kind of relationship with anyone before, because no other girl ever made me feel like I want to take her home again. I enjoyed the night we spent together and I hope you did too. I wouldn’t take it back, spending that time with you. The next day I texted them I’m not part of that bet anymore and that they can have my money to shut up about it.” he reached for his phone and showed you their group chat from the day after that night.

You didn’t need him to prove to you his actions like this, but it was nice seeing he told you the truth. The other guys tried to get information from him, but he didn’t say anything except that he won’t tell them any more details about his sex life.

“I thought that was it, that they’re gonna stop or continue without me. I didn’t expect them to talk to you about it, because I didn’t think they were that stupid. I promise  I never had bad intentions with you and I never told them anything about you. I’m sorry for this whole thing and I’ll understand if you want to end this and stop seeing each other.” he finished his speech and looked at you with puppy eyes.

You didn’t know what to say, you believed him he was sorry and that he didn’t tell his friends anything about you. By the way Folio was so open with speaking his mind, you’d know if he knew something.

You also didn’t want to be sad and angry over some bet made by stupid frat boys, who in the end, didn’t get anything from it.

“Did you give Folio that black eye?” you asked Noah.

“Yeah, right after we had that fight.”

“And he still talks to you?”

“What? He deserved it.” Noah was confused with your reaction, but anything was better than silence.

“It was stupid and it hurt me. I felt humiliated when Nina told me about the bet. Even if you didn’t tell them anything, you’re still an idiot.”

“I am.” he agreed. “Folio wants to apologize to you too by the way.”

“Oh, didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah.” Noah put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, not sure what to do with them as silence took over the small room.

“I accept your apology Noah, but I don’t think I can go back to how it used to be. Not now, I need time to process all of this.”

—

The next day Folio stood at your door with flowers in his hands and looked at a child who did something bad with Noah behind him, like his dad making sure the apology is delivered.

His apology was surprisingly good and seemed honest that you accepted it and the flowers.

You also never told about any of this to Molly and Clara, because you were sure Molly would bite all of their heads off.

It took you more time to get over this completely and also information from Nina that after that night they agreed to end with that bet for good.

Noah stopped spamming you with texts and calls, only sent you funny videos from time to time.

You only spent a few nights with him before it all went downhill, but you missed it. He seemed like a nice guy to be around, you always had something to talk about before you fell asleep and he always had midnight snacks ready.

It also took a few Fridays of just making out in the bathroom in the frat house or in the back of his car until you let him take you back to his place again.

Looking back at it you can share a laugh about the situation and you made Noah promise to never do shit like that again, but you’re glad you decided to give him a second chance, because you both became each other’s close person and your friendship grew into something more than just friends with benefits with time.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨��✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

@lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls

If you want to be tagged, click here

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (23)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, manipulation, blackmailing and threats ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Alys had always known that, like any bastard child, she could only rely on herself. Her existence was merely an unfortunate accident to her father and brothers, with which they nevertheless came to terms, and she, in their minds, should be grateful for being allowed to stay and serve in Harrenhal.

Indeed, she never considered herself to have been significantly harmed by fate.

Compared to women who had to sell their bodies for money in order to survive, her function as herbalist and wet nurse completely satisfied her.

Milk filled her breasts along with the baby that one of the guards had put inside her. When he pressed her against the wall and lifted her gown, panting that he had desired her for a long time she did not stand up to him, even helping him by bending over and spreading the folds of her womanhood before him so that he could more easily hit the right spot with the thick tip of his length.

This particular man never aroused her desire, however, he supervised her chambers, and since she allowed him to enjoy the pleasures of her body, he closed his eyes to when and where she went out, giving her more freedom.

His wife, however, was not comforted by the fact that her husband had a mistress.

She could not conclude that her husband was a good lover; his hands only clenched greedily on her firm breasts, his thrusts violent, fast and deep. She knew that as he chased his fulfilment hissing that he would fill her with his seed, it did not even cross his mind to touch her between her thighs or ask what would give her pleasure.

She did not, however, resent him.

She recognised that this was how men were.

Although she tried not to think about it, the sight of his wife, one of her father's servants, filled her with remorse, for although she knew that this woman did not love him, she humiliated her every time she took away what belonged to her.

She had nothing to justify it, but she knew that if she told him to stop she would arouse his anger and his behaviour towards her would change.

He might want to take revenge on her for rejecting him.

She couldn't allow this to happen.

What he didn't know was that he wasn't the only man she allowed to sink between her thighs for the benefit; it was easier and sometimes even more enjoyable than trying to bribe them with money, which she didn't have much of anyway. What she was able to do perfectly was to observe people from the sidelines − their reactions and desires, coming to her own conclusions about what they needed and wanted.

Usually these men wanted not only sensation and elation, but also reassurance, a warm word and understanding; they lay with their faces cuddled between her breasts, muttering for her to stroke their heads, and she did so, allowing them to turn from men into innocent children for a moment.

The women in the fortress began to whisper among themselves that the ease with which she seduced men and with which she maintained her beauty despite her age was due to the fact that she was a witch.

She smiled piteously as she strolled through the corridors of the fortress, overhearing their conversations from afar, hearing about the potions she gave to poor, unaware men so they could not forget her, that she bathed in milk and blood to keep her face young and bright.

She did not deny the accusations, because she derived satisfaction from the fact that they feared and avoided her.

Fear, however, also tended to provoke interest and curiosity, and the young, newly arrived servants who were just learning their trade could not tell what they thought of her.

When she needed a break from the men's sweat and their aggressive, deep thrusts she sought peace and solace in the arms of young girls, much more gentle and understanding when it came to the nature of female fulfilment, their sweet moans and surprised expressions as she caressed them made her feel a pleasant pulsation between her thighs.

Although the prospect of becoming a mother did not fill her with particular joy, when she woke up one morning, feeling a pool of wetness under her thighs and saw blood, the squeeze in her throat and the tears she felt under her eyelids were proof that some part of her hoped she could love this innocent creature that was growing inside her womb.

This did not happen, however, and she, not wanting to waste her milk, from which her breasts had already swollen, decided to feed the children whose mothers had too little nourishment.

She considered her life quite prosperous and peaceful until her father and half-brother died in a fire.

Until Larys became the Lord of Harrenhal.

Everyone, including her, feared him.

He was like a writhing viper, tightening slowly around the necks of those who aroused his suspicions, his gaze black and completely blank, as if he experienced nothing, felt nothing inside himself.

He could not be seduced, appeased, pleaded with, persuaded.

He was like a stone, merciless, cruel, taking satisfaction in domination and power.

She never got in his way.

One evening, however, he summoned her to his chamber, and she feared what he desired.

When she stepped inside he was sitting at the table, having just eaten his evening meal. He smiled slightly at her in a way that made her feel the cold sweat on her back; his eyes remained indifferent, glowing mischievously in the firelight.

"Sit down, sister. I wish to discuss something with you." He said softly, and she swallowed hard, keeping an indifferent, satisfied face, looking at him from under half-closed eyelids. She sat down opposite him in one of the chairs, spreading out comfortably in her seat, sighing quietly and nodded for him to speak.

"We will have guests of honour. Prince Aemond and his wife will be arriving here within two days to spend the night here and then head off the next morning to meet Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon." He said calmly, putting a few pieces of cake from the tray onto his plate, with a hand gesture he encouraged her to eat as well, but she shook her head, analysing his words quickly.

She had heard of them.

Prince Aemond had married and taken his niece's maidenhood on the same night he chose Maris Baratheon as his wife.

His brother the King, to save the situation, married them in the eyes of the Seven before an enraged Borros Baratheon could arrive in King's Landing demanding justice.

There would not have been all the commotion if Prince Aemond had taken her as his second wife, but he clearly only wished to have one, therefore, Maris was sent away with only a dowry and humiliation.

Her half-brother continued, seeing the lack of response on her part.

"I want you to host them well. Both of them, if you understand what I have in mind. Myself and his grandfather do not believe in the success of their mission. Like most of the kingdom we know how it will end: with a war. A war we wish to win. However, our Prince, if I may say so, does not think with his mind now, but rather with what he has between his thighs. He gives in to his wife and her persuasions to bring about a reconciliation. I know you are well acquainted with human nature and will surely win both her trust and his heart."

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at her fingers, trying to hide the horror and squeeze in her stomach she felt.

He wanted to expose her, to put her head under the Prince's sword if it turned out that her attempts would only enrage him, and he could wash his hands of everything.

"In any case, in a few days' time the matter of the succession will resolve itself with the help of my birds in the Eyrie. They know what to do. Of course, I'll let our Prince believe that his decision matters, however, everything is already arranged. I hope this should settle the matter. With the help of the gods, the girl might try to take her own life for the second time. Let us raise our cups for that." He said lightly, as if indeed such a course of events would please him the most; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking that she had not even noticed when he had become such a disgusting creature.

A monster that, like a black, empty hole, was consuming everything around him, destroying it and crushing it.

She wasn't in a position to refuse, and he knew it.

That was why she walked out with him to greet their guests, thinking she would simply do what he ordered her to do.

She blinked as the figure of a petite, pretty girl jumped down from the shimmering blue and silver dragon, her long, dark hair of a shade similar to hers tied into a braid, its unruly strands dishevelled by the long journey through the skies.

She stepped out in front of them, breathing heavily, her eyes big, full of curiosity and uncertainty, her gaze warm, kind, her cheeks all flushed from exertion. She stopped in front of them and forced herself into an innocent, almost childlike smile, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

Gods, have mercy.

"Your Grace. What a joy." Said her brother. The girl blinked, not knowing for a moment what to answer, shifting from foot to foot.

"My Lord Strong. Thank you for being willing to host us." She muttered at last, clearly tense − her was voice pleasant, melodious, soft, the kind that gives comfort with ease, brings peace of mind.

They all turned their faces towards the approaching figure as they heard his footsteps; Prince Aemond in his long black leather coat and black eye patch indeed looked like someone menacing, commanding, as powerful as the great dragon he was riding.

What immediately caught her attention was that as his gaze traveled over their faces he stopped at his wife, assessing her figure from afar as if quickly examining whether she had suffered any damage after such a long journey and whether she was well.

He must have evidently concluded that she was, for his gaze turned after a moment towards her brother.

"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters."

The Prince and her brother moved first, followed by his wife, looking around the interior of their fortress with genuine curiosity, not even listening to what her brother was saying.

She didn't even notice that her uncle was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, checking that she was near and in no danger.

She thought he would sooner stab her in the heart than take her to his bed.

Her brother opened the door of the chamber that had been prepared for him, the largest in the entire fortress, not coincidentally located close to hers. The Prince, however, did not look impressed; his lips pressed into a thin line in disapproval when he heard that Lord Strong had assigned his wife other quarters.

"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." He said coolly, as if the very suggestion was offensive and insulting to him.

He had kept her with him the whole time, she thought in disbelief, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the girl standing next to her.

She stood, gazing at her uncle as if she were looking at a statue of one of the gods; her bright, shining eyes large and filled with affection, devotion, longing, even though, after all, he was standing in front of her, at her fingertips.

She realised, swallowing quietly, that he had not taken her by force the night he married her or any night after.

How long had they looked at each other like this?

"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you." Her brother replied.

Prince Aemond then looked at his niece with a gaze as if he was about to explode − his wife pressed her lips into a thin line, immediately understanding what the expression on his face was meant to convey to her, her look of understanding and sigh was meant to add to his patience.

His gaze softened and after a moment he nodded, letting her go.

The girl looked at her, so she smiled quickly and pointed with her hand the way they should go to her quarters. Before moving behind her she looked at her husband, the Prince leading her away with a cold, sharp gaze.

Overwhelmed by this revelation, no longer knowing herself what she thought of it or what she should do in such a situation, she simply followed her into the room, closing the door behind her. She watched quietly as the prince's wife walked to the window, placing her hand on the glass, and smiled slightly, noticing something outside.

Had she been like this all the time?

"Do you desire to change into something…more comfortable, Your Grace?" She asked finally, recognising that she needed to start any light conversation, to try and understand who was standing in front of her.

The girl shuddered and blinked, as if forgetting her presence for a moment, turning to face her. She nodded, forcing herself to smile, unsure and embarrassed, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex.

"Yes. What do they call you?" She asked lightly and kindly, willingly shortening the distance between them, which surprised her.

Usually women of her ilk took satisfaction in calling her Lady Rivers, reminding her every time that she was a bastard.

But she, even if she was married to the Prince, was also one.

She was her relative, her brother's daughter.

She swallowed hard at that thought, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

"Alys, Your Grace."

She lowered her gaze, as if pondering something for a moment, and then her bright eyes looked at her again.

She thought with pain that she was like a small flower, a daisy or a forget-me-not, which one picked to weave into one's hair, to feel as innocent as a little child again.

"I would not wish to… misunderstand who you are and what you have in common with Lord Strong, Alys." She muttered with some sort of embarrassment, from which she involuntarily burst out laughing.

Good gods.

"I am not his mistress. I am his relative, though I do not bear his name, as any bastard would." She said softly, amused; her gaze shifted, her brow furrowed in concern and curiosity.

She knew what she was going to ask her, she could feel it in her bones.

"Did you know my father?"

She named him as her father even though she was officially Laenor Velaryon's daughter.

She admitted to her that she too was a bastard without a grimace of embarrassment.

"Yes, Princess."

Her whole body tensed, her hands clenched into fists.

"His death wasn't an unfortunate ordeal, was it?" She asked in a trembling voice, and her lips involuntarily lifted in a dangerous smirk at the thought that her directness was surprising her.

Was this how she spoke to her husband?

Was this how she forced her way into his heart?

"There are no such thing as unfortunate ordeals, Your Grace."

A silence fell between them filled with the weight of their words and what they meant; she licked her lips involuntarily, feeling that she was incapable of denying herself the pleasure of having to see her reaction to her words.

To see if she was right.

"After the word has reached us here all the way from King's Landing, I have been looking forward to our meeting with impatience, and while I will admit that it is not what I expected, I am beginning to understand your husband's desperation." She said with amusement, feeling a tingle in her fingertips and in her lower abdomen at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

"What do you mean?" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed; however, it was not shame feigned and exalted, but more an expression of genuine surprise and excitement at her words.

"Men are easily driven to desperation, though it usually takes time. They like to gain and take pride in what they have conquered; the greater, in their mind, the value of what they enclose in their embrace, the less they are willing to let it go." She said calmly, turning her head away, immersed in her own thoughts.

"Your husband follows you with his thoughts even when he is not looking at you. His head, even when he is not speaking to you, is directed towards you so that he can see you out of the corner of his eye. When he feels discomfort, he involuntarily seeks your face to experience understanding and comfort."

She looked at her, wanting to see her reaction, and sighed almost imperceptibly, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at the sight of her parted, plump lips, her dreamy, hot gaze.

She knew that she had felt something at her words, that it had taken deep root in her heart and made her return with her thoughts to her husband.

Was this how she had looked at him when he made love to her?

She could not imagine that he could take her maidenhood brutally and cruelly, that he would allow her to cry beneath him in pain.

No, she thought − he surely took her with slow, lazy thrusts of his hips, letting her get used to his shape deep inside her, assuring her in a whisper that just a little more.

She felt a strong throbbing and tickling between her thighs at that thought and licked her lips, looking up at her again − her gaze lowered meekly to the stone floor, a soft, thoughtful smile on her face.

She decided on second thought, helping her change into one of her gowns, touching her soft skin, smelling the wonderful scent of vanilla in her nostrils, that she would braid the most elaborate hairstyle she could think of on her head, just so she wouldn't have to leave her chamber before supper.

She knew that her half-brother expected her to then take the opportunity to venture into the Prince's chambers to make sure he was not missing anything.

Therefore, she began to braid her soft, long, dark hair, creating a beautiful, complicated hairstyle surrounding her head.

She escorted her to the proper quarters and bowed, Larys gave her one impatient look.

She felt a cold sweat on her back, leaving immediately.

He was not pleased.

She thanked the gods that the Prince's wife had summoned her herself, wishing her help with her bath, giving her another reason not to head to her husband's chambers.

She thought that if she went on like this perhaps the situation would work out in such a way that she simply wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything, though even if she did she wasn't sure Larys would believe her.

As she walked into her chamber she saw that she herself was trying to untie her bodice, so she approached her, undoing the tangles with ease, looking at her face with curiosity.

"Was the Prince pleased with his wife's appearance, Your Grace?" She asked softly, noticing from the corner of her eye that the girl had lowered her gaze, ashamed and saddened.

"Yes. Though he expressed his opinion that he prefers it when my hair is loose." She said with resignation, and she couldn't stop the smile that appeared on her face.

Of course, she thought.

The sight of her loose hair reminded him fondly of how it had been spread in disarray around her head, shining in the darkness of his chamber as he fucked her greedily.

"Oh, that's understandable. He surely associates it with your intimacy and closeness, as any man would. The entwined curls and braids are for those around you, meanwhile the softness of your hair, the smell of them, the sight of them spread on the bed is something meant only for him." She replied lightly, for some reason wanting to lift her spirits and comfort her; she heard her move in place, the sweet blush appearing on her cheeks again.

She was embarrassed, she thought with disbelief and tenderness, as if she were looking at a small child.

She was so innocent.

Was that what attracted him to her?

The idea that he was surrounding her with himself like a dark cloak, devouring her again and again?

"You know a lot about men…don't you?" She heard her uncertain, curious voice; she looked at her in the reflection of the mirror, noticing that she immediately lowered her gaze, as if she could not bear the intensity with which she was looking at her.

"Yes, Princess."

"Have you seduced many yet?" She asked intrigued, and she smiled again involuntarily.

"Yes."

When her gown finally fell to the floor she saw her girlish, pleasing curves peeking through from under her nightgown. She watched as, with a light, confident step, she walked over to the bath and bore herself into the hot water, tilting her head back, sighing in relief, her head still adorned with the braids she had woven herself.

Such a pretty little thing.

"I would like to … make my husband happy tonight. I know he needs relief from what's about to happen tomorrow. However, I can't do it, at least for now, in the way I usually do." She mumbled out at last, looking at her with those big, warm eyes of hers, seeing in her apparently her guide, someone who could help her with these complicated and intimate matters.

She felt a pleasant squeeze in her lower abdomen at the idea that popped into her head.

"The easiest thing to do in that case would be for you to use your mouth." She replied amused, drawing out of her exactly the reaction she wanted − her cheeks turned scarlet, her gaze fled downwards, her tiny long fingers clenched into small fists.

She was wonderfully embarrassed, so sweet that he would have gladly shown her everything, step by step.

"I'm…inexperienced in these matters." She confessed with shame, and she involuntarily licked her lower lip with her tongue, feeling the throbbing between her thighs at her words, her nipples hardening under the material of her gown.

Gods.

"I see." She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad as she moved slowly towards her, her surprised gaze lifting to her as she knelt right next to her tub, cupping her wrist in her hand.

Her skin was as soft as silk.

Her gaze escaped involuntarily to her breasts, now perfectly visible through the wet material of her shirt clinging to her bare flesh; she felt a tickle in her swollen lips at the thought that she longed to lick and caress them.

She was sure that as he teased and sucked her nipples she moaned sweetly beneath him, begging for more, and he always, always gave in to her.

Because how could he refuse her?

"I can show you how you should do it, if that's what you wish, Your Grace."

She saw her pupils dilate in disbelief, her lips parted as she swallowed hard, her chest beginning to rise and fall in accelerated breaths.

"…How?"

She couldn't stop the smirk that appeared on her lips, nor what she did next.

She heard her sigh quietly, surprised and thrilled when her lips ran over her pointing finger, enveloping her skin with her hot breath.

"Imagine that this is his manhood. Men don't say it out loud because pride won't let them, but they adore it when a woman shows them with gentle, tender caresses." She whispered, running her swollen lips up and down her finger leaving a sticky, warm trail of her saliva on it, surprised at how wet it made her between her thighs, how wonderfully arousing it was, how obscene it was.

She heard her draw in a deep breath without moving away, but as she guided the tip of her finger between her lips, teasing and licking it lightly with her tongue, out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her thighs clenched in some helpless, subconscious reflex.

What other reactions could she draw from her?

"− and then − when he begins breathing faster − when you feel he's completely ready −" She sighed quietly as she suddenly slipped her whole finger deep into her mouth, feeling her swollen folds pulsate hard again and again as she began to suck it in slow, steady movements with the quiet click of her saliva.

She heard her gasp on the verge of a moan as her tongue began to trail over her skin with her low murmur of satisfaction, her free hand involuntarily sliding down to the material of her gown, wanting to slip under it and bring herself to fulfilment with her own touch.

She slipped her finger out of her mouth with a loud plop and looked up at her − her face all flushed, her gaze dreamy, hesitant and warm, as if she herself didn't know what she felt or why.

Something in her gaze made a pleasurable heat spill over her lower abdomen as she dug her own fingers into her fleshy folds, all sticky with her moisture, pulsing aggressively with her every stroke in pleasure.

"− you pretty little thing − it’s usually him taking care of you, isn’t it? − he can’t deny himself − I can’t blame him −" She whispered, trying not to move her hips so that she wouldn't notice anything; she lost the battle with herself as she felt herself getting closer and closer to fulfilment, pushing against her own slit with the tips of her fingers.

Unfortunately, it turned out that her husband was more vigilant than she thought.

When he burst into his wife's chamber she barely had time to remove her hand from under her own skirt and let go of her, standing quickly and bowing before him.

"My Prince."

"− get out −" He growled, and she walked out obediently, grateful in spirit to the gods that he hadn't stopped her to question her, that he hadn't noticed the glistening wetness on her fingers.

Or he saw it and it infuriated him, she thought with amusement, feeling her heart pounding like a mad in her chest.

She finished what she had started in her chamber, bringing herself to fulfilment with sure, swift strokes of her fingers, driving their tips into her sensitive, fleshy womanhood, able now to afford to moan and rock her hips, imagining her body peeking through from under her wet nightgown.

She imagined that she knelt before him to lunge and soothe him, that she barely fit his fat cock in her small mouth, all swollen from the desire she had always aroused in him, that this proud, dark, cold man whimpered before her like a small, innocent boy when he finally gave in, thrusting again and again deep into her warm throat.

She came with a low moan of relief, panting heavily, hugging her face into the pillow, rocking her hips for a while longer, slowly coming down from her peak.

She was sure that as she lay half asleep, feeling a blissful, pleasant peace, she heard their moans in the distance and grinned involuntarily.

Of course he forgave her.

He always did.

She often had dreams whose meaning she did not understand; she saw people she had never met before, observing events that might as well have happened in the future or in the past. That night, however, her dream particularly troubled and worried her, as she had no idea what it actually meant.

Two streams of blood finally merging into one, flowing like a river, which then, however, became a lake that reminded her of a dragon's head in a crown, only to spill over after a while, and she saw nothing but red.

Was this what was about to happen?

Would Princess Rheanyra and Prince Daemon be murdered and another dragon's reign begin upon their blood?

She swallowed hard, thinking of that young, cheerful girl, of how obvious it was that she was not aware of anything, that whatever her uncle-husband knew, he had not shared it with her.

She thought that if he betrayed her, she would wilt like a flower, fade like the sun in a setting sky.

She stood up and headed for his chamber.

His gaze expressed nothing less than disgust and rage at the sight of her. He reached for his tunic, dressing it hurriedly, tense and pale, knowing full well what was to happen if the negotiations did not bring the results he hoped for.

She wondered if he realised that even if he didn't give the order, they would be murdered anyway.

"You will betray her." She said indifferently, and he threw her a quick, horrified look, his nostrils quivering in disbelief.

He knew perfectly well what she was referring to.

She thought that sometimes all it took was a gentle push, putting a mirror in front of someone's face to make them think carefully again about whether they were ready for the consequences of their choices.

"You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most. You will break her. You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again. You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing. You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death."

She said and grinned, seeing that he shuddered all over, that his mask had cracked, his lips parted as if he wanted to groan in despair.

She knew he saw it in his mind, felt it in his heart, and she left his chamber without a word.

She let out a loud breath as she walked down the empty corridor, thinking with some kind of hope that her words, the vision she had invented to break him would terrify him enough to make him fall to his knees before his wife and confess everything he knew.

And if he doesn't, if in fact he betrays her, it will prove that he was never worthy of her.

She had come to her summons when she wished to clothe herself; she saw, crossing the threshold of her quarters, that she too was frightened and anxious, only for completely different reasons.

She wished for them to come to an understanding.

She believed it was possible.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought, at the realisation that she was alone in a world where everyone but her craved war, craved power, craved the throne.

She did not look at her face, at the clear command of her husband not allowing herself any closer proximity to her, which she accepted with understanding.

After she had fastened the buckles of her leather coat, however, she allowed herself to take her soft hand in her own, stroking it with her thumb.

She hesitated and furrowed her brow, but before she could move away, she began to speak, forcing herself to whisper, fearing that her brother's servants might have heard her.

"Do not return here. Fly from the Eyrie straight to King's Landing. I saw in my dream a river of blood taking the shape of a dragon's head wearing a crown. I saw red flooding everything around me." She said quickly, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She thought in disbelief that she pitied this girl.

"This warning, these words, are my gift to you. Look after yourself. Trust no one."

[sophie-frm-mars]

Queer Culture is an orphan culture

Queer people aren't normally born into families of other queer people, so the way that for example the culture of racialised people can pass down intergenerationally, this doesn't happen for queer people. The advice for surviving as queer doesn't pass down to queer kids the way that advice for surviving white supremacy passes from racialised parents to racialised kids or advice for surviving patriarchy passes from mothers to daughters. The way that elders in racialised communities can guide the resolution of conflicts or harmful patterns or older women can advise younger women, we don't have that. We have an orphan culture.

Immediately we will say that this is what queer elders are for, and this is true, but it isn't the same. We aren't raised in families with any kind of consistent framework for what it means to be us, in fact we're often raised by families that try to actively stop us from being ourselves. There will never be as many elders (who are actively engaging responsibly in their roles as community elders) as younger queers and even if there were they can't be in those younger queers' lives in the way that a parent ideally is from birth.

I'm not saying this to undersell the value of found family, or the ways that found family relationships can be robust and long lasting and bigger than interpersonal turbulence the way family is supposed to be. If anything, I want to stress how important the role of queer elders is, because in a lot of smaller queer communities elders just don't exist. A queer elder isn't just a queer person who has been around a while, they're someone who chooses to take responsibility for the younger people around them by sharing the lessons they've learned and providing the benefits of greater life experience to others.

In smaller queer communities, older queers may choose not to act as elders because if they did they would be seen as responsible for everyone. There has to be a critical mass of older queers before all of them feel safe to engage with community as queer elders. I was outlining this to a friend in Seattle, talking about how barren of elder queers most UK queer communities are, and she said "oh yeah I live down the road from an LGBT retirement community. I know a bunch of queers in their 40s and 50s." In more queer friendly areas of the US, communities aren't just bigger: they contain more of our collective gathered knowledge and history.

In some places the orphan culture is more pronounced, and in some places it is partly remedied by the presence of elders. For many queers, we either learn the lessons about the patterns that shape our communities by reading about them in books and online, or we learn about them the hard way - by repeating them.

My dad had a brain tumour that was diagnosed when I was less than a year old. The effects of the tumour and the surgery to remove it completely transformed him as a person. Growing up I got to know about who he had been through stories that people told me. I identified ways that I was similar to him not by seeing him being like me, but from those stories. Seeing social media dissections of transmisogyny, advice columns from queer authors, endless discourses about mental health in queer communities, I feel the same way I felt learning stories about my dad before he was sick.

I think young queer people cling to queer people of note they see in the public sphere in that same way. It isn't an adequate substitute for a parent who can teach you about who you are, but it's often all we have. Even if those publicly visible queers aren't focussed on queer politics, even if they don't give the kind of support that elders provide to communities, even if they have no experience to draw from and no advice to give, they will inevitably be looked up to by a tonne of young queer strangers, because we're all orphans trying to raise ourselves and each other at the same time.

[bornfreediedcaged]

i think the original sin writers just do not like Brian because why has every part of Harry’s and Dexter’s lore changed to make Brian seem like the most evil child in the world before his mother died? why are we making it so that Laura loved Dexter more and wasn't just one of many informants that Harry slept with like it was very clear in the original series that she was? did we forget that Debra even said that she thought he picked out informants that he would want to fuck? are we forgetting that Harry literally calls Dexter a monster throughout his entire childhood and neglects Debra throughout the entirety of hers? Brian isn't a good person by any means but neither is Harry and that’s like a pretty big theme in the original series. also making the child the villain in that situation was so weird and distasteful considering that Laura was just murdered, he sat there for three days in her blood trying to get his baby brother not to go up and disturb her body. Brian has not only every right to be upset and a little out of control but every right to be upset with Harry because he’s the reason Laura confessed, he's the reason she went to Estrada and got followed and he’s the reason Estrada’s men suspected him because he grabbed Dexter because him, a grown ass man who hypocritically scolds his adopted son for this later on in life, doesn't know what impulse control is.

the complete change of Brian’s lore was just to make it seem like Harry tried, when he very clearly didn’t, and i don’t want to hear about “but the original story told was from Dexter’s perspective so it has flaws” like original sin isn’t? Sure you see a couple extra scenes but you see those in Dexter too. Brian literally says the story of how it happened himself and he is clearly old enough to remember that this was happening, it is just very clear retconning on their part considering it’s the first season they’ve decided to completely flip on it’s ass. Harry could have not cheated on his wife and banged multiple vulnerable women and strung out drug addicts but he didn’t, he could have not abandoned one child for being too traumatised for him and sent him to the mental hospital but he doesn’t, Harry is just a bad person, he’s not even a good father all he does that benefits Dexter is teach him the code and that was partially made by Dr Vogel so he didn’t even do it himself. the fact they age Brian up two years is also in bad taste, Brian would have been five or six when it happened considering his original birthday was 17th of June 1968, they only do it so they can make Brian bad and not have people turning their heads like “are they demonising this baby?” because that is, in fact, what they’re doing.

i wish the original show runners didn’t leave in season six, now we have no long remembered details that Dexter actually remembers because now he’s a fucking goldfish I guess, no references to anything else, Dexter liking child rapists and murderers despite saying in the original series that the one thing he can’t accept is killing or harming children, IN THE FIRST EPISODE. (Ted Bundy, BTK, nightstalker, John Wayne Gacy, etc. etc.). all the unnecessary retcons, age ups and timeline inconsistencies aren’t just annoying they make the show borderline unwatchable along with all that corny animorph to baby Brian shit they do. they try to acknowledge themes in the original show but they really just don’t get the way the original show treats these themes or even what most of the themes are. okay peace

[bunnylives]

wait ok I remember on your old blog (staff burned the library of alexandria frfr) you were asked about bestie relationships like galex and piarles and you said they were strictly bestie relationships… NOT ANYMORE according to your chart‼

can you tell us about what's changed for both of those? we got a taste of galex in your art but i'm soooo curious how those relationships factor into the overall story…

Kdndbhdhdb I did change my mind because I found narrative traits that intrigued me quite a bit. For Charles and Pierre it's still only friendship they're gonna have going on but with additional benefits when Pierre and Yuki are on the cusp of a divorce (which they will pull back from dw dw they're obsessed with each other and will be very happy with their six kids it's just Franco was trying to meddle and ruin Pierre's life). Pierre knows Charles more than most, he's fully aware he's insane and is often the sole reasonable person Charles can turn to although Charles rarely takes his advice. It's also important to point out that Charles practiced on Pierre and vice versa in their youth, a bit similarly to how Carlos practiced on Teto when they were teenagers, but unlike them Charles and Pierre didn't lose their V cards to each other (Teto didn't lose his to Carlos either, he lost it to Sr but that's a secret).

But yeah Pierre is fully committed to Yuki and in reverse too, Franco just got him smashed and slept with him and took blackmailing pics to ruin Pierre after he refused to act as his lackey. Franco has planned to overtake Alpine fully, even married Briatore (and promptly offed him too after getting himself into that will) and he needed Pierre to be at his mercy hence why he meddled with his marriage but Yukierre will come out stronger from it. So yeah Pierre will cry between Charles' psycho legs but he'll feel weird about it and neither will fall in love or anything it's just an outlet for them.

As for Galex truth be told I didn't care about their narrative until I turned Alex over to the dark side. Alex has been by George's side since they were kids and he always wanted to one day marry him and be his alpha, but the presenting he oh so hoped for never came and George was an omega. He needed an alpha. Sure they played around a bunch in their youth but George remained a virgin until Toto bought him as his bride and Alex became a shoulder for George to cry on and a dick to ride on when his neglectful husband mistreated him over and over again. Alex wanted them to be much more but George never saw him as an endgame option realistically; one time when George went into heat but Alex didn't want him to leave and go to Toto or Lewis with it he tried to ease George through the heat despite how he was a beta but he did more harm than good.

George was panting and desperate and so sore after nearly two days of struggling with his heat locked in Alex's hotel room with him but he couldn't find the release he needed. He had to have an alpha; any alpha but most preferably his own alpha, that being toto, to soothe his ache. Which only grew more and more as Alex kept fucking him over and over again, thinking that should be enough, even coming inside, hoping a pregnancy would force his heat to stop but it wasn't fast enough. George was rubbed raw inside with no pleasure to soothe the pain until Toto showed up uninvited and took George's misery away.

Alex tried to protest first but George was delirious from the need and crawled at his husband's feet, begging for his knot and crying helplessly, defeated even though he didn't want to sink so low again for his husband. Alex couldn't bring himself to leave as he watched Toto fuck George on the messy hotel room bed, and with just one knotting he took all the pain away George has accumulated and he cried in relief. Toto ridiculed them both and made George take a plan B to get rid of Alex's potential child, telling him to take this as a lesson: Alex will never be good enough. And that was what turned Alex to the dark side, especially when Carlos came along and he proved to be enough....

Alex will also be able to marry George in TLLC after a very jealous Lewis puts twin alpha boys into George, following the birth of Gabriella, but George refuses to marry Lewis after all the mistreatment and settles for Alex who promises to let Carlos care for George the same way while they're married, giving him full reign when it comes to George's heats but of course, Alex does not keep to his word and George ends up leaving him but will have three kids with Alex! (I should post the George baby chart...)

[ilikekidsshows]

I'm just gonna say it but Lila's lies were never big deal. In Volpina they were harmless lies that in the long run no one cares about because a ton of people will tell stories that they know this celebrity or whatever. They're just that stories that everyone knows that are fake and don't care because they're fun and celebrities don't do anything about them either because there is no point and they're not the type of lies that harms a person in any meaningful way.

Hell I can even extend that to Chameleon with her lie about tinnitus which I get sometimes. All it is ringing in the ears that can mess with hearing and it's not constant. And all she asked for was a front seat which when it comes to accommodations is so minor that anyone will do. It's not like she that she needed someone to help her with anything which needs proof. So Marinette had no right to complain about it or do all the other stuff she did which made her own villain. Yet her defenders will scream that Marinette has to because lying is the worst thing on earth and Lila needs to be exposed and treated like a pariah. Apparently they've never heard of white lies and lies that are storytelling where calling them out makes you look a jerk when everyone might know this and don't care. I sure as hell wouldn't have cared and would've told Marinette that in her face.

Meanwhile Marinette can tell even worst lies that should damage the trust in everyone around her. You can't tell me that Marinette hates liars when she's the biggest liar of them all without any self awareness with how hypocritical it is.

---

“Lila was faking a disability!” Maripologists scream with no evidence, discussing a condition so common no one would ask a “doctor’s note” for it. It's like someone “faking a disability to get accommodations they don't deserve” should be a punishable offence with how big of a deal Maripologists make of it. Way to tell us they're the kind of people to pay attention to who parks in disabled spots and make a big deal every time the person isn’t visibly disabled. Maripoligists are ableist for thinking that Marinette merely suspecting Lila is faking a disability justifies the harassment in any way.

And yeah, people love to bring up Lila framing Marinette in ‘Ladybug’ or luring Cat Noir away in ‘Oni-chan’ to justify Marinette's behavior in 'Volpina' and ‘Chameleon', and that's strictly because Lila wasn't even doing anything that bad or a big deal at all before then and retroactive justification for bullying (aka, reacting badly to being bullied) is a concept cyberbullies like Maripologists adore. Maripologists love the idea of using your own bullying of someone to justify you bullying them in the first place. It's so morally backwards because they're literally working backwards to find s justification for something where Marinette did wrong first.

I will die on the hill that Lila was so not a problem in 'Volpina' or 'Chameleon'. Like, I’m sorry, but saying “she's not all that” about the overhyped local superhero celebrity is not a punishable offence, because, like, I agree. Ladybug was never on any of my top favorite heroes lists even when I bought into her hype and thought she was doing a good job. People are allowed to have opinions other than “Marinette is the best there is at everything”.

I could even say that the stuff Lila does in 'Oni-Chan' isn't "the just consequences for this are bullying and social ostracization" material either. Tricking people into thinking you're dating someone to get an advantage is not the same as trying to get someone purposefully Akumatized, but you can guess how Maripologists frame it. As for luring Cat Noir away so that Ladybug had to fight an Akuma alone for a bit, that was the first actively malicious thing she ever did, and it was so toothless that having someone fight an Akuma alone for extended periods of time for little to no benefit is actually Ladybug's most common type of "plan", the difference just is that it's usually done to Cat Noir, and neither the writers nor Maripologists care about what gets done to him. While annoying and inconvenient, Lila really wasn't a threat to anyone before 'Ladybug'.

Yeah, like, the somewhat believable version of the “Marinette just hates liars” is that her hatred of Lila's lies is misdirected self-hatred because she has to lie so much because she's a hero while Lila lies for selfish reasons. The problem with this is that Marinette doesn't just lie to protect her identity, she lies about every petty, inconsequential thing to make herself look better (just like Lila) and to avoid difficult conversations. Marinette doesn't “have to” lie, she just thinks lies are the easiest solution to most of her problems (whether real or imagined) and whenever she's caught in a lie she can't stop talking about how justified she was, actually. There's no regret, only justification. In fact, because there's so much evidence against it being true, I say the entire “I just hate liars” line was itself a lie to make herself look better in front of Adrien. I have more evidence to claim that than Marinette had about Lila's tinnitus being fake. Lying to make herself look better is what Marinette does constantly after all.

[starlazergazer]

Pinky Promise

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request/Summary: One bed trope! / The reader follows Anakin into a dangerous warzone making him upset that she would put herself in harms way like that

Warnings: Some swearing

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I know the request was just for a simple one bed trope but for some reason I made this super angsty so I hope y’all still like it! As always let me know what you think and I greatly appreciate everyone reading these! I love you!!

 You sat across from Anakin in the cafeteria, fork, along with your appetite, long since abandoned on your too full plate before you.

“You’re really being sent to Orto Plutonia?” You asked the same question for what had to have been at least the fifth time since he had told you of the mission, still unable to fully wrap your head around it, still unable to fully accept it.

Anakin, however, barely spared you a glance as he took another bite of his food, shrugging slightly as he spoke “yeah It’ll be pretty cold but I think I can handle it”

And a part of you wanted to hate him for how nonchalant he was being about it. How he seemed to look the danger, the imminent threat to his life in the face and shrug. Another part of you, however, knew it was a façade erected fully for your benefit. Distracting your worry with a joke, an all too Anakin Skywalker think to do. “You know that’s not why I’m worried”

His eyes met yours briefly as his fork froze midair, a brief second passing as he took in your features before dropping the utensil and pushing the plate of food to the side, a soft chuckle as he shook his head “I’ve been in active warzones before Y/N, it’ll be fine”

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to brush you off, a small sigh escaping you as you crossed your arms defensively over you “I know but the Talz are known for their brutality, back home they’re the myth you tell stories about to scare children-“ and you paused as you watch him listen to you, watched the concern sink in but not for his upcoming mission, rather for you “Just be careful okay?”

A soft smirk grew over his lips as he chuckled “hey I’m always careful”

And you couldn’t help it but laugh back, Anakin’s laugh never failing to pull a similar one out of you “Every story Obi-wan has ever told me speaks contrary to that fact”

He scoffed dramatically at that, a hand coming up to his chest in mock hurt as he leaned back slightly “and you would believe Obi-wan over me?”

“Any day Skywalker” you smirked back at him, picking a piece of food off his plate and tossing it into your mouth.

He pretended to object at your theft of his food, but the way his eyes cut down to your own full plate showed the façade for what it was. He was just glad you were eating, even if it was his food. “yeah that’s probably fair”

And with that you let the comfortable silence fall between the two of you, eyes dancing back and forth between his for a moment before you couldn’t help yourself, hands coming forward to rest on his, pulling all his remaining attention (not that any of it was really straying) back to you “I’m serious Ani, please be careful”

His smile never slipped from his lips as he nodded, his voice dropping to a quieter tone as he said earnestly “I’ll be careful, I promise”

Finally deciding to believe him you raised your hands from his, raising one pinky and offering it to him with a raised brow.

Anakin laughed softly but nonetheless obliged, taking his own pinky and wrapping it around yours, whispering softly over the top of your hands “pinky promise”

-

You weren’t surprised that Anakin was the first one to greet you when you landed, no doubt he had identified your ship the moment it broke into the atmosphere. You weren’t even surprised at the confusion on his face as the dock slowly lowered, the slight panic that took over his features, something you had told yourself was bound to come as he recognized you, as you descended onto the planet’s surface.

“Y/N what are you doing here?” His voice was strained slightly, eyes flitting around to each of your companions as if they could explain what he was seeing.

“My job” you answered simply, keeping your head held high as you marched past him, Anakin’s shock freezing him place for mere moments before he jogged ahead, coming to a stop before you, effectively blocking your path.

“Y/N this is an active war zone” he stated it as if you simply hadn’t known where you had landed, as if you hadn’t been the one to give him those same words of warning just days ago.

“I know” you answered calmly “I’m here to negotiate” and again you tried to push past him.

This time, however, a hand at your elbow halted your movement, holding you in place in front of him “no you’re not” his tone here this time did surprise you, the finality in it, the slight edge of a threat he pushed into it. For the first time in your life you truly felt like you were talking to the jedi Anakin Skywalker and not your friend.

“Yes I am” you insisted, trying to pull his grip off you but he held on, squeezing not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make extracting yourself from him difficult.

“Go home Y/N” the condescension in his tone had you gritting your teeth, as if you were a child he was punishing, as if he had any authority to tell you what to do.

Looking up at him through your lashes you clenched your jaw, seeing that he was already doing the same, standing firm in his position “I’m here as the senator of Pantora now take your hand off me General Skywalker and let me do my job”

“Your job is back on Coruscant-“ Anakin took a step closer as he spoke, his voice dropping slightly lower, though you stopped listening after just a few words, your eyes flitting to the horizon more than happy to recognize a familiar face just a few yards off.

“General Kenobi it’s good to see you” you called loudly over Anakin’s shoulder, relishing the way he froze slightly at the sound of his master’s name, the soft curse the left his lips as you felt his fingers slip from your elbow allowing you to push past him, careful not to look up at him as you did so, keeping your eyes on Obi-wan as you extended a hand out to greet him.

“Senator Y/L/N it’s good to see you as well” Obi-wan greeted you with a confused smile “I wasn’t aware you would be joining us”

“I was sent here to negotiate peace with the Talz” you explained in what you hoped wasn’t a too insincere smile, something that became harder to force as you heard the thinly vailed anger in Anakin’s voice from over your shoulder.

“Pantora has no jurisdiction over this planet”

You grit your teeth as you tried to keep calm, not even bothering to look in his direction as you answered “As the only other inhabited planet in this sector the senate decided I could serve as negotiator on this matter”

“Well we’re glad to have you” Obi-wan broke in before Anakin could get off a word, sending a small glare over to his former padawan as he addressed you “the sooner we can resolve this peacefully the better, I’ve already lost enough men”

“I completely agree general” you nodded at him before casting your eyes off into the distance “I here chairman Cho is here I would like to speak with him-“

Anakin cut you off before you could finish, his voice sounding closer than before “Senator could I speak with you for a moment?”

And for the first time you spun around to meet Anakin’s gaze, not missing the malcontent fire that raged beneath the surface ‘I’m afraid I really must speak to chairman Cho” you offered with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“It will be quick” he insisted firmly.

Leaving you with no more to really say you nodded reluctantly, giving Obi-wan a small smile as you followed him off to the side, Anakin waiting until he was out of earshot before turning on you. “really? There was no one else who could’ve come?”

“Did you miss the part about Pantora being the only other planet inhabited in this sector?” You countered, matching the barely held rage he had in his voice.

“You were the one that was just warning me about how dangerous it was to be here” he exclaimed, gesturing vaguely to the sounds of blaster fire over the horizon.

“And you came anyways because it was your job, and now my job has brought me here too same as you” you crossed your arms defensively over your chest.

“So you pretend to be sick, or you give any sort of excuse to get you out of this trip because anyone could’ve come here to negotiate. Chairman cho is even already here as a negotiator” he countered in exasperation only making you shake your head.

“And you see how well that’s been going, how many of your own clone troopers have you lost already to this fight?”

You could practically see the rage boil up inside of him, hands coming to his hips as his intense gaze broke from yours, a loud exhale sounding from him as he took a step back, shaking his head before he looped back around to stand in front of you, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose “you can’t be here Y/N it’s not-“

“I am here general Skywalker” you broke him off sharply “I’m here to do my job and I’m not leaving till it’s done, now if you excuse me I’m going to speak to the chairman”

Anakin caught your arm before you could move, holding you in place once again as his gaze bore down into your own, a soft plea edging into his must softer tone as he spoke “Please Y/N”

And admittedly you felt the fire within you die at the sound, your chest hollowing as you looked up at Anakin, never finding it easy to say no to him. “The sooner I do my job the sooner we can all get out of here”

Again there was a flicker in the muscle of his jaw as he clenched it, his eyes hardening slightly as he recognized your resolve in the matter, giving you a loud, long exhale before releasing your arm with a small nod. Clearly not agreeing with your decision to stay, but at least finally recognizing he could do nothing about it.

Without saying anything more you returned the nod before turning around and heading towards the main encampment, Anakin never more than two steps behind you.

-

By the end of the day you were practically dragging your feet towards the inn the squadron had rented a few rooms in to stay for the night.

Your day had been spent in meetings entirely with the republics side so far and Anakin had been right at your side for each and every one of them, offering one hell of a glare to anyone who so much as mentioned meeting with the Talz.

He made it beyond difficult to focus as with every step he was always just a bit too close, looming over you at every corner, anger radiating off of him in massive waves, making it abundantly clear to not only you but everyone you met with that he didn’t think you should be there thereby undercutting your authority at every opportunity.

You had at least thought you could get some sort of break from him for the night but upon reaching the inn you learned that you were to share a room with two beds, meaning not a single moment since you landed on this planet could be spent outside of Anakin Skywalker’s disappointed glare.

Nevertheless, you sucked it up as he followed you up the stairs to your room, knowing that any argument from your side could set him off again, could have him yelling at you to go back to Coruscant, and right now you’ll take stoic anger over animated yelling any day,

Without so much as a word in his direction you stuck the key into the door of your room, pushing it open with your hip and coming to a dead stop as you looked inside, your eyes landing on the one massive bed taking up the majority of the space in the room instead of the two it was supposed to house.

You spun around on the spot before Anakin could come in any farther, planting one hand on the doorframe physically baring entry “you’re finding another room”

He gave you a brief confused look before casting his eyes above your head, surveying the furniture with a small, annoying smirk “nice try”

“absolutely not” you tried to stop his train of thought before it could get any farther “go bunk with obi-wan or something”

And in response you saw his jaw clench just as it had countless times today, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, telling you he was ready to put up a fight “I’m not leaving you alone”

“It’s for 8 hours while everyone sleeps” you argued back, feeling the anger flicker like hot fire in your chest.

“and what would the council think if I left the one senator on Orto Plutonia completely defenseless for 8 hours?”

You could have laughed in his face at the question, your response coming back without any real thought necessary “and since when have you ever cared about what the council thought?”

“Since it came to your safety” his answer came back just as quick, just as reflexive, making your own anger die in your throat.

“Do you realize what you being here does to your safety” he seemed to demand an answer more than ask, though instead carried on without waiting for one “both sides want a war, you have to see that”

“That’s why I’m here” you cut in angrily, crossing your arms over your chest “to negotiate peace and stop that”

“You’re here as the perfect target” he shook his head, breaking down his thought process as if he were talking to a child “if either side can get the other to take you out they can mark that as an unmotivated attack and declare war, blaming the other for starting it. You being here paints a massive target on your back.”

“So-“ you started to shoot back but he cut you off, stepping forward just enough to tower over you.

“So that’s why I’m here, that’s why I’m always two steps behind you, and that’s why we will be sharing a room tonight even if I have to sleep on the floor” and he pushed past you as if you hadn’t been standing in his way, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed and throwing it onto the ground at the foot of it.

“So I should’ve just stayed on Coruscant?” you asked him as you shut the door behind you “just let them go on bombing each other until one eventually surrenders”

“Yes” he answered simply, not even bothering to look at you as he took off his cloak and laid it on the floor next to his pillow.

“You don’t really believe that” you scoffed “those are your men out there suffering the consequences of this ongoing violence, someone needed to come out here and put an end to it”

“And did that someone need to be you?” His head snapped up to meet your gaze as he raised his eyebrows slightly, silently daring you to say otherwise.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the same question he had asked earlier, shaking your head slightly as you started to make your way to the bed, ready to let him brood on the floor for the night if that was what he wanted.

“No look at me” His serious tone froze you in place, not missing the way his voice had softened, even if his posture remained as rigid as ever. “I’m serious tell me the truth, did you need to be the one to come out here to negotiate or did the republic just want to send a senator”

And all you could do was clench your jaw in response, bite down the words that sprang forth. The lies and the truths because at this point you weren’t sure any more which would be worse.

Anakin, however, read your silence like a book.

He deflated slightly on the spot, his eyes closing as he shook his head, his hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose “damnit Y/N”

“You were here!” you objected quickly “what was I supposed to do just abandon you out here?”

“Yes!” He broke in quickly, matching your volume as both of your voices raised “I can handle myself. You were the one warning me about being here why the fuck would you think it would be a good idea to come here yourself?”

“You were the one that brushed off my warning” you pointed out “you acted like my fears were unfounded that being here was no big deal”

“Because I didn’t want you to worry”

And you let that statement hang in the air for a moment, let its ridiculous nature ruminate a little as you watched Anakin’s chest rise and fall rapidly with his pent-up anger.

“You really think that would be all it takes to make me not worry about you?”

He rolled his eyes at your response with an exasperated sigh, turning away from you deliberately and sitting down on his makeshift bed on the floor, trying to physically shut down the conversation.

“No you’re angry right now because I’m putting myself in danger, because you’re worried about me, how do you think I feel every time you leave?”

“Just drop it Y/N” he tried to shrug you off, laying down on his pillow on the hard ground.

But still you pressed on “Every time you run off on a new mission, putting yourself on the front lines of some battle you think I don’t worry just like this? You think I’m a stranger to exactly how you’re feeling right now?” You scoffed “I’m so sorry that for once it has to be you worrying about me”

Anakin sat up suddenly, turning to face you, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle through his skin “the difference is it’s my job. I’m a general, I’ve been trained to be on the front lines, to protect myself, to fight battles. You’re a senator, your job-“

“-is to negotiate peace and advocate for those who can’t speak for themselves” you broke in before he could answer, eyebrows raised silently daring him to say otherwise “which is exactly what I’m doing here”

With a bitter chuckle he shook his head, twisting back around to lay down “fine then you do your job, let me do mine”

“fine”

And with that you turned back towards the bed, getting ready to climb into it when you looked down at Anakin, laying without a blanket on the hard floor, arms wrapped pathetically around himself as he faced the wall.

And even though you were still reeling from your fight a bit of guilt started to creep into you. Because even though you still thought he was going overboard and being ridiculous you had been telling the truth when you said you knew firsthand how he felt.

You’d spent too many nights staying up waiting for any info regarding his safety, waiting for him to finally land on Coruscant, waiting for him to be okay. You knew his anger was coming from a good place, even if it still didn’t give him the right to be a jerk about it, and even more you knew exactly what sleeping on the hard floor all night would do to him.

Stalking over to where he lay on the floor you gave his feet a soft kick “come on there’s enough room on the bed for the both of us”

“I’m fine” he shrugged you off, not even bothering to look in your direction.

With a roll of your eyes and a frustrated groan you stalked over to the bed and grabbed a pillow off of it, throwing it to the ground making sure it made a loud thump before sitting down next to it.

Your display had the desired effect. Shortly after Anakin was pushing himself up to a sitting position and spinning around to look at you, a very unamused expression gracing his features. “what’re you doing?”

“You don’t take the bed I don’t take the bed” you answered simply, making a show of fluffing your pillow.

“You’re being ridiculous” he groaned, rubbing a tired hand over his face in exasperation.

“Oh so you are aware of the concept” you goaded him with a raised brow, fighting the smirk off your face as he glared back at you.

“You’re gonna wake up tomorrow with a sore back, just take the bed”

“And you know some magical way of sleeping that won’t make yours sore tomorrow?”

“Y/N-“

“You think it’s your job to protect me then why would you risk a sore back on something as stupid as sleeping on the floor” you cut him off before he could continue, crossing your arms over your chest, knowing you had trapped him.

And to your delight you watched him clench his jaw in response, watched a deep breath rack through him before he stood, marching across the room towards you, fierce gaze never straying from your eyes as he did so. You fought the urge to shrink from it.

Wordlessly he took your pillow from the ground and threw it onto one side of the bed, pausing for one moment to look down at you still sitting on the floor before making his way back across the room to grab his own pillow and bring it to the other side of the bed before silently sliding onto the mattress, back pointedly facing you.

And though a million passive aggressive comments flowed to your tongue you bit back each, knowing when to accept your victory. You pushed yourself to your feet and crawled into bed next to him, careful to make as little movement as possible as you did so lest you set him off more.

A heavy silence filled the room as you stared out at the wall, unable to even think about going to sleep after what had just happened. Luckily, it would seem Anakin had the same predicament.

“I don’t just think it’s my job to protect you”

His voice didn’t hold any of the anger, the malice you would have expected. Rather it was soft, sad even. A voice that was begging to by listened to.

“You don’t have orders to be my bodyguard” you responded back, careful to keep your tone even and your voice low “Obi-wan out ranks you here and I know he’s given no such order so if anything he would be”

“I don’t care about orders” his response came quickly, desperately “I just want you to be safe”

You took a beat to let his words sink in, to mull them over, to formulate your own response, before you turned onto your back, not fully facing him but a half truce.

“My job isn’t any less important than yours”

Your words were met with silence, clearly a response Anakin hadn’t been expecting.

“Other senators could’ve been sent but these are my people, or if not my people than my neighbors. I’m the only one with skin in the game. I’m the one with the best chance to end things before too many people end up dead.”

“And if you end up dead?”

You were surprised to see how quickly and naturally your answer came to you “then at least they can say I died trying”

Another silence blanketed the room, not quite as tense as the last but nonetheless uncomfortable, before you heard Anakin shift positions from his side of the bed. A look out of the corner of your eye telling you he was lying on his back too, the both of you staring up at the ceiling above you. It wasn’t much but it felt like a start, and for now that could be enough.

-

You woke slowly the next morning, too much light filtering into the room drawing you back to consciousness but stubbornness kept your eyes closed, refusing to let go of the last remaining bit of sleep.

The bed beneath you was soft and warm, pulling a content groan from your lips as you shifted your position slightly, pulling the blanket up to your chin and digging your shoulder a bit deeper into the mattress, deciding to give yourself another few minutes before getting out of bed.

That was until you heard another soft groan echo yours. Your eyes shot open as you finally registered the unnatural extra weight draped around your middle, the hard body radiating heat pressed firmly against your back, the long legs intertwined with your own.

The arm draped around your waist tightened its hold, drawing you deeper into Anakin’s sleeping form, a content hum slipping past the jedi’s lips as you felt his breath tickle to top of your ear. “5 more minutes”

The low grumble of his morning voice had your cheeks heating up as you hid your face further into the blanket, taking the opportunity to tuck yourself even further into him, relishing the way his warmth fully encapsulated you. “5 more”

The hair around your ear stirred softly as the sharp exhale of a chuckle left his lips making you smile as well.

“I’m sorry Y/N”

Those words crashed you back to reality, pulling you out of the comfort of the present moment, of the security of Anakin’s tight hold on you, out of the strange familiarity of the present moment, and forced you back to the fight last night, to his reaction when you had landed, to the idea of being the subject of Anakin’s ire.

You rolled over onto your stomach, feeling Anakin’s arm reluctantly slide off you as you did so but pointedly not holding you in place, propping yourself up on your elbow to better look at him only to see his alert gaze already trained on you, one elbow propping himself up slightly.

You said nothing in response, waiting for him to expand, to prove that he knew what he did wrong, to prove that he truly meant the apology. And for a second he said nothing, blue eyes bouncing slowly back and forth between your own before he took a slow deep breath.

“I didn’t meant to imply that your job was less important than mine, or that you weren’t allowed to make your own decisions” he sighed softly, one hand coming out to you, soft fingertips just barely skimming over the skin of your cheek as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, hand sliding down to rest in the base of your neck for just a moment before retreating “I just liked it better when you were back on Coruscant and I knew you were safe”

You opened your mouth to reply but he shook his head softly.

“you showing up here with no warning, with no extra protection, with no apparent regard for your own safety…it scared me”

And looking up at him you could see the sincerity in his statement, it was in the soft draw of his brow, the slight pout of his lips, the desperate look in his eye. Reaching forward slightly you grabbed his hand and pulled it into yours, giving it a soft squeeze “I know but I needed to be here”

And a heartbeat passed, then two, a small silence starting to settle in a way that you knew meant he had brushed you off again, before he spoke. “I know”

A part of you was embarrassed by how much relief came from just those two words, a simple acknowledgement, but a bigger part of you knew better, knew the weight those words held, the unspoken understanding that had just settled between the two of you, and rejoiced in it.

You gave him a soft smile, bringing the knuckles of his hand up to your lips and pressing a soft kiss into the skin “thank you Ani”

He chuckled back down at you, the hand you held in yours coming up to give your cheek a soft pinch before he withdrew it, pulling you along with it, pulling your head to rest comfortably on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“Is this really how you feel every time I go?”

And you wanted to laugh at the ridiculous question, at how that could have never occurred to him. Instead you tried putting yourself in his shoes.

“I know you trained your whole life for this, and I know you can handle yourself, I fully trust that you can handle any situation you put yourself in” A soft sigh, a slight hiccup in Anakin’s breath as he waited for the inevitable ‘but’ “but of course I worry, of course I don’t want you to go. It kills me every time to watch you fly away to the next warzone”

“I’m sorry Y/N”

“Don’t be” you shrug him off without a second thought “it’s your job and you’re doing important work. I just need you to give me that same attitude when I have to do something dangerous for mine. You don’t get a monopoly on stupid, dangerous decisions”

You could hear his heart beating through his ribs, could feel his hand come up from your back to play softly with the ends of your hair, a low rumble reverberating up through his chest before he spoke again “If I promise to stop making stupid, dangerous decisions when I don’t have to will you do the same?”

You snorted at his question, craning your neck up to meet his gaze as you raised a brow “I’d like to see you try Skywalker”

He scoffed in mock offense “I could make smart, safe decisions”

“Sure” you chuckled, your gaze coming back down to rest your head in a comfortable position on his chest “do you even know how to properly use a ship’s landing gear?”

“I’ll have you know in many situations it was actually the safer decision to crash land the plane” he challenged back but you could hear the smile in his voice.

Shutting your eyes and burrowing your head further into him you hummed softly “sure name one”

His chest shook slightly as his laugh ruminated through his body but he offered no defense, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment before you saw his hand beside him move slightly towards your head, the pinky alone extended in your direction.

With a soft chuckle you shook your head softly, pulling your own pinky up to wrap around his, whispering the promise into his chest.

[everliving-everblaze]

So, I know that most of us would agree that Fitz isn't actually "overrated" because a lot of the fandom dislikes him. But I always find the perception that he's overrated interesting because it plays so much into his character. His entire character is about chasing perfection, about trying to be the perfect elf.

But more than that, I think it's wild to call him overrated when so few people actually understand his character and how critical it is to the story.

Fitz's character is about privilege. It's about being raised to believe in systems, and it's about how systems of oppression hurt even those who are most privileged. He thinks that he can have control; he was told that he would have control. And he's angry because he's realized that he doesn't have control, that society isn't the way he was told it was, and that the way it is is bad.

In fact, all of the characters play a role in the story that relates to privilege and being a part of a corrupt society. Marella plays a victim of ability-related oppression; Sophie plays someone who was born outside the system and can see its flaws more clearly; Tam and Linh play victims of twin-related oppression and show how parents' bias is particularly harmful. Keefe and Fitz are especially interesting because they play complementary characters. They show how two different people could be born privileged, benefiting extremely from systems, and still be victims of it. Keefe is a victim because he doesn't want to participate in it, and Fitz is a victim because he falls for the system and has to unlearn his whole bad belief system.

Fitz's character is akin to every one of us who grew up believing we lived in a good world and then realized we didn't. Fitz is those of us who realized that we didn't have the control we thought we did, those of us who had to unlearn our biases, and those of us who were mad about that.

It's wild just how twisted around his character gets, when I think he should be one of the most relatable characters to Gen Z! Like, I know this is a whole lot of theming and allegory and symbolism packed into a series that jokes about butts, but that's part of the brilliance. KotLC takes these complex concepts about society and oppression and brings them into a story that an eight-year-old can understand. And I think that's a big reason so many of us are attached to the series despite our age—it's so much deeper than it looks on the surface level. There's always something more to uncover.

I love this series. I love Fitz. And I really think that dismissing his character as "the worse love interest" (same with Keefe's character!) means that you will never understand the series in the slightest.

[katoska]

Fuck it, I'll vent once more about this, in my own post, and then I'll just ignore all the Annoying Wrong Opinions in the tag.

People who call Conrad a (right-wing/anti-vaxx/Andrew Tate incel type) grifter should look up "motive attribution asymmetry".

Motive attribution asymmetry is a psychological phenomenon where individuals in a conflict or disagreement tend to view their own group’s motivations as stemming from positive intentions, such as love, care, or a desire for justice, while simultaneously attributing the opposing group’s actions to negative motivations, such as hate, malice, or a desire to harm. This skewed perception can significantly contribute to the escalation and intractability of conflicts by creating a fundamental misunderstanding of the other side’s perspective.  

In other words, we tend to believe that those on the Other Side of a disagreement are more likely to be lying about their motives or opinions in order to benefit themselves or do harm to Our Side, than we are to believe that the Other Side might also be well-meaning but mistaken. Only Our Side gets to have good intentions and flawed outcomes if we get something wrong, the Other Side is is full of grifters who are doing evil on purpose. Well, grifters and idiots who fall for grifters. Our Side is ofc very smart and cares enough to do proper research, unlike those sheeple.

With that being said, ofc grifters do exist, and a few of them make far too much money off of podcasts, but I don't think that's what was going on with Conrad in Lucky Day:

Grifters don't invade HQs and demand answers at gunpoint, they incite their minions to do that. Nor do they wonder, after their third encounter with the Tardis, whether they imagined it. Or refuse to take the Shreek vaccine, after we saw them being genuinely scared of the alien, if they actually believed the alien existed and that the vaccine does what they were told it does. Anti-vax grifters still get their shots because they know they are lying to sell their snake oil.

Conrad was wrong in his beliefs, but I think those beliefs were genuine. The reason why the audience believes he was lying about everything is because Ruby made that assumption after he Mata Hari'd her and because he confessed to lying when the Shreek was right in his face and he was saying whatever UNIT wanted to hear so they'd help him. We like Ruby, so we side with her. And we side with Kate when she siccs an alien on someone for attacking UNIT (well, more because the guy insulted her dad), bc surely that guy is faking his skepticism of UNIT/aliens bc everyone knows aliens exist. Even Donna Noble (now, again) knows aliens exist. Nevermind that UNIT has been lying for decades about e.t. existence, right? Only crackpots would believe that their current alien narrative is some even bigger conspiracy than the previous "Aliens don't exist" one. And obviously, this guy who is functional enough to make good money with his podcast (ew), and, like many people with money, evades taxes (double ew), and who has friends, and plots with friends to topple UNIT, could not possibly be insane enough to genuinely believe in a conspiracy theory, right? He must be lying.

Except 1) you don't have to have a mental illness to subscribe to conspiracist thinking (though it helps; a lot of conspiracy nuts do have unusually strong apophenia and see Signs in everything) , 2) we see him get offended when Ruby calls him a liar, and 3) if you rewatch the ep, he doesn't seem all that rational, actually.

It's implied he frequently saw stuff as a kid that got him accused of lying, which is why he brought (as is typical of conspiracy nuts, very shitty) proof of his encounter, expecting his Mum to just be convinced by said shitty proof. He very vividly imagines the Shreek hunting him while Ruby explains its hunting patterns, before snapping back to reality and reminding himself it's a story. He seemed erratic and obstinate during the mask-off scene (and that thing he said about disability benefits reminded me of what Kate said to Shirley when she briefly became paranoid due to the Toymaker's influence). He rejects what he did to Jordan, and again gets erratic and obstinate when his view of reality gets challenged, coming up with extremely dumb alternate explanations on the spot. And he later seems unsure if the Tardis encounter in his cell really happened... after seeing the Tardis three times, after listening to Ruby talk about her adventures for weeks, he is unsure if he imagined being in the Tardis and holding a whole conversation with the Doctor.

That last one especially is... that guy is not well, and on some level he knows it, but unfortunately he lives in the Whoniverse where weird shit happens all the time and a lot of it is unprovable later or does get hushed up. Bit hard to figure out if you are having hallucinations when cryptids exist and everyone tells you that the formerly secret military branch can deal with them, don't worry about it. So I pity that guy, despite the harm he did, because partially fueled by delusions or not, the mistrust in UNIT (or the government in general, see Children Of Earth) is very much warranted, and also, imo, completely understandable?

Any comparison to conspiracy theories or science-deniers you want to read into this episode fall down because... the Moon's an egg. There's not much a conspiracy theorist could come up with that would trump that. Meds aren't safe in the Whoniverse (see: Adipose, though tbf those weren't so bad. I want 50 of them), neither are phone signals, and also you can summon a Daemon by chanting Mary Had A Little Lamb backwards, so I guess satanism works. And don't get me started on gods. There's too much crazy shit going on to make a call about whose beliefs make sense and who is maybe lying about their beliefs and/or maybe crazy, because how tf do you even define insanity if sometimes trees try to communicate with kids by making them see lights? It's a perfectly reasonable belief that if the military has the tech to fight aliens, then they also have the tech to fake aliens, and since they until recently always denied aliens exist... well, Occam's Razor says they are still lying, bc it's that or the Moon's an egg.

[melpomenelamusa]

Nothing is what it seems - Part 2

~Original story~ Previous

Febuwhump DAY 6: Forced to stay awake

CW: Implied kidnapping, bound and gagged, torture, blood and injury, not trusting own mind, self-harm.

As nightfall arrived, Gabriel began to feel consumed by a devouring anxiety. His hands were sweating, his leg bounced frantically up and down beneath the dining table. He barely enjoyed his dinner, distressed as he watched the sun disappear beyond the horizon, the sky gradually swallowed by the darkness of night.

"Are you okay, Gabriel?" his mother asked him.

The young man lifted his gaze, meeting his mother’s worried eyes and his father’s stern look.

"I’m fine," he said, his voice firm and full of false confidence. "I've just had trouble sleeping, that's all."

"Have you not been taking your medication?" his mother continued. A wrinkle had begun to form between her eyebrows.

"I'm just tired. Maybe it’s because of the wedding," Gabriel lied, standing up from the table. "Excuse me."

Once in his bedroom, Gabriel observed the sleeping pill and the glass of water on his nightstand. He had no plans to take it. If what he had experienced the night before was just a nightmare, he feared dreaming something so horrible again. Perhaps he truly was anxious about the wedding, and his subconscious was reflecting it in that crude, captive way. But if what had happened had been real, it meant something terrible had occurred while he slept.

Whatever the case, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. Staying awake all night would be his little experiment to find out. 

If someone really kidnapped me last night, there’s a chance they’ll come again, and I’ll be able to see them, he thought. The strange executioner had told him this was only the beginning, after all.

The first thing Gabriel did to pass the night was start reading. If he was going to stay awake until dawn, he might as well do something enjoyable that could bring him some benefit. He grabbed one of the books from his shelf and sat at his desk. The oil lamp to his right allowed him to read the words in the midst of darkness, letting himself be carried away by the story, temporarily escaping the fears that plagued him in the real world. This lasted a couple of hours until his eyes started to burn, and the words became blurry and lost their meaning, shifting across the pages like leaves floating in a puddle.

His body began to demand rest, but he refused to give in.

He closed the book, put it back in its place, and stood up.

He started pacing around his room. He stretched his arms, bent his knees, and jumped in place. He had to stay active, keep his brain away from the idea of comfort and rest.

The clock on the desk read 12:38. He just had to endure five more hours, and dawn would protect him from nightmares and torment. He only had to hold on. The absolute silence buzzed in his ears, or maybe it was the blood rushing to his head.

As time passed, his mind became increasingly clouded and difficult to comprehend. Around 3 a.m., his body was exhausted, and he could barely stand on his feet. He sat at his desk again, refusing to approach the bed. At that late hour, anyone intending to sneak into his room would have been caught already, right? But nothing happened, and nothing was heard throughout the silent night. Even so, the idea of falling asleep and being transported to an unknown place again, losing control and being tortured—even if it was all in his mind—terrified him more than anything.

Fear would keep him awake, he told himself. He grabbed one of the quills from the inkwell and stabbed it into his thigh. He clenched his teeth to avoid making a sound. Blood began to seep from the wound, quickly staining the cotton fabric of his pants. The pain spread through his leg, reaching his brain and keeping him alert for a while longer, activated by the danger. Unfortunately, within minutes, the bleeding stopped, and the wound began to heal on its own.

Gabriel repeated the process with his other leg. Only after going through the cycle a couple more times, and his blood-soaked clothes had become too damp and sticky, almost entirely dyed red, did he realize what an idiot he was. He was acting exactly like his torturer. Overcome with sudden disgust, the quill slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a dull thud. What the hell am I doing? What am I trying to prove with this? Gabriel felt dizzy, the sharp scent of blood invading his nostrils.

He changed his clothes and hid the stained ones under the bed. There was no way to explain them to the maids, so he would have to dispose of them permanently.

The clock now read 4:08. In the distance, a rooster crowed. Dawn was approaching, only the last stretch remained. One way or another, Gabriel dissociated until the sun’s rays began outlining the edges of the curtain by the window. He could feel his head swaying over his shoulders, heavy and empty at the same time, like a hot air balloon about to take off.

Nothing had happened during the night.

He was fine.

He was safe.

He let out a contained sigh of relief and felt his chest lighten.

The rest of the day passed like a blurry dream. He had to pretend to feel sick and unwell just to get some rest, as the sleepless night had left his mind altered and his body clumsy and weak. He took his medication and let himself sink into the mattress and sheets. Within minutes, he was deeply asleep.

"Finally awake."

Gabriel jolted, but the ropes binding him to the chair prevented him from moving. A sob of panic escaped his throat, muffled by the cloth gag in his mouth. Just like before, the blindfold over his eyes kept him from seeing where he was. Gabriel struggled helplessly against his restraints, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"You cannot escape your punishment," said the same deep, mysterious voice from before, surrounding him.

Gabriel wanted to ask who they were, what punishment they were talking about; but even if he hadn't been gagged, fear would have rendered him completely silent.

I want to wake up, he thought, feeling tears sting his eyes. Or fall asleep again, anything—anything but being here.

The events unfolded just as they had last time, and Gabriel woke up the next morning in his bed, free of wounds, but with his mind and soul in shambles.

Something was definitely wrong in the Hacienda—something he had to keep secret. But he would do whatever it took to uncover the truth before his life truly became a living hell.

[fantasy-relax]

Sweet alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 1 Part 5 Part 6

She knew that her dear Cassandra would make the right decision as soon as her heat ended, however Alcina couldn't kill you, in three months her daughter would go into heat again and she would continue to have them all her life. Mother Miranda had already told her how harmful it was for an omega to go through heat alone, while the company of the family lessened the symptoms over time, they needed a mate, although an alpha was the basic inclination if there was a deep emotional connection a beta or even another omega could be good partner.

But Cassandra had never shown interest in sharing her heat with anyone and Alcina would never force her. When they began to get worse, she turned to Lady Beneviento for medicine, but the mutation that her daughters had accelerated their metabolism, what they took was burned off in a couple of hours if they were lucky or minutes in most cases, the rapid change caused more pain than benefit so it was better not to use it.

Company was the best option, her sweet Daniela brought in a maid who had been favored by Cassandra in the hope that she would be accepted at least as a temporary partner. Five minutes passed before the lifeless body was thrown out of the room, a broken neck fast and effective.

Alcina could only listen helplessly to the grunts and sobs of her daughter for the last three days that her heat period lasted.

That's why she couldn't get rid of you, despite how much it irritated her to admit it, your presence had brought great relief to her daughter and in the same way your absence had seriously affected her.

So, she had to put up with you, your chivalry and obedience when dealing with her pup helped a lot.

“Our Pup needs time and space to make a decision”

“She already took it, this peasant will only be a pet to deal with her discomfort, end of the story”

Ignoring the Beta's comments, Alcina looked at the alpha who was looking at the ground with her head lowered.

“Poor pup”

Frowning in irritation, Lady Dimitrescu speaks firmly.

“Pay attention when I speak to you, beast.”

Your posture changed, but your eyes were still on the floor.

"That was fast"

Alcina rolled her eyes, dismissing the unnecessary concern of her beta, who was too soft on you just because Cassandra's omega was too, both useless instincts.

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

“Pay attention when I speak to you, beast.”

You raised your head and stood firm, keeping your eyes glued to the floor, showing that you were attentive to what was being said to you, but without being impertinent, an action learned thanks to your mother.

You didn't understand why you weren't dead yet, you failed again, Cassandra had been clear to her displeasure, you weren't worthy of being her mate.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. It was enough with your alpha's cries echoing in your head.

What did you do wrong?

You just followed the omega's wishes.

Comfort and company were what she wanted, so that's what you gave her.

You took care of her, you gave her everything she asked for, you obeyed her orders and she was never dissatisfied with your actions during the heat.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Why are you never enough?

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

“Because you have proven to be useful for my daughter's well-being, I have decided to employ you, so from now on you will live here as a mating companion for her, you will have a room separated from the other maids, the moment a complaint about you reaches my ears, I assure you that I will make you regret it for weeks, Bela will be in charge of you, out of my sight."

Bela approached you when her mother went back to review her papers on her desk, for a moment she thought you were going to complain, but you remained silent.

“Follow me, I'll take you to your room.”

The medicine had accelerated your healing allowing you to walk without any problem, your nutrition was something that would take longer, you were not starving, but it was obvious that you weighed less than you should, you reached her chin something to be expected since alphas tended to be tall with an ease in developing muscles, there were alphas in the town who were taller than her, but how different was it with women or was it your poor diet that affected your development? What was biology and what was it by circumstance?

Well, there is good place to start her studies.

"Miss Bela?"

"Actually, is Lady Bela or Mistress. Remember that, now what it is?"

“Is there anything I can do instead of uh being a heat partner? I just don't think Lady Cassandra wants my company... she has already been clear with her decision."

You avoided looking at her eyes and even tried to make yourself look smaller, everything about you showed submission. Could it be a learned behavior? Had you really lost all desire for dominance?

“In the town i also worked as a lumberjack and carpenter. I know how to hunt too, could I work like that?”

She thought about it Relia complained about the lack of experienced labor, in addition to the fact that at her age she already needed an apprentice to relieve her and the majority of the workers under her command did not reach her standards, perhaps you could serve, the traps you had Installed were excellent and the cabin you lived in while old was in good condition, she had to admit that you had some skill.

"You will be Cassandra's mating partner, there is no way out or change in that, however, having you do nothing for three months is unproductive, tomorrow I will give you a tour of the castle and I will take you to the groundskeeper so that she can give you work. Rest for today."

Again, it seemed like you were going to contradict, but you kept quiet, entering the room with her.

“Your bed, the closet has some uniforms, but I'm not sure they are your size. Anyway, tomorrow we will also go to the seamstress to take your measurements. You have a personal bathroom. You won't use the communal for obvious reasons.”

Approaching you with one hand she lifted your face, you continued to avoid looking at her.

“You are the only alpha in the castle, there are unbonded omegas and betas, step over the line and you will be punished appropriately, am I clear?”

You nodded and she let go of you.

“I'll come as soon as the sun rises tomorrow you better be ready.”

She left you alone in your new home.

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

“Really, Cassie? You finally find someone that your omega accepts, you have a romantic and intimate moment only to throw it all away seconds after your heat ends, I can't believe it."

Cassandra felt the pain in her head increase as she listened to her sister's complaints as if it wasn't enough to have to deal with her omega's complaints. At least Daniela's voice was silenced by the bathroom door.

“You hurt our alpha, you were cruel and rude!”

“She's lucky I didn't tear out her throat.”

“Alpha did her job well and you despised her again!”

“The cowardly bitch didn't even give me a kiss with tongue.”

“Because it wasn't what we needed!"

“The only thing an alpha is useful for is sex, that's what I wanted but the useless bitch didn't have the courage to do it.”

“WE WANTED COMPANY, WE WANTED SOFT TOUCH AND CARESES THAT WOULD BEAT THE COLD IN WHICH WE HAVE BEEN TRAPPED ALL THESE YEARS, ALFA DID IT WITH FERVOR AND ADORATION AND AGAIN YOU DENIED HER THE APPROVAL SHE WANTED.”

“I DON'T NEED ANY OF THAT, YOU ARE THE WEAKEST PART OF ME, YOU ARE THE ONE WHO CAUSES ME MISERY AND PAIN BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID NEED TO HAVE A PARTNER”

“WE WISH ONE!"

“IF YOU WANT IT SO MUCH, WHY DID YOU NOT CHOOSE ONE YEARS AGO?”

“EVERYONE WAS UNSUITABLE WE FINALLY FOUND THE ONE WHO IS PERFECT FOR US AND YOU DON'T DO YOUR PART”

" MY PART? YOU ARE WHO-

“Well, what does it matter, it's Bela's property now.”

What?

“What the hell are you talking about Daniela?

"She said that she was interested in her and was going to ask Mother for permission to keep her in the castle under her supervision. Surprisingly, Mother accepted under some conditions, they are talking to her now but in the end is her problem now."

“Like hell she is, she's mine, I found her first.”

“You threw her out, you lost the right, but if you want to fight for your lover-”

“Fuck it, that bitch is of no use to me.”

"If you say so"

She doesn't care, she doesn't give a fuck about you, you are a pathetic starved dog willing to lick the food thrown at the floor, you are only good for a quick fuck but you are such a fucking coward to do it.

Bela can do whatever she wants with you she. doesn't. care.

Now if her omega will stop whining.

[karmacharmeleon18]

Sorry not the same anon but it’s not actually said whether what Thea said was scripted or not, or if she was aware that she was gonna be used to tear them down, right? It can be either but it mostly makes more sense if she was fully aware (after Kevin told her everything) and wanted to help Jean so she was way harsher with her words.

I'm gonna be honest, I don't think Thea was thinking about Jean at all, she just wanted the chance to tear the current Ravens a new one for being an embarrassment and a stain on Testuji's honor

She doesn't need permission or a motivation to be harsh with her words

She just needs the perfect opportunity and a camera in front of her 🤷🏾‍♀️

And Kevin provided it for her

She might have sensed that Kevin had invited her for A Purpose, but I don't think she fully realized what the Foxes' plan was, nor do I think Kevin told her (and she most likely didn't even ask)

Thea was just dying to insult the current Raven lineup, and she jumped up at the chance

Kevin knows her and he knew that she would say something that would cause irreparable damage, so he invited her

She gets to vent against those "cowards", and the Foxes get to see the Ravens self-destruct even more

Two birds with one stone

Kevin used her against the Ravens, and she used this opportunity to tear the Ravens a new one

Thea didn't know the plan, and she didn't care to. She got exactly what she wanted from that invitation

The idea that this was some big KevThea plan to help their beloved baby Jean sounds ludicrous to me

(this isn't against you, anon! just in general this is how I saw people talk about it)

Jean is always an afterthought

For Kevin, but even more for Thea

The goal was to damage the current Ravens

Jean benefitting from it in any way is a side effect

In fact, I'm convinced it was an unplanned side effect on Thea's part

Because for all Thea knows, her words might have had the same effect on Jean as they did on the Ravens

She doesn't know Jean is getting over the brainwashing. Kevin barely believes it himself. Thea has no way of knowing Jean is getting better

She'd most likely assume he's still a Raven at heart (just like she is, just like Kevin is)

A Raven at heart... that chose to leave Evermore, that chose to not wear the Ravens' uniform anymore

That chose to betray the Ravens, Riko,Tetsuji

You get what I'm saying?

For all Thea knows, Jean might have killed himself along those Ravens because of her words

For all she knows, he might have lumped himself in with the traitorous cowards she talked about, despite not having played that game against the Foxes

Her words could have been the straw that broke the camel's back

Damn, just a few months earlier, they would have been

And I honestly don't think she would have cared.

Jean used to be her little Parisian duckling, but, had he killed himself because of her words like the other Ravens did, now he'd be just another coward that threw his life away and as a consequence cannot play Exy anymore

Because it all revolves around Exy

She's the same Tetsuji and Riko apologist who thinks Kevin - her lover, her romantic partner, the man she'll spend the rest of her life with - should get over the trauma of Evermore and of Riko shattering his hand because Kevin can still play so "no harm, no foul"

You get what I'm saying?

(Kevin is a different story, he would be affected by Jean's death and a part of him imo was thinking about helping out Jean when he invited Thea, but always as a side effect of the real goal, which was to hurt the Ravens)