#(aside from educational children's books)

[pisshandkerchief]

why do you mean you have trouble discovering new music. back in my day we got our obscure music recs from the welcome to night vale weather and we fucking liked it

#welcome to night vale was the first place I ever heard songs with swearing and references to sex. it was literally life changing #especially for a queer kid like me #incidentally welcome to night vale was some of the first media I ever consumed #(aside from educational children's books) #that had out queer characters #Welcome to night vale is fucking magical. #The main character is a gay Jewish dude with aids who is just. Peak queer joy. #He loves his husband so much it literally drives the story sometimes. also he's probably nonbinary #This generation is missing out #welcome to night vale

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Death in four moves (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Queen Alicent is starting to notice your lack of pregnancy. You discuss it with your husband, and come out a stronger marriage because of it.

A/N: No one dies in this one, guys. Just quoting Tyrion. For a more detailed warning, click read more and scroll until after the dots.

Warnings: Fluff. Discussions of SA, sex, erotic novels, infertility, miscarriages, and pregnancies (None actually happen in the fic)

Catapult /ˈkatəpʌlt/

noun

a forked stick with an elastic band fastened to the two prongs, used by children for shooting small stones.

In Cyvasse, a catapult can take out a dragon.

“It’s the third month you bleed.” Queen Alicent said, with a hint of disapproval. She had perfected just the right amount of passive aggressiveness when being nosy. Your eye twitched slightly. You understood now the resentment Princess Rhaenyra held for her, with your sheets being examined by the Queen daily, your moon’s blood carefully tracked and advised on when the best moment was to conceive. “When will you make me a grandmother?”

You sipped at your tea, buying yourself a few seconds to answer. You were having tea in Haelena’s chambers, a family meeting, if you will. More like an intervention, truly. Alicent sat next to Aegon, who was in his cups already and seemed uncaring about the discussion.

“Mother, you are already a grandmother.” Aemond pointed at the hostess herself, who was on her hands and knees showing a bug to her children. The twins blabbered to her, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the scene. Seated next to Aemond, you gently squeezed his forearm in silent thanks. His lips barely curved up into a smile. Despite his kindness in helping you out, you knew what the Queen’s response would be. It was like you were actors in a well-rehearsed play, one that had been repeating for the past six weeks.

“Yes, but those are your brother’s children. I want you two to make me a grandmother, too.” The Queen explained, smiling at him. The first month, there had been relative peace. Aemond couldn’t have knocked you up that fast, everyone reasoned. Not while still attending to his duties in the way he did. But when the second month came, and the sheets were stained red once more, Alicent had been disappointed.

Being Aemond’s wife was not an easy task. At the rate it was going, you were starting to think it would have been easier, inheritance disputes aside, to be married to Aegon. It was not that Aemond was unkind. On the contrary, he was most amenable. He cared about you, treating you with respect and even making efforts to be friendly. His mother was the problem.

You see, when the time came for Aemond to be married, Queen Alicent had handpicked you, from all the eligible ladies in the realm. The bride for his favorite children had to be perfect. She had had, I kid you not, a list. The girl Aemond married had to be smart, to be able to match him and converse about the topics that interested him, but not too educated, less she had ideas about her role in society. Devout to the Seven, but not superstitious. Brave, but not brazen. Kind, but not overly so, less she was too familiar with those beneath her. Pretty, but not one of those intimidating beauties or too aware of it. A maiden, pure and sweet, but not innocent. And so on, the list went. You weren’t too sure what she had seen in you, but she had decided you were perfect for him.

Aemond, mother’s boy as he was, had been willing to try. And he was pleasantly surprised with you. Yours wasn’t the most passionate of marriages, but you were good friends. He enjoyed your sense of humor, and you two liked the same books. Marriages were built on less. But there was the issue of consummation. Or well. There was no issue, since it hadn’t happened yet.

Neither of you dared tell Alicent that the first night, when you had come to him in your wedding gown, shaking with fear, he had done you the kindness of sitting on the bed with a goblet of wine and pulling out a deck of cards. You remembered clearly the way he had drawled, so effortlessly self-assured “I was uncertain whether you knew how to play Cyvasse, but guessed this was a safe bet.” You had nearly laughed in relief, sitting next to him and explaining you didn’t know how to play it, but cards you could do.

It had gone like that, for three long months. Aemond came to your chambers once a week, and you two played cards or just sat down talking for the whole night. He had even started teaching you Cyvasse. You didn’t mind it. He was an attractive man, your Prince, but you two had been strangers before the wedding. It was sweet, and you were a practical woman. You had all the perks of marrying a prince, and none of the hardships. If this were what your entire life would be like, you could handle it. And you would have, were it not for your mother-in-law.

A knock on the heavy wooden doors jolted you out of your thoughts. The guards announced the Grand Maester.

“Just on time.” Queen Alicent muttered, and became him over with an imperious hand. The old man stepped closer, holding a jar with some dirt? At least to you, it looked like that. The Queen took it from his hands, and opened it, grabbing your tea cup and stirring it into the drink before you could protest.

“Hare liver, pulverized with salmon. I had the maester prepare it for you, dear girl! You will have it at every meal.” Alicent beamed. Your grip on Aemond’s forearm became deathly. Aegon started laughing, before flinching suddenly. You weren’t able to tell if the one who had kicked him under the table had been your husband or your mother-in-law.

“I truly think there is no…” Aemond started to say, before getting interrupted.

“It is said to aid conception.” The Grand Maester bowed. His tone showed he wanted to be anywhere else but here, trapped between Alicent’s hopeful look, Aegon’s amusement and your indignant glare. His urge to leave was evident, not even flinching at the glare Aemond directed him for interrupting.

“Thank you, my Queen.” You answered, graciously. “Thank you as well, Grand Maester.” The man bowed again and exited the room. You eyed your now ruined tea, and Alicent. Her smile didn’t waver. You could tell she was waiting for you to drink it, and so, you smiled back and brought it to your lips.

It had to be the most foul concoction you had ever tasted. It was fishy and oily and oh so salty. You nearly spat it out, but controlled yourself, digging your nails into Aemond’s arm until he squirmed in pain. Aegon laughed again, before nearly choking in his haste to speak.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” While he laughed, you quickly took his cup and intended to drink his wine to get the taste out of your mouth. He made a grab for the wine, but so did Alicent.

“I read wine could harm conception.” She explained, passing it back to Aegon, who gave you a superior smirk.

“Mother, please. She looks like she is about to throw up.” Aemond pleaded and took the cup again. Aegon protested, but he brought the cup to your lips, urging you to drink from it. “Let her have it.”

“Aemond, I’m trying to help you both.” Alicent huffed. You quickly drank, less she tried grabbing the cup again. “We should do all that the books said. I have been reading on the topic, and I assure you…”

“I read…” Aegon interrupted loudly, giving you a wink. You knew he was about to do something disruptive, and that he would hold it over both yours and Aemond’s head for letting you escape. “Female pleasure is of the utmost importance for the woman to fall pregnant. So tell me, brother. Have you been pleasuring our dear…”

“Aegon!” Alicent yelled, slamming a hand over his mouth. “How can you say such things, with your children in the room? By the Seven, what will your brother’s wife think? That we are a family of…”

Aemond grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room.

“You have to tell her.” You said, as soon as you were outside. He was gently pulling you along towards the gardens. “I’m not drinking anymore of that stuff. And careful, or else I will ask her to give you some too.” It had been the last straw. Your sheets being checked, you could take. Her not so subtle nudges towards laying with your husband on certain days, you could too. But being prohibited wine, and forced to take the concoction with every meal, was not something you were willing to do. Not when it was not an issue of fertility, but of the lack of… Intimate relations between you two.

“I don’t want to disappoint her.” It was said quietly, but it broke your heart. You took his hand and squeezed. One of the things you disliked about your new life was the amount of pressure Aemond was under. He had quickly become your best friend, and you liked to think you were his too. It hurt you, to see how much he pushed himself and how the nerves and worries ate him away. You knew perhaps he didn’t return your feelings, which had been steadily growing since the chaste kiss you had shared in the Sept, and all the sleepless nights spent playing games and talking, but you loved him. And it always hurt, when those you loved were in pain.

“I doubt you will. She loves you. Just because you would rather not be a father yet…” You smiled at him, trying to sound sure of yourself. In truth, you knew the Queen would be disappointed. She so wanted Aemond to be a father. He was her favorite. A baby from him would be a dream come true.

“I do want to be a father.” It was said very quietly, almost a confession. You turned towards him, unable to believe your ears. Aemond was pointedly looking towards a bush of roses, not making eye contact. His posture, normally so perfect, was a bit slouched, as if trying to curl into himself. Ashamed. He was no fool, to not be aware of your feelings, so that meant…

“Oh.” You blinked. It felt like something shattered inside you. It was not children he disliked, but you. A few tears sprang to your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined. You wanted him to be happy, even if not with you. Lowering your eyes, so he didn’t see your heartbroken expression, you answered.“Oh. Well. I’m still a maiden. We could ask the High Septon for an annulment.”

Aemond turned to look at you, bewildered. Then, a scowl took over his face, purple eye narrowing in anger.

“Annulment? Why would I want that? Is that what you want, an annulment?” His voice was starting to raise, slightly. You shushed him, frantically. But he kept going, stepping closer, hands grasping roughly at your shoulders. Aemond forced you to look him in the eyes. “You dislike me that much?”

“No. No. But if you are not attracted to me…” A few tears fell down your cheeks. You hated it. You didn’t want him to think you were manipulating him. It was distasteful, your mother had always said. Crying for a man to stay, it was not behavior befitting of you. “A lady should never beg for any man to stay. Not even a Prince.” She had always said, and you tried to live by it. But she had clearly never met Aemond.

Aemond’s lips pursed in the way they did when he was thinking about something deeply. Was he actually considering your offer? The thought made more tears spring to your eyes. He looked torn. So, this was it, you were going back home. Annulment and ruin. No one would believe you a maiden with Alicent’s efforts, with how often Aemond visited your rooms. Who in their right mind would think two young newlyweds were spending their nights playing cards and board games? It stung, to think you had had one job, and you had failed. Bed your husband. Produce children. Any child, not even a boy. It was meant to be easy. You were a failure.

Before your thoughts could spiral even further, towards becoming a Septa and watching the man you loved marry another, Aemond surprised you. With a shaking hand, he brushed your tears away.

“It’s not that, either. I like you. I might even love you.” Aemond’s eye doesn’t meet yours, and it’s only that what halts your heart from roaring in happiness. You frown, rubbing at your temples. A headache is starting. Why must everything be so difficult? He is saying the words you have longed to hear for weeks, yet… Something is off.

“You can say that you don’t like me. It’s alright.” Perhaps it is dishonesty. Perhaps he is only saying it, so you don’t feel bad. Aemond is considerate like that, never wanting to upset your feelings.

Aemond glares, giving you a stern look, as if daring you to try to explain his own feelings to himself. You shrink slightly.

“No. I like you, truly. It’s just that….” He trails off, and you want to scream out in frustration. Your temper is starting to rise, too.

“What? If you are so attracted to me, you should find it easy to bed me.” You spit out, almost daring him to contradict you.

“Nothing is that simple.” Aemond says, rolling his eye. You feel the urge to shake him, but you don’t. You are a Princess now. A Princess would not shake her Prince husband, no matter how foolish he acts. You breathe in, then out. Your response comes out, tersely.

“Love is a simple thing. It’s us who insist on complicating everything.”

“It is not my love for you, what makes me hesitate. First times can be…” And at that, you almost laugh in relief. So, that is what makes him hesitate? Fear of hurting you?

“Painful? I know, but I trust you.” You grab his hands in yours and look up at him, trying to showcase your sincerity. Your eyes are wide and earnest. But Aemond pulls out of your grasp, frustrated.

“'Tis I, who doesn’t trust you.”

You recoil, immediately pulling back. Your mother had always said you were a kind girl if a bit self-centered. And it was showing. You had never thought yourself the source of his worries, or had you ever thought he could think you're capable of hurting him.

“Aemond…” It comes out in a broken little sob. You knew people said things in fits of anger they didn’t mean, but you could tell he meant this. He didn’t trust you with his body.

Aemond tangles his hands in his hair, messing it up.

“Not like that. Just… You come to me pure, but I’m not. I have laid with a woman before.” It only makes you more confused. You are trying not to make assumptions, but it is a strange thing to say. It’s expected, especially for a man of his station. You wouldn’t have dared demand purity from him, in the way men demanded it from their wives. It was natural, even. Your positions in life were different. No one, not even the Queen herself, chided a man for his lack of chastity.

“Alright. I don’t mind it.” You answer, tentatively. You really hope, this time, you get it right. But the silence that follows is defeating.

Aemond’s hands ball into fists by his side. He loosens them, before balling them again. He is trying to hide their trembling from you, you realize. A pit forms in your stomach, knowing that whatever he is about to tell you, it’s bad. Something so terrible it might be better to not even speak it aloud. You have seen this man get into fights with his nephews, spitting out the worst slurs. You have seen him defeated by Ser Criston, beaten up, bruised badly. You have seen him hurt by his father's lack of care, cast aside in favor of others. But never once, never once, shaking in the way he is now. It terrifies you.

You don’t dare touch him, or comfort him in any way, when he is trying to calm down so hard. His breath is shallow, posture hunched, as if trying to fight the instinct to flight.

“It was not a good experience. I… I fear it would be like that, between us, and taint our marriage.” Aemond says, very quietly. His eye looks watery, his mouth set into a grim line. As if about to cry. You can tell, that whatever happened, it was much worse than what he says.

“Oh.” It’s all you can say. It had not crossed your mind, that it wasn’t you what repelled him, but the act itself. You long to hug him, but can tell touch is not what he wants, right now. You remember then, all the times he evaded touches from others, so skillfully. The ducking of an arm when Aegon tries to hug him, turning it into play fighting and roughhousing. How he never initiates affection with the Queen or Haelena. How he has never touched you, apart from a pat on the arm or holding your hand. Or how his palms get so sweaty when he has to do it. How he has not kissed you since your wedding. Perhaps, even the fact that he is always dressed in clothes that cover him completely.

Never having thought about it before, his quirks start to make sense in a way you don’t want them to. It hurts, to think of him being hurt in such a way. It is not something you had thought could happen to a man, but it makes too much sense to ignore. Whatever cloud appears in your eyes, it’s too much for Aemond to handle.

“Oh.” He mocks you, chucking your chin. It’s a gesture meant to put your mind at ease, show you that this is not an unsavable obstacle. You are thankful to him for it, even if it comes at the cost of being the butt of the joke that’s not even funny, much less with the topic you are discussing. But you can pretend for him. You smile, softly.

“Do you wish to speak about it?”

“Perhaps some other day."

Dragon /ˈdraɡ(ə)n/

noun

a mythical monster resembling a giant reptile, sometimes shown as having wings. In European tradition, the dragon is typically fire-breathing and tends to symbolize chaos or evil, whereas in East Asia it is usually a beneficent symbol of fertility, associated with water and the heavens.

In Cyvasse, a dragon can remove elephants from the board.

Aemond pulls down the screen dividing the board. He gives you a smug little look, laying down on the bed only in his sleep shirt. You try hard not to stare, focusing instead on the pieces on the board.

Your catapults are gone, and only your elephants remain. He has captured your King with a Dragon. It’s an odd move. You either are not remembering right or he is cheating.

“That’s cheating! You said the dragon could only move…” You start to complain, frowning at him.

“Diagonally, which is right.” He answers very calmly, looking at you in expectation. You examine the board from all angles, noting that he is right, and he has not cheated. Unless playing with a greatly disadvantaged player is cheating because in that case, Aemond most definitely is.

You take a deep breath and lay down next to him, forgetting the board. Oh, you can feel his pride at having bested you, even without looking at him. And of course, he keeps shifting on the bed, jostling you, lest you forget what you have to do. It’s the customary price, after all. A way to encourage to actually pay attention to his instructions about how the game is played, but also a way for a young couple to start getting to know each other. Your cheeks heat up immediately, when you decide what you will say. You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly and mumble so low, it can barely be heard over the crackling fire that lights up the room.

“Fine. As a young girl, I used to steal my father’s dagger and make other children knights with it. I loved playing Queen.”

Aemond laughs, a deep, sincere laugh. His eye crinkles at the corner, a pair of tiny dimples making themselves known. You like how true laughter lights up his face, you decide. It’s cute, but not something that often happens.

“That must have been adorable, wife.” Aemond smiles at you, boyishly. He is about to tease you, you know it. Your heart melts just a little more. “I apologize for being but a lowly Prince.” You start to laugh, but the laughter dies in your throat with his next words. “Perhaps I can indulge you.”

You rush to correct the treasonous words, scared. Aemond is an ambitious man, you have known that from the start. Just as ambitious as he is dutiful, your husband. But you can’t help but wonder if in this case, ambition outweighs the duty he feels towards his family. You don’t know him enough to make a judgment yet. So very gently, with your pulse ringing loud in your ears, you speak.

“I like Aegon. No matter if he is a drunk fool, sometimes. And your father is pretty boring, but alright. And Princess Rhaenyra." You don't say anything positive about her, not when you had learned through this same technique she had demanded Aemond was punished after losing his eye. If you had a chance, you would strangle her. But only a little. Otherwise, it would be treason, and it would be setting the wrong example. Queen Alicent always told you it was best to lead with your actions, and not only your words.

Aemond smiles, pushing your shoulder lightly.

"Not like that.” He complains, but gives you a long look regardless. You know he has noticed your slip, referring to Rhaenyra as an afterthought and only after Aegon. He knows now, without you having told him, what your thoughts on succession are. He is perceptive like that. “I was thinking more along the lines of crowning you my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

“You never compete in tourneys, husband.”

“For you, I would. If you wished to be Queen, for you, I would.” And it feels like Aemond is promising something else, something more than just being the one to get a crown of pretty flowers. It scares you a little, to be the focus of such devotion. Such honeyed words, too, which you know are unusual for him. The urge to kiss him is strong, but his confession, a few days backs, still weighs heavily between you too. He has definitely noticed you are more careful with your touches now. Still playful, but giving ample time to pull away. Yet, you can’t leave him hanging either. Not when Aemond is trying so hard for you two to work.

“I would, too. You would look handsome, with a flower’s crown.” And thinking yourself so sly, you slide your hand underneath his, laughing. Aemond laughs too, and pulls you towards him, trying to get you to put your head on his chest. You do so eagerly, listening to his heartbeat. At first, it is rushed, and he remains stiff, despite being the one to initiate the embrace. But slowly, Aemond relaxes and starts carding a hand through your hair. You think it feels much like what heaven must feel like.

The motion lulls you to that state between sleep and consciousness, where your head feels fuzzy and full of cotton, and your movements are sluggish. It feels like a dream, the way the shadows dance on the wall, and how his heart pounds steadily under you. You wish you could sink into him, fuse the two of you, as the Maesters of old said soulmates were. Nestle close to his heart, curl around it with greedy little hands, protect him from the world. Your eyelids drop, despite your fight to stay awake. Aemond smiles down at you, amused, and runs his hand over the slope of your nose, tracing the contours of your face. You scrunch your face at him, about to scold him for disturbing you, when he speaks. At first, it doesn’t make sense to you. And then, you realize.

“I was thirteen. Aegon took me to a brothel. I…” It feels like being stabbed, over and over again, tiny sparks of pain in your chest. In your mind’s eye, you can see him. A slightly younger version of Daeron, perhaps with longer hair. A big, purple eye, the other side of his face freshly scarred. Tiny. Terrified. And that you know because you know his growth spurt didn’t hit until he was fifteen, courtesy of your cyvasse games. You also know he was painfully shy and quiet, the product of a childhood filled with mockery and neglect. That, too, he had shared, after a game you knew Aemond had lost deliberately, feeling you were losing more embarrassing stories than he was sharing. Still, you hadn’t minded.

It hurts to think of your awfully kind husband being taken against his will. You doubt, had you been him, you could have survived it. Being violated so… It aches so bad, tears start filling your eyes. But you do not speak, less you break the spell and Aemond clams back up.

“I… I didn't want you to think I was weak. You are one of the loveliest things I have had, in a long time.” He says, voice breaking slightly. You shift in his grip, and look him right in the eye.

“You are not weak.” You enunciate, clearly and slowly. And you hope your sincerity shines through your eyes because you do believe it. Unable to speak a word, silenced as he was by shame, you think you would have broken much earlier. That Aemond stands, whole, before you and speaks the words aloud after so much time, says leagues about his character.

“I was meant to come out of it a man. It went…wrong.” He tries explaining, but you shake your head.

“You were not in the wrong.” You make a mental note to try to strangle Aegon later. You had known he was a… Interesting character, to say it kindly. But this… This took the cake on reckless, thoughtless behavior. He was at least three years older than Aemond, yet he had not half the sense his brother posses. Perhaps, your husband is better suited to be king. After living three months with the Targaryens, you were starting to doubt their closeness to gods. You stomp down your personal grievances, knowing Aemond needs love, not rage.

“May I hug you?” You ask, softly. Aemond laughs, a little watery, and pulls you on top of him. He hides his face in your hair, sobbing softly. You fantasize of killing half the whores of Flea Bottom, Aegon, Viserys and perhaps Alicent, too. You fall asleep like that, limbs entangled with each other and forgoing your ritual of messing up the room and your appearances. Despite it, the next morning, the maids who find you are more convinced than ever before of your closeness.

Elephant /ˈɛlɪf(ə)nt/

noun

a very large plant-eating mammal with a prehensile trunk, long curved ivory tusks, and large ears, native to Africa and southern Asia. It is the largest living land animal.

In Cyvasse, each player has multiple elephants.

It takes you a few sleepless nights to try to find a solution to your problem. Despite being praised often for how learned and bright you were, you couldn’t find an answer to your questions. You see, you have always been a planner. You tackled your concerns by doing research about them and then coming up with an action plan. But there was no research to be done here. You had to work with the facts.

You knew Aemond was not willing to confess to his mother. Nor were you about to betray his trust. But she would keep pressuring, for you to fall pregnant. You could buy time, faking an illness or perhaps even a pregnancy followed with a miscarriage. Yet, you had been chosen not only as Aemond’s companion, but to bring the next generation of Targaryens to the world. And both of you wanted children. He was too proud for letting you get pregnant and pass the baby as his own. Not with the situation with his nephews.

So. You were back to square one. You had to find a way for both of you to have children, and not traumatize Aemond about it. And get Alicent off your back. Research. You could do research about how a lady ended up with a child.

You poured long hours over medicine treaties and concluded this: It was not his member that had to go inside you, but his seed. It would also be useful if you broke your maidenhead in some way, less you ended up trying to give birth still a virgin. So, in theory, Aemond didn’t need to enter you. Just collect his seed, and perhaps you could pour it inside you with a jar or something. Still, you put that thought on the back burner, as a plan b. Oftentimes, the best solution was not the most complex one, and so, you had to at least try to perform intimacy with you. But you didn’t want him to suffer, and so, you decided to approach one of your maids about it.

“Dyana.” You said, as the girls were unlacing your gown and unpinning your hair for bed. “Stay.”

It was low, what you were about to do. But you knew of none else who had gone through something similar. Dyana had been appointed as your maid after having the unwelcome attentions of Aegon on her. There was nothing that could be done, not when the King was so ill, Alicent had told you. She wouldn’t subject him to having to pass judgment on his own son, not in his state. And besides, there had been no harm done, with the girl not falling pregnant. At the time, you hadn’t questioned it. Now, it made you sick to think your brother-in-law, who was always supportive of you in front of his mother, could have hurt her in such a way.

Dyana stayed behind, brushing your hair in front of the vanity. The other maids scurried out in a flock of dresses and chatter. You met her eyes through the mirror, in low candlelight. She was the Targaryen kind of pretty, with hair so blonde it almost looked like theirs. Perhaps that had attracted Aegon.

“I understand you were forcefully subjected to Prince Aegon’s… Advances.” You said, once you were alone. Dyana was very tense, obviously reminding the last time she had been alone with a member of the royal family. You decided to spare her the anxiety over what you wanted, if any, to make this shameful act you were committing a bit less traumatizing. “I have questions about it, from woman to woman.”

The brush clattered to the floor. Dyana’s eyes turned from anxious to terrified. She was frozen, unable to bend down and pick it up. You turned in your stool, to reassure her.

“I'm not going to punish you. I don’t want to know about the act, or reprimand you or blame you.”

Dyana bent down to pick up the brush. Her shoulders remained tense.

“I only want to ask a question. And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to… But if you do, I will reward you handsomely.” You tried putting her at ease, using a soft voice. Much like with Aemond, you stuck to not sudden moves and no touching. To show her that you were serious, you pulled a handful of gold dragons, letting them clatter on your vanity’s table, next to the bottles of expensive lotions and perfumes Aemond had bought you. “But my husband can never know. No one can ever know.”

Dyana raised her head at the sound. She looked at the gold, and stood, anxiously wringing her hands together.

“Milady… That’s a lot of gold for a question.” Dayna’s eyes were fixed on the ground.

“It’s an important question. It requires utmost secrecy.” You answered, handing her half. “For keeping this conversation private, even if you would rather not answer me.”

Dyana took the gold, quickly hiding it inside her pocket. She seemed to fear you were playing a joke on her and would take the gold away at any time. You didn’t blame her, with how badly she had been treated so far. Keeping her waiting would be even more cruel than what you had already done, and so, you asked.

“How do you trust again, after it?” It was a clumsily worded questions, asked in a rush and in a single breath. It came out more like “Howdoyoutrustagain, after… It.” Not the most dignified wording, either. You were supposed to be eloquent, smart. Yet, you were floundering as an overzealous child.

“I…” She had clearly understood, by the look on her face, but didn’t know what to say. How to approach it. Dayna stepped closer, scrutinizing your face. Searching. But for what?

“How can you lay with a man again?” You repeated, trying to sound a bit more self-assured and narrowing down your line of questioning. You knew she was currently in a relationship with a stable boy. He always picked her up on the nights you and Aemond were supposed to bed each other.

Dayna looked at you, expression doing a full one eighty. Her eyes stopped being frightened and turned sad. One of her hands went again to brush your hair, almost in comfort.

“It is not the same man. And. Um. Never in the same way, my lady. He asks. All the time. And not like…” She trailed off, concerned. You didn’t notice, too busy committing her advice to memory. “My lady, you should really speak to the Queen….”

At those words, your head jerked up. Why did she bring up Alicent? Did she really think you could ask her about intimate relationships? Unless… She thought Aemond was… Oh, by the Seven, that was even worse.

“Aemond is not mistreating me. But my cousin’s husband is. I just don’t know what to tell her, having been so lucky.” You lied, trying to sound as convincing as you could. But you knew she wasn’t believing a word out of your mouth.

“Can they mend things?” Dyana asked, and it was obvious she didn’t buy that you were asking for a friend.

“From what I gather.” You answered, tersely. Of that, you were certain. Aemond liked you enough to at least try. You would consult him first, making sure he was not uncomfortable with the idea, but you knew he felt the grains of sand on both your clocks draining, as you did. Time was something you didn’t have. But Dyana didn’t know any of that. She was asking you, even if covertly, if you thought your husband could not be a brute. It showed, in the way her eyes filled with pity.

“Tell her to ask him to be soft. And… Not that, right away.” Dyana blushed, lowering her eyes in embarrassment. You gave her a puzzled glance, confused. If not intimacy, right away, what did she mean? Kissing? “Go slow, do something else….”

“Like?” You tilted your head to the side, hoping for a clarification.

“Mouth. Fingers.” The girl looked like she was about to hide under the table from embarrassment. And truly, it was a bit strange. An unmarried maid teaching a lady about intimacy.

“Oh.” You frowned. Dayna squeezed your shoulder, with very soft hands. “Thank you.”

King /kɪŋ/

noun

the male ruler of an independent state, especially one who inherits the position by right of birth.

In Cyvasse, the goal is to kill the King.

Your research had led you to A Caution For Young Girls. A popular novel between the common folk and that had costed you great effort to acquire. The plan had included a horse, a chicken, Aegon, and a copy of the Seven Pointed Star you had had to defile. You prayed that the Seven forgave you, both for reading such dirty tales and for destroying a copy of their sacred book to hide the book you were really reading. That day, even Queen Alicent had mistaken your newfound devotion for the Seven for a lady praying for a child and had pointed to you as an example for Aegon. In truth, you had been on your knees before the effigy of the Mother begging for forgiveness, and not a child.

It had been for a better cause, you told yourself. If truly were the gods who gave the Targaryens their right to rule, it meant they were favored among the rest of the men. Surely, finding a way to procure a child to one of the most pious, gentle Princes the realm had to offer justified your actions. Surely, Aemond’s devotion made up for your sins, or at least, the seven prayers you had recited under each of their effigies did. Surely, right?

Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing something bad. Literature is meant to open the mind. That’s why yours and Aemond’s studies had been encouraged from a young age. And the novel had certainly opened your mind to new ways of being intimate. You had no clue there were so many ways one could use their mouth, fingers, and openings. And if you had felt aroused by reading it… Literature was meant to be enjoyed, too.

So, the next time you and Aemond were alone, you said there was something you needed to talk to him about. You brought out your notes, and took the Cyvasse board away from the table, placing your research there instead. Aemond’s eyebrows raised at seeing you pull out such an amount of parchment, yet he said nothing.

“You want to be a father. I want to be a mother. We are married. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I have researched for two possible ways of achieving it. Watch…” You pulled out a diagram, crudely drawn. You grabbed a stick, much like the one your Septa used to teach you when you were a child, and were about to start explaining, when Aemond interrupted.

“Is that supposed to be…” Aemond had the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “A… Um… Is that…?”

“Yes, now shut up. I’m trying to explain my plan.” You answered, not even the slightest bit ashamed. Couldn’t he see you were explaining your research? “You see, we don’t actually need to have any kind of sexual contact for me to fall pregnant. We just need to insert your seed…” It was said in a very clinical manner, but Aemond interrupted, again.

“Wife, I know how conception works.” Now he was fully blushing, and you frowned. It was not your intention to make him uncomfortable, so you decided to go straight to the point.

“Alright, so we will skip that part. Fine. We have two options. You either pleasure yourself and spill in a jar, or we build up to intimacy. I researched the way to make that the least traumatizing for you as possible, too.”

Aemond looked at you, for one long second. The silence stretched, and you worried this was going to end up with losing him in the most painful way you could imagine. Your blooming relationship, dead by your tactless hand. Aemond stared some more, his eye narrowed. Then, he burst out laughing. You felt so embarrassed you hoped the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

The both of you stayed like that. Aemond laughing so hard tears sprang from his eyes, and you, diagram still in hand, with what Aemond would later swear was the cutest pout he had ever seen.

“This has to be both the sweetest and strangest thing someone has ever done for me.” He finally said, drying his tears.

“You are not mad? Or hurt?” You asked, eyeing him a bit suspiciously, but with a smile of your own.

“Come here.” Aemond widened his stance, and you stepped closer, giving in to his unspoken request for you to stand between his parted legs. With a touch so light, it might not even be there, Aemond tilted your head down and kissed you. You felt as if the world stopped, for a minute. The kiss was clumsy, with him sitting and you standing but you could swear it was the kind of kiss the poets wrote about. You let him lead you, reminding Dyana’s advice, and you could feel the way he smiled against your mouth for it.

“I made my decision.” Aemond said, as you pulled away to take some well-needed breaths of air. Your mind felt like mush, with how dizzying the kiss had been. You had not a single clue what he was talking about.

“Huh?”

“We will try to have the children the normal way. I can learn to trust you enough for it.” And it felt like your heart was singing, with how happy you were. You smiled brightly at him. It was an honor that he was willing to trust you that much, that he was willing to try. You knew, were you him, you would have hesitated more. Aemond was a brave man, you had to give it to him.

You wanted to kiss him silly. But you had promised yourself to keep things at his pace, were he to choose this path. And so, you asked.

“Hug?”

Aemond laughed, and pulled you closer, burying his face on your chest. You hugged back, holding him.

“So, what did your research say? About building up intimacy?” Aemond shifted, looking up at you, purple eye shining with mirth. You spluttered, slapping his shoulder. He laughed again. “You know, in all seriousness… The Seven have given me a strange woman. But I wouldn’t change you for anything.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

Detailed warning: Aemond confesses to the reader that the reason they haven’t had sex yet is not a lack of desire but a bit of fear, and describes what happened to him when he was thirteen. The reader does her research and presents it to him, crudely, but he is touched by her gesture.

As a fellow SA survivor, I hope I have managed to portray the struggle to trust a partner again in a manner that is both tasteful and fluffy, with an adequate dose of humor and awkwardness. Writing Honesty raised a few thoughts on the matter of consent in Westeros. I never got to finish GOT because of the same issue. My heart ached for Aemond during the brothel scene, and I wondered about it a lot. I have yet to see it portrayed in any fanfiction. I apologize in advance if it made anyone uncomfortable.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond #fluff #aemond fluff

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🦉 ATHENA: Goddess of Wisdom & Reason, of Strategy & Warfare, Crafts & Arts 🧠

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it's after a moment of brilliance. You could be giving someone an insightful observation, successfully mediating two opposing forces, creating your own invention, or when you successfully performed a maneuver. You’ve shown your intellect and Athena claims you at that moment. 

The Athena cabin cheers for you and welcomes you in. 

You look in awe at the architectural structure of your cabin. You can tell the foundation and the base of the cabin was structured like the rest of the other cabins, but over the years, it was elevated. 

You’re shown where you’ll be sleeping but as you set up, you immediately clock in how everything is placed. All the bunks are pushed to the side, row by row and then there are desks lining along the same way with dual tables, and there are the rows of books and a workshop further in the back. You see inventions being made, architectural models, and more. 

Among the children of Athena, you slowly figure out which intellectual you lean more towards: Educated (developing theories and plans), Productive (philosophy, literary criticism, sociology, law, medicine, etc), or an Artistic (literature, music, painting, sculpture, etc). Whichever you are or of those you find yourself in, you’re in good company. 

If you want to bounce off ideas of someone, there’s no shortage of siblings to have a sound board of. 

Whatever craft you find yourself in, you’re immediately put into consultation and you find yourself either being asked to get an input on or seeking input from others. 

Fortunately and unfortunately, since demigods aren’t allowed to use the internet, your cabin is the next best option for Google. 

Spider repellents everywhere. There’s not a single dust bunny in sight, not even in the corners or behind the unseen books. Aside from the piling books, scrolls, and tools (and the few coffee cups), the Athena cabin is the cleanest cabin after the Apollo cabin. 

When there was a spider somehow, you witness everyone scream and grab several torches before incinerating the arachnid into nothingness. 

That or an overly complicated set up of a machine to destroy that one spider. Then you find out that there’s a lot of contraptions that they’ve built for one, very specific, function.

You just had pulled off an emergency strategy maneuver during the Capture the Flag. It was a close call with the new camper but you couldn’t mistake them for not being a child of Ares. They were a monster on the field and you had to make sure at least get some upper hand. 

You managed to take out half of the other team’s numbers, using the layout of the forest and its terrain to your advantage, and your eyes noticing the body language of your opponent. 

You still lost because the new camper, who has the undeniable glow of Ares on them, demolished through your forces, but it wasn’t half-bad since the casualty was the same on both sides. 

“You’re fast on your feet. A bit foolish, but it was a nice maneuver.”

You jumped at the voice and turned to it, seeing a blonde girl with gray eyes. You knew her, Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. 

“Oh, uh, yeah” you said lamely, dusting yourself off as an attempt to keep your hands from shaking. “I figured at that point, we could at least make it fair or we just lose really badly.” 

Annabeth nodded, as she smiled. “I guess, there’s plenty of time to hone your intelligence with us.”

“Wait what?”

Annabeth gestured up your head and you looked to see the glowing image of an owl over your head. You made a “oh” and looked owl-eyed at your new sister as she held out her hand. 

“Welcome to the Athena cabin, I’m Annabeth Chase. Cabin Leader and your new half-sibling.”

#pjo fanfic #pjo imagine #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #pjo #pjo imagines #pjo x reader #pjo reader insert #annabeth pjo imagines #annabeth chase imagines #annabeth chase imagine #child of athena #children of athena #athena #pjo x you #demigod h/cs #demigod reader #demigod headcanons #demigod imagines #athena cabin #cabin 6 #percy jackson and the olympians imagine #percy jackon and the olympians

[moineauz]

જ⁀ "you are a 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌, dearest."

That was what your husband- Neuvillette- mutters breathlessly to you in an outpour of gentle rain. That was when he ultimately grasped the wispy and fleeting sensations of what a mortal calls a 'dream', like a feather grazing the skin before vanishing with an afternoon breeze.

While Neuvillette is poised, eloquent, observant and educated- the sheer complexity of mortal life puzzles him. He has grown to subconsciously question the facts, follies and simple acts of mortals for centuries in a subtle, smouldering aspiration to better comprehend why laughter erupts from your hearty lungs during downpours. Despite, rain being considered an omen of sorrow. Or how you childishly attempt to dance with the shadows of strangers before eventually embracing his.

Oh, oh how he could not help but gingerly place his pens and papers aside when you spend hours simply perched next to him. Eyes closed and silent yet breathing deeply into your stomach and exhaling through your mouth as you unwinded like string before him. Fully aware that you need not utter another word as you unfailingly glowed before him; taking up space in his very office as you did wherever your heart and legs took you.

You'd wrap a thousand-year-old tree in your arms and mutter thanks to the Earth before playing tag with the children on the street, sharing fruit with a local vendor whilst relishing in an evening stroll with Neuvillette. Just the two of you.

It was yet another practice of yours that first bewildered, intrigued and ultimately enamoured him. In the haze of afternoon light under the subtle whiff of smooth parchment- Neuvillette could not have sought a superior way to observe the mortal who unwinded him.

That was the day he began to scan and rummage through parchment and books- scouring for at least one word to encapture a sliver of you. Like an aerologist preserving a mere fragment of bone.

( Of course, the Melusines- who adored you terribly- sought to aid Neuvillette in whatever way possible. )

That was when he came upon a word as he overheard a curt conversation whilst ambling through the streets of Fontaine.

'A dream.'

Hence, as raindrops gingerly slid down your cheeks, Neuvillette observed your soaked figure. However, despite the grey clouds hung above, your eyes- rich and deep in colour- seemed to twinkle like stars.

You pause for a tender moment, your mouth slightly agape as the mellow tunes of rain dance in your ears. Yet, words do not rise from your throat. Instead, the warmth of evening tea sessions, paper filing done together and swaying to no rhythm or sequence of moves.

"Oh Neuvillette," your voice condensing into a mere whisper as you utter his name; having nothing left to say. The muscles in your legs move absent of thought. Thus, you stand now mere inches apart from one another. Rain soaking you both. As you observe his tender face you notice a streak of rain pouring down from the corners of his eyes. Or perhaps it was salty tears?

Worry flickers in your eyes like a match being lit as more tears roll down his cheek in a manner of ethereal grace. You gingerly reach your hand toward his cheek; cupping it tenderly. Neuvillette stirs slightly.

Before you can voice your disquiet, Neuvillette sobs. His eyes glanced down shortly before meeting your fretful eyes. His eyebrows furrowed in the manner you have seen a dozen times before.

Yet, his eyes glimmer like the rays of the sun kissing a broad vibrant lake. A scintillating dazzle of unobscured light.

"Do not fret dearest. These tears are not ones of sadness..."

Neuvillette raises his gloved hand and similarly caresses your cheek; eyes pooling into your starstruck ones.

"... but of my most ardent affections to my partner- a dream I wish to live in for as long as you allow me to."

waaaa what a fic. i accidentally deleted the draft halfway though writing it but thankfully i was able to get it back. hope you all are ready for my comeback!!! ( meaning more angst lol dw there will be fluff too... or not?!?!? )

reblogs with comments are highly appreciated!! pls interact... don't be a ghost reader!

#writing ᝰ.ᐟ #genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines

[littleadaline]

Hold Me [P.G8]

Warnings: academic overwhelm, reader isn’t coping well with the stress, Pedri being a (hopefully) helpful partner. Fluuuuuff ✨

A/N: wrote this during my midterms, basically how I felt going through the sleepless nights of studying, keep in mind I have ✨ADHD✨, so my retention can often be resumed to….shit 😽😽

A/N (again): I’m publishing this at 1:12 AM, clearly shouldn’t, but I’ve been too eager lmaoo. Um.. I haven’t written in a year or two, so bear with me. I’ll try to post on a somewhat regular basis, but being a Uni student, my schedule is a bit hectic. Love 😽

———————————————————————

Everything felt dull. The birds had stopped singing, the sky wasn’t as bright, the wind was colder. You huffed as you woke up, not ready to go through another day of this. Pedri had already left for training, leaving you alone in the flat. You sighed, turning over to grab your phone, chuckling as you saw the messages he had sent you while you were asleep.

[Mi amor:]

Thinking of you 😘 Good luck with studying today! I’ll grab us food on the way back xx

You answer his message before making your way to the bathroom, ready to get on with your day. As you take a quick glance in the mirror, you can’t help but notice your sulked face, your tired eyes from hours of staring at your computer, tirelessly trying to understand the concept of your class. You were currently studying for your finals, something that had been consuming your entire life, barely leaving space for extracurricular activities or just, breathing. Pedri had noticed the toll it had taken on you, on your couple, seeing your date nights pushed aside for a quick study attempt. You couldn’t lie, some days you had regretted pursuing a higher education degree. A notification from your phone pulled you away from your thoughts.

[Mi amor:]

Training is done, but I’m gonna go out with the boys for a bit. I should be back in 3 hours. Are you in the mood for a poke bowl, cariño?

You let him know before heading to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. As you bit through your toast, you glanced around the room. Your books and textbooks were splattered across the dining table, your pencils scattered around the room, either having fell down the table or thrown in a fit of rage. You sighed, putting down your coffee mug on the table. You knew you had to clean up your mess, not wanting Pedri to see the flat in this state. But something was preventing you from picking up your books, your scattered pencils, and the hundreds-if not thousands of Post It’s on the floor. In an attempt to pump yourself up, you sat down on the dinner table, a twinkle of hope in your eyes. You opened up your computer, your eyes glancing at the revision document. Word after word, after word, after word. Your brain barely read out the sentences, before you felt a ball in your throat, a feeling of helplessness overcoming you. Overwhelmed, you sat down on the cold floor of the flat, defeated. Why? “Why can’t I pick up after myself? Why am I so shut down?”, you muttered to yourself. You were nervously playing with the hem of your sweater, clenching and unclenching your fists, your breathing rapidly increasing. You found yourself overwhelmed; by the repetitive clinging of the washing machine you had previously started, the neighbours’ crying baby, the children playing in the park below the apartment. Everything felt too bright, too loud, too much. Exhausted, you let the tears out, longing for some sort of relief, more emotional than physical. You rolled yourself into a ball, sobs hidden by the noise of your neighbourhood.

Outside this flat, no one knew about the mental exhaustion you had pushed yourself to. The restless nights, staring at the ceiling while Pedri snored peacefully next to you; the times you silently cried in the shower as your soul broke from the pressure. There was no denying it, the academic pressure had broken your soul, left it torn into shreds, your confidence down the drain. Between the sobs, you didn’t hear the front door open. You quickly wiped down the tears before scurrying to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“Cariño, I’m home!”, a soft knock came from the door. You sniffled, rather loudly. “Is everything alright?”, his voice grew concerned.

You looked in the mirror, your eyes widening in horror as you saw how red they were. “Shit, shit shit,” you said dabbing some cold water around your eyes. Pedri knocked a second time, harder. “Open the door please, I’m concerned about you.”

Left without a choice, you reluctantly opened the door. Pedri was standing there, his figure towering over you, his eyebrows were knitted in worry, his lips slightly agape. His hair was slightly stuck to his forehead, most probably due to the sweat from training.

“Nena, what’s going on? Did something happen?”, he said as he took your hand and led you out of the bathroom. “C’mere.”

Settling down on the couch, your body over his, you closed your eyes; for fear of breaking down in front of him. You felt one hand settle on your back, while the other settled on top of your head. In an attempt to soothe you, he began stroking your back. You felt your body relax to his touch, your worries melting away into nothingness. Pedri was your anchor, in all the aspects possible. Whenever you were sick, or tired, overwhelmed or angry, you knew you could find solace in his arms. You don’t remember what exactly happened after sitting on the couch, but you woke up to a different scenery. The sun had set down, leaving Barcelona enveloped by a cold darkness. The apartment had been tidied up, windows closed, blinds drawn, your books neatly packed on the bookshelf, your Post It’s picked up from the floor, your pencils back into their container. All the lights were turned off, the only source of luminosity being the candle Pedri had lit up in the kitchen; almond vanilla, your favorite. Confused, you sat up.

“Pepi?”, you said, rubbing the sleep off from your eyes.

Footsteps made you turn around, a freshly showered Pedri looking at you. You saw him disappear into the bathroom before coming back out again, fully dressed and dried up. Before you were able to say anything, he sat down on the spot next to yours. His hand found yours as he fiddled with your fingers.

“Nena…I think I know what’s going on with you.”, he started.

You held your breath, afraid to hear the truth coming out of his mouth, a truth you had tried so hard to suppress and deny.

“You’ve overworked yourself, haven’t you?”, he said, lovingly stroking your hair. “You’d think all this tossing and turning at night would go unnoticed?”, he chuckled. “I have taken into account how you started biting your nails again, how little time you have to rest. Your water bottle is always sitting empty, unless I refill it for you. The snack basket’s content hasn’t moved either, unless I break your study trance and feed you. You are sitting in front of your computer every waking second you get. I’m worried about you, and your mental health.”, he said in one breath. Pedri was right. Your day was filled with dread, to have to spend hour after hour trying to memorize concepts for your degree, your mind feeling like a hole-filled sponge, never able to retain anything. Exhausted, you let the dam break. Your shoulders shaking with sobs, soaking Pedri’s shirt as well. Pedri tightened his hold on you, bringing you closer to his chest.

“You won’t go through this alone. With the upcoming international break and my injury, I will be home for the next week and a half. I have also booked you an appointment with a therapist, so you can establish coping mechanisms together… also to talk it out. And after all of this is over, I booked us a flight to your hometown.”

You looked at him in confusion.

“I think being away from your family isn’t helping you much either,” he let out. “You’ve been in Barcelona barely a year, and I believe a part of your soul is still in your hometown. I believe the beach and your grandmothers’ cooking is exactly what you need in order to come back stronger.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

You didn’t know what to say, nor how to thank him. Unable to say anything, you just let yourself crawl onto him, your head peacefully resting on his shoulder. His body wash -a mixture of sweet and spice- filled up your nostrils, as you hummed in peace. You would always be grateful for the day Pedri appeared in your life. The relationship you had built was one out of fairytales, a story of love and resilience, considering you had survived doing long distance in the early stages. You balanced out each other in more ways you could think of.

“I love you”, was the only thing you mustered up to say.

“Te quiero también, nena.” He said, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #fc barcelona

[stromuprisahat]

Isn’t the status of Grisha much worse after TGT. How are the Righteous Gang claiming to be victors/heroes who made others lives better. From my pov, grisha are much worse off while the otkazatsya are in status quo. Also what was wrong with the grisha coming to LP to live. From the books, it seems that none of them had any connection to their parents/relatives. If so that can also mean that their family did not care enough to reach out to them after they left.

Or did the Darkling ban all communications.

I’m sure the Righteous Gang think that all the cons of their dumb decisions are in fact the Darklings fault. You know because he did this or he did that. They do bot think for a single moment that he was the only one doing anything for them. While the soldat sol (shouldn’t they have been doing some charity work in name of their Saint?) and all other grisha did not lift a single finger to elevate the position of grisha in Ravka through ANY means.

Ironically, the Gang's decision to abolish Grisha draft should serve to further alienate Ravkan commoners and destabilize Nikolai's reign.

"... His serfs will get a taste of money and education and start thinking about building lives and businesses of their own instead of praying for their master’s patronage. ... "

King of Scars- Chapter 11

Nikolai had abolished the practice of separating Grisha from their parents. There was no mandatory draft to pull children from their homes.

Rule of Wolves- Chapter 9

The fact they aren't able to offer protection to any Grisha in Ravka, therefore hardly to children scattered all over the country, AND there's no system of home education, therefore these children might either hurt someone by accident or suffer from wasting sickness, aside...

This should be a gigantic legal issue.

(Although there's plenty of questions regarding servitude in general.)

Pre-KoS Grisha automatically became serfs. Their families were compensated financially.

Let's say Grisha are no longer required to move to Little Palace, otherwise everything stays the same. Are there lists of Grisha serfs to keep track of them? And how do they serve? Why should a family that keeps the amount of pairs of working hands get any money? Does it mean that a family of free- albeit poor- peasants, suddenly include a child serf with obligations of their own? Do these "free-range" serfs get personal assignments? That sounds like a whole lot of extra bureaucracy.

The other option is much more disasterous. If Grisha are no longer serfs, there's no reason to pay their families. They should be recorded the same way other free Ravkans are, and these records don't seem to be particularly meticulous:

Another [Ravkan Grisha] had been hidden in a root cellar when the Grisha Examiners arrived to test her. “My mother told them I’d been killed by the fever that had swept through our village the previous spring,” the Tidemaker said. “The neighbors cut my hair and passed me off as their dead otkazat’sya son until I was old enough to leave.”

Siege and Storm- Chapter 7

A year here, a year there... who'll know if the missing Grisha moved away, died or got kidnapped? But don't worry, the worst is yet to come- otkazat'sya (serfs). Why are Grisha freed as soon as three of theirs start whispering their advices into young King's ear (One of them rumoured to be his mistress to boot!), while common Ravkans keep bending their backs under nobility's jeweled slippers!

This is a starving, war-torn country, through which a wave of pogroms swept only a few years back! The hatred won't disappear only because a dead Saint allegedly appointed three of Grisha to what exactly? Represent? Or rule in the puppet-King's stead?

Sure, Nikolai's (strange, innovatory) reforms lead to more food for the poor... BUT- serfs are still property of their owners, unlike Grisha. West was somehow forced to remain with the East- feeding them, losing money to them. Nobles lost some privilages and whoever's not a complete baffoon will figure out they're losing power. Church should be pissed, because their leader got deposed, religious cult with Crown-appointed head took over and Nikolai cut their incomes too! Anyone even slightly distrustful towards Grisha- and that means all through Ravkan social strata- has every reason to believe they are running the country, which no longer means one black boogeyman, but a Suli whore with the King-killer.

_____

Members of Second Army weren't discouraged from staying in touch with their families, quite contrary. To make it more... well, to make it more KoS-ish, we get some specific data from Zoya:

She’d written every week to her aunt and every week received a long, newsy letter back with drawings of chickens in the corners and tales of the interesting traders who came through Novokribirsk.

King of Scars- Chapter 25

Ivan doesn't mention his family in present time, but I'd like to imagine he used to visit his widowed, almost childless mother until she died of old age.

_____

The only reason all those barely adult Grisha are even theoretically allowed to be teenagers, is that they're safe enough, thanks to Aleksander's work.

He was thirteen, but he’d had a hundred names, a new one for every town, camp, and city ... He would have lived next door to a garbage gully if it meant a roof over his head, hot meals, waking up in the same room every morning without his heart hammering as he tried to remember where he was. ... Grisha living in camps and broken-down mines, hiding out in tunnels. ... No safe place. No haven. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

Demon in the Wood

If Grisha are faring better at the beginning of Shadow and Bone, it's his doing:

... though it was smaller than the Grand Palace, the “Little” Palace was still huge. It rose from the trees surrounding it like something carved from an enchanted forest, a cluster of dark wood walls and golden domes. As we drew closer, I saw that every inch of it was covered in intricate carvings of birds and flowers, twisting vines, and magical beasts. ... We passed door after door, until finally we reached a chamber where another uniformed maid stood waiting by an open doorway. Dimly, I registered a large room, heavy golden curtains, a fire burning in a beautifully tiled grate, but all I really cared about was the huge canopied bed. “Can I get you anything? Something to eat?” asked the woman.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 5

While I can "excuse" some of the "heroes"- victim of otkazat'sya brainwashing institution, unloved privilaged kid with saviour complex, bigoted religious fanatics due to questionable parenting, universal punching bag... LB's new best girl's somehow coming out of it as the worst one.

Just the fact Zoya was saved by the very law she didn't mind abolishing, going from starving asset of her own mother to well-fed, respected soldier, who knows what do sable and silks look like... what a horrible life to lead! Such deterioration! If only the Darkling didn't bother trying, she'd be free to scrape along as she pleases!

Centuries worth of Aleksander's efforts are the reason Zoya gets to whine about her suicidal aunt instead of being maritally raped by some ancient creep, or outright dead after getting pregnant way too young.

#reply #Grishaverse #grishanalyticritical #The Righteous Gang™ #The Darkling #Second Army #Ravka #Second pseudoArmy #Nikolai Lantsov #Zoya Nazyalensky #KoS Chapter 11 #RoW Chapter 9 #S&S Chapter 7 #KoS Chapter 25 #Demon in the Wood #S&B Chapter 5 #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo #anti Zoya

[fuck-hamas-go-israel]

Ok so I have watched multiple videos on the history of Israel - Palestine and honestly? Go Israel.

The only thing I am not able to understand is, why is the whole world in the support of Palestine? Even Tumblr? (Yes the death of innocent people is bad but it's happening on both sides, why are they pretending that everyone in Israel lives in idk, rocket-proof luxury rooms?)

And people are purchasing books on history of Israel - Palestine, and still violently supporting Palestine. And not even seeing a shread of "blame" on them? :(

This is just an observation, but wherever muslims are in majority, they won't let the minority in peace, no matter what — they're not the “peaceful” community the world tries to show them as.

There is whole history on how they are ruthless, tyrants, who can not accept let alone tolerate another religion in their proximity.

I JUST don't know what will it take for the world to see the actual history and stop viewing Israel like The Evil Nation.

That’s a good question, but a very difficult one to answer.

As you’ve said, the information is out there in the open, available to anyone willing to put in the time to read and understand.

However, it takes a lot of mental effort to wrap one’s mind around the historical and geopolitical nuances of this conflict. As a result, it’s definitely less of a mental burden to get information from reading headlines, reading tweets, and watching TikToks.

Of course the information isn’t always accurate, and if someone absorbs news from these sites that all have the same bias, they’ll be inclined to think a certain way. But even still, it’s digestible, and why put in the work to make informed opinions of the subject when these smaller, bite-sized pieces of info are being spoon-fed to you easily?

You can tell people to “educate themselves”until the cows come home, but the chances of them actually going to read up more are pretty slim. After all, it’s more comfortable and safe to maintain your opinion than actively seek out information that challenges your point of view.

That aside, I think the Israel-Palestine conflict in particular has elicited, or rather, uncovered a very worrying hypocrisy and double-standard, and caused a rise in antisemitism that’s alarmingly reminiscent of 1940s Europe.

Those who support Hamas claim to be on the side of “human rights” and “protecting the innocent”, yet turn a blind eye to or rejoice at the slaughter of innocent children.

They present this issue as intersectional with other liberalist movements such as feminism and LGBTQ+ rights, yet Hamas rapes and parades the naked bodies of women around to publicly humiliate them, and calls the LGBT community “sinners” that will be “punished by Allah”, and refuses to allow any LGBT person on Palestinian soil.

Yes, it is baffling to see people defend a terrorist group that has such fundamentally incompatible ideologies with them, and would kill them on sight. Normally I wouldn’t just tell them to go to Palestine if they like it so much, but if they can’t see the irrationality of their own beliefs themselves, if they can’t see that their parroted platitudes are of no use and don’t make them immune or exempt from the hate-filled violence of Hamas, then maybe going there to see for themselves is perhaps the only solution.

So maybe there isn’t anything that can be done, unfortunately. It’s very telling that many pro-Israel accounts are sent hate mail daily, and instead of being presented with the opportunity for discourse on the complicated subject, it’s just crusty anons calling for the end of Israel and telling them to kill themselves for supporting Israel.

If someone calls for your death, then there’s little to nothing that can be done anymore to have a rational discussion. All you can do is stay safe and stay informed, and don’t stoop to their level because they’ll use that as ammunition against you to justify calling for your death.

Am Yisrael Chai 🇮🇱

#i stand with israel #israel #palestine #gaza #stop hamas #pro israel #am yisrael chai #hamas #fuck hamas #stop anti semitism #antisemitism #judaism

[rongzhi]

Hi! I have been learning Chinese for 8 months now, and even though I'm doing okay on HSK3 level, i feel like I'm in need of more content for this level that i can consume and practice. A lot of the shows and tv programs are still too difficult for me and i only understand around 40% of words (at most 😆).

I already watched everything on YouTube channels like Mandarin Click or Mandarin Corner etc, but in general i cant find that much for low levels. Do you happen to know where I could find some more? It could be texts, stories or videos, just below HSK4.

Sorry to take your time. Have a good day!

First of all, great progress!

I would continue just watching some programs for the exposure, even if you can't quite keep up yet.

Aside from apps and standard learning material (which I assume you already have resources for), I think for HSK 3 which I assume is beginner/intermediate, you might just have to bite the bullet and follow along with elementary school content, even if it's boring.

You can probably also find children's programming on Bilibili. I gave a rec in this ask of some Chinese cartoons to check out. Make sure to check out any recs in the notes as well!

This playlist with videos aimed toward Chinese 1st graders. It is a little dry, but the teacher speaks clearly and fairly slowly and from the first few minutes, I think it should at least be good listening practice as well as reading practice with anything visual. A lot of the first videos go over things you should already know since the videos are aimed at teaching Chinese children to read, so you may just want to skip to part 43, 课文1, where the videos will begin class readings of elementary texts.

Check out this site for scans of pages from the Ministry of Education's textbooks. The link should go straight to the page for first grade, but if you find that too easy, the menu across the top of the page goes up to 6th grade. There are just one or two years' books for each grade, I think (you'll have to click around a look). The textbooks contain short stories with pinyin guides.

This youtube channel has Chinese nursery rhymes if you don't mind the ugly ass art

Generally speaking, I think after HSK3/HSK4 is where your language skills will really see improvement so when you're still starting out there's not as much material because that's when it's expected that you just have your head stuck in a textbook.

You might find it useful to give yourself some longer term projects or challenges; translation is a good way to really spend some time thinking about the language, so it might help to find a song you really like and try translating it line by line with a dictionary. Pick a pop ballad or something that sounds cute and simple because other genres like gufeng will probably be too difficult. Later, when your language skills have improved some more, you can try translating the same song again and see if you decide to make any different translation choices based on new insights.

If anyone wants to leave more links for beginners, please feel free to do so in the replies of this post!

#nheirei #text #answered ask #language ask

[orangememesicle]

if we’re not going to abolish private schools can we at least force them to secularize. they straight up didn’t teach us science. all the fantasy books aside from narnia were banned from our library for “witchcraft”. my fifth grade teacher straight up told her class that the spanish colonizers were good because they brought “the natives” to jesus. “freedom of religion” ends where children’s right to an education begins

#original post #youth rights #atheism #secularism #‘parents rights’ to do what motherfucker

[contentloadingandstuff]

Parent headcanons - Sara, Ei and Lisa

Characters: Kujou Sara // Raiden Ei // Lisa Minci

Genre: Fluff

Note: I felt like writing some fluff, as I tend to neglect it a lot. So I made a randomizer with characters from the game, and spun it. I tagged it as 'male reader', but can be easily read as GN reader.

Here's my attempt at some fluffy headcanons :p

//Kujou Sara\\

First of all, congratulations for convincing her to have children in the first place.

Sara never got to experience any warm, parental love, and as such has trouble offering it. She has the instincts, sure, but her affections come out as awkward most of the time.

Looks to you for support when your child has any emotional issues.

Sara, being raised in a very conservative and tradition-focused society, has a solid view on how a family should look like. She most likely would like to have a son and a daughter.

May try to push her son towards a military career, and her daughter to the shrine, as tradition says. If they don't want such a future, she will try to get you involved. Please, explain to her that there are other ways in life than what society says! She will step down a fair bit if you support your children.

Will most likely try to pursue the traditional role of a mother while on parental leave, but will soon understand it's just not for her. She is a busy woman, used to constant action and the military routine. Sara hopes you are alright with providing the quality time and the emotional support she can't.

Doesn't mean she won't try to show her love, obviously.

Her motherly love shows mostly through acts of service.

If there is anything she can help with, she will do it. Even if her duties call, Sara will make sure to put them on second priority, or just hand them over to her subordinates.

That is aside from academic help. Sara recieved an education, but is not very eager to sit through it again. So help the bird-lady, alright?

Gifts are the second language of love, as her sizable paycheck allows it. Expansive clothing, rare foods, books and high quality toys, as well as others. They are not always on-point, but her children will surely appreciate the gesture.

Is the strict, somewhat scary mom. You'll most likely take on the role of the lenient, fun parent to balance it.

Bullies? What bullies? If anyone will be stupid enough to raise their hand on her son or daughter, their parents will go through absolute hell until they come on their knees to her, begging for forgiveness.

If her children will inherit her Tengu blood, she will help them tend to their wings and teach them how to fly.

She is loyal to the Shogun, but after enough time will rethink her priorities.

Now that she has a family, a real one, to return to, she will rethink the whole 'leading the charge' thing as well. Commanding from the back seat is not for her, so she will take to staying on the sidelines instead.

That said, her zeal will increase. She is now not only fighting for the safety of her ideals and the Shogun, but also her own family.

Overall, a 6/10 mother. She is not very good at this, but she tries her best.

// Raiden Ei \\

Ei would only have a child with someone similar to her - a god. She has lost so many people in the past, and she just couldn't afford to see her partner wither away, and outlive her children (I assume demigods live shorter).

If Ei were to meet her love before the Archon war, she would be a completely different person nowadays. With someone to help her cope, the isolation and Vision Hunt Decree would just not have happened. But, for this scenario, let's assume you met her after the Inazuma story quests.

She will take her time starting a family. Raiden Ei has a lot of issues to work through, but the healing process will be faster if you will be there by her side.

Ever since her childhood, between all the fighting and bloodshed, she entertained the thought of having children at first, but the image of her own family grew more and more distant the more she fought. Soon, it was completely forgotten. It was you who reawakened the desire in her.

Ei was split between wanting to have one child to devote her love and affection to, and having multiple. She came to the conclusion that one son or daughter would be lonely by themselves, so two children will be her dream.

Her role may make her out as very busy, but personally I think that's not the case at all. With the Tri-commission to do all the work, Ei only needs to approve existing ideas and solutions, and propose new ones every now and then. That leaves her with lots of free time.

Wanting to devote full attention to her little ones, she will ask you to take over most of her duties. She will still take part in the most important discussions, but will avoid exhausting herself. You, being the loving and understanding partner, will gladly help her.

To say your heirs would be spoiled would be like saying nothing. Being the children of the leaders of a powerful nation certainly has lots of perks.

Ei will not hesitate to indulge her children in luxuries and expansive entertainments, like food or toys. You may want to keep an eye on her though - she will forget that her children have actual bodies to keep clean of cavities.

Gift giving, physical affection, quality time - Ei will try to give everything she has in store.

She will often get confused at modern things, looking up to you for guidance. She will learn eventually, but it's all still quite new to her.

Auntie Miko will make frequent visits, if only to tease her friend and play with the youth. A friendship will form between them, and Miko will get into all sorts of predicaments with them when they grow up.

The Plane of Euthymia will become brighter and more lively when she takes her children there.

When it comes to roles, Ei will be the helpful and loving type, who can annihilate her enemies one second and wash her child's hair the next.

The roles of fun and serious will be split between you two.

When it comes to jobs for her heirs, Ei will do her best to not let them experience the same things she did - which means keeping them as far away as possible from the military and politics.

If anyone dares to pick on her joys, they will be gone in a flash, leaving only a black stain on the ground to remember them by.

In summary, 8/10. Tries hard, and gets the results. Gives her little ones all the attention and love she can muster.

// Lisa Minci \\

It was a hard decision for her to make.

Since becoming aware of her incoming mortality, she wanted nothing more than to live her life to the fullest. That includes trying out new things, drinking tea, dating and having a family.

But, on the other hand, when she will die, she will leave you alone with your kid.

Lisa ultimately decided to take the risk, but agreed to have only one child with you in mind.

Has no preference over their sex.

Her comfy job at the library puts no stress on neither her mind nor her body, so the pregnancy will go without issue. Her maternity leave will be relatively short, and she will often visit the headquarters to escape from her little ones and get some actual sleep do her duties, of course.

Lisa is going to cherish every moment she is granted with you and her children.

Quality time is her absolute favorite, mixed with constant words of affirmation.

Lots of walks, lots of picnics, game nights, cooking together or any other imaginable activity (appropriate for the kids' age that is) are frequent.

Insistent on eating every meal together.

Will hog most of the time and attention of her kids.

Will spoil them to the limit, leaving you to take the hit and be the serious one.

Lisa would still be very helpful, especially in academic troubles.

The mage would take a lot of pictures, and hang them on every accessible surface. Every memory worthy of immortalizing must be made such. Not for her, but for you and the kid to remember.

She has no delusions that she will live long enough to see her joys go to work - she would like to, no doubt, but it's a foolish hope. That said, her heir's role in the world is up to them to choose.

Will insist on sleeping together, sandwiching the kid in between you. It's the best position to be in, being able to hold the people that made her the happiest woman in Teyvat as she drifts off to sleep. That is where she would like to pass away.

Will offer words of wisdom and book recommendations when the kid grows up enough to understand her.

As painful as that will be, she will try her best to hide any symptoms of dying. Lisa just... doesn't want to see you or them distressed over her state.

Will make life difficult for any bullies that might surface, maybe going as far as to dish out the punishment with her Electro vision herself.

A stellar mother. 10/10. Cherish her while she lasts.

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #genshin imagine #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #x male reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact ei #genshin impact raiden shogun #genshin impact kujou sara #genshin impact lisa #genshin impact lisa minci #genshin ei #genshin impact sara #genshin raiden #raiden shogun #raiden ei #kujou sara #genshin lisa #genshin kujou sara #ei x reader #ei x you #raiden shogun x you #raiden shogun x reader #raiden shogun x male reader #ei x male reader

[lets-try-some-writing]

Yo! Special delivery! *kicks down door*

So it’s safe to assume that TFP Soundwave has lost Buzzsaw, Ratbat, Frenzy, and Rumble and only had Laserbeak left. One could only imagine how much pain and grief that brings Soundwave but his Carrier codes must be going insane at the sight of humans given that cassettes and humans are ruffle the same height and are chaotic in nature.

I also imagine that his codes go crazy at the sight of children, so~ add Jack, Raf, and Miko to a still grieving Soundwave, who’s protocols are SCREAMING at him that those three cassette sparklings need him.

I LOVE this idea. Thank you for throwing this request at me! Now I have an excuse to write about my fav spy master.

Organic Cassette Sparklings

To Soundwave, his cassettes were his everything. His mind and body belonged to the Decepticons and Megatron, but his spark was only for his little ones. As such the loss of his cassettes one by one in short succession very nearly drove him mad from grief. He was blessed to still have Laserbeak, but she was also suffering from the loss of her brothers.

Soundwave thought time would heal the wounds in his spark, but it didn't. It anything, the pain from the loss of so many of his cassettes grew worse as if time was an infection slowly festering within his shattered self. By the time he arrived on earth, he was so lost that he could hardly think beyond his orders, his sense of being so broken that he couldn't bring himself to care. The only reason he still marched onward was because of Laserbeak, his last remaining cassette. But sometimes even she wasn't enough, sometimes he just wanted everything to end- to return to silence.

On those days he left the nemesis behind and went to the ground to try and shake his thoughts. It didn't work all that often, but it was better than the sickening monotony of his room on the nemesis and the constant problems that always popped up. More often than not he just wandered around the area nearest to the nemesis's coordinates. But after being deployed on a mission on the ground for the first time in centuries, Soundwave found himself stunned as his instincts screamed at him.

Right in front of him were three small organics, human children he knew to be under the care of the Autobots. But as he looked upon their terrified faces and their small shaking forms, all he could see were three cassette sparklings that needed a carrier to protect and nurture them. He would have snatched them up right then and there if it weren't for orders coming straight from Megatron demanding he return. Even then he still hesitated, taking a photo of the children and burning every detail of their forms into his processors for later analysis. And when all was said and done and Soundwave was back on the nemesis, he actually felt alive for once. Laserbeak felt similarly after looking at the images taken of the children. Soundwave wanted to care for cassettes, his carrier instincts demanded it, and Laserbeak wanted siblings. They agreed and soon after threw aside anything not related to finding a way to get the human children in their possession, or at least find a way to gain interaction with them.

It was a difficult thing to figure out, mainly because organics require different care than cassettes, but Soundwave spent weeks dutifully reading parenting books, biology texts, phycology papers, education documents, and medical websites until he felt sure of himself. Then he slowly began accumulating things small organic cassettes would need. Laserbeak did most of the collecting (not that she minded), often bringing soft fabrics, the odd piece of furniture, and enough canned food to last a nuclear winter. Then once they got everything in order, Soundwave made his move, heading to every battle secretly to watch and see if the human children were present or not. And this he did for months until at last the opportunity came, one he did not miss.

Taking care to ensure none saw him, Soundwave snatched up the human children and hurriedly put them into his carrying chamber which he had fixed up beforehand to not be harmful to the children. Then before anyone could react, (Autobot or Decepticon) Soundwave took to the air and returned to the nemesis as if he had never left. Not even Megatron suspected a thing as Soundwave stalked back to his chambers, locked the door, let Laserbeak get settled, and finally pulled the children out.

They were decidedly unhappy if their screams were anything to go by. But Soundwave expected such a response, Rumble and Frenzy behaved similarly when he first took them in as well. Soundwave was accustomed to having to take things slow and let his little cassettes warm up to him. Besides, he had spent plenty of time learning what humans needed. He was feeling fairly confident in his ability to have the children relax around him eventually. And for six whole months, Soundwave had the children in his care, unknown to anyone and kept safely hidden away where only he and laserbeak knew.

Rafael was the first to warm up to Soundwave, caving in around two weeks into being under Soundwave's supervision. Soundwave paid special attention to him due to his need for glasses and his young age. The spy master was very dutiful in collecting food that met all of the nutritional requirements of human adolescents, and he took extra care to ensure Rafael was always able to get to his glasses. He would regularly pat Rafael on the head, ruffling his hair with gentleness reserved for his cassettes. He would teach Rafael bits and pieces of Cybertronian while also ensuring that the boy was taught things the human documents said were normal for his age group. This task was not at all hard considering the relative simplicity of human education, so Soundwave may or may not have thrown a few more advanced subjects into the boy's education as well.

Rafael for his part adapted well to being in Soundwave's care. He learned quickly that no harm would come to him and came to even enjoy being with Soundwave even if he longed to return to the ground and the Autobots. He was fond of Soundwave and took pride in doing things Cybertronian young performed, which always earned him a loving nuzzle from his originally unwanted Cybertronian caretaker. Laserbeak for her part loved to sit with Rafael during his studies and play games with him, mainly some form of ball or a version of chess not too dissimilar from the human version. All in all, Rafael was content, if a little cooped up.

Miko was the second child to crack as she came to find herself enjoying listening to music with Soundwave and being caught before she could escape. While at first it was a desperate bid for freedom, it turned into a game and even a learning experience as Soundwave taught her how to better hide and use her size to her advantage in combat. By the time month three rolled around, she was invested in her studies with Soundwave and regularly sat on his shoulder to listen to music with him, often singing along happily and play fighting with Laserbeak. She hated being cooped up, but she liked being able to watch what happened on the nemesis, even going so far as to suggest funny pranks to Soundwave (who on occasion actually implemented the pranks because it was what his little cassette wanted).

Soundwave always took great care to foster Miko's musical capabilities, teaching her songs from Cybertron and showing her how to play sized down versions of their instruments. And while he did school her in other things, music was her passion and he did not take that from her, instead encouraging it and helping her to channel it into something practical. She was a small organic cassette, she needed a defense, so Soundwave gave her a set of blasters which would hook up to her instrument. Of course he kept it offline or at a low setting, but Miko loved the gift nonetheless. She especially came to love using it in mock battles with Laserbeak who would play dead to give Miko the gratification of victory.

Jack was the last to crack, taking nearly four months before he fully accepted Soundwave's affection. Soundwave took extra care of Jack's emotional state, mainly because it reminded him greatly of Frenzy, his emotionally scarred and battered cassette. He went to great lengths to make Jack comfortable and to help the boy work through his panic attacks and other mental issues. And surprisingly, Soundwave's attempts began to work, even helping Jack gain confidence as he tutored him in all sorts of subjects. Before long Jack was flourishing academically and showing an interest in combat after seeing Miko do so well. Soundwave offered his little organic cassette a set of energon blades in response, ones which he quickly began showing him how to use. And after only a month or so, Jack was proficient in their usage without having anything aside from the school work Soundwave assigned him to do.

Jack came to love simply sitting with Soundwave quietly, watching the security feed with him and sometimes discussing old stories and his problems. Soundwave of course always listened, never speaking up and instead letting Jack vent all his frustrations patiently. In his mind, Jack really was just like Frenzy, a tough exterior with a soft interior personality wise. And just like with Frenzy, Soundwave was patient and offered all the companionship and comfort in the world when Jack felt comfortable enough to speak with him. Laserbeak also came to love having Jack lay against her side as they watched a film or something of the sort, even purring to him when he had nightmares when he fell asleep by accident.

To Soundwave everything was going perfectly. He finally had cassettes to look after and they were opening up to him far faster than anticipated. He was ecstatic. But as will all good things, it came to an end too quickly for his liking when an attack on the nemesis forced Soundwave to put the children in his carrying chamber and hurry out of his quarters. By some means, the Autobots had confirmed that the human children were on the nemesis and they were angry. Soundwave ran for his life as he sprinted down the halls, heading for the upper decks to escape capture and to get his human cassettes to safety. But that was not to be. Before long the Autobots found him, having locked onto the human children's life signal stemming from him.

He tried to fight, but with the children in his carrying chamber, he eventually accepted capture and was dragged back to the Autobot base. When there he was strapped down and interrogated immediately, the Autobots not being nearly as kind as they were known for.

Optimus: Where are the children?

Arcee: What did you do to them!?

Ratchet: If they are dead I can promise you will re-join the Allspark before Primus can hear your prayers.

Soundwave: ...

Soundwave: Cassettes: Secured. Safe.

Sensing his defeat and only wanting his little cassettes to be safe, Soundwave opening his carrying chamber and allowed the children to clamber out in wonder. There were tears, hugs, and tender embraces, but Soundwave watched it all in apathy. He was going to lose his cassettes again... and he wasn't sure he could handle it.

At least that was what he thought until the children explained and fought in Soundwave's defense. The spymaster could only watch in awe of his cassettes as they spoke for him, pointing out that he merely wanted to care for them and that he never so much as touched a hair on their heads with harmful intent. In response to this, Optimus made an offer.

Optimus: Soundwave... you wish to care for the children more than you wish to serve Megatron, yes?

Soundwave: ...

Optimus: If that is true, why not join us? You can care for them without fear here.

Soundwave: ...

Soundwave: Offer: Will be considered.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #soundwave #tfp kids #laserbeak #soundwave just wants to raise some kiddos alright #let the poor mech be a dad #he deserves happiness for primus's sake #team prime

[whinlatter]

I'd love to hear your thoughts about Harry and Mr. Weasley's dynamic! (especially post-war)

thank you so much @pocket-lilacs! harry and arthur!here they are bonding/doing harry and arthur things, ie. escorting your son’s best friend to his show trial:

there are two things i do really like about arthur and harry's dynamic and relationship is that arthur clearly understands how harry views him, what harry does or doesn’t need from him, and never oversteps the boundaries harry puts on their relationship. although harry derives a lot of comfort and support from molly’s very maternal show of love to him, harry never sees arthur as his dad, arthur accepts and respects that. what harry wants from arthur is to be treated with respect, to be listened to, and, by his mid teens, to be trusted as someone mature enough to make his own decisions for himself. arthur does all that: he honours harry’s wishes, he supports harry’s right to information, he doesn’t chastise harry for surveilling malfoy and even follows harry’s tip and conducts a raid on malfoy manor as a result. he respects sirius’ place in harry’s life (no shade to molly here, i am on record as at least a partial molly defender in the sirius v molly fight), in doing so a rather more healthy mentor/guardian relationship with harry than either sirius or remus ever really manage (number of times arthur guilt trips harry by bringing up his dead dad: 0).

the second thing i really like is that harry 🤝 arthur on the importance of being committed to a cause even if it requires self sacrifice. i like that arthur is an extremely principled man committed to progressive political causes for the marginalised in peacetime and to the resistance during the war. that arthur doesn't take harry aside to try and deter him from rue quest left to him by dumbledore speaks to arthur's devotion to the fight and the morally right cause of action in ways i respect and which i think harry does too (not to diminish molly's very reasonable question which is: why are these children being made to do what is clearly a suicide mission?). there is this tendency in some rather vocal corners of fandom to criticise both molly and arthur as parents, and while mostly molly gets a brunt of that ire, usually the version of that directed at arthur is that he should have gotten a higher paid job and compromised his strongly held principles if necessary to provide greater material comfort to his family. i think this is bollocks for lots of reasons (the weasleys are poor in that they haven’t got loads of money to spare on things that teenagers want and care about - eg. new clothes and books and holidays - but always are able to feed, clothe, house and fund their children’s educations and later house and support an entire resistance movement lol. ron literally doesn’t mention his broken wand to his mum, pipe down tiktok teens), but the big one is that i find the idea that you should surrender your principles in a society built on eliminationist ideas of blood supremacy to make as much money as possible very gross — and, crucially, so does harry. harry never judges arthur for not selling out, and i very deeply respect that. some things are worth fighting for, and arthur weasley always knows that! king shit, truly.

#arthur weasley #living legend #meta

[grottyoldhag]

As a witch, the witchcraft community scares me sometimes

Things desperately need to change and I hope that together we can create a better community moving forward

For context: I almost got lured into a fucking cult

I want to start off by saying that I am SO GRATEFUL for tumblr and the people who are on this platform educating others for free and putting their time into that, in my experience this is the only social media that is safe and trustworthy (although there is still plenty of misinformation floating around on here)

And I also want to add that I’m of course well aware that everybodies spiritual path is different

Im in a few witchcraft and pagan groups on Facebook and let me tell you it’s terrifying.

I don’t know what it is about middle aged white ‘witches’ who think they know everything but seem to thrive on closed practices, appropriation and straight up lies

A few weeks ago a lady posted in one of these groups ( a uk specific one ) saying she had a teaching opportunity available about the elemental path

This lady owns a witchy shop, claims to be a high priestess and seemed generally safe and trustworthy, so I reached out bc I was interested in elemental magic

She added me to a group chat that had a handful of others and her daughter in it, they proceeded to ask me a bunch of questions about my practice which seemed normal,

And then started telling me about the ‘coven’ they are a part of

According to them, this coven exists in two parts: the ‘outer coven’ and ‘inner coven’

The outer coven being people on the outside world and the inner coven being a group of people who live on private owned land in the woods with no connection to the outside world aside from the outer coven

Obviously this was the first red flag so I decided to investigate and ask about the ‘rules’

They proceeded to tell me that the coven runs on an ancient book of logs that have been in their coven for centuries, and that they do not use legal names

And that they allow adults to have sexual relationships with children

Amongst other things

I was so shocked by that revelation I questioned them on it thinking I had misread it, but this woman and her daughter defended it, saying that ‘the people who live in the woods are nothing like us in the outside world’

Horrified, I contacted the admins of the group her original ‘teaching’ post was in and the police were called through them

None of the other (middle aged and white) women who were added to the group chat for the ‘teaching opportunity’ defended me or questioned these ‘rules’ , they just went along with it and stayed after I promptly left the chat and blocked them all

They claimed to work with Hecate and Pan and hold rituals every full moon, standard pagan / witchcraft things that seemed so normal, but under it all was an entire cult

My only hope is that this entire thing was a lie by two crazy people, I’m still waiting for updates about the police report (otherwise I’d upload the screenshots, I still might tbh)

But yikes,

I’m attending my first circle & soundbath since this incident at my usual place this evening and I’m a little nervous

Just because my practice feels a little tainted since then, I innocently fell into a trap, the community I usually attend circles with is lovely and safe so hopefully this will help

I’ve seen a million documentaries on cults, you don’t ever think you’d be the person to fall into one but it’s true they can get anyone

Stay safe out there witches, be vigilant, always remember protection first

#witchcraft #spellwork #folk magic #occult #spiritual #witchblr #witchcore #witchy #witch #hellenic deities #Hecate #pan

[omgthatdress]

Cécile’s Parlor Outfit and Marie-Grace’s Skirt Set take the place typically occupied by a girl’s school set. They correspond with the book Marie-Grace and the Orphans, in which a light-skinned, possibly Black baby is left on Marie-Grace’s father’s doorstep, which soon brings them face-to-face with slave-catchers. I’m glad that at least in 2011 AG was still tacking difficult historical subjects. White-looking children being held in slavery became an abolitionist cause celebre during the Civil War, so it’s cool to see that subject being brought up.

The oldest Catholic school in the US, The Ursuline Academy, began teaching girls in 1727, and it was open both Black and White students. New Orleans opened its first official public schools in 1841, but I haven’t been able to find out if they were segregated or not. All that aside, it means Cécile and Marie-Grace probably would have gone to school, even though home instruction was still popular.

Their collection does come with an education-y desk, though! I absolutely love the transforming table desk!

a real-life example:

(found by @in-pleasant-company​)

Cécile’s parrot, Cochon, is super cute, and parrots were actually a very popular pet at the time. They were brought into port cities from far away and were exotic, colorful, and clever in a way that made people go nuts for them.

As far as fashion goes, I’m not a huge fan of Cécile’s little jacket. Even tough it’s not 100% inaccurate, it likely would have matched the skirt she’s wearing.

Marie-Grace’s dress, on the other hand, is great!

(The Los Angeles County Museum of Art)

#1850s #American Girl #Cécile and Marie Grace

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Part One- I Regret Nothing

Warnings: Language, mentions of blood and injuries, a whole lot of angst.

"My name is Jackman Thomas Harlow III. I’m 16 years old. I want my one phone call."

"My name is Jackman Thomas Harlow III. I’m 16 years old. I want my one phone call.

My name is Jackman Thomas Harlow III. I’m 16 years old. I want my one phone call."

Jack repeated the script his father had drilled into his head after one too many run-ins with the cops, his lips moving frantically as he whispered the mantra, his eyes closed.

“What are we gonna do, man?”

Jack felt the shove into his arm in slow motion, his senses muted by the alcohol coursing through his veins. He allowed the push to move through his body, his head slumping over to the side. He was too tired to react; he needed all of his energy to stay awake.

“Jack, what are we gonna do? They’re gonna start asking questions.”

He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the bright headlights in his view. His vision was blurry and tunneled. He closed them tight and opened again after a few seconds, but it was no clearer than before. He could make out the blue and red lights that illuminated the trees above him, and the muffled voices of people running around him. As if someone had turned up the volume on a speaker, he winced at the sound of a siren coming closer, clamping his hands over his ears. He placed his hand on the concrete sidewalk, pulling it away when he felt something wet and sticky. As his vision finally clears, his heart races at sight of the blood that coats his fingers, dripping down onto his pant leg. For the first time he is taking in his surroundings; the totaled car he took without his father’s permission, the two cop cars parked to block the road, multiple officers pacing the scene as they take photos for evidence.

He sucks in his teeth at the burning pain radiating from the back of his head as the adrenaline finally wears off. He grazes against the crown to find an open gash at least the size of his index finger.

“Jack answer me!” Brandon called out to his brother through gritted teeth. He lazily looks up as the deputy approaches the two of them, his hand on his gun as if he may have to draw it at any second. He relaxes his hold on the holster when he realizes they aren't a flight risk.

“Don’t say anything.” Jack’s tone tells Brandon it’s a threat, not a warning.

“Alright, who wants to tell me what happened here?” The cop’s southern drawl suggests he’s a transplant from below the Mason Dixie line. Neither of you dare to make eye contact. “I need a medic.” Jack finally speaks, motioning to the injury on his head. The cop pops the gum in his mouth, the sound making Jack shiver. The only thing he hates more than ignorant cops is a cop with no manners.

“I’m surprised they let you in the force with a third-grade education. Tell me officer, are you and your inbred children enjoying the Hamptons?” Jack groans out in pain as the officer pulls him up from the ground, throwing him against the door of the cop car. “Fuck, I’m already bleeding here, lets not make it internal as well!” Jack smirked to himself as he felt the cold handcuffs clamp around his wrists.

“Anything you want to say before your taken to the station?” The cop felt unsettled as he watched Jack’s demeanor change, his movements robotic, his tone even.

“My name is Jackman Thomas Harlow III. I’m 16 years old. I want my one phone call.”

Jack jumps at the force of the door slamming closed. The backseat smells like shame and piss as he adjusts in his seat to see out of the back window. Brandon is being loaded into the neighboring car, tears streaming down his face. “That bitch better not say anything”, Jack utters out to an empty car.

The police station is quiet aside from a few drunk locals who frequent the metal jail cell that was visible from the front desk. Jack began to sober up as he was booked and fingerprinted. He knew he wasn’t going to show up in their system; his father made sure of that. “You’re wasting your time”, he whispered, but the desk clerk was none the wiser. He was taken back to the medic station to get sewn up. He patted the bandage that was placed haphazardly on his head. His head was still throbbing; they had denied him any pain medication.

“Jack, what are we going to do?” He groaned at the sight of his brother, his face red and puffy from the hours of crying as he walked to the back of the holding cell. He wasn’t sure how it was possible to despise someone that he was supposed to love. Brandon looked nothing like him; his hair jet black and straight, his green eyes making him the outcast of the family. Jack slumped down on the hard metal bench, attempting to stretch his tight leg muscles. There was no way he was going to be able play in the lacrosse game this weekend with his injuries. “Just relax, everything will be fine.” Jack gave him a dead smile, looking past Brandon rather than at his face. His eyes were focused on the homeless man that was asleep on the floor across the room, his tattered clothing and missing shoes displaying that he had been here a while. “I fuckin’ hate homeless people.” Jack said out loud, resting his head against the concrete wall.

“Jackman Harlow.” Jack allowed his eyes to flutter open, making out a figure between the thick iron bars. “Jackman Harlow”, the clerk repeated, calling out to the number of inmates. “Yeah, that’s me.” Jack held up a weak arm as he stood, hobbling to the door. He gulped, backing up when he saw his father walking toward him, still in the black tuxedo he saw him wearing earlier tonight when he left for one of his many parties. His face was deadpan, which scared Jack more than any angry expression he had seen on his father’s face before. “Your bail has been posted, you’re free to go.” He could feel the disapproval radiating off of his father’s body, but he relished in the warmth; it was comforting to him at this point.

“Wait, what about me?” Jack turned back to Brandon who was still behind bars. “Dad, please!” Brandon called out, his hands white knuckling the bars. “Is this your son as well, sir?” Jack’s father straightened out his coat, clearing his throat. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.” Jack winked at Brandon as he walked away. Sometimes things end up working in his favor after all.

Series Masterlist

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

I really wish we could talk about Jeyne bullying Arya without people going completely feral, because as someone who was bullied (tragicomically involving the nickname "horseface" and even neighing when I walked by), and who can't even watch high school comedies like mean girls without wanting to die, I feel like it's so reductive to deny any possibility of conflict between the Arya-Jeyne-Sansa dynamic that is more than "mean girls vs pretty-but-doesn't-know-it-yet-girl situation" or "violent paranoid schizophrenic with a persecution complex feels victimised by girls who actually do their schoolwork" while still acknowledging Jeyne as a bully and Arya as a victim.

Jeyne is such a weird character to me, because I never feel this attached to the archetype she embodies.

And still, her dynamic with the two Stark sisters is interesting and the confusion in fandom is COMPLETELY fascinating and borderline triggering to witness, because it reminds me a lot to how a class of high schoolers reacts to *gasps, looks around to see no one is listening and whispers* bullying *lightning and thunder strike on the background to signify the gravity of such a word*.

Person A: What? What are you talking about?! She is exaggerating everything! Sansa never called her that! It was only Jeyne and I bet she only did it once! Person B: Oh, no it was just Jeyne who did it. Sansa told her to stop, but she just kept at it because she is less educated. Person C: No, Jeyne was actually just doing it to impress Sansa. Sansa is the real villain here. DontbotherwiththepronunciationIn2013: I don't think "bullying" is the right term. It's not that bad, Arya should get over it. It was just hurtful teasing.

Now I realise that "hurtful teasing" is in fact bullying.

So, if going by canon:

I think Jeyne came up with the name "Horseface".

I think Jeyne used to neigh at Arya when she was passing.

I think Sansa probably used that name at some point in her life or maybe multiple times.

I think that silence bestows. I think inaction can be encouraging more action. I think passiveness can be as harming as aggressiveness.

I do NOT however think that neither Jeyne nor Sansa are inherently despicable evil people for bullying Arya. I think they are still children. I think, like in most situations involving bullying and children, it's the adults who are at fault for not putting a stop to it, and sometimes even encouraging it.

Before starting to rant, I want to say:

I don't consider myself an expert on any of these characters!!!!!

So if I'm saying something disproportionately wrong in the following, I am open to being corrected.

With that said, I think this is a network of issues, most of them involving socioeconomic classes and period-compliant misogyny. I think it might look like this:

I know that focussing on this is a little pointless because the three main actors involved in this have been violently removed from the situation, (and most of the remaining cast is dead) but at the same time their possible future reunion will be even more violent and they probably won't even have time to cope.

And I can't sleep and I feel horrible and I already drew that dumb mind-map on my phone.

So, I'm starting with the least tangled component in this thing.

Ⅰ. The passive perpetrator, Blind Beth Cassel

To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. - The Blind Girl, ADWD

I have loved the "Blind Beth" concept since I first read it.

It's so interesting to me how the most Beth interested part of fandom is the Theon corner, yet in the entire Arya-Sansa narrative she barely appears and rarely in meta. The closest I've come to find analysis on Beth & Sansa was in this gorgeous collage highlighting them as victims of violence from different sources in ACOK, but asides from that, there isn't much there. And at least with Sansa I can understand it. Sansa doesn't think of Beth once in the entire books. Arya on the other hand names one of her many identities after Beth and I think the characteristic chosen to describe that persona was a very smart and painful reminder from GRRM.

Arya thinks of Beth Cassel in two occasions. Once in AGOT, when we first meet them,

She studied her own work again, looking for some way to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear. "What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly. Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered. "Tell me," Arya said. "Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful." "He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm." Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. "Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa corrected the younger girl, gently stroking her hair to take the harshness out of her words. - Arya I, AGOT

AND once in Braavos, when she is thinking of her life a Winterfell,

"Beth." She had known a Beth once, back at Winterfell when she was Arya Stark. Maybe that was why she'd picked the name. Or maybe it was just because it went so well with blind. - The Blind Girl, ADWD

Our first assumption as readers to the name "Beth" going so well with "blind" is because it is an alliteration. Who doesn't love alliterations? Tell me you don't love Sir Gawain and the Green Knight with all it's stylistic devices! They are lovely. And perhaps "Blind Beth" is only one of GRRM's alliterations acknowledged by a character.

Or perhaps "Blind" and "Beth" also go so well with each other, because apparently, and basing this from Arya's POV (the only one involving Sansa, Jeyne & Beth all together), Beth is a passive perpetrator. The typical class mate who pretends not to see the bullying and the way it affects the victim. The one who is decent or even kind when alone, but alienating when they are accompanied by a group.

I have seen certain takes claiming that Arya's POV in AGOT isn't a reliable source when involving the dynamic between her and the other girls in Winterfell.

That is possible, but she is our only source. As said, Sansa doesn't ever think of Beth, so if I want to examine her it has to be through Arya's eyes.

I would like to take the scene in AGOT once again and look at it more closely this time.

She studied her own work again, looking for some way to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear.

The object composition is so carefully placed that I find it difficult to believe it is not supposed to have a meaning. Jeyne whispers into Sansa's ear, an image I often associate with a political advisor plotting or scheming with the ruler they serve (which she will remind me of again in future AGOT chapters). Beth has a lower position in the hierarchy She is sitting at Sansa's feet, completely enthralled to whatever it is Sansa says. She probably seeks her approval.

(There is this very sweet art depicting the image of Sansa, Beth and Jeyne and even if I kind of feel guilty for reading the scene as them alienating another girl and still enjoying the art, I still want to share it because it's very cute.)

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly. Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered.

Jeyne's reaction is alienating. She giggles and denies Arya the knowledge behind that sudden laughter. It always reminded me a little of how Theon's smiles are often described contemptuously, probably because people tend to think he is actually laughing/smiling at them. They think he is mocking them. I don't think this is something completely involuntarily. I think Jeyne knows that giggling when Arya is asking to be integrated to the group is painful to her. Sansa is described to look "abashed" which I take as uncomfortable. I thinks she is aware this is mean spirited. She still doesn't do anything, but she is at least "abashed". Beth seems to follow this reaction but her description is only physical, not necessarily tied to an explicit emotion. Still, they collectively refuse to include Arya into the conversation.

"Tell me," Arya said. "Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful." "He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Arya has to insist to be accepted as part of the group. It is not Sansa who acts as the typical "Queen Bee" and grants her that privilege, but Jeyne. Jeyne is the one who speaks in a slightly haughty manner. Only after getting Jeyne's implicit permission does Beth make a comment. She is not described with any type of rancour by Arya.

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. "Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa corrected the younger girl, gently stroking her hair to take the harshness out of her words.

This is an interesting passage to me, but not because of Beth as a passive perpetrator, but because this is the first time I can think of where we are confronted with another monster that will play a role in here, the green-eyed beast;

Ⅱ. Envy

Not it's more mild mannered cousin jealousy that gets spoken of more in fandom, but envy!

Jealousy is usually seen as a less malevolent feeling, but the term is often used when actually referring to envy, so I will clarify that jealousy could be defined as a feeling of defensiveness and protectiveness over what you think to be yours and feel threatened or fearful of possibly losing it.

Envy is not protective or defensive, its offensive. It is a feeling of resentment over what another person or group has - be it a a material possession, a skill, or an emotional bond - and you feel you lack.

And oh boy, there is a lot of envy oozing from that medieval class room, some it more legitimate than other, but all felt.

Before continuing I want to clarify that Arya’s very real pain and low self-esteem, and the cruel ways in which Sansa sometimes treats her during AGOT shouldn't be dismissed as "deserved" or "exaggerated" because of her envy.

Ⅱ. Ⅰ. ARYA'S ENVY

Probably the easiest to locate.

In the formerly mentioned passage we see Arya being envious of Sansa. I would argue it's not up to interpretation since "with dull resentment" makes it very clear to me, but there is also tenderness. I don't think Arya hates Sansa, or at least not in that moment.

Something curious about envy is that it's not an entertaining sin. It's damaging not only to those you envy, but perhaps mostly to yourself. It is self-poisoning. And I think that during that scene Arya, isn't manifesting her envy. She very rarely verbalises it, instead she swallows her own anger and keeps it inside her. I couldn't find any passages where envy is the driving force on the few occasions Arya hurts Sansa. The closest I came to that is:

Arya wanted to scream. It was just like Sansa to go and attract the septa's attention. "Here," she said, surrendering up her work. - Arya I, AGOT

But even then, her envy only hurts herself.

Arya longs to be like Sansa. She wants to be considered as pretty as Sansa, she wants to be as skilled as her sister and to feel accepted by the other girls in the group.

It wasn't fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. If she did marry Prince Joff, Arya hoped for his sake that he had a good steward. - Arya I, AGOT

I find it curious how Arya starts off listing skills, yet the thing that pains her the most is related to her appearance.

What starts as painful envy becomes a self deprecating chuckle and later maybe even a half-optimistic outlook on her own strength. Arya recognises that she is not worthless or fully inferior to her sister. She is able to find qualities in herself and they way she does is endearing. She internally even makes fun of Sansa for not being as good as she is in this one little thing.

Sadly she is still aware of how in the eyes of most, Sansa is the one deemed worthy of admiration and emulation, while the best Arya can get is pity.

The septa examined the fabric. "Arya, Arya, Arya," she said. "This will not do. This will not do at all." Everyone was looking at her. It was too much. Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace, but Jeyne was smirking on her behalf. Even Princess Myrcella looked sorry for her. Arya felt tears filling her eyes. She pushed herself out of her chair and bolted for the door. - Arya I, AGOT

And Arya's envy doesn't come from simply being Arya, it comes from Arya not being seen as a valuable person by Westerosi society and, in my opinion, most importantly, by her mother.

I refer to the parent-child relationships on the whiteboard as "perceived", not because I deem them false or delusional, but because I've seen a lot of debate going around this topic and whether the favouritism is true or not and I don't know what to believe and honestly I don't care too much about it.

At this part of the conflict we don't really need to know if the Ned-Arya and Cat-Sansa favouritism is true or not. We just need to know that both girls feel some insecurity over their bond with their parents and feel envy.

Personally, I think both Stark parents love all their children deeply, it's just that love sometimes isn't perceived the way we want it to.

Both of her parents had conventional expectations for Arya, but it seems to me that Catelyn was the one who upheld these expectations while Ned acted more permissive. Eddard still intends for her to lead a life that is typical to that of a Lady,

"[...] And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too." - Catelyn II, AGOT

But it's not Eddard who Arya is terrified of:

It was worse than Jon had thought. It wasn't Septa Mordane waiting in her room. It was Septa Mordane and her mother. - Arya I, AGOT

And it's not Eddard whom Arya often fears being rejected by or disappointing.

Her father tells Arya she remembers him of Lyanna, a woman who is not only remembered as beautiful but also as loved and desired, and also shared some of her interests, such as swordsmanship.

Her mother though..

"Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands." When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed. "Arya has the hands of a blacksmith." - Arya I, AGOT

Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement. - Catelyn II, AGOT

“…my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.” Robb wouldn’t care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out.“ - Arya VII, ASOS

Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. - The Blind girl, ADWD

And a recurring pattern in those lines is a comparison to Sansa, the sister who is not constantly failing at fulfilling society's expectations on her. The sister who she wishes she could emulate while also staying true to the person she is. The sister who seems to act as a passive perpetrator of Jeyne's bullying and sometimes acts cruel herself.

Ⅱ. Ⅱ. SANSA'S ENVY AND EMBARASSEMENT

When I first read AGOT, I didn't like any of the Stark sisters. I actually think the only Stark I liked back then was Bran. I was about as old as they were, had my own issues with internalised misogyny and thought both of them were a little annoying. My views on both of them during AGOT have changed A LOT in the past ten years and while I like who they become as the books move n, much more than I like who they were at the beginning, I've become very fond of their AGOT selves. And I think they are children! Children make mistakes! Children are shallow and impulsive and hedonistic.

So, I don't think Arya is the only person here who has a few negatives feelings about her sister.

More than envy I think Sansa feels second-hand embarrassment by Arya's behaviour and wishes she wouldn't be associated with her, and this is something Arya is aware of.

She was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don't wear skirts and silks when you're catching cats. Quickly she lowered her head and dropped to one knee. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her. If they did, she would never hear the end of it. Septa Mordane would be mortified, and Sansa would never speak to her again from the shame. - Arya III, AGOT

Arya looked down at her ragged clothes and bare feet, all cracked and callused. She saw the dirt under her nails, the scabs on her elbows, the scratches on her hands. Septa Mordane wouldn't even know me, I bet. Sansa might, but she'd pretend not to. - Arya V, ACOK

And we also see Sansa wanting to deny association between her and her sister multiple times during AGOT:

Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. - Sansa I, AGOT

"Send Arya away, she started it, Father, I swear it. I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen." - Sansa III, AGOT

"[...]I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son." "I'm not like Arya," Sansa blurted. "She has the traitor's blood, not me. I'm good, ask Septa Mordane, she'll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey's loyal and loving wife." - Sansa IV, AGOT

Envy is something less present in Sansa's case, but I dare to think there is still a little of it lingering in her feelings. As if we had a cross involving affections and what is perceived by each Stark sister as a special relationship or favouritism between their fraternal foe and a respective parent.

One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father.  - Sansa II, AGOT

There is envy perhaps not of the relationship itself, but of the liberation that comes with it, but I don't even think this is actually Eddard's fault, I think this has more to do with the overall social conditioning of girlhood in Westeros and with another adult.

Ⅱ. Ⅲ. SEPTA MORDANE AND THE SOCIAL CONDITIONING

Septa Mordane sees Sansa as an exemplary student and she has reasons to do so. Sansa is a good and well mannered girls who fits into the model Septa Mordane is trying to shape the girls into. She performs her assigned gender roles with grace and is willingly doing so. Sansa enjoys being a Lady, it makes her feel worthy and it allows her to daydream and enjoy romantic hobbies like poetry or singing.

Arya doesn't. Partially because she rejects that model, partially because she id rejected by that model. I don't know what came first.

And yet, Sansa also sometimes seems to feel encaged by that model and by the Septa's teachings. And often, when Sansa does something that contradicts this model of conduct that she usually likes following, her thoughts go to Arya. She compares herself or gets compared to Arya, not necessarily in a pejorative manner, but almost seeing her sister as a little devil on her shoulder.

The kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, and Sansa went to bed that night feeling almost as wicked as Arya. - Sansa III, AGOT

Sansa sighed. "They rode with Lord Beric, to behead Ser Gregor Clegane." She turned to Septa Mordane, who was eating porridge with a wooden spoon. "Septa, will Lord Beric spike Ser Gregor's head on his own gate or bring it back here for the king?" She and Jeyne Poole had been arguing over that last night. The septa was horror-struck. "A lady does not discuss such things over her porridge. Where are your courtesies, Sansa? I swear, of late you've been near as bad as your sister." - Sansa III, AGOT

"It was for love," Sansa said in a rush. "Father wouldn't even give me leave to say farewell." She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father. - Sansa IV, AGOT

And who is usually disapproving of Arya's ways and telling her she puts them to shame?

Septa Mordane called after her. "Arya, come back here! Don't you take another step! Your lady mother will hear of this. In front of our royal princess too! You'll shame us all!" - Arya I, AGOT

And knowing how much Sansa cares about the way she is perceived by others, I can imagine Sansa thinking in frustration that it's unfair she gets reprimanded for these type of things when Arya does them all the time without realising that Arya suffers constantly because if it. It's just that they are less common in Sansa, so people are more surprised and "hopeful" of rectifying them. Septa Mordane almost looks at Arya as a lost cause. When she nags at Sansa it's because she wants to avoid Sansa becoming another lost cause.

And it's not that Septa Mordane is an evil witch trying to make Arya's life impossible. As much as I dislike Eddard Stark, I agree with him. This woman is just doing the job he and Cat tasked her to do. It's that she is part of an institution where girls like Arya aren't as valued as girls like Sansa.

Personally, I think she is one of the people carrying the most responsibility over Arya's bullying. I wouldn't say she participates in it, but she enables it.

During AGOT Arya describes Septa Mordane in an unflattering way and it is one of the few occasions where I don't think I should fully trust her POV, because yes, this woman is antagonistic to Arya, but I don't think she hates her.

"Septa Mordane is beside herself with fear. She's in the sept praying for your safe return." - Arya III, AGOT

I think, in her own flawed way, she is trying to "help" Arya adapt into conventional views of gender and Arya is having none of that (good for her!).

"Just where do you think you are going, Arya?" the septa demanded. Arya glared at her. "I have to go shoe a horse," she said sweetly, taking a brief satisfaction in the shock on the septa's face. Then she whirled and made her exit, running down the steps as fast as her feet would take her. - Arya I, AGOT

"Pray, where do you think you are going, young lady?" Septa Mordane asked. "I'm not hungry." Arya found it an effort to remember her courtesies. "May I be excused, please?" she recited stiffly. "You may not," the septa said. "You have scarcely touched your food. You will sit down and clean your plate." "You clean it!" Before anyone could stop her, Arya bolted for the door as the men laughed and Septa Mordane called loudly after her, her voice rising higher and higher. - Arya II, AGOT

Arya spun around, with Needle in her hand. "You better not come in here!" she warned. She slashed at the air savagely. "The Hand will hear of this!" Septa Mordane raged. "I don't care," Arya screamed. "Go away." - Arya II, AGOT

Poor woman is so frustrated with her job she one day passes out drunk on the table.

And I think Sansa suffers under her too, not because she dislikes the customs and views on femininity - she often recalls on Septa Mordane's teachings in moments of emotional need (Lady's armour is courtesy, find the beauty in every man) - but I think that as readers we can see how those are harming for her too.

"I've never seen an aurochs," Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen. Septa Mordane sniffed in disapproval. "A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table," she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread. - Sansa II, AGOT

Sansa cried as Septa Mordane marched them down the steps. They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun. "Stop that weeping, child," Septa Mordane said sternly. "I am certain your lord father knows what is best for you." - Sansa III, AGOT

That one last passage drives me wild when it comes to Jeyne Poole and you'll see why later.

So basically, Septa Mordane antagonises Arya for her failings as her student. The class (Beth, Sansa & Jeyne) emulates the teacher's disapproval and distaste, Sansa feels embarrassed by association and Jeyne Poole takes advantage of the situation and targets Arya.

And now I can finally get to the true object of my obsession here, beloved middle school mean girl:

Ⅲ. Jeyne Poole and her many mixed emotions

As said, I feel so weird about my love for this girl. People call Theon a "poor little meow meow" but when I first read these books I didn't see him as an anti-hero/minor-villain during ACOK, but more of my avenging hero. I had tears of rage when he was threatening to hang Beth but I was also weirdly cheering for him. Jeyne on the other hand, she is my poor little meow meow! She is my problematic fave! And she makes me cry like crazy and I hope she has the happiest ending in these goddamn books.

I probably feel more attached to her than I feel to Arya and Sansa. I don't understand this. Anyway, I have two possible assumptions for why Jeyne is always antagonising Arya. And yes, she IS ANTAGONISING Arya, even when Arya is no longer there.

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly. Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered. - Arya I, AGOT

Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace, but Jeyne was smirking on her behalf. - Arya I, AGOT

Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. - Arya I, AGOT

Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered.  - Arya II, AGOT

It was all her fault, everything bad that had happened. Sansa said so, and Jeyne too. - Arya II, AGOT

"I saw your sister this afternoon," Jeyne blurted out, as if she'd been reading Sansa's thoughts. "She was walking through the stables on her hands. Why would she do a thing like that?" - Sansa III, AGOT

"I will be a better wife than the real Arya could have been, he'll see." - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

"Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface." "It was me made up that name. Her face was long and horsey. Mine isn't. I was pretty." - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

You know, this entire thing started because I wanted to make a stupid joke but then I got more emotional and invested into this as I wrote, and now we are here and I don't even remember the actual joke I wanted to make so I have to improvise with the thing above.

I don't believe this is true either. There are absolutely no canon indications for Jeyne to have had been dealing with comphet and bullying Arya because of a crush (there is a rather fun fanfic though!) (and there is another but with angstier and subtler vibes and it's Theyne + Jeynsa). Although, in my opinion, there are a few other things; like class envy and projection!

Ⅲ. Ⅰ. JEYNE POOLE'S CLASS ENVY

I think hers is the most obvious case of envy, but unlike the envy between the Stark sisters it doesn't come from a place of emotional insecurity, but of socio-economical discomfort.

That is why I included "Beric Dondarrion" [insert highborn lord/knight] in that mind map.

Jeyne isn't envious of Arya's relationship with Ned Stark and much less of her skills. Jeyne is envious, and perhaps even particularly resentful, of the fact that Arya is offered AND rejects what Jeyne wishes but will always stay out of her reach.

I have joked about Jeyne's crush on Beric (and her possible implied crushes on Robb & Theon) in the past but I don't think I ever mentioned the class envy when doing so.

When [Jeyne] saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant. - Sansa II, AGOT

She had seen Jeyne Poole giving [Robb] moist-eyed glances, and some of the serving girls, even ones as old as eighteen… - Catelyn XI, AGOT

"Help me." [Jeyne] clutched at [Theon]. "Please. I used to watch you in the yard, playing with your swords. You were so handsome." - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

All the men she seems to at some point in her life experience some form of attraction for, even if it is that of a child, it's a puppy crush, just infatuation, are people she would never have a chance with. Two (theoretically) future lord paramounts and a marcher lord. All of them unachievable to a steward's daughter. And with that in consideration, let's look at this:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?" "You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon." Arya screwed up her face. "No," she said, "that's Sansa." She folded up her right leg and resumed her balancing. Ned sighed and left her there. - Eddard V, AGOT

And I wonder how frustrating that must feel to Jeyne. To see someone who she deems as inferior in skills and manners because of the conditioning they've gone through under Septa Mordane's tutelage, someone who she considers beneath her, be offered and forced things she desperately wants and will never get.

Hell, Jeyne even manifests some juridical administrative knowledge and argues with Sansa about it, something she won't get to do as an adult woman, while Sansa and Arya will rule (their husband's) castles.

"Father's leg, silly. It hurts him ever so much, it makes him cross. Otherwise I'm certain he would have sent Ser Loras." [...] "Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras," Jeyne said. "Lord Eddard should have sent him." - Sansa III, AGOT

Not that any of them would be good at ruling anything, they are all middle schoolers at this point, but I think she could have felt vexed at constantly seeing Arya reject all that she wishes she could have for herself.

Please don't misunderstand me, that is still not a valid reason to bully Arya.

There are no valid reasons to bully a child.

But there are reasons behind Jeyne's mentality and actions, and I think some of those reasons come from a sense of resentment over how "easy" things are for Arya because of her status as Lord Stark's daughter.

As Arya Stark, Jeyne's dreams come true, she marries the future paramount Lord of Winterfell and twisted wish fulfilment is one hell of a drug and not one strong enough to numb the pain! And to add insult to injury, the real Arya gets to spend a significant amount of time accompanying Beric Dondarrion and his band of merry men. I fucking hate this!

And while I think that this is the main aspect of Jeyne bullying Arya, there is something more which I haven't seen written elsewhere and I am willing to admit it could be a sketchy interpretation, but I would like to talk about it anyway because it's MY inane post and I get to choose the straws I grasp at!

Ⅲ. Ⅱ. JEYNE POOLE'S LOOKS

We don't have a lot of physical descriptions for Jeyne. Her eyes are the most remarkable feature about her, being described as big, brown and expressive by Theon and Jaime. Sansa and Holly consider her pretty. Theon calls her beautiful, but only when prompted by Ramsay and it's not very believable. In his thoughts he previously claims she is no longer pretty because of the slashes on her back. I don't know how seriously he means this, but I find it remarkable. Asides from that she is described as a skinny, pale, brown haired girl. She describes herself as formerly pretty but not beautiful and when doing so compares herself to Sansa and sees herself as the lesser of the two. And yet, the entire ruse she is later involved in with this pseudo-karmic punishment, is based on her looking similar enough to Arya or the Stark look to pass as one. I always thought it was so extremely funny how defensive she gets when she claims her face isn't horsey, at the mere mention of the "horseface" nickname, even without Theon telling her she looks horsey.

I don't know. It is probably that I'm looking into this with more depth than I should simply because of...obvious reasonsfsgfgsfsghgdnfjdhdf, but who sometimes makes remarks about the Stark look being one of bastards and plain-looking-people?

[Arya] even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered.- Sansa I, AGOT

My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. - Jaime IX, ASOS

"You [Arya] ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" - Sansa III, AGOT

Imagining little Sansa Stark going to vent to little Jeyne Poole after having an argument with her sister and making a perhaps not even genuinely meant comment about little Arya Stark's looks and Jeyne just sitting there mentally competing against Stannis Baratheon in who can grind their teeth the hardest.

While there are no instances of Sansa calling Arya "Horseface" she sometimes remarks to herself and to her sister that she thinks Arya is ugly and looks like a commoner.

And who has class insecurities and also seems to look similar to Arya?

"Jeyne, Jeyne, it rhymes with plain..." I can already imagine her whispering that to herself if she ever hears Theon's rhymes.

"I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?" - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

The only thing Jeyne seems to really have going for her compared to Arya, the thing that could miraculously elevate her, are her looks and even those pale compared to Sansa. As said, she is described as pretty by some, but not beautiful.

In my opinion, the text doesn't really describe Arya as ugly. It is somewhat left up to interpretation since, while Sansa, Cat, Theon and Arya herself give us the impression she might be, there are also textual comparisons to Lyanna and even people who didn't know her think of Arya as beautiful (Lady Smallwood), but since these girls grew up the way they grew up...

I can imagine Jeyne feeling like her "prettiness" is the one thing she thinks can be used to make her more valuable in Westerosi society, and in order to keep that idea of herself being prettier than Arya, she has to make sure Arya doesn't feel good about her looks, so she calls her horseface.

And, if going by this entire text that I've been writing because I am stupid, that is also completely self-destructive and tragicomical !!!

Basically I think it is possible that Jeyne is projecting her own insecurities regarding her looks and her overall sense of inferiority compared to Sansa unto Arya.

And Jeyne has reasons to feel inferior to Sansa beyond simply the class hierarchy and the possible feeling of unattractiveness, because - and now I will get blocked by another load of people if this is read- Sansa is not very good at being a friend to her!

Ⅳ. The Sansa-Jeyne Dynamic

This is one of those things that completely baffles me, same as the Theon-Robb dynamic, where I have no idea how it is possible that my perception in the past ten years has been so drastically different from the majority of the fandom. And I swear to god, I've tried to change my perspective, I read metas, I tried fanfics, and I still don't get it.

This years Sansa month dedicated an entire day to Jeyne Poole.

Someone who is not very well acquainted with the books would probably assume Jeyne Poole is a very important girl in Sansa's narrative based on that information. They'd probably be surprised to find out that, since the two girls were separated, Jeyne Poole is remembered a total number of four times by Sansa Stark.

Sansa thinks of Jeyne Poole a total of four (4) times since AGOT.

In the span of four books in which both Stark sisters go through terribly drastic changes in their lives, Arya thinks of the girl who bullied her three times.

Sansa who loves and misses Jeyne thinks of her four times.

And you are telling me that she is so important to Sansa that she deserves an entire day dedicated to her? And everything that is created in that day is about how Sansa loves her so much and cares for her tremendously and will protect her?

PERSON D: It's because Sansa is traumatised. It pains her too much to think of her. Not thinking of her is a coping mechanism.

"She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. The septa had lost her head with the rest, for the crime of serving House Stark. Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears." - Sansa II, ACOK

Person D: See?

Probably! I don't oppose that interpretation, it's very possible. People often suppress painful memories. But I can still disapprove of that coping mechanism. Would you like it if you suddenly disappeared form the face of earth in extremely mysterious circumstances and your friend wouldn't even ask about what happened to you? I don't think I would feel loved and treasured if I were to know that.

I don't like the way their dynamic is perceived by a majority of the fandom based on those four thoughts and the few other times we seen them interact in AGOT.

Person E: Oh OP is just posting anti-Jeynsa stuff because they ship Jeyne, A CHILD, with Theon, AN ADULT MAN AND RAPIST!

I wouldn't consider this anti-Jeynsa since

This is what makes their dynamic intriguing for me. This is the type of Jeynsa I'm into!!!

I don't think their relationship in inherently wrong or that it would be morally condemnable.

Also I don't even really ship Theon & Jeyne as an endgame romantic/sexual ship, not that it wowuld be morally wrong for anyone to do so. I "ship" it as a very turbulent dynamic between two people who have been forced to bond by the horrible circumstances they have been in and who have had the boundaries that define certain relationship dynamics blurred in some very traumatic ways. I "ship it" in the sense that I would like to see both of them find some tranquility and peace in their lives and try to explore which of those blurred boundaries they wish to reestablish, keep blurred or fully erase. Hell, I wrote a 100k fanfic focusing on their relationship and didn't even let them be endgame. I didn't even let them be actually in love.

It's just that "cute, loving, soft, homoromantic childhood best friends" isn't the dynamic I'm usually interested in.

And I don't think the Jeynsa dynamic is that.

I think there are class issues and inferiorities to be explored. I think Sansa is true in her affections for Jeyne, she loves her and sees her as a friend, but she is also diminishing and tends to look down on her, and regardless if it is a coping mechanism or not, she shows no interest in finding out what happened to who she considers her "truest friend".

And I don't believe Sansa is a bad person for this, I believe she is a young girl. Relationships between women are complicated enough already. Relationships between pre-teen and teen girls have entire studies dedicated to them.

Person F: How much would Sansa even consider her as a bff? In their bullying of Arya, Jeyne comes across as the acolyte to Queen Bea Sansa. And that's just modern projection. Jeyne is from a minor house. She's just a steward's daughter. She's just slightly above a servant in feudalist hierarchy. She's assigned to be her "friend" coz she's conveniently the same age, and that's just what you did then. Like "milk-siblings", servants who shared a wetnurse with a lord. (1/2)(2/2) Lower houses are fancy domesticity to the greater houses. The great nobility is fancy domesticity to royalty. That's just how feudalism worked. Everyone was thought of as a servant, the entirety of society was built on a network of servitude and dependance. Even the king is a servant: to God. Or "Gods" in the case of ASOIAF. Hence all the conclicts between church and royalty.

I saw this comment a while ago on a Tumblr post (I'm not putting a source link because I don't believe that would be fair to them and also it's older than a year) and I don't like it.

I think it is unfairly villainising Sansa and also removing Jeyne's agency in that situation by putting her as an "acolyte" (assistant, follower), when the composition of our first scene involving them, in my opinion, shows her as an adviser. I also don't like how it is pretending that Jeyne is being forced to be Sansa's friend and if going by that logic, then why isn't Beth being forced to be Arya's friend?

I disagree with it. I think it simplifies a more complex situation.

But I wish we were allowed to explore the less wholesome aspects in the Jeyne-Sansa dynamic without being instantaneously labeled as a Sansa-anti and it is what I'll attempt.

Something I always found very endearing and relatable about Sansa was how much she craved for friends - especially female friends - since she is left alone in King's Landing.

It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. - Sansa II, ASOS

How am I supposed not to feel my heart ache in bittersweetness? My favourite Sansa "friendship" is actually the one she builds with Garlan Tyrell, but this is a moment of bliss.

It's interesting how Sansa often finds amusement in female friends who act very differently from how she does, but as her character evolves in the books her feelings for those types of companions also seem to change.

We have Jeyne, Margaery and Myranda, as her "friends", characters with whom she experiences very different dynamics and I think it is at least partially involved with their classes too.

Jeyne is the one she treats the most poorly, in my opinion. Ignoring how little she thinks of her after Jeyne is taken away by Littlefinger, let's see some of their previous interactions and let's also keep in mind that Sansa is (at most) a 12-year-old girl not having a very good time and she deserves compassion:

[...] Jeyne and Sansa cried out in unison as riders crashed together, lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favorites. Jeyne covered her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened little girl, but Sansa was made of sterner stuff. A great lady knew how to behave at tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval. - Sansa II, AGOT

Sansa feels superior to Jeyne for staying calm at the face of violence. This will become a pattern.

Jeyne Poole wept so hysterically that Septa Mordane finally took her off to regain her composure, but Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching with a strange fascination. [...] By then Septa Mordane had returned, alone. Jeyne had been feeling ill, she explained; she had helped her back to the castle. Sansa had almost forgotten about Jeyne. - Sansa II, AGOT

Jeyne is hysterical after seeing a man die at the tourney, Sansa isn't very concerned for her friend's mental state.

"His leg?" Jeyne said uncertainly. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl of Sansa's own age. "Did Ser Loras hurt his leg?" "Not his leg," Sansa said, nibbling delicately at a chicken leg. "Father's leg, silly. It hurts him ever so much, it makes him cross. Otherwise I'm certain he would have sent Ser Loras." - Sansa III, AGOT

"Silly". It could be solely meant with endearment, but throughout that scene Sansa is in a bad mood and I wonder how Jeyne might have perceived it given she continues arguing with her about juridical administration and contradicts Sansa.

Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age. - Sansa III, AGOT

Again, "silly", and this time with a slightly classist connotation. And the saddest thing is that Sansa is right, but she often daydreams of unrealistic or impossible romantic scenarios herself and had a crush on Waymar Royce, a man who was older than her, of lower nobility and about to make a vow of celibacy. Why is Jeyne the silly one for daydreaming?

"They're killing everyone," the steward's daughter had shrieked at her. She went on and on. The Hound had broken down her door with a warhammer, she said. There were bodies on the stair of the Tower of the Hand, and the steps were slick with blood. Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other's arms like sisters. The second day was even worse. [...] The only sounds were Jeyne Poole's endless whimpers and sobs. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Jeyne Poole had been confined with her, but Jeyne was useless. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she could not seem to stop sobbing about her father. "I'm certain your father is well," Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. "I'll ask the queen to let you see him." She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits, but the other girl just looked at her with red, swollen eyes and began to cry all the harder. She was such a child. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Remember what I said about Septa Mordane's "Stop weeping, child."? Sansa is vexed by her crying although Sansa cries herself, thinks of her as useless, she thinks demeaningly of Jeyne because she is crying after realising her father has been killed..

"Jeyne's scared," Sansa said. "She won't stop crying. I promised her I'd ask if she could see her father." - Sansa IV, AGOT

This feels like a twisted version of the first passage in this list. Sansa is scared herself, we know this because she was trembling as she dressed, but she speaks only of Jeyne's fear.

Jeyne Poole and all her things were gone when Ser Mandon Moore returned Sansa to the high tower of Maegor's Holdfast. No more weeping, she thought gratefully. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Sansa, love, I know you are very stressed out but come on open your eyes!

Somehow this reminds me a bit of a less extreme version of Theon's inconsistencies in thoughts and actions involving Jeyne in ADWD. He is very crude when thinking of her, but if you go through his actual treatment of her, he is surprisingly tender. The only exception I can think of for them is in TWOW.

With Sansa, I think it is similar, but whereas Theon is painfully aware of how perilous their lives as Ramsay's playthings are, Sansa constantly refuses to see the gravity of their situation and thus is dismissive of Jeyne in a moment where it becomes terribly cruel. I don't think she doesn't love Jeyne, of course, she does,

The kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, - Sansa III, AGOT

"Where are you sending her? She hasn't done anything wrong, she's a good girl." - Sansa IV, AGOT

No more weeping, she thought gratefully. Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she'd built a fire. - Sansa IV, AGOT

She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. [...] Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. - Sansa II, ACOK

She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, - Sansa V, ACOK

She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. - Alayne II, AFFC

Remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. - Alayne I, TWOW

I think Sansa just sometimes takes her for granted.

I think it's sad because it's realistic and it hurts even more when you compare her treatment of Jeyne to her treatment of Margaery and Myranda after going through a period of hostile isolation and a heartbreaking customary middle school betrayal, two things that I believe influence her feelings for both girls.

With Margaery and her posse, she is idealistic. She considers Margaery to be kind, brave and wise, and finds bliss (and a little bit of envy and gayness, ooooh) in the company of her ladies.

Margaery's kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. Lady Leonette gave her lessons on the high harp, and Lady Janna shared all the choice gossip. Merry Crane always had an amusing story, and little Lady Bulwer reminded her of Arya, though not so fierce. Closest to Sansa's own age were the cousins Elinor, Alla, and Megga, Tyrells from junior branches of the House. "Roses from lower on the bush," quipped Elinor, who was witty and willowy. Megga was round and loud, Alla shy and pretty, but Elinor ruled the three by right of womanhood; she was a maiden flowered, whereas Megga and Alla were mere girls. The cousins took Sansa into their company as if they had known her all their lives. They spent long afternoons doing needlework and talking over lemon cakes and honeyed wine, played at tiles of an evening, sang together in the castle sept ... and often one or two of them would be chosen to share Margaery's bed, where they would whisper half the night away. Alla had a lovely voice, and when coaxed would play the woodharp and sing songs of chivalry and lost loves. Megga couldn't sing, but she was mad to be kissed. She and Alla played a kissing game sometimes, she confessed, but it wasn't the same as kissing a man, much less a king. - Sansa II, ASOS

There is a direct comparison to Arya, mentions of many of Sansa's hobbies, some sapphicness, and if I squint my eyes the needlework and lemon cakes remind me of Jeyne & Beth. And then...Sansa is made to marry Tyrion and that match frustrates the Tyrell's ambitions.

And here Sansa found the Tyrells. Margaery gave her such a sad look, and when the Queen of Thorns tottered in between Left and Right, she never looked at her at all. Elinor, Alla, and Megga seemed determined not to know her. My friends, Sansa thought bitterly. - Sansa III, ASOS

After that emotional betrayal, Sansa spends more time of isolation and this time it's even more depressing in my opinion. The few people who show her kindness are also somewhat compliant in her misery and then she gets abducted by Petyr Baelish and has to take the role of his bastard daughter, Alayne Stone. Under this guise she meets Myranda Royce and Mya Stone.

While I would say she befriends both girls, her connection with Randa resembles that which she had with Jeyne and Margaery more than her connection with Mya. Both of them share some common interests and Myranda, isn't disdainful at all of her supposed bastardy.

Person G: That's because she is cunning and suspects Alayne is actually highborn.

I'm not so convinced by that argument! She is described of being as closes as sisters with Mya Stone, another bastard.

Sansa's distrust for Myranda is, in my opinion, only partially fuelled by Littlefinger's words.

"Soon or late you must meet Myranda Royce," Petyr had warned her. "When you do, be careful. She likes to play the merry fool, but underneath she's shrewder than her father. Guard your tongue around her." - Alayne II, AFFC

I think her distrust comes mostly from her last close homosocial relationship having been a farce, from feeling manipulated, used and deceived. And that mistrust remains but is worn down by Randa's warm personality.

I think there is is something very sweet about comparing the following passages:

Sansa knelt at the feet of her future queen. "You do me great honor, Your Grace." "Won't you call me Margaery? Please, rise. Loras, help the Lady Sansa to her feet. Might I call you Sansa?" - Sansa I, ASOS

"Kind?" The older girl gave a laugh. "How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?" "If you wish, my lady." But you'll get no secrets from me. "I am 'my lady' at the Gates, but up here on the mountain you may call me Randa. How many years have you, Alayne?" [...] "As you say, my lady." "Randa. Come now, you can say it. Ran. Da." "Randa." - Alayne II, AFFC

It's curious how in both cases there is this chance of friendship being offered to Sansa by a girl who has a higher rank than her but one is done much more courteously than the other. Sansa never calls Myranda "Randa" again, but as she warms up to her she begins referring to her as such in the narration. I think that is very heartwarming.

Maybe it is stupid to complain about the idealisation of a flawed friendship in these books, but I think the reason it annoys me so much is because it removes this type of development in Sansa's socialising. Her interactions with Myranda are delightful to read and I think it's the healthiest friendship she has formed yet.

And Myranda also embodies aspects of Margaery and Jeyne, so it's an even funnier conclusion. She is a little bit less ladylike than Sansa, but is still comfortable with her gender and the assigned roles, she is a little foul mouthed, she likes to gossip and to take friends to her bed (in an apparent not-sexual way).

"Lothor Brune?" Myranda raised an eyebrow. "Does she know?" She did not wait for an answer. "He has no hope, poor man. My father's tried to make a match for Mya, but she'll have none of them. She is half mule, that one." Despite herself, Alayne found herself warming to the older girl. She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. "Do you think Ser Lothor likes her as she is, in mail and leather?" she asked the older girl, who seemed so worldly-wise. "Or does he dream of her draped in silks and velvets?" "He's a man. He dreams of her naked." She is trying to make me blush again. Lady Myranda must have heard her thoughts. "You do turn such a pretty shade of pink. When I blush I look quite like an apple. I have not blushed for years, though." She leaned closer. "Does your father plan to wed again?" - Alayne II, AFFC

Even Lady Myranda began to yawn and complain of being weary. "We have apartments prepared for all of you," she told Alayne, "but if you like you may share my bed tonight. It's large enough for four." "I should be honored, my lady." "Randa. Count yourself fortunate that I'm so tired. All I want to do is curl up and go to sleep. Usually when ladies share my bed they have to pay a pillow tax and tell me all about the wicked things they've done." "What if they haven't done any wicked things?" "Why, then they must confess all the wicked things they want to do. Not you, of course. I can see how virtuous you are just by looking at those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes of yours." She yawned again. "I hope your feet are warm. I do hate bedmaids with cold feet." - Alayne II, AFFC

"I do hope you will forgive me for depriving you of Lady Myranda's company," Alayne told the knights. She did not wait for a reply, but took the older girl arm-in-arm and drew her away from the bench. Only when they were out of earshot did she whisper, "Do you really know where my father is?" "Of course not. Walk faster, my new suitors may be following." Myranda made a face. "Ossifer Lipps is the dullest knight in the Vale, but Uther Shett aspires to his laurels. I am praying they fight a duel for my hand, and kill each other." Alayne giggled. "Surely Lord Nestor would not seriously entertain a suit from such men." - Alayne I, TWOW

"Too late," Myranda said. "They're here. We shall need to do the honors by ourselves." She grinned. "Last one to the gate must marry Uther Shett." They made a race of it, dashing headlong across the yard and past the stables, skirts flapping, whilst knights and serving men alike looked on, and pigs and chickens scattered before them. It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. By the time they arrived at the gatehouse, both of them were red-faced and panting. Myranda had lost her cloak somewhere along the way. They were just in time. - Alayne I, TWOW 

I don't even ship them (Mya x Myranda and Sansa x Brienne ftw), and this doesn't have anything to do with the theme of whatever this text turned into, but I love their dynamic so much I would ship it if it became canon. It's adorable and funny and out of her dynamics with other girls, this one is my favourite.

We know that the Sansa-Margaery friendship turned out disappointingly, and some have the suspicion that Myranda could act as a new tormentor for Sansa, and I have no way to disprove that, but seeing her development in regards to female friendships makes me at least doubt it.

She took Jeyne for granted and was disdainful, spent a time of hostile isolation, met Margaery and her ladies, went through the horrors of idealisation and crashed against the truth, spent even more time alone and kept the wounds from her sorrow, and is now apparently finding a healthy friendship with Myranda Royce and I love that for her.

It makes me wonder how her feelings for Jeyne could evolve if they get to meet again, and whether she will be more conscious of how their friendship was flawed. Of how she should have probably tried to be more attentive to the dynamic between Jeyne & Arya, of how she perhaps shouldn't have been passive about Jeyne's bullying nor participated in it.

As I write I am checking everything in my journals and I couldn't find a single occasion in which we see Sansa calling Arya "Horseface", but I did however find her thinking of Arya's looks as "horsey" with a negative connotation:

Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful. [...] One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father.  - Sansa II, AGOT

She also giggles at and uses Jeyne's nicknames for Hobber and Horas Redwyne:

The Redwyne twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, homely youths with orange hair and square, freckled faces. Sansa and Jeyne Poole used to call them Ser Horror and Ser Slobber, and giggle whenever they caught sight of them. - Arya V, AGOT

She recognized black-skinned Jalabhar Xho, gloomy Ser Aron Santagar, the Redwyne twins Horror and Slobber - Sansa V, ACOK

Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, marched down the length of the hall flanked by his twin sons Horror and Slobber, - Sansa VIII, ACOK

And seeing her snicker at those names is already enough for me to pin her as a passive victimiser in their case. Even if she felt bad about it, something I could find no indication of. Sansa doesn't think of how painful it must be for them to be referred to that way, how dehumanising it is.

So, with that information, I don't think she's above having called Arya "Horseface".

Ⅴ. Adulthood

Where are the adults? Why is it that during the entire time we spend with these three girls under the care of Septa Mordane, Ned and Catelyn Stark and Vayon Poole we never see them taking action and putting a stop to this?

DontbotherwiththepronunciationRightNowRealisingTheySpentWayTooMuchFuckingTimeDevelopingAPunchlineTheyLost: Probably because this book isn't about medieval setting middle school bullying, you idiot! And there is a lot of really urgent stuff going on with the adults. Get over yourself.

Yeah...

But still! Prior to all that, prior to the story we've been reading, these characters existed in their own universe and in that universe, all these girls have been judged by adult society and have been set in a toxic environment that unintentionally allows and encourages the bullying.

I already explained that when talking about Septa Mordane.

My question now isn't whether we should fault the adults or not, but more about how this would have developed as Arya, Jeyne and Sansa all became adults.

Of corse, this is all speculation on a rather unimportant topic that has been discussed hundreds of times before and my opinion is probably somewhat tainted by lingering emotions, so yeah this might have been worthless but I couldn't sleep and it was a little fun.

Perhaps because of my own issues with bullying, which were handed very poorly by the adults who should have solved it, I like daydreaming about these three girls, all of who I like and wish good things upon, and wondering whether they would have been able to solve their problems as they matured into adulthood if their lives had remained peaceful. I sadly don't think they would have.

Throughout the entire text I wrote, I felt like walking on egg shells because, as you can probably see if you just look at my blog, I barely talk about Arya or Sansa and I know there is a lot of tension between fans of those characters and I didn't want to say anything that could feel offensive and somehow it was still surprisingly easy to write this. I think maybe it is because I don't relate to any of the characters, like I do with Theon or Barbrey, so I can distance myself from it a little more. On the other hand, this is a topic that still haunts me.

I really don't think they would have solved any of this if they had remained in Winterfell with things going the way they usually went.

But now, after being completely torn and victimised by war in extremely different ways that still somehow manage to bring similar themes to their stories (the always present threat of sexual abuse, the weaponising of a person, depersonalisation, dead parents, a broken home, losing their privileges as highborn, being saved by the Hound), once they reunite and are the only bonds that remains of a happier time, I think they could.

Maybe their newly found maturity and the despair born out of tragedy could make it easier to overcome all their past offences and forge a bond.

It's strange. I always go for the bitter, resentful and scorned women - I wonder why - (Barb, Cersei) or those who have aspects I can relate to cultural duality, immigration or rootlessness (Theon, Dany) but never for the more-or-less-happily-gender-conforming "damsel in distress", much less for one who reminds me of some of the worst people I've met, and yet out of the three girls involved in this she is the one I am the most attached to.

I think she mostly grew on me after I learnt she was omitted from the show and that her narrative was given to Sansa because that is such a cruel joke from D&D.

Jeyne Poole: Hey! I am the character meant to show how everyone is valuable, worthy and deserving of being saved and protected and how everyone matters and also to further develop Theon's character while functioning as a symbol of his culpability and regret of the three vilest things he has done(among other things of course)! D&D: Ok, we are cutting her because she is not important enough to matter. Give her plot to the barely adult red-headed Stark so Theon can find redemption by saving a Stark and getting a wolf pin and we can shiptease Sansa with a bunch of people and marketise her as an ice queen girlboss.

It's so mean it's a little funny. On a meta level I think she is the biggest loser in this series. I think that is why I like her so much. I liked her before I knew of that and I remember crying at @/croclock's art of her and Theon escaping (1) (2) (3), but I didn't feel as emotionally attached to her until after I found out.

I remember when I watched the show there was a scene that caused a lot of controversy that I can somehow relate to this.

Sandor Clegane: You've changed, Little Bird. None of it would have happened if you'd left King's Landing with me. No Littlefinger, no Ramsay... none of it. Sansa Stark: Without Littlefinger and Ramsay and the rest, I would have stayed a Little Bird all my life.

And of course this dialogue is gross and it doesn't make any sense in the books, and I still wrote it down on my journals because I think, maybe trying to be an optimist, that the message behind it was different than what was actually said???

It comes across as "I'm happy and grateful I was abused and raped" which is nauseating, obviously, but I think it was rather supposed to be more of a "All the choices I've made across my life and all the events that occurred through it have lead me here, to become the person I am today and I am proud of that person." which could still have been controversial, but is something I would have agreed with more, and it's not something I would only apply on these girls.

Maybe we'll get such a moment at some point with a better execution, hopefully, in the books.

#speaking #this escalated. #like to an entire different level I didn't knew existed #I just finished reading it and I honestly thin the fact this happened is better and funnier than whatever dumb joke I wanted to originally #make. I am so sorry for whoever opens the read more. This is hilarious #that's what a breakfast lunch and dinner consisting of ibuprofen and sink water will do to you #I feel like if I tag this I will get into trouble or at least blocked a lot so I will tag this as #Arya-Jeyne-Sansa thing #for now #I forgot the goddamn joke #My biggest fear about this is that it is so long no one will finish reading it (which would be kind of funny) #fuck it #I am posting it! #the narrative didn't doom me it just ditched me #Jeyne Poole #beth cassel #septa mordane #arya stark #sansa stark