Harwin/Rhaenyra interest me simply because how can two people be that comically stupid?! Be so arrogant they publicly commit high treason THREE times and expect everyone to turn a blind eye???
lmao yeah
both rhaenyra & harwin are very privileged people. their fathers are the most powerful men in the kingdom so i guess they felt like they were untouchable. & both just aren't skilled at politics & kinda impulsive. but the thought process is very interesting. like by the time of joff's birth the rumors were already spreading so are you guys really going to have another child? lmao
joff's birth is the "last straw" for everyone lol the rumors become so bad that even jace is aware that something's wrong, lyonel tries to resign, criston feels confident enough to call harwin out in public. like alicent said, one child is a mistake three is an insult.
Hey guys! Unfortunately due to a bad dip in my mental health, there’s a fair chance I might be absent. It’s been growing worse these past few weeks, but recently i’ve received some horrible news and I doubt i can pull myself together. I love writing, and I absolutely adore everything i’ve gained from this running this account, i hope to be back soon.
its 6:57 in the morning and you can vaguely feel kuroo’s cock pressing against you.
with his hand pressed against your soft stomach, he silently presses against your back. you’re not really awake, but you’re not exactly asleep either.
kuroo loves morning sex, he likes to feel you and hear your whiny sounds as your eyes struggle to adjust to the early light— as they adjust to him intruding your peaceful sleep.
he’s a pervert, he thinks for a moment; wanting to press his fingers into you while you’re barely awake. he thinks he should feel guilty, but you always react so dubiously that he can’t help himself.
with his cock still rubbing against you methodically, he reaches for your little shorts and slips his hand down to your soft sweet cunt.
he runs his hand over your thighs, and every part where you connect with him. it’s not enough.
he’s slipping a hand between your folds, gently feeling you. there was no intent to get you off; just a pure moment of wanting to feel you and touch you. he slips a single finger into you and its him groaning into your shoulder.
“baby?” he murmurs against you and a small noise comes from the back of your throat, “you’re so soft,” you can hear the smile in his voice.
“i have to, baby,” he’s sitting up and gently prying your legs apart, “i have to put my cock in you baby, okay?”
he’s not really asking, more so just letting you know. he’s not wearing a condom.
your body twitches up into him as he enters you, just letting himself feel around you. your hands move up to his arms as you murmur that he “shouldn’t”.
“i don’t see you making much of an effort to stop me,” and you just let yourself whine, eyes pressed closed as kuroo is everywhere on you.
“but we shouldn’t, kuroo, we can’t,” he thinks it’s funny when you act like this because as soon as he takes his cock out, you’ll whine and groan, just like you are now. you’re so predictable.
so he does that. he moves down to your neck, kissing you lightly over, and over again. “just the tip, please. please?” you’re begging, just like he knew you would. he loves you.
“oh? just the tip?” you nod quickly, “okay baby, just the tip.”
it is not just the tip.
with one hand, he’s holding your legs up; giving himself the world-class view of watching his cock disappear into your pretty pussy.
you’re breathtaking like this. smooth, and sweet and pretty. he can’t help himself, and how could you even blame him? not when he’s so close to you, and so sweet to you as he’s smiling down at your batting eyes.
“what is it? talk to me, baby,” no words come out, just a soft hiccup coming from your lips. “you don’t have to do anything, you’ve done enough,” his eyes soften with the softness in his smile; which do not correspond to the way hes moving in and out of you.
kuroo and you have never fucked without a condom before, and it shows. it feels so intensely different, with the knowledge that this is something you shouldn’t be doing, it’s explosive.
“gonna cum in you, yeah? just let me take care of you.”
“kuroo, we- we can’t, we shouldn’t,” you’re pathetically murmuring, hips moving up towards him. everything you’re saying is contradicting your actions, it’s silly.
“okay baby, yeah, i won’t, dont worry, ” kuroo lies. with your face buried into his neck, you mouth at the skin there, unable to say much.
he tells you how good you feel, how your cunt is so soft and he just can’t help it.
“you’re so warm,” you whine into him, the feeling of him cumming in you foreign, it doesn’t feel right.
kuroo reaches down to kiss you wherever he can manage to reach you, his arms keeping you where you are.
Katara's Story Is A Tragedy and It's Not An Accident
I was a teenaged girl when Avatar: The Last Airbender aired on Nickelodeon—the group that the show’s creators unintentionally hit while they were aiming for the younger, maler demographic. Nevermind that we’re the reason the show’s popularity caught fire and has endured for two decades; we weren’t the audience Mike and Bryan wanted. And by golly, were they going to make sure we knew it. They’ve been making sure we know it with every snide comment and addendum they’ve made to the story for the last twenty years.
For many of us girls who were raised in the nineties and aughts, Katara was a breath of fresh air—a rare opportunity in a media market saturated with boys having grand adventures to see a young woman having her own adventure and expressing the same fears and frustrations we were often made to feel.
We were told that we could be anything we wanted to be. That we were strong and smart and brimming with potential. That we were just as capable as the boys. That we were our brothers’ equals. But we were also told to wash dishes and fold laundry and tidy around the house while our brothers played outside. We were ignored when our male classmates picked teams for kickball and told to go play with the girls on the swings—the same girls we were taught to deride if we wanted to be taken seriously. We were lectured for the same immaturity that was expected of boys our age and older, and we were told to do better while also being told, “Boys will be boys.” Despite all the platitudes about equality and power, we saw our mothers straining under the weight of carrying both full-time careers and unequally divided family responsibilities. We sensed that we were being groomed for the same future.
And we saw ourselves in Katara.
Katara begins as a parentified teenaged girl: forced to take on responsibility for the daily care of people around her—including male figures who are capable of looking after themselves but are allowed to be immature enough to foist such labor onto her. She does thankless work for people who take her contributions for granted. She’s belittled by people who love her, but don’t understand her. She’s isolated from the world and denied opportunities to improve her talents. She's told what emotions she's allowed to feel and when to feel them. In essence, she was living our real-world fear: being trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.
Then we watched Katara go through an incredible journey of self-determination and empowerment. Katara goes from being a powerless, fearful victim to being a protector, healer, advocate, and liberator to others who can’t do those things for themselves (a much truer and more fulfilling definition of nurturing and motherhood). It’s necessary in Katara’s growth cycle that she does this for others first because that is the realm she knows. She is given increasingly significant opportunities to speak up and fight on behalf of others, and that allows her to build those advocacy muscles gradually. But she still holds back her own emotional pain because everyone that she attempts to express such things to proves they either don't want to deal with it or they only want to manipulate her feelings for their own purposes.
Katara continues to do much of the work we think of as traditionally maternal on behalf of her friends and family over the course of the story, but we do see that scale gradually shift. Sokka takes on more responsibility for managing the group’s supplies, and everyone helps around camp, but Katara continues to be the manager of everyone else’s emotions while simultaneously punching down her own. The scales finally seem to tip when Zuko joins the group. With Zuko, we see someone working alongside Katara doing the same tasks she is doing around camp for the first time. Zuko is also the only person who never expects anything of her and whose emotions she never has to manage because he’s actually more emotionally stable and mature than she is by that point. And then, Katara’s arc culminates in her finally getting the chance to fully seize her power, rewrite the story of the traumatic event that cast her into the role of parentified child, be her own protector, and freely express everything she’s kept locked away for the sake of letting everyone else feel comfortable around her. Then she fights alongside an equal partner she knows she can trust and depend on through the story's climax. And for the first time since her mother’s death, the girl who gives and gives and gives while getting nothing back watches someone sacrifice everything for her. But this time, she’s able to change the ending because her power is fully realized. The cycle was officially broken.
Katara’s character arc was catharsis at every step. If Katara could break the mold and recreate the ideas of womanhood and motherhood in her own image, so could we. We could be powerful. We could care for ourselves AND others when they need us—instead of caring for everyone all the time at our own expense. We could have balanced partnerships with give and take going both ways (“Tui and La, push and pull”), rather than the, “I give, they take,” model we were conditioned to expect. We could fight for and determine our own destiny—after all, wasn’t destiny a core theme of the story?
Yes. Destiny was the theme. But the lesson was that Katara didn’t get to determine hers.
After Katara achieves her victory and completes her arc, the narrative steps in and smacks her back down to where she started. For reasons that are never explained or justified, Katara rewards the hero by giving into his romantic advances even though he has invalidated her emotions, violated her boundaries, lashed out at her for slights against him she never committed, idealized a false idol of her then browbeat her when she deviated from his narrative, and forced her to carry his emotions and put herself in danger when he willingly fails to control himself—even though he never apologizes, never learns his lesson, and never shows any inclination to do better.
And do better he does not.
The more we dared to voice our own opinions on a character that was clearly meant to represent us, the more Mike and Bryan punished Katara for it.
Throughout the comics, Katara makes herself smaller and smaller and forfeits all rights to personal actualization and satisfaction in her relationship. She punches her feelings down when her partner neglects her and cries alone as he shows more affection and concern for literally every other girl’s feelings than hers. She becomes cowed by his outbursts and threats of violence. Instead of rising with the moon or resting in the warmth of the sun, she learns to stay in his shadow. She gives up her silly childish dreams of rebuilding her own dying culture’s traditions and advocating for other oppressed groups so that she can fulfill his wishes to rebuild his culture instead—by being his babymaker. Katara gave up everything she cared about and everything she fought to become for the whims of a man-child who never saw her as a person, only a possession.
Then, in her old age, we get to watch the fallout of his neglect—both toward her and her children who did not meet his expectations. By that point, the girl who would never turn her back on anyone who needed her was too far gone to even advocate for her own children in her own home. And even after he’s gone, Katara never dares to define herself again. She remains, for the next twenty-plus years of her life, nothing more than her husband's grieving widow. She was never recognized for her accomplishments, the battles she won, or the people she liberated. Even her own children and grandchildren have all but forgotten her. She ends her story exactly where it began: trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.
The story’s theme was destiny, remember? But this story’s target audience was little boys. Zuko gets to determine his own destiny as long as he works hard and earns it. Aang gets his destiny no matter what he does or doesn’t do to earn it. And Katara cannot change the destiny she was assigned by gender at birth, no matter how hard she fights for it or how many times over she earns it.
Katara is Winston Smith, and the year is 1984. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight or what you accomplish, little girl. Big Brother is too big, too strong, and too powerful. You will never escape. You will never be free. Your victories are meaningless. So stay in your place, do what you’re told, and cry quietly so your tears don’t bother people who matter.
I will never get over it. Because I am Katara. And so are my friends, sisters, daughters, and nieces. But I am not content to live in Bryke's world.
I will never turn my back on people who need me. Including me.
( Implied SA, not actually SA, POV outsider misunderstandings )
Okay I want all the misunderstandings!
Misunderstandings galore my beloved!
Anyway!
For this intrusive thought that decided to hit me as I was minding my own business-
Danny is the baby that Stephanie gave into adoption when she was young.
Obvi trans Danny,
So after Stephanie realizes just who Danny is she investigates (You can't escape the Bat paranoia training)
But here are the misunderstandings: Ellie and Dante (de-aged)
" Oh my God guys I'm a grandmother! "
But wait there's more!
Danny is how old?! With kids, that are very much not newborns?
" So who's the dad? "
" Oh some fruit-loop named Vlad, he was obsessed with my mom when they went to college together but she wasn't interested at all & now he's obsessed with me. He really wanted the 'perfect' son but I told him to fuck off not that he cared about what I wanted. So yeah, sorry for rambling-are you okay you look a little pale, is the heat bothering you? "
Danny forgets that peoples first thoughts aren't " Oh yea clone! " Or timeline shenanigans
So what these concerned people heard was " Yea this adult man wanted my mom and when he saw that that wasn't an option he targeted me as a child "
Dante & Ellie are just enjoying the show intentionally creating more misunderstandings and havoc, they hope someone will finally go beat Vlad since they're now too small to beat him.
~
Dante: " Momma practically died when I was born. "
Ellie: "Yea I almost killed him too! "
They're technically not lying just using what actually happened in a different context
~
Alfred after hearing what's going on grabbing his shotgun: " I still have good aim."
~
Jason/Stephanie: " A little murder is fine, as a treat "
~
Just more and more misunderstandings happening around Danny with him being none the wiser.
~
Feel free to add to my nonsense, I love it, it's fun to read what people come up with
\\ As a monkie kid enjoyer, how much did you struggle to learn drawing feet hands? Is there a technique, or is it just what it sounds like; Feet Hands.
I'll type it again. Feet Hands. Or Hand Feet? ...Fingery toes?
I have no idea man. I’m not really good at drawing human feet yet, so monkey feet are a whole separate ball park. They’re basically just monkey hands but longer.
The first time I drew the monkey characters I just drew them with human feet since I couldn’t be bothered to learn monkey feet anatomy, until I realized that was very lazy of me. So, I learned it. Again, it’s difficult for me to explain since I have the kind of brain where I just look at something and draw it, no thoughts.
A practice I did of Mac for his body type (I’m struggling really hard with how to build him) where I gave him my own style of blocky monkey feet