#ic / best of wives & best of women

[betsey-socialite-1757]

have you met @johnandre-official

Yes, I have!

#ic / best of wives & best of women #answered #betsey-isms #queue are a learned woman

[spoonfullofwit]

The HOTD AND MAGNIFICENT CENTURY CHARACTER COMPARISONS ARE NOT PASSING THE VIBE CHECK (in my opinion)

(Mostly talking about the shows. Not delving too much into books because I have not read the books yet. It’s on my TBR. And I know certain details that happen in the books because of videos that talk about A song of ice and fire universe. And I am not delving too deep into the Ottoman Empire history)

Okay....Wow.

Like....wow. Where do I even begin?

Point 1: A quick one to get it out of the way. Viserys I and Suleiman being similar is the best one in regards to that they are so oblivious when it comes to their family and it goes straight over their heads.

They don't understand why their families can't get along even though it so fucking obvious why, and they had the power to put a stop to the infighting if they did the obvious thing. For Suleiman put a stop to the fratricide law to prevent his sons from being forced into killing each and stop their mothers from plotting against each other to save them. And for Viserys not getting married a second time or abdicated the throne while he was alive and give it to Rhaenyra.

They love their wives to death and when Hurrem and Aemma died Suleiman and Viserys souls died with them. They have complicated relationships with their children; they have obvious favorites that caused conflict within the family. Suleiman with Mehmed and Mihrimah. Viserys with Rhaenyra.

I get this comparison. I accept.

But give my man Suleiman more credit because he was a better leader, commanded respect, and always stood on business on every aspect. While Viserys was a little flaky and kind of wishy-washy especially with politics and governance; despite being a decent enough guy he was not a good ruler. While Suleiman is considered the greatest rulers of all time both in the show and in real life because he was decisive, smart, and ambitious.

In a fight/war Suleiman would have fucking obliterated Viserys (without the use of dragons of course). But if not pitted against each other I think they would have been good enough friends. (though I think they would have secretly thought each other was a little weird).

Point 2: The main ones that burned my biscuits.

Hurrem is more like Rhaenyra and I am willing to die on this hill.

People have the uptmost gall and audacity to say that Hurrem is Alicent Highttower coded.....DID WE WATCH THE SAME SHOWS?

Hurrem is so Targaryen coded. At the very least Martell or a little bit Baratheon coded.

Like people are getting caught up on the ONE aspect of Hurrem's character which is that she is a bad stepmom ( i love her but it is the truth) like Alicent since they are both trying to kill their step children to make way for their own biological children...but Hurrem is more than that. And reducing her to just that is a disservice to the core of her character.

Yes Rhaenyra and Mustafa were robbed of their thrones but they are so different with their values and morals. And their gender plays a huge part in that also.

Mustafa did not have to prove himself to anyone or was questioned of his capability of ruling because he is a man. If history played out in his favor, there would not have been huge shift in history. It would have been more of the same because like I said he is a man. Mustafa is not much of an underdog because he has all of the privileges that Rhaenerya does not have access to.

She is constantly having to prove herself and her worth because she is a woman. She is constantly doubted and her honor is always called into question because she does exactly what every man does.

Rhaenyra is willing to do things (blood and cheese) that honestly I don't think Mustafa would have done. And if they met they would have not liked each other.

Because Rhaenyra probably would have reminded him too much of Hurrem.

Hurrem and Rhaenyra are rebels that dance to the beat of their own drum. They are the ones that broke the mold of what is acceptable for women. They were the first to achieve a level that was thought impossible for a woman.

Rhaenyra is the first woman to be named rightful heir to the Iron Throne and first sole ruling Queen (even though sadly it was for a short time). As a character Rhaenyra was balling the fuck out (as she should!). She was arrogant, was not afraid to put someone in their place, larger than life, and she wanted power. She fought in a literal war! Under the right circumstances she would have been a great ruler. She did what thought was best for her and lived life on her terms. Which is something even real women can barely do.

Hurrem was the first slave to become a legal wife of a Sultan and helped create an entirely new title, Haseki Sultan, which is the chief consort of the emperor. Which is the second most power position for a woman underneath Valide sultan (Mother of the Sultan). Haseki Sultan had immense power and influence of the empire! That is a huge step! She began an entire era called the Sultante of Women! She trailblazed for other women to rise up and gain power. All because she stuck her neck out, stood her ground and refused to be walked all over. Hurrem was all or nothing and did not asked but demanded respect. She dared to reached for more despite the heavy risk. She's fiery, charismatic, brave, intelligent, vicious, altruistic, headstrong, complicated, and plays by her own rules not anyone else's. She fought tooth and nail for she wanted.

Sounds very Targaryen to me. Show version Hurrem even have prophetic dreams and has fire and dragon motifs for christ sake!

Rhaenyra and Hurrem were both betrayed, abandoned, and had to move mountains to get what they want while losing a great deal in the process. They don't follow rules that don't serve them and are unabashedly upfront. These two would have been great friends! Hurrem, Rhaenyra, Laena Velaryon and Daemon would have been the best group on fucking earth. They would probably taken over the world in style.

Alicent would not have liked Hurrem. Maybe would not be so hostile toward Hurrem, but still would not like Hurrem's rule-breaking ways and her confidence.

As the saying goes good girls barely make history.

Point 3: The "good girls" in question

Mahidveran is the one who's soooooo damn Alicent Hightower coded. Like they are pretty much the same except Mahidveran is more outwardly viscous.

This is team "I blindly follow rules that don't serve me then get mad when said rules don't serve me." They allow others to control their lives and understandably they became resentful for it, and rest in their victimhood mentality.

They hide behind other people because they cannot stand on their own two feet. They are so self-righteous and refuse to take accountability for the wrong they have done.

I will give Mahidveran props for standing up for herself and her son to Suleiman from time to time. While Alicent waited until the last possible moment to stand up to her father (which resulted in absolutely noting). And I will give Mahidhveran major points for being a more involved parent and did not raise a rapist, drunk, and pedo.

While Hurrem and Rhaenyra went against the staus quo, Mahidveran and Alicent IS the status quo. If there was no Hurrem, Mahidveran would have been just another Vahide Sultan we would not have known or cared about. Or if Mustafa died before becoming a Sultan she would have been just another concubine pushed to the side because she did not break the mold. Which is understandable because it is dangerous for a woman to act out if she does not have protection or leverage. I understand that not everyone has it in them go against the grain and that's okay. Same for Alicent, if Rhaenyra never existed and Alicent married Viserys and carried on having sons she probably would not made much of a impact because again she complies with the restrictive patriarchal view of femininity and cannot fathom living another way because the risk of societal backlash is too great and scary. And again not everyone is strong enough to not give a fuck what societal expectations.

However, my problem with women/female characters like this is that they do absolutely nothing for the progress of other women and do everything for the progress of men. Even for men who don't deserve it (cough Alicent). They help continue the cycle of men dominating over everyone and maintaining a status quo that keeps women disempowered and treated as property and pawns.

I am not saying Hurrem and Rhaeynera are perfect feminists or perfect women or even perfect people. I am not saying everything they did was for the betterment of women because let's be real it was probably not. But women who take hold of their agency and personhood, shows other women that there are alternative ways to live and you do not have stand for a society or system that mistreatments you. Being selfish is the most radical thing a woman can do, because selfish "wild" women shows the gaping cracks of patriarchy, if more women choose to be themselves and live on their own terms then the system would eventually fall completely apart.

Alicent and Mahidveran would have been great superficial friends. They hang and out exchange niceties. Mahidveran would tell Alicent everything she want to hear because that's the kind of friend Mahidveran is (look at Hattice, Shah and Fatma.) And I totally see Mahidveran trying to worm her way into a marriage alliance between Helaena and Mustafa...Which I wouldn't be mad at cus my sweet baby Helaena deserved someone who wouldn't hurt her and keep her safe.

Thank you for reading my Ted Talk. Sorry if its long and got way to philsophical I might make more posts on this because it is very interesting and obviously I have thoughts on this. I love these shows so much.

#magnificent century #hurrem sultan #mahidevran hatun #mahidevran sultan #hurrem x suleyman #sultan suleyman #sultan suleiman #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd #game of thrones #fire and blood #king viserys #viserys targaryen

[cellythefloshie]

;; Boyfriend 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: Mat thinks you can do better than your boyfriend, and he sees himself as the most worthy candidate. Word Count: 1k+

What are the chances? Everyone's dancing, and he's not with you.

Mat Barzal wasn’t a predatory man, but he was one that knew what he wanted. And once he wanted something, he would get it, even if it wasn’t morally right to do so. Lately? He wanted you. 

It had been something that clicked inside him since the moment his eye met yours all those weeks ago. The team had gone out to dinner, wives and girlfriends all invited, and it had surprised all when your boyfriend didn’t show up alone. You had been together for almost four months, and no one had known. You were best kept secret. But the moment he made the introduction between you and Mat, there was no ignoring the thought that consumed his mind. They lingered there, but one persisted louder than the rest: I can be a better boyfriend than him.

Not that he had anything against the guy. He was a good teammate on and off the ice. But you? You were something special. And Mat? He wasn’t a good guy. Not really. If he was, he wouldn’t be watching you, and only you, in the crowded room. He wouldn’t have noticed how your jeans fit snugly around your hips. Or the low cut of your shirt gave him and any other who dared to look at the magnificent view of your breasts as you danced. There was no losing you on the dance floor, not even as he stood across the bar leaning against the bar top with a drink in his hand. He nursed it slowly, letting the alcohol burn its way down his throat, all the while never tearing his eyes from you. The lights illuminated your figure and the soft features of your face. Though he was sure without them, you would still be radiantly glowing in the darkened New York City nightclub. 

You were someone who demanded to be seen, even if it wasn’t with your words or your intention. Carefree and confident with every one of your movements to the music, you would have lured anyone in. But your boyfriend was always there with his hands on your body, and Mat could only dream of touching you. He would kiss you, leaving you blushing, his lips dragging down your neck and leaving Mat hot with jealousy. But tonight, his teammate was nowhere to be seen. 

Mat stiffened, his back tense as he pushed up off the bar and placed his half-empty glass down against the bar top. His hand slipped away, wet with the cold condensation before he could drag it down the length of his jeans as his dark eyes scanned over the dance floor. He saw the faces of strangers and the bodies of your friends as they danced around you. Silhouettes of others obscured his view of your body and how it rolled to the music. They hid the smile on your face and how it grew when it changed to one that could only be your favourite. What he saw, however, was how you looked around for your boyfriend, and how your smile wavered when you could not find him in the crowd. Yet, you remained on the dance floor lost in the music without him and without your friends as they filtered off the dance floor for another drink. 

Deep in his chest, his heart thundered along with the bass of the music. It pulsed through him and drowned out every thought in his mind that told him to turn back and retreat to the bar. That you were a woman spoken for, and he had no right to even think about touching you. Yet, he didn’t stop. Mat needed to take this shot, even if he might regret it later. His one thought drove him: a mantra, a promise; I can be a better boyfriend than him. 

Mat joined the crowd of strangers on the dancefloor effortlessly, his every movement orchestrated to get him closer to you. Moving as effortlessly as he did on the ice, Mat dodged strangers and desperate women who wanted to steal a dance, but he himself was a desperate man. He would not settle for anyone but you. 

After offering nothing more than a slow, apologetic shake of his head to the women who could not see his disinterest, Mat finally met you out on the dance floor. Lungs burned deep in his chest as he admired how your body moved. The sway of your hips, the way you so clearly didn’t know what to do with your hands. He would have laughed if he could breathe. Mat wouldn’t let his nerves get the best of him. The song was almost over, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out and taking your hand. His touch left you spinning in place to face him, your expression going from shocked to relieved as quickly as the lights could change in rhythm with the music. For a moment, he expected you to pull away, but your smile only grew. Mat could breathe again. You were dancing with him. 

There was no fighting the smirk that took to his lips as he trailed his hand up your arm, feeling your skin for the first time beneath his fingertips. Or hiding the light in his eyes as he marvelled at the sight of you dancing there in front of him. With his eyes, he drank you in and his neck craned down to look at you, sending wisps of his dark hair down to tickle the skin of his forehead. Mat was enjoying it far too much, and anyone who looked at him would know it. But that didn’t stop him.

Mat was utterly shameless in how he danced with you. His touch didn’t stop with stroking up the skin of your arms. Hands found your body, stroking over the satin fabric of your top and wrinkling it beneath his desperate touch. It drew you in cautiously, testing the graze of your body against his thigh, but then you indulged him. 

You spun around, your back flush with his chest and the rest of your body fitting against his so perfectly. It was an invitation, one that he accepted without hesitation. His hands dragged down your body, feeling your every curve before one of his hands settled on each of your hips. Fingers gripped at you tight. Pressing into your sweet flesh and guiding you back until he could feel the curve of your ass grinding against the inside of each thigh. Each bump, and every grind, was like getting shocked with a volt of electricity. It coursed through him, leaving his breathing laboured and his skin damp with the beginnings of sweat. There was no ignoring the ache in his cock, and how it threatened to stiffen for you. And how quickly he would let it if you let him. 

Mat had to bite down on his lip to fight it, but the thought lingered. Echoed. I can be a better boyfriend than him. He wanted you to know it, but words alone wouldn’t be convincing. You needed to feel how he felt. The desperation. The desire. Did it consume you the same way it consumed him? There would only be one way for him to tell. 

A single hand left your hip, his fingers splayed wide. He dragged his palm up over the plains of your stomach and the swell of your breast that he so desperately wanted to take a handful of. He could feel the heaviness of your breath and left it behind as his fingers tickled your collarbone and travelled up. Up, and over your neck and how you outstretched your throat to him before his fingers found the soft skin of your cheek. Slowly, with your back still firm to his chest, Mat turned your head just enough for you to glance back at him. He watched as your eyes fluttered, your gaze flickering over his softened features before they settled on his lips. 

Mat dragged his tongue hungrily over his bottom lip, moistening it and his dry mouth before he leaned in. His hand remained on your cheek, his thumb dipping down just enough to angle your chin up for your lips to meet. His kiss showed every bit of his intent and would leave your boyfriend regretting that he left you to dance alone. 

#mat barzal #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey rpf #fanfic #;;500

[shogvnate]

Wicked and white, love me in spite. bela dimitrescu x f! reader

bela dimitrescu oneshot

slightly angsty, wholesome, yearning.

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hi it's my first writing post pls treat me nicely :D, also feel free to send your requests! i write for the women (bc i'm sapphic) but if u wanna request the dudes it's alright too, just don't put too much hope on it being posted 😭

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━━ 🦇 ´ˎ˗

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Bela Dimitrescu never felt this way towards anyone.

As the oldest out of her sisters and the heiress to her family's winery business, she would take over a lot more of the dirty work than them, leaving barely any time behind to focus on herself.

She was always overworked, always pressured to be the best.

Her mother always tells her,

"Bela, you are your sisters' role model," Alcina blew smoke from her lips, unamused at the way she lost her composure over a little squabble with her younger sister, Cassandra.

"Yes, mother." Bela kept her head low, rubbing her upper arm slightly.

"Don't disappoint me."

Bela aimed to be the perfect daughter, the perfect heiress but still, she was never enough. She knew she wasn't. But when she saw you and how accepting you were, her walls melted like an ice sculpture by the dawn of spring.

She'd like to believe you were foolish for saving her, but deep down she knew it wasn't true. She was thankful. Thankful that despite the villagers' harsh words for saving a potential murderer of their wives and daughters, you stayed and nursed her back to health.

You were like an angel, much more than Mother Miranda would ever be, that's for sure.

As you watered your garden, she wondered to herself, could you look at her with that expression? A soft smile gracing your angelic features and eyes gleaming with nothing but love. No wonder your garden was filled to the brim with colorful flowers, even Bela can tell they were happy with you.

Could she also feel that?

Dubbed as a monster, mad, and even heartless; could someone like that feel love?

Or was it just wistful thinking?

A vampire and a human never end well anyway.

It's depressing, it's... mortifying how none of them got their happy ending; or at least as far as she's aware of.

She sighed, and when she did, you finally noticed her watching you by the wooden fences.

Molten honeyed eyes burned the sight of the way your face lit up into the depth of her mind. If you could look at her like that everyday, she's sure to become the happiest woman alive.

You approached her, still holding your watering can. She could feel her dead heart hammering against her chest for a few seconds before returning to its silence as she smirked at you. Her heart ached for you, a pain that she was so used to that she grew numb to it.

"How have you been, Bela?"

Your voice, god, your voice.

Bela can just melt into your arms right then and there, but she must stop herself. She wasn't like Cassandra who will keep anyone she's interested in near. She was the opposite, she didn't want you near, she didn't like how you made her feel this way, and yet she always found herself watching you.

Hopeless that she can never tell you how she felt without making herself feel vulnerable.

"I've been faring well." She replied, "How… How have you been?"

"I'm doing good now that you're here." You smiled.

The two of you soon fell into silence as you started to water your plants, now with her company.

It was agonizing, being by your side. Knowing full well that there are countless men and women in the village that can easily snatch you away from her. You were kind and gentle, anyone can find that charming. Heck, her sisters could even steal you away from her easily.

Cassandra was silver-tongued and shameless, she can lure anyone into her grasp as easily as she can murder them.

Daniela was unpredictable and wild, but she was loving, and she was everything Bela was not.

You noticed how she spaced out, reaching a hand out to wipe the dried blood from her lips. Your touch was gentle and it dragged her down to reality.

The reality where you told her that you'll wait for her to be sure of her feelings. You'll wait for however long it takes for her to say those three words. The reality where you belonged to her and she belonged to you despite no other promises being spoken.

She leaned into your touch, her yellow eyes refusing to look at you directly.

But she knew you understood. You understood her better than anyone, better than herself.

You guided her back to your porch where she laid her head on your lap as you sat down, her hood coming off to reveal her long, albeit a little tangled blonde locks.

You thread your fingers through it, detangling it and removing the dried blood clinging to the beautiful strands.

"Bad day?" You asked, closing your eyes.

"..." She shifted on your lap, confirming that she indeed had a bad day. You didn't ask anymore, you knew she didn't like sharing about things that bothered her and that was okay. She needed time and time you will give.

One of her flies landed on your hand, and you noticed it. You chuckled lightly as another desperately pulled your free hand towards Bela, likely her consciousness acting without her control.

You stopped threading your fingers through her locks and she had to stop herself physically from letting out a disappointed whine, you placed your hand on her waist instead and she froze.

"You can stay for however long you'd like, Bela."

You watched as she closed her eyes, another tender smile blooming across your lips, one with more affection than before. Her cold hand grabbed a hold of your warm one, squeezing it before her breathing slowed. Your fingers rubbed her knuckles silently, the contrast between your temperatures was like day and night, dead and alive; and yet you loved it.

You drifted into sleep along with her, perfectly comfortable and content now that she at least stayed and not ran off the second she showed you anything remotely close to physical touch.

Hours later you finally woke up, slowly opening your eyes and stretching your numb arms.

Your lap was absent from her cold body, but what you instead found was a stunning inflorescence of forget-me-not. Did she steal it from your garden? You chuckled.

The blues were easy on your eyes, and the meaning behind it in the flower language made you smile fondly.

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"Oh, Bela."

#resident evil #resident #evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #dimitrescu #x reader #reader #resident evil village x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x y/n #bela dimitrescu x you #bela resident evil #oneshot #cross posted on ao3

[mononijikayu]

of patriarchy, of female rule, and defense of rhaenyra targaryen

as one delves into the rich tapestry of a song of ice and fire (asoiaf), a conspicuous theme emerges: the prevailing reverence afforded to male characters in contrast to their female counterparts. however, amidst this narrative dynamic, the women of asoiaf assert their distinct presence, contributing a captivating dimension through their perspectives and portrayal of their intricate world.

regrettably, this disparity extends beyond fiction, reflecting broader societal norms that have existed for thousands of years. it is this reality that resounds in the fictional society of westeros. this will be a dive into patriarchal archetypes that influenced the rejection of female rule and how this is a means to defend rhaenyra targaryen and, just as much, female rule on the iron throne.

according to queenship in medieval europe by theresa earenfight, the role of women in terms of rulership has largely been ambiguous due to the dichotomy that exists: either men were allowing women's participation in power or women were subtly using their connections with these men to partake. but this ambiguity did not prevent women from being a part of the conversation entirely. earenfight writes distinctively that women are not considered an unwelcome presence in political life, but the shift happened much later on.

it is within the narrative to say that both in the east and in the west, power derives from the familial structure and that women were the leading figures that maintained these close, familial ties—from marriage, blood ties, and even friendships. these structures of close power proximity in early medieval life tell us that women are trusted with the growth of their family’s influence.

mothers and wives advising the men around them are lauded because they speak to determine what’s best for the family. it is why we see women like olga of kiev influence her son in terms of policies that allowed religious freedom and goodwill with other christian nations that surrounded the territory of rus to flourish and develop. this was seen as a means to further what rus is and the standing of her own family within the state they governed.

as i mentioned in my previous writing regarding patriarchal systems, women in terms of ancient and medieval literature are often relegated to an afterthought. as we know from the ancient writers who influenced later medieval philosophers, women are either wanton creatures who become the reason for men’s demise or obedient, faithful creatures subservient to men. hence, the formation of such archetypes led to the previous conversation i talked about that categorized women in society by the wanting of men.

the defiance of women led to the creation of such archetypes as, for example, the term ‘whore’ or ‘witch', which was categorized to condemn women for defying convention. ‘whore’ became a notorious insult for women trying to find a means to sustain a living for themselves in extreme poverty. ‘witch’ became a term for which to persecute able and intelligent women as scapegoats for the ills of society they could not solve.

just as much, the subservience of women then led to the archetypes that defined the mold that all women should follow in society. the popularization of the ‘mother’ archetype had forced upon women a standard from religious and ancient texts that relegated them to doing everything to better men’s lives, such as rearing children and raising them in the image of their father; the ‘virgin’ archetype had been patterned after mary, mother of jesus, which relegated women to being forced to maintain a certain way of living where any defiance to that image can make them unwanted.

the proliferation of these archetypes gained prominence due to the resurgence of ancient philosophies. consequently, a transformation unfolded during the transition from the early to the middle and high medieval eras, resulting in distinct differentiations. and as such, the sudden shift of women’s authority as a secondary factor in society as highlighted by earenfight, three key factors were instrumental in this evolution: firstly, shifts in societal norms and legal frameworks; secondly, reforms within royal and noble courts; and thirdly, the doctrinal teachings of the church and the papacy.

one of the primary drivers behind the erosion of female importance in political life was the transformation of societal norms and legal systems. as the medieval world transitioned to new epochs, shifts in power dynamics often paralleled shifts in gender roles. the rise of feudalism and centralized political structures led to an increasing concentration of power in the hands of a male-dominated aristocracy.

the prevailing mindset began to associate public authority with masculinity, and legal frameworks were adapted to mirror these evolving social hierarchies. as a result, women faced mounting barriers to entry into political spheres as societal norms and laws codified their roles as subordinate figures more closely tied to domestic and familial duties.

the transformation of royal and noble courts played a crucial role in redefining the nature of women's participation in political life. royal courts were epicenters of power, culture, and decision-making, but they underwent significant changes over time. the reformation of these courts often resulted in a more structured and regulated environment, which in turn began to marginalize women from active political engagement. courtly life increasingly emphasized ceremonial roles and decorum, wherein women might be celebrated for their beauty, grace, and strategic marital alliances, but their direct influence on policy-making and governance diminished.

religion just as much held immense sway over medieval society, shaping perceptions of gender roles and political involvement. the doctrinal teachings of the church and the papacy played a dual role: they both reflected and reinforced prevailing gender norms. ecclesiastical doctrine often highlighted the virtue of women as pious wives and mothers, positioning them as symbols of morality and nurturing rather than as political actors.

as the church gained prominence as a moral authority, these teachings permeated societal consciousness, reinforcing the notion that women's role in political affairs was secondary to their roles within the bounds of being members of their families and their duties to the wants of their faith.

the evolution of these three novel concepts within existing paradigms played a pivotal role in solidifying these notions within the narrative and their implications for society. many of these notions were intricately interconnected, leading to a tight symbiotic relationship that favored the progression of men within the transformed societal landscape. consequently, women found themselves compelled to adopt a more nuanced approach in their pursuit of agency, lest they antagonize a resurging patriarchal order. 

therefore, the most viable avenue for women was to ingratiate themselves with the men in their proximity—be it their fathers, husbands, or sons—thereby exerting influence through mediation, the guidance of their royal or noble offspring, the management of household finances, and even the orchestration of matrimonial alliances involving their children and others. while this may be the case for most states across the medieval world, it is also not inherently right to say that women have no deference to outright power of their own. 

the eastern lands have recorded women inheriting without any liability from their male relatives, while this is not the case in the west. still, this does not stop the furthering of male dominance in terms of rulership and, just as quickly, can negate the role of women in political and social life.

this is due to the very thing that i spoke of in my previous work, and that is the resurgence of male-dominated succession, i.e., salic law, which barred women from inheriting outright from their male relatives, and just as much, the influence of church and papal reach within the realm of secular politics, which continued to diminish female authority as an unnatural state of living for women. 

the entanglement of archetypal biases and the deeply ingrained societal disdain for women, combined with the unyielding enforcement of patriarchal norms aimed at curtailing female influence, form the foundation of the challenges faced by figures like rhaenyra targaryen.

this intricate interplay of factors not only resulted in the demonization and social ostracism she had to encounter but also laid the groundwork for her eventual dethronement, orchestrated by the very patriarchal system that sought to benefit from her legitimate rights and claims. which impacted many other women later on in westeros’s history who wanted to defy the conventions and bounds of their strict, patriarchal biases.

rhaenyra targaryen, as the rightful heir to the iron throne, confronted a formidable struggle due to the prevailing biases that cast women in unfavorable roles. these biases, stemming from generations of untreated, archaic, and ingrained perceptions, contributed to a general mistrust and skepticism surrounding women's suitability for positions of authority.

concurrently, the patriarchal norms entrenched within society limited women's agency, relegating them to specific roles that primarily focused on the domestic sphere. resisting and stomping out anyone else’s desire to expand and even break that outdated mold of patriarchal society.

the signs of an impending shift are unmistakable proponents of a deeply ingrained patriarchal structure harbored apprehensions about potentially losing their influence and agency as a consequence of a woman's ascension. their unease stemmed from an inability to come to terms with relinquishing control over a woman who harbored aspirations independent of their expectations.

this woman sought her agency on her own terms, further exacerbated by her unabashed pride in her lineage, social standing, and authoritative position—of which men saw nothing but arrogance and haughtiness, which, when associated with men, result in a positive connotation in a patriarchal society.

yet for a woman, it is considered disturbing and unacceptable. they simply could not forgive her for not being a man, for not being able to hold martial strength the way men do, and for not adhering to the double standards presented to a woman of authority.

in their quest for agency and authority, women like rhaenyra targaryen dared to challenge the confines of normative societal expectations expected of a westerosi noblewoman. their bold aspirations for self-determination posed a direct challenge to deeply ingrained gender norms, triggering a wave of resistance and backlash from a society deeply rooted in traditional roles.

these women's courageous endeavors to rise above their prescribed stations were met with hostility, often leading to their vilification and the application of derogatory labels meant to undermine their credibility and influence.

within a society conditioned to uphold and perpetuate established gender roles, the emergence of such ambitious women presented a profound dilemma. their actions defied the predetermined boundaries set by tradition, casting a spotlight on the limitations of a society unaccustomed to accommodating aspirations beyond the conventional. rhaenyra's bid for power and influence serves as a poignant example of this clash between individual ambition and societal norms.

rhaenyra's unwavering pursuit of authority faced vehement opposition from those deeply invested in upholding the patriarchal status quo. the very legal framework that ostensibly recognized her rights and legitimacy was fundamentally biased against her, designed to safeguard existing power hierarchies.

consequently, her bid for agency, though firmly grounded in her rightful claim, was interpreted as a direct affront to the prevailing order, inviting condemnation and adversity. this is even though it is quite evident and proven that targaryen women, women in general, are competent enough to rule and serve the realm.

one looks through the previous one hundred years, and you would see two targaryen queens, rhaenys and visenya, ruling together and performing the administrative tasks that the realm needs to function. it was quite obvious throughout that women of house targaryen were embraced as the balance that brought prosperity to their subjects.

the right to rule in their tradition was viewed ambiguously, certainly focusing on competence and partnership rather than the divergence of genders. this is quite obviously seen in that even though viserys i targaryen was crowned because of the usurpation of a woman’s right, he did not seem to find any means to not consider his firstborn child, rhaenyra, as his heir and successor. 

still, it was not just her descent from him that made her eligible to be his heir. he had made her a cup-bearer at eight years of age, growing up watching and listening to the political discussions that came about her father’s duties. when she was named his heir soon after, viserys took himself to the task of preparing her for her duties, teaching her statecraft, and naming her as part of his small council and later on, princess of dragonstone — which traditionally are male-dominated centers of power.

even after the birth of her half-siblings, viserys’s confidence in rhaenyra’s abilities to rule did not falter. her upbringing had prepared her for leadership, and she possessed a deep understanding of politics, diplomacy, and governance. this made her more than capable of ruling effectively and justly. this was effectively proof enough for the king that his daughter would make a worthy successor to him and it was further strengthened by the fact that rhaenyra’s children with her first husband, laenor velaryon, were as able and capable as her.

critics often point to her personality and actions as reasons to oppose her claim, but it's important to consider that male rulers with equally complex personalities and controversial decisions did not face the same level of resistance. the biases of those who support the treachery of patriarchy played a significant role in magnifying her shortcomings and deeming them disqualifying, while similar traits in male leaders might have been forgiven wholeheartedly for. which we do see, in those who support aegon ii himself for his own perverse actions and personhood.

the culmination of intricate, unfair dynamics and double standards found its tragic zenith in rhaenyra's usurpation and, subsequently, the erasure of female rule as active participants in the political climate. just as there was a societal, political, and religious shift in medieval times, the horrific effects of the usurpation of rhaenyra caused a fixed point that shattered confidence in sole female rule.

the patriarchal system, while acknowledging her rightful place within the targaryen line of succession, ultimately favored her male counterpart due to the pervasive societal prejudices that perpetuated male authority. the deeply ingrained aversion to a woman ascending to the throne, coupled with the profound fear of unsettling established gender norms, played into the hands of those keen to exploit these biases for their gain.

in essence, the multifaceted perspectives and arguments had become a means to deny women agency and a means to preserve patriarchal norms that synergistically cultivated a hostile environment for many historical and fictional figures like rhaenyra targaryen. the tragic irony resides in the manipulation of the system by men, knowing fully well that it is in their favor, dooming women’s dream of agency. it was turned into a tool to suppress her aspirations and enforce a system of inequality.

this ultimately dooms many other descendants, whose womanhood would become a catalyst to rejection and forced subservience to this damaging system. this narrative underscores the intricate and often unjust interplay between gender, power dynamics, and the weight of tradition within a complex society. people ought to realize that rhaenyra's struggle for the throne was not just about her desires;

it was a pivotal moment in challenging the norms that limited women's agency and potential. her campaign to retake what was rightfully hers represented a beacon of hope for women, showing that gender should not be a barrier to exercising power and making meaningful contributions to society.

the worthiness of an individual should transcend the confines of gender. it is not solely being a man that merits consideration, but rather the qualities of character, confidence, and dedication that define the one who bears the crown. rhaenyra targaryen exemplified all these attributes, yet the chroniclers who documented her legacy and those who stood against her rightful ascent to the iron throne unjustly tarnished her reputation.

they painted her as inhumane and ruthless for daring to seek the agency and authority that men have long taken for granted. rhaenyra's struggle was not merely about her ambitions; it symbolized a much larger fight against the societal norms that stifled women's potential. instead of being celebrated for her qualities as a leader and her commitment to the realm, she faced opposition and disparagement. her story underscores the importance of challenging preconceived notions and granting women the same opportunities and respect that men have enjoyed throughout both real and fictional history.

#asoiaf #fire and blood #house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf meta #hotd meta #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #house targaryen #medieval history

[mqverick]

Walking On Air || chapter 8

Normally, you always had been fond of spending Friday nights in Miramar at the O Club, dancing and drinking carelessly with your friends and boyfriend. That specific night, you wished someone would be drunk enough to stab you with a beer bottle and save you from the dreadful consequences of coming face to face with Pete.

You’d almost confessed your feelings to him, just a couple of hours ago — not even a full day had passed. For a moment, you considered acting by heart and not by mind, giving in to the emotion. You were helplessly hanging on to the thin threads of your remaining patience and loyalty to your very much already existing relationship.

Things were turbulent, but that wasn’t news.

The bar was crowded, just like always, some upbeat music faintly playing in the background as laughs and conversations overshadowed it, pilots reuniting with their girlfriends and wives for a fun night, Goose getting sturdy on the dance floor, lights bright enough to blind half of the world population.

And there he was. Surrounded by a swarm of young women swooning over him, smiling stupidly at the lame jokes he’d made up just for you — had you been his. The setting bothered you, an irritating feeling bubbling up in your stomach as you slouched down on the bar counter, giving your stool a little swirl. You half-heartedly took a sip from your beer, waiting for Tom to finish his rather amusing conversation with Slider and pay some attention to you that could be used to get Maverick off your mind.

The room was filled with people, but all you could see was him. For a short-lived second, your eyes met across the room, a silent talk passing between you, but as you began to gather the courage and make your way over to his table, a blonde woman stepped in, sweeping him onto the dance floor. Your heart sank, but you couldn't look away from the pair, wishing it could be you.

“Ice, wanna dance?” you spoke suddenly, interrupting what Slider was talking about. Tom gave you a sweet smile and excused himself, taking your hand and leading you in the middle of the floor. The music had switched to a soft, slow rhythm, which allowed you to place your chin on Tom’s shoulder while hugging him and moving. Your eyes were undoubtedly fixed on Maverick and that woman, however, the feel of a thousand knives tearing your heartstrings down, as you came across his diamond-bright smile.

His gaze accidentally traveled to you, face dropping the same way it happened with you earlier. You refused to show how weak you were, putting on a façade, even though the glimmer of your pupils spoke in hushed whisper. It always seemed to be that way with him; a compliment here, a tease there, a shared laugh, a shared silence. It was your very own private dance.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” you heard Tom whisper in your ear. You pulled away from the embrace and lovingly looked into his eyes as if you hadn’t been fantasising about the guy whose guts he passionately hated just a hot second ago.

“How about we do some shots, Ice? I want to have fun tonight,” you lied. The shots were in need to forgive and forget. He was hesitant to the suggestion, which you found off-putting and opted for the second best option to get a hangover from. Nick Bradshaw.

You spotted him lazily twirling his index finger around the head of the beer bottle in his hand, looking quite tipsy already. You approached him warmly with a hug and sat down next to him and requested a shot of afterburners, all while trying to erase Maverick from your brain — which was frankly impossible, seeing as he was mostly the reason why you yearned to get more alcohol in your system.

“Celebrating any special occasion, Roger?” Goose questioned after doing a shot, wincing as the drink burned down his throat.

“Your friend,” you replied shortly, entering the sharp liquid in your mouth.

“What’d he do this time?”

You sighed, going in for the second shot. “He’s being a brat, but then again, when isn’t he?”

“Gonna need you to be more specific than just the, Rog, you said it yourself; he’s got no limits to being a tad irresponsible.”

“I think he’s about to screw everyone with flesh and bones at this bar. And for fuck’s sake, how is every woman here attracted to him and him only? There are other men.”

“Ah,” Goose exclaimed knowingly with a smirk. “It’s all clear now. It’s bothering you watching Mav’s charm unleash on the female population.”

“Right,” you scoffed in frustration, embarrassed by how transparent your suppressed jealousy was. Your stomach was in knots, palms sweaty and warm as the booze poured into your brain.

“You know, Maverick really does like you. He’s just got a bad way of showing it,” Goose insisted, trying to ease you back from the drinks, but the rapid movement of your hand grabbing the glasses prevented him from being successful, so instead, he opted to let you keep going. “I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again now; words are his weak spot. He excels in action though, I’ve watched the guy make women swoon just by looking towards their direction. He’s a natural.”

“Your point being?” you rushed him, irritated.

“My point being that even though Maverick is head over heels for you, he still remains a single man, whereas you’ve got Kazansky.”

You glared harshly at Goose, even thought everything he’d just said made perfect sense. Who were you to be mad at a single man for flirting after you’d repeatedly shot him down? Were you expecting him to wait for you forever? The silence from your side betrayed your feelings to Goose, who wasn’t surprised at the slightest. You drunkenly slid off your seat, tripping on the toe box of your high heels and almost falling flat on your face, which you apparently found amusing as you giggled, looking around in the crowd. Your eyes caught him sipping out of a beer bottle in a corner — at last, without a stupid chick invading a bit too much of his personal space for your liking — and you lazily dilly-dallied your feet to his spot, feeling newfound boldness in your body as the previous, uncontrollable consumption of alcohol was put into test.

“Heeey,” you chirped, dragging out the ‘e’, Maverick looked taken aback to see you, but not missing a second to give you one of his very Maverick toothy grins. His fragrance danced around your nostrils, the scent of cheap beer mixing in as your senses tried to process how on earth it was possible for a man to smell so good.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing that popped out his mouth, making you laugh humourlessly.

“What, no lines today? Wasted them all in those girls that seemed to take quite an interest in you earlier?” Oh, god, it was already getting messed up. You needed to respectfully back out of the conversation or simply run the fuck away.

“What?”

You chuckled, biting your bottom lip as you took him in with your eyes, admiring the white uniform on his frame, ocean eyes glowing under the club lights. His hair was slightly ruffled — you prayed not from a shag — and all you wanted to do was drag him in the restroom, jump on the counter and wrap your legs around his waist, to get to see what the fuss was all about.

“Are you avoiding me today, Pete?”

You didn’t mean for the question to come out so sensual.

“You have been drinking, then.”

Truth was, he had in fact been avoiding you, though. It killed him watching you distance yourself from him every time you formed a deeper connection and it was certain that with the help of booze and the whole bar vibe, something similar would occur again — and the just couldn’t bring himself to have you slip right through his fingers for once more. So he tried to stay away, just for that night, save some pain.

Your heart started to hammer against your ribcage as you took a step closer to him, noticing his Adam’s Apple bob. It dazzled you how insanely attractive his body’s responses were.

You lifted your stare up on his eyes once more, getting lost in them as you bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the urge to gently place your hand against his cheek, curious as to how soft it’d feel. He must had noticed that you’d been eyeing him up instead of talking to him, brow slightly cocking as he shifted just a tad with a suggestive smirk on his face.

“What?” he asked again, looking down at himself.

“Noth’n,” you mumbled, blushing and hoping the lighting wouldn’t give it away. “Having fun?”

“Now that you’re here, yeah.”

You chuckled ironically, shaking your head in disbelief at how incredibly, stupidly cheesy he was, as if he hadn’t been shooting the same lines with someone else earlier (you could bet it was the blonde with the blue eyes — you knew it).

“Goose says you like me.” You watched him tense at your choice of statement — only momentarily though — returning to his beloved cocky persona in a matter of seconds as he nodded with a grin. His face dropped when you mouthed that you disagreed with his RIO’s point of view. “I just don’t really believe him, you know? I don’t think you go around flirting with other women when your mind is supposedly set on one person.”

Maverick sighed, hands coming up on his sides.

“That’s not fair, Roger.”

“Oh, it’s not? My bad,” you giggled, running a hand through your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows in consideration. “You want to know what’s not fair, Pete? Not fair is being unable to bare the night without alcohol because someone decided they want to get laid by a random bimbo. Not fair is having to constantly doubt whether you actually fucking like me or just want to get into my pants. Is that it, Pete? Do you want a blowjob? Go for a quickie in the broom closet, perhaps? Will that get some steam out of your system?” You didn’t really understand when the wasted in you transformed into livid hammered, but it felt as if someone had cut your breaks, kept you yapping on and on. “It’s not fucking fair of you to just swoop in my perfectly functional relationship and blow it to shit.”

It wasn’t all Maverick’s fault, though. After all, it did take two people to fall in love. You could’ve just shut him off, pay no attention to him, had he not caught your eye even since day one, with all the characteristics about him that made him Maverick and not Pete Mitchell. You were falling so hard and quickly in love with him that it consumed you, had you in a whirlwind.

When you gathered the courage to quit daydreaming and focus on his reaction, you realized he looked a mix of hurt and mad.

“You know, you can’t just decide how I get to feel about you.”

“Yeah? Then how do you feel about me, since it’s so much more than sex? Prove me the fuck wrong, Pete Mitchell, show me!” you urged, pretty sure loudly enough to earn a few stares from the people close to the two of you.

“I can’t fucking do that, you have a boyfriend!”

“When have you ever legged it because of that?”

“Since you permanently became the only fucking thing I can ever think about!”

You’d lost the plot; mind foggy, incapable of making the right choices, whether that referenced to words or actions. Due to the dizziness, you took a second to process the fact that Maverick had just come a step closer to silently yelling to you he was as much bonkers about you as you were for him. Very irrationally and without considering it too much, you glared at him, eyes burning through his scalp, muscles tightened, setting your jaw as you raised your hands, causing the pilot before you to flinch in dread of getting slapped, but instead firmly cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, feeling his hot breath in puffs against your very welcoming lips. You were almost there; about to finally kiss him, but pulled back with force rather abruptly.

His eyes were closed from being so caught up in the idea of getting to taste a cocktail of the alcoholic beverages you’d been gobbling all night on your lips — he barely even noticed you’d shoved him away from you and were stomping away once again, fists clenched to your sides without giving him a word. He huffed in disbelief, unaware of how you always managed to do a runner.

You, on the other hand, suddenly made a turn of mind and began batting your eyelashes to a very clueless as to what had happened Tom Kazansky, determined to not let Maverick have it, not again, you were stronger than that. Hilarious, your inner conscience chuckled, as if you weren’t about to fuck it all and let Pete take you senseless on a sodding public bathroom’s counter.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered, clenching your eyelids shut. “Fucking shut the fuck up.”

“What’s that?” Tom asked, unable to hear what you’d muttered through the blasting music.

“We should head back home,” you lied with a raised voice, grimacing suggestively. You wished the rest of the night could’ve been like when u and him first started dating; passionate and full of mutual love. Except all you could picture as you seated yourself on top of him, throwing your hair off your shoulders and turning the light switch off to enrich your imagination, as you closed your eyes and let your mind work its magic, was Maverick.

Maverick, Maverick, Maverick.

Maverick and how you’d basically confessed to him. How you’d been just an inch away from devouring his heavenly-looking mouth.

Maverick and how he’d permanently became the only fucking thing you could ever think about, too.

chapter 9

tags:

@holishol

@iheqrtaustin

@cinnamoncaramelapples

#maverick fanfic #maverick x reader #pete mitchell angst #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #pete 'maverick' mitchell/reader #maverick x you #maverick x y/n #maverick fluff #iceman x reader #tom iceman kazansky #strong language #pete mitchell fanfiction #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell imagine #pete mitchell x reader #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun movie #top gun 1986 #very angsty #alcohol #mentions of alcohol #tom cruise #top gun maverick #iceman x maverick

[themaladaptivewriter12]

Title: Valentine's Promise

Might add a part two, a sm*t, haven't decided

Pairings: Cater Diamond x Twisted Wonderland Male OC (Mirai Yuhara)

Summary: 

“Mirai?” Cater whispered. “Huh?” Mirai answered, reluctant to take his eyes off the city. “Jasper.” Mirai’s head snapped away from the scenery for a second to see Cater holding a small red velvet box. Mirai froze, his heart stopping, his blood feeling as if ice was shot through his veins. He didn’t know what to do, but to sit there like a deer in headlights.

Notes:

cw: Nothing but fluff.  

This was a little thing I wanted to post for Valentine's, albeit 3 days late, and it kinda delves into a little bit of the "after story" I've been conjuring up for Mimi and Cater. Hope you enjoy!

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do!  ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

Cater sighed once more before stretching his arms above his head, grunting softly as his back popped in multiple places, the tension from slouching over his desk all day lessening. Today felt like the worst, time felt as if it had been slowed with how excited Cater was, but now that it was finally over, and that excitement hadn’t waned a bit. From the moment he had woken up, Cater had been so giddy that he couldn’t focus. He had messed up during his debriefing, ran into the vending machines because he was on his phone, and he accidentally misspelled their client’s name on their webpage. #Unprofessional.

The moment the last meeting of the day was adjourned, Cater sighed with relief, slouching in his chair. This month so far has been super busy with the amount of clients who wanted their advertisements up today, potential clients whose appointments were scheduled all throughout the week with notes that needed to be looked over, and various websites to be updated. They definitely weren’t out of the woods yet, but that was the life of someone who worked in the Social Media and Marketing Department.

But today was special, and it had the entire building buzzing. Pink, red, and white hearts decorated the office, the women of the office wore their pretty pinks and luscious reds, pretty bouquets and boxes of chocolates dotted the desks, the guys wore their best dress shirts, and the older men adorned their themed ties hand picked by their wives that morning. Today was Valentine's Day and Cater knew this one was going to be special. 

Cater made his way to his desk from their roundtable when an arm wrapped its way around his shoulders, startling him. 

“So,” the voice said. 

Cater whipped his head around and was met with a mop of brown hair and brown eyes. It was Lucas, of course it was Lucas. The twenty-five year old was Cater’s senior by a year, and terribly nosey. 

“So?” Cater asked.

“Penelope, she’s pretty cute right?”

“Not this again,” Cater sighed, moving out of his grasp to walk a bit faster.

“Oh, c’mon dude,” Lucas sighed, rushing after him, “You two would make a great couple!”

“And I keep telling you I’m seeing someone.”

“You mean his fake girlfriend,” Fabian joked, matching their stride. 

Fabian, a twenty-two year old blonde with a knack for unintentionally offending people with his words. Cater wouldn’t lie, he didn’t like the guy when Fabian first came to their department, but after they got to know each other, and eventually sat in the same quad, he learned that Fabian wasn’t a bad person, just a little hard with his words.

“Mimi is not fake,” Cater huffed, moving to clean up his desk.

“C’mon dude, you can’t blame me,” Fabian reasoned, from his side of their shared desk, “Every time I mention your girlfriend you get all defensive, and the last time I asked for a picture, you wouldn’t show me.”

“Maybe she’s shy?” Brain offered from his desk.

Brian was the best behaved out of their quad. He hated confrontation, and tended to keep to himself, but when the time arose, the twenty-four year old would stick his neck out for anyone without a second thought.

“Or imaginary,” Fabian muttered.

Cater rolled his eyes, making for his hasty retreat, when suddenly his phone vibrated and like his life depended on it, Cater snatched his phone from his desk, unlocking the device. Fabian and Lucas rushed over to try and peek at the message, which Cater promptly pulled out of sight.

“He’s practically been glued to his phone the whole day,” a soft voice chided. “I knew he loved the thing, but today was something else entirely.” 

“Sup, Tif,” Lucas greeted, looking up from his attempt to get a glimpse of Cater’s phone.

“Hey guys,” Tiffany smiled. 

Tiffany, better known as Tif throughout the building, was part of the Marketing Department. The twenty-five year old and her team often worked with Cater and his quad, like today.

“Hey, Tif,” Cater smiled.

“Going home so soon?” Tiffany asked.

“Yeah,” Cater sighed with a dopey smile, “I got plans and I don’t wanna be late.”

“Plans?” a sweet feminine asked, “That’s nice to hear.”

“Penelope,” Lucas cheered, “How was work?”

“It was an easy day,” Penelope smiled, playing with the petals to a bouquet of flowers. 

Penelope, the office sweetheart and most eligible bachelorette, was the floor’s secretary. Cater couldn’t remember a time when Lucas wasn’t trying to set him up with the twenty-five year old, or a time the guys of the building treated her like a princess. Don’t get him wrong, Cater liked Penelope, but just not like that.

“Oh, nice flowers. Who’s the sender?” Fabian asked.

“My mom,” Penelope laughed awkwardly, “She always sends them on Valentine's Day.”

“That’s cute,” Tiffany smiled.

“Aw,” a deeper feminine voice sighed, “I wish my mom did that.”

“Hey, Brooke,” Brian smiled, “how was accounting?”

Brooke was head of accounting, and like a mother figure to the younger workers on the floor. Anytime you needed something, Mama Brooke was on the case, the twenty-nine year old taking her title with stride. 

“Same as always,” Brooke said dismissively. “What I wanna know is what was so important that you couldn’t pay attention during today’s roundtable, Cater?”

Cater laughed awkwardly, “Sorry, Brooke. I’ll admit, I was a bit distracted today.”

“I get it, it’s Valentine’s Day,” Brooke smirked, “you just got distracted by some really nice pictures from your girl.”

Cater flushed to the tips of his ears,” I-It’s not like t-that!”

 Brooke laughed, “So, does anyone have any plans for tonight? My husband and I are going to that really fancy restaurant on 5th street.”

“Me and my hubby are gonna go see a movie,” Cecelia said excitedly.

“Me and my girlfriend are gonna stay in and make dinner,” Fabian said.

“Jesse and I are gonna go to a drive-in movie,” Brian smiled. 

“That’s cute,” Cecelia whined, “We should've done that instead.”

As the group spoke of their evening plans, Cater’s phone vibrated again, and he was on it like a moth to a flame.

“Mimi’s here,” Cater gasped, suddenly rushing to get his things.

“Mimi?” Cecilia asked.

“His fake girlfriend,” Fabian teased from his seat across from Lucas.

“Whatever,” Cater laughed with a scoff, putting the last of his things in his bag.

“It’s okay man, we’ve all been dumped before,” Fabian said, “You don’t have to keep up this charade any longer.”

Cater rolled his eyes, getting the last of his things.

“Leave him alone, guys.” Brooke huffed, “Cater, I’m sure your girlfriend is very nice.”

“Thanks Mama Brooke. See ya,” Cater called, practically running to get to the elevators.

“Oh, I gotta see this,” Fabian said, rushing to follow Cater.

“I’m coming too,” Lucas exclaimed, shooting from his seat.

The group followed closely behind Cater as he weaved his way through the desks, quads, and cubicles, trying not to lose that head of bright orange hair in the crowds of people making their ways home.

The Cater and his unappointed followers passed by one of the quads when a pair of gold eyes spotted them. “Where are you guys going?”

“Hey, Maddox,” Lucus shouted, “You’re gonna finally see Cater’s girlfriend!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Cater rolled his eyes affectionately. Maddox was one of the seniors of the department at thirty-six years old, he was one of the guys who trained Cater when he first joined, and became a big brother of sorts. Whenever Cater needed something, whatever it might be, Maddox had his back.

 All of them shoved their way into the elevator, pressing the button to the ground floor. The ride from the eighth floor was a long one, and every time they stopped on a floor, they got curious looks as there wasn’t a lick of room for anymore people. 

Once they stopped at the third floor, Keith gave them all weird looks, as he was trying to use the elevator as well.

“Keith,” Cecelia waved, “we’re gonna see Cater’s girlfriend.”

Keith worked in IT, the twenty-six year old always hanging on the eighth floor when he wasn’t supposed to.

“Ima take the stairs and meet you guys down there,” Keith said, before he rushed to the opposite side of the room to the stairwell. 

“Guys,” Cater whined as the doors shut once more. 

Downstairs, Mirai stood awkwardly next to a gaggle of women. He felt so out of place standing next to all of them in their cutesy skirts and frilly dresses, even their hair was curled and or pressed. And how could he forget their polished nails on dainty hands that held their teddy bears, roses, and chocolates. 

Then there, sticking out like a sore thumb, he was, a man all dolled up with a bouquet of flowers of his own. Mirai couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy at their flawless beauty. Why couldn’t he look that pretty like them with their soft skin and long eyelashes? Maybe he should have worn a skirt instead? 

Mirai sighed, shaking his head to somehow shake the thought away. He was fine, this was fine. He dressed up too in his suit and black and red rose pattern mesh button up. He had spent hours trying to perfect his eyeliner, and once he did, he chose pink eyeshadow that went perfectly with his flushed cheeks and pink lipgloss. He knew it did, because he had called Crewel before he left and he said so. 

Instead of a teddy bear, well, he did actually get a teddy bear, but it was with the soap set that came with bath bombs, face masks, lotions and oils, which was at Cater’s apartment, sitting on the living room coffee table. And as for chocolates, Cater hated sweets, so he improvised with dark chili chocolates for him to try and if that failed, Mirai got a fruit and cheese platter, which was also sitting in Cater’s apartment, chilling in his refrigerator of course. Fiddling with the petals of his bouquet of roses, wondering if it all was too much. 

And on a side note, Mirai really thought he would be late with how much of a hassle it was to get into the building itself. The guy at the gate gave him a hard time, and it wasn’t until Cater’s father had to explain that he was with him did the man let him in. After that, Mirai and Mr. Diamond had split ways in the lobby, the older man having something important to take care of, leaving Mirai in the lobby, which led him to his current problem. The woman at the front desk.

The woman gave him such a hard time for a while, questioning how he got past security, why he was there, and who for. Mirai argued with her for a good while, telling her that he was picking his lover up, just like everyone else and that yes, his visitor’s pass was valid. Mirai didn’t understand, all of the misses were here, so why couldn't he be? Mr. Diamond said it was okay, so what was so bad about him being here? 

She had finally stopped when one of the women stepped in, asking her why she was so adamant on trying to get Mirai to leave. And now said front desk woman, with the name tag that read “Mara,” was giving him the stank eye as she tapped away on her desktop computer. Mirai just hopped Cater or Mr. Diamond came back soon.

“So what do you and your boy have planned?” the woman from earlier asked.

Mirai startled a bit, not expecting her to ask him that, or anything for that matter, “I-I, h-how did you-”

“Oh please, Honey, no man makes himself look that pretty for a woman unless one of them swings the other way,” the woman laughed. “Also, I may not be the straightest woman here.”

“O-Oh,” Mirai chuckled nervously, “I tried my best. Uh, do you think it’s too much?”

“Not at all, hon, you look stunning,” she smiled. “You make me feel like I should have stepped up my game this morning, but then again, my Georgiana doesn’t like that shmancy stuff.”

“Don’t, don’t sell yourself short. To be honest, I was a little jealous at how pretty you guys were compared to me.”

“Please, you’re the best dressed out of everyone here.”

“Thanks,” Mirai muttered, flushing a pretty pink.

“You’re welcome,” the woman smiled, “I’m Xola by the way.”

“Mirai.”

A chime sounded through the lobby and immediately everyone perked up at the sound, their eyes honing in on elevators.

“Good luck,” Xola smiled.

“Back atcha,” Mirail nodded.

The elevator doors opened and Cater scanned the lobby, looking for the familiar blonde wolf cut and silver prosthetic. It didn’t take long for Cater to spot a constellation of freckles on rosy cheeks and eyes as bright as the stars.

“Mimi,” Cater gasped, running across the lobby.

“Cater,” Mirai shouted, matching Cater’s enthusiasm as he met the strawberry blonde halfway, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck.

Cater pulled back just enough to smash his lips into Mirai’s in a deep kiss, his hand reaching up the cradle the back of Mirai’s head, his fingers musing through his gelled tresses. Mirai sighed against Cater’s lips, his eyes closing in bliss. If his hands weren’t so full, Mirai knew his hands would be bunched up in Cater’s blazer by now. 

Cater finally pulled back after he had enough, the biggest grin on his face. “Hey Babydoll,” Cater muttered affectionately, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Mirai chuckled. “Sorry I wasn’t able to come down for your Birthday. I could only get three days off.”

“I don’t care about that. You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

“It does though,” Mirai whined, “ It was your twenty-fourth Birthday.”

“And you can make it up to me by coming to see me for your twenty-third. Now, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Mirai smiled, wriggling out of Cater’s grasp to hand his gifts.

“Mimi,” Cater gushed, “thank you, baby. And don’t worry, yours are in the car.”

“It’s okay,” Mirai smiled, “I can wait.”

Cater looked at the bouquet and smiled fondly, “Ya’know, after all those years of painting the roses red, I’ve come to appreciate a fine red rose. I can tell these are good quality.”

Mirai chuckled, “Same here. I couldn’t just get any old rose, it just didn’t sit right. I felt as if Riddle would pop out of nowhere and collar me or something.”

The two of them fell into a fit of laughter at the image they conjured in their heads. 

“That’s Mimi?!” Lucas shouted, prompting an end to Mirai’s and Cater’s little moment, “You told me Mimi was a girl!”

“No I didn’t,” Cater said with a sardonic smile, “I said I was seeing someone and you assumed.”

“But his name is Mimi!”

“Yep. Short for Mirai.”

“Dude,” Lucas whined.

“Ignoring him,” Brooke said, pushing her way to the front of the group, “I think some introductions are in order.”

Cater took the time to introduce his colleagues to Mirai and vice versa. Mirai found the group to be very lively, and even with their different personalities, they somehow fit together perfectly. 

“You two have seriously been together since high school?!” Cecelia gushed, “That’s so cute! I wish me and my hubby were high school sweethearts.”

“I’m not sure if it counts, Cater mused, “we met during my third year, and by my fourth, I was doing my internships, and he was entering his Sophomore year.”

“It counts,” Brain nodded.

“Wait, how old was he when you two met?!” Tiffany asked.

“He was seventeen then,” Cater laughed.

“Oh.”

“I’m so proud of you, Cater,” Maddox cried, “my boy is becoming a man.”

“Maddy,” Cater whined, “stop it.”

Mirai chuckled at their antics.

“So how come I’m just learning you have a high school sweetheart?” Fabian asked.

“I told you I was seeing someone for a while,” Cater laughed. “You're the one who decided that I had an imaginary girlfriend.”

“As I said earlier, you wouldn’t show me pictures.”

“And since when did I have to?”

The two began to bicker when a thick accented voice spoke up, “So this is the fabled lover of Cater Diamond.”

Cater laughed awkwardly, looking up at Georgiana, “I didn’t know word got out that far.”

 “You two make a great couple.”

“Thx.”

“If only you’d told me it was Cater, I'd have given you some dirt on these guys, Mirai, no questions asked,” Xola laughed.

“Don’t you dare,” Keith shouted.

Cater’s colleagues began to converse amongst themselves, when Mirai checked the time. It was almost four-thirty, their dinner reservations were at five.

“Catie,” Mirai muttered, pulling at Cater’s sleeve, “We have to get going.”

Cater gasped. “Oopsies, sorry guys, but we gotta go if we wanna make our reservation. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye Cater, have fun,” Tiffany called.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Brooke shouted.

They made their way to Cater’s car, and Cater, ever the gentleman, opened Mirai’s door first, making sure he was seated, before shutting the door, and making his way to the driver's seat. 

“Here you go, Baby,” Cater muttered, kissing Mirai on his temple, as he handed Mirai a bouquet of pink and purple hydrangeas, a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. 

“They’re so pretty,” Mirai gushed, “Cater.”

“Of course, you only deserve the best.”

“And you got me lilies,” Mirai whispered, voice growing a little emotional, “Cater.”

Cater kissed Mirai on the head once more, “Don’t cry, Baby.”

“I’m not. I’m okay.”

Cater smiled softly, starting the car, and as he pulled out of his parking spot, the two of them spotted Mr. Diamond pulled out of his parking spot. Mirai waved with a big smile, his smile getting even bigger, if that was even possible, as Mr. Diamond waved back. 

“Have a good night, Mirai, Cater,” Mr. Diamond called from his open window, as he drove up to their car.

“You gonna go see mom?” Cater asked.

“Of course.”

“Good luck,” Cater called. “And give these to them for me?”

Mr. Diamond nodded, taking the flowers before diving off the lot.

“Let’s get going, shall we?”

The ride to the restaurant wasn’t a long one and after Cater switched his blazer for a red one and gave his keys to the Valet, they made it just in time. The restaurant was beautiful, decked out for the holiday with rose petals decorating the tables, white ribbons covered the chairs, and pink hearts decorated the windows. And you’d think it would look tacky, but it didn’t, somehow the restaurant made it work, the look giving it a romantic, classy feel. 

The dining room was packed with couples, each and everyone of them dressed to the nines. Mirai wondered how Cater even scored seats in a place like this.

“Good evening, Sir,” the hostess smiled, “May I have a name for your reservation?”

“Diamond,” Cater supplied.

After a second, the Hostess smiled, “Ah, here we are. Diamond, table for two. Alright, follow me if you please.”

Dinner went off without a hitch. Their table was on the indoor balcony that overlooked the rest of the restaurant and the city below through their floor to ceiling windows. They were served three courses starting with drinks and appetizers, which consisted of honey glazed prosciutto wrapped asparagus paired with a raspberry or cheese fondue sauce and for their drinks, sparkling cider since they had to drive home. 

For their next course, Cater had a brown butter steak and mashed potatoes, and for Mirai, a plate of their finest fettuccine chicken and broccoli alfredo. Over dinner, the two of them talked about anyone and anything. Mirai filled in how things were with living with Crewel and Grim, and how university was going. He talked about the last time he met up with Ace and Deuce and how they even went to visit Riddle and Trey. Mirai told Cater anything he thought was interesting. 

And Cater told him things in return. Cater talked about his department, his floor and everything they went on in the office. He talked about his sisters and his mother, he talked about his upcoming collaboration with Vil, and his hopeful future one with Idia and Kalim. 

Once dessert was served, things slowed down. The sun had long set, the food had settled in their bellies and with the looks Cater started giving Mirai over his glass of sparkling as he watched the blonde devour a piece of red velvet cheesecake, Mirai was ready to head out. 

“Ready, Babydoll?” Cater muttered with lidded eyes.

Mirai swallowed, feeling the telltale heat of a flush beginning to prickle at his cheeks, as he started back at Cater. The strawberry blonde smirked, putting down his glass to rest his cheek on his fist.

Mirai cleared his throat, but his words still came out hoarse, “Y-Yeah.” 

They paid, took the last piece of cake to go and made their way to the front of the building where the valet arrived with their car, and as they waited, Cater made sure to get as many pictures as he could. 

“Can we stop by somewhere before we go home?” Cater asked after a while of driving.

Mirai looked from his window to Cater, he couldn’t read the strawberry blonde’s expression, his face blank, eyes on the road.

“Sure. I don’t mind,” Mirai muttered finally, looking back at the city flying by. 

Cater drove around for some time and after a while, Mirai realized they were in the outskirts of the city, the amount of skyscrapers getting smaller, the amount of cars dwindling.

“Where are we going?” Mirai asked, looking out the windows.

“Surprise,” Cater smiled.

It wasn’t long after that they made their way to a scenic spot that overlooked the city. Here, they could see the stars in the sky, there were no bright lights outshining the galaxies above.

“Come sit,” Cater beckoned, crawling over the center console to sit in the back seat of his red convertible. 

“Cater,” Mirai giggled, crawling after Cater. 

Once he was back there, Cater wrapped the two of them in a blanket and pushed the button the dropped down the top.

“Why are we here?” Mirai asked, “What's going on?”

“Because it’s nice, and I can get some totally awesome pics for my Magaicam.”

Mirai shook his head, he guessed some things would never change. Cater snapped a bunch of pictures as Mirai stared at the cityscape below.

“Mimi?” Cater called.

“Yes?” 

“Cake?”

“I just had some. You tryna get me fat?”

“Well I do like feeding you,” Cater smirked. “Open?”

Mirai smiled, taking the fork into his mouth. The cake was sweet, creamy, and think, just what he liked in a good cheesecake. Eventually Mirai’s eyes wandered back to the city. Even from here, the city looked full of life. The red taillights dotted the roads, the white and gold lights from the buildings twinkled like stars, and above, the lights the warded off incoming planes pulsed like the city's heartbeat. Mirai agreed, this was nice.

“Mirai?” Cater whispered. 

“Huh?” Mirai answered, reluctant to take his eyes off the city.

“Jasper.”

Mirai’s head snapped away from the scenery for a second to see Cater holding a small red velvet box. Mirai froze, his heart stopping, his blood feeling as if ice was shot through his veins. He didn’t know what to do, but to sit there like a deer in headlights.

“Ca-Cater?” Mirai whispered, shakily.

“I-It-It’s not, it’s not what you think,” Cater stammered, face going cherry red. “Will you open it?”

Mirai shakily took the box from Cater’s hands, gently pulling the top up to reveal two simple gold bands with little flowers engraved on the outside, and in the center most flower, was one lone white rhinestone. On the inside of the rings were their names, Cater Diamond on one, and Mirai Jasper Yuhara on the other.

Mirai's lip quivered as he tried his best to take the ring out of the box, but he didn’t think he could without dropping it. “I can’t,” Mirai gasped a breath as he eyes filled with tears. 

“Here, let me,” Cater whispered, taking Mirai’s ring to loop a matching gold chain through it.

Mirai watched curiously as Cater did so, wondering what the gold chain was for. 

“I know you’re supposed to wear these on your left hand,” Cater muttered, before reaching around the blonde to clasp it around his neck, “but I wanted it so that when the time comes, you would be able to fit it on your right.”

Only then did Mirai’s eyes finally shed their tears, “Cater.”

“They’re promise rings, oh, well, you probably already knew that-wait did you? I-I-, this, this isn’t a proposal, well, not that kind of proposal. I wanted that one to be even more special, like #TheProposal, but I also wanted this one to be special, but not too special that it would outshine that one, and I-,” Cater stopped for a second, before laughing through his tears, “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

Mirai chuckled, voice muffled due to his emotions, “I-I-It’s, I understand you fully.”

“I-I’m so nervous,” Cater breathed, eyes misty, “I’ve never thought I’d be doing something like this. My life has never been stable, ya’know? I’ve moved around more times than I could count, gained and lost so many people who were close to me, and after a while, I stopped caring. I just knew everyone would disappear one day, so why try? If they were all gonna forget Cater one day, why not give them Cay-Cay instead?” 

Cater took a breath before continuing, “But that was before I met you. You made me want something stable, something permanent. You made me want to be me, to be Cater. And I want you.”

Mirai hiccuped at Cater words, and as Cater reached for his hands, Mirai sobbed, gripping them tightly.

“I can’t express how much I want this to be the real deal, but I can wait. I want you to finish school, I want you to find a place for yourself here in Twisted Wonderland. And then after all of that, we can think about actually tying the knot,” Cater chuckled. 

“I’d like that,” Mirai smiled, voice quivering.

“We can take our time, we can be young and dumb. We can make our mistakes, and find our place and who we are.”

“And then when we marry, we can get that house with the guest room, and the huge backyard?” Mirai asked.

“Yep, the one with the guest room for the guys, and the two car garage for our fancy cars.”

“With our dogs, and space to throw parties the whole street would envy?”

“And let’s not forget the giant walk in closet.”

The two of them fell into a fit of joyous laughter, the world and all of their worries seeming a world away. 

“Here,” Mirai eventually said, holding out the other band to Cater.

“You do it,” Cater smiled.

Mirai took his time and carefully slipped the gold band onto Cater's left hand. “There. Perfect.”

“Yeah, perfect,” Cater sighed, but he wasn’t looking at the ring on his finger. Mirai looked up and realized what he was implying, his face flushing.

 “I love you, Mirai,” Cater said, voice full of unbridled emotion. 

“I love you, too, Cater,” Mirai choked out.

Cater pulled Mirai in for a sweet kiss, like he was trying to convey his feelings with his body and soul. Mirai kissed him back, the same feeling of love and devotion. Cater pulled back seconds later, pressing his head to Mirai’s. Even if the kiss wasn’t a long one, it conveyed everything they wanted it to.

“So, selfies?” Cater asked.

“Yeah, selfies,” Mirai laughed.

Cater snapped as many pictures as he could between showering Mirai with love and affection, littering his face and anywhere he could get his lips on with kisses. Mirai felt as if he was floating. Yes this was only the beginning, and yes they did have a long way to go, but Mirai was fine with that, because had a promise to keep, and there’s no place he’d rather be, he was content with just simply basking in their shared happiness and adoration.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twist #twist #twist disney #cater diamond #twst oc #twst original character #twst yuu #cater diamond x oc #cater fluff #twst fluff #valentines day #themaladaptivewriter12 #sleepy writes #my work #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic

[mercurygray]

Postwar TDS....Ruth and the dress shop she works in please and thank 💕

She gets home and knows she needs a job.

She did everything to get by in Atlantic City, waiting for Joe. Waiting tables, working in an automat, checking coats at a restaurant. All the other girls in the boarding house were war wives, too, waiting for husbands to get home, from the navy or the hospital or who knows where else.

They all talk about medals their husbands won, about battles. Ruth never tells them that she has battles and medals, too. Here she's just Mrs. Toye, from New York, waiting for Joe to finish his rehab. And they talk all the time about after - about houses, about babies, about the jobs their husbands are going to get when they get home. Drive a taxi, or work at the bank, or the factory, or the farm. None of them will work, it seems - they want that normal back, too.

Not Ruth. She has no idea what Joe's going to be able to do. But she knows what she can do, and if that's all they've got, then that's all they've got. She jumped out of airplanes and killed men and won Purple Hearts and she'll be damned if she has to make a man do all the work to keep them together. Why should she worry about the future - it's just borrowing trouble.

It's just by accident they all discover she can sew. Someone's sleeve nearly comes off before the in-laws are in town, and Ruth flies into action. You'd never know anything was wrong, the ladies all say. Better than it was before.

Suddenly everyone has mending to do, and Ruth lets the coat check job go so she can keep up - for a modest fee, of course. But she's still waiting tables and making sandwiches. A paycheck is a paycheck. Who can live on taking in mending?

Back in New York, there are always spots for waitresses. She takes the late shift at a diner down the street, fills in at the counter at a deli a couple of days a week. The old neighborhood doesn't quite welcome her back with open arms, but what was she expecting, marrying a Catholic? Joe keeps filing out job applications and she never says a word on her way to work. It'll work out, one day. It'll come.

One day there are two women at the deli counter, talking about how the seamstress down the street can't find good help - my dress for Georgie's bar mitzvah not done yet! But who else would I ask? Her daughter says she doesn't want the business, and the son in California! A shame.

She sees the shop on the way home - a little basement studio, the front window half-visible from the street. There's a dress in the window the color of orange sherbet, with a nice big bow on the front. I could do that, Ruth thinks. The bell over the door dings as she comes in - the only sound in the place. It feels like walking into an ambush. And Ruth knows she should be scared…but she's not. She's a long way past being scared of anything.

"I hear you're looking for help," she announces to the silver-haired woman behind the counter. "My name is Ruth Toye, and I can sew just about anything."

The woman raises an eyebrow at the name. "Toye sounds English," she says.

"And the Megillot says Ruth was a good daughter to her mother," Ruth says straight back in her best Yiddish. The seamstress doesn't seem to have an argument for that.

They agree on a time tomorrow morning. Ruth walks home feeling on top of the world, better than she's ever felt about sandwiches or slicing deli meat or bussing dishes.

It's something beautiful, she says. I want to put something beautiful into the world. She's still thinking about that dress, how it's ice cream and sunrises and fresh starts. It's late and she and Joe are lying in bed, listening to the traffic in the street outside, her leg hooked up over his side, one hand on his chest.

Like a baby, she adds, before she can stop herself. I want one of them, too.

#post war #ruth shapiro #let ruth have nice things 1946!!

[callmemana]

Arms Wide Open, Catch Me If I Fall: Meet Rachael ‘Dragon’ Kazansky

Mrs. Rachael ‘Dragon’ Kazansky ( @dragon-kazansky )is best known for her pilot skills, and being the second half of the ‘Chaos Crew’ is another hat she wears with pride. During her time at Top Gun in 1986, she made a lifelong friend in Whiskey and she’s somehow melted the cold exterior of the Iceman.

When Dragon was called to Top Gun she didn’t think she’d make any friends. The majority of pilots were men, so you can guess her surprise when she saw Whiskey near the back of the classroom. Dragon became quick friends with the other female pilot and soon both gained the nickname ‘Chaos Crew’ for all of the mischief that had happened while they were there.

Most of the guys thought that the mischief was funny, but not the stern and always professional ‘Mr. Iceman’ and his back seater, Slider. No, it seemed as if all of this was above them, they couldn’t take a joke. So one day after practicing maneuvers all day, Whiskey & Dragon cooked up a plan in the locker room after getting dressed. As both women covered their eyes as they ran cackling at the prank they pulled on the first place squad. The guys all laughed, but quieted down when Ice & Slider came back in. They would never omit it, but the ice on their hearts was slowly melting away.

After the mission that happened at graduation, Ice started to see Dragon more and more at the O Club and one night, he talked to her. Ice and Dragon ended up finding out that they shared many interest other than being a pilot and went on a date. That date turned into a happy, wonderful, and long marriage.

Whiskey & Dragon were always together for the big relationship milestones; proposals, weddings, and the birth of their children. Ron and Tom were always close, as pilot and RIO, but when their wives met all those years ago they knew they were in each others’ lives forever.

Dragon and Whiskey have always been known as ‘meddlers’ when it came to loved ones and their lives. They meddled in Lucky’s wedding when it was rumored that her mother wasn’t able to come back down to San Diego to help pick out Lucky’s wedding dress. Dragon & Whiskey help their loved ones and close friends, and with Bob being one of those people, they just knew they needed to meddle in his life.

The women took charge and pestered the boys of the dagger squad to get information about why he was sad, and when it was because of a girl? Oh were they gonna do everything to make this man happy again. After finding out that the woman’s name was ‘Birdie’ they brought the subject to Ice & Ron. It took weeks, but the men finally agreed and sent orders to Birdie to come to San Diego. While all of this was going on, Bob was left in the dark. His found family wanted to see his surprise when he saw her again.

Forever 🏷️ list: @bayisdying @mrsjaderogers @dragon-kazansky @sweetlittlegingy @switchbladedreamz

🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2

#birdslibrary #meet the characters #not my oc #iceman x dragon #rachael dragon kazansky #fluff #top gun maverick #Arms Wide Open Catch Me If I Fall series

[betsey-socialite-1757]

plans for Thanksgiving?

Not many, or at least... quieter than before. A day of prayer and then a day of food and giving thanks with my children. I also believe @benjamin-tallmadge-official, @johnandre-official, @peggyshippenofficial & @yr-mademoiselle-maupin are due for a visit.

#ic / best of wives & best of women #answered #thanksgiving #food cw

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 57 SANSA V (pages 733-739)

Sansa prays before joining the women in Maegor's Holdfast, while outside the city, the fighting has begun.

-

Joffrey drew his sword. The pommel was a ruby cut in the shape of a heart, set between a lion's jaws. Three fullers were deeply incised in the blade. "My new sword, Hearteater."

he doesn't deserve that sword, give it to meee- hang on... Isn't his new sword... well who owns Widow's Wail then? The Valyrian sword made from half of Ice?

brb, wiki... Ahhhh, too early for Widow's Wail. That comes later, I got my timeline twirled. ... he still doesn't deserve that sword and they should give it to meeeeeee. should have called it Lionheart, for the punception. It has a lion with a heart in it's mouth, Lionheart is the nickname of one of the King Richards, and Joffrey is a dick. It all lines up. (If that last part confused you, 'Dick' is the nickname for 'Richard.') It all lines up!

"They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest," she said recklessly. "Though he's older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown." That made him frown. (...) He wheeled his horse about and spurred towards the gate.

!!!!!!! YASSSSs, oh, burn. Subtle, and (more importantly) she got away with it~ Recklessly is right. But I suppose with the weight of the impending army looming over them, now was the time for slights and needling, cause he's too busy imagining how awesome he is(n't) going to be. ... as long as he doesn't remember it later, after he major fails...

No, but it probably does help that Joffrey's being sent to 'man 'command' a particular part of the war effort where he won't be in as much danger without it being obvious he's being kept in the safety box, so his ego isn't as much on the line.

It's interesting how the line changed between show and book, iirc Sansa pulled the "and he's only a pretender" in the show, not just saying Joffrey's young and inexperienced (an absolute baby, whiny child n00b) but actively/backhandedly mocking his legitimacy. Provoking him to go fight in the thick of it (and perish). Which would have been far more dangerous to say, if they'd left show Joffrey as unhinged as book Joffrey.

Sansa knew most of the hymns, and followed along on those she did not as best she could. She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle and those without, she sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sung for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunk king Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today and for the children and wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound.

Anyone still making arguments that Sansa remains classist, selfish, uncaring and unsympathetic for the duration of the story, and can't understand any of the horrors of war because she was being coddled and had a flush ride through the whole war/story, can take their arguments, and shove them so far up their own ass, they puke them back out.

Sorry, that was rude of me.

I just am having feels right now, (!!!! one of which is fear! holy shit that lighting! oohhhhh Storm is here. That thunder was so loud! even through my headphones!) about how Sansa is just 'one of the masses' right now, just one of thousands who's trapped and scared and praying for help from gods who might not answer.

Still snubbed Joffrey though, nice.

... Shae continues to have zero fucks to give about Lollys' trauma or mental state. But neither does her fam.

Beaten silver mirrors backed every wall sconce, so the torches burned twice as bright; -

I would be interested to know what kind of torches, exactly. For the mirrors to be effective for any length of time they'd need to be carefully positioned so they don't get coated in smoke and ash, and the kind of torches my mind goes to when people say torches in a psuedo medieval European setting is a stick with soaked rag, which, fun fact, doesn't actually last very long. like half an hour iirc.

Would love to see these sconces (I'm a sucker for a good wall sconce), I've seen some really nice candelabra in C-Dramas, candle and oil lamp based, and they have reflective panels shaped like leaves. I need, just so many of them.

... "Ilyn Payne holding Ice" *represses urge to hiss like an umbraged cat*

My feelings on Cersei in this scene are a little complex, on the one hand, I do appreciate that she's not hiding truths from Sansa, regardless of whether Sansa is taking them on or not, on the other hand I know she's 99.99% doing it to instill fear in Sansa, likely as a way to assuage her own fear by giving her the illusion of control over something in a situation where she has none.

Ohhh, good thing this chapter was short, the lights keep flickering. Stupid storm.

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #sansa stark #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

[can-i-roll-for-it]

Uuuuh I’ll start hard than easy:

Colleen by Rachel Sumner and Conrad

Glitter by Daisy the Great and Hunchfucks

Oh bonus challenge Unraveling by The Crane Wives and Elias Hodge (sounds easy by the name but it’s a mourning song oooh)

Also Colleen is a longer song the rest are normal sorry

Ok lets do this! So I will do Glitter and Unraveling in a differnt post (Ill tag you in it asker) because this turned out a bit long.

So first Colleen For Conrad.

So I did some googling to first see what this song is SUPOOSED to be able because I could not tell. The most popular interpretation seems to be that it's about a selkie women. Which is neat.

Ok time for me to twist the lyrics to mean what I want to:

Ok so

"It picked me up and tossed me round. Forgot my name, And drowned."

Ok. Ok. I think we can connect this to the ice skating incident. It 'tossed him around' as in it ruined Conrad's whole moral senses (to where he started blaming himself for everything) and sort of started the whole thing of Conrad living his life hiding away. Metaphorically, he drowned.

Also, the name thing. It names me think about the scene with Ivana where they talk about, they didn't always used to go by their names that they have now. but metaphorically again, you can say its him forgetting that he, as conscience, is a important function. does that make sense to anyone but me? idk.

"And as the weeks and months ensued I tried to make myself of use. Tilled and planted, but could not produce — not root, nor leaf, nor flower, nor bean; Lord! It seemed I overwatered everything."

This is Conrad consistently trying his best to try to get people's attention while also not actually bothering people. He is switching around the newspapers to try to make people see the news he thinks people should worry about. To no avail.

He is putting notes on the door of Sugha's, but with a very easily removeable tape. The most he does is get yelled at by Dan.

"This morning, 'round the cape at dawn, some travelers sailed into town with scraps for sale and the saddest songs"

Don't have much to say this one, just this can be seen as Conrad meeting the rest of the cast.

"Well I asked the man who showed it me, "What is the name of that strange beast?" He said its name translated roughly to He-Who-Easily-Can-Curve-Himself-Against-The-Sky.

And I am without words. He said, "My lady looks perturbed. (the light is in your eyes, Colleen)." I said, "Whatever can you mean?" He leaned in and said, "You ain't forgotten everything.""

Ok so. I see this as Conrad and The Fix. The first part just feels like it can be seen as like, fact telling, but also the whole thing, im thinking it as like, the "Its time to unlearn that lesson" and "You're the butterfly" moments

'You ain't forgotten everything' can be The Fix trying to talk with Conrad and trying to remind him that he isn't a problem just because of that ice skating incident. he is still very important, no matter what he may think.

" don't know any goddamned "Colleen." "

I mentioned it earlier, but this very much gives me the vibes of the Ivana scene and Conrad getting like some of the confidence in himself. or the scene in episode 4 where he calls out the mayor. He is standing up for himself. i don't know, that's the vibe I get.

There are some more to the sing but i feel for my sake, that is a good way to end this.

#song game #mentopolis #conrad schintz

[susan-gampre]

Send me a face claim and I will use that face claim to make an NPC in my muse's life, as well as talk about their relationship, connection, and feelings towards my muse.

Ellen Pompeo

Jennevive of Orathal; The Scorned Ex-Wife

To presume Susan's life would have been any less messy with her graceful bow out from the spot light, that she would beany less endangered and perhaps living her best Madam life peacefully... you'd be mistaken. The probability of being exposed to the worst of human interactions prevails day in and day out, especially for an unapologetic sex worker.

In fact, a generational rift of hatred and poison was propagated through Tilda Gampre (infamous mother of the Game children) when she encouraged and enabled the debauchery of feudal lords in the height of her Madam era. It wasn't uncommon to see a once happy go lucky woman turn so cold at the mere mention of the Gampre name, Jennevive was no less different to most women of Tildas era. She was recognized in the height of her marriage and alligance to royalty for being a woman who's head was square on her shoulders possessing a penchant for marketing and sales-- And by Tildas unjust and uncouth hand turned into a bitter, sharp tongued woman whos heart became cold from the wounds of a bitter falling out between she and her husband. Just seeing anything remotely related to a Gampre could have her anger resurfacing in a most uncomely fashion.

Jennevive, midst her better era as a naive but loyal wife, quickly became a force of reckoning in Tildas world when she wisened to her husbands extracurricular activities in the dense mists of Elwynn Forest. It didn't help Tildas insufferable display of indifference in the public and private gossip, painting the wronged spouses as leaders to her whores. Jennevive would go on to perform many anti-brothel ceremonies and political protests to see sex solicitors outlawed from the developing towns of Elwynn, citing their rampant misguidance of morals let alone the hubris of men with the gold to spend "pointlessly" as she would curtly refer to sex work.

In Susan's era of Madam pageancy, Jennevive and she struck a deal when Susan proved a much more reliable business owner in terms of keeping her whores in line and the sullied practioners of paid sex anonymous... A shaky, thin ice alliance was born the day Susan agreed to provide writ statements of the debauchery cheating spouses endure, their monthly payments to the 'whore-fest' and a testimony in the marital courts if ever called to witness for defendants (often the wives and husbands scorned and seeking reprisal). In return Jennevive donates an annual sum of charitable contribution to the Sisters in Sin and, with great fervor, has laid down her picket signs.

@captzexx

"My mother's legacy is not my own, and I will refute your assumptions by acting within my consciousness. Through action alone will you see the stark difference between two very similar but wholly separate Gampres."

#Ooh that felt good

[tgbanks64]

Ruined Day Part 1

The sudden sharp silence when one of the most feared top executives of the Bonten gang walks in the bar. It's an uncomfortable sticky feeling, made even worse by the fact that he is your ex husband. You swirl your drink in your left hand, the ice clinking softly against the sides of the glass. The curve of your shoulders, stiff, frozen still into a false sense of confidence and authority in a situation that you hated ... around the man that ruined your life. And now your (somewhat) relaxing evening. ~~~

Five years ago

~~~

"Oh my god ... Clarissa ... no I don't need to go dress shopping for the day that is going to END MY LIFE" you groan into your cell as your best friend pesters you to go to the mall with her. She's trying to distract you both from the painful fact that in three days you'll graduate and be required by the government to marry. It's an unfortunate circumstance, due to the government's mishandling of a near population crisis decades earlier. The government had forced all women of childbearing age to only bear one child, to prevent the planet's resources from running out. However, there was a favor for males, who would bring their families honor and glory in the military and bring home a suitable wife. If they were lucky, and many successful military captains, commanders, and generals were (and still are), they could bring home wives well above their family's station, essentially skyrocketing their social status. The lucrative combination of a military career and desirable women from higher society, many kept male children. There is now a 1:3 ratio of women to men, where undergrounder women, once deemed unruly, loose, untouchable, low class, or impure blood were being married off in high society. The current and projected demand for brides is utterly insane. The government decided in a 4 to 7 vote to pass legislation allowing the legality of requiring all women graduating from high school to marry for at least two years and bear one child. Hefty financial compensation would come about if the woman had at least two children and stayed married for more than two years (but it didn't have to be to the same person, and the children didn't have to be from the same marriage). The older generations were still skeptical of bringing mixed blood women into their families, but with a looming crisis of underpopulation, few complained. Many women of decent backgrounds were snatched up quickly by whoever could pay the most, essentially starting a bidding war for any woman who was at least half Angeli, the enlightened species that made up roughly 85-90% of the upper class and 100% of the ruling class. The world was divided into Aboveground (Hava) for those with at least half Angeli blood or those with military honors, and Underground (Terra) those with less desirable blood, criminals, and those who were disabled. It was also required that all women from Terra were to attend Hava schools and serve two years in the military Corps. You and your best friend Clarissa were both from Terra and served in the intelligence branch of the military. Her grades in infiltration were amongst the top 10, whilst you excelled in adaptive strategy and cooperation. Clar, as you often called her, was often deployed for non-dangerous observation while you stayed back, working with cooperation and deployment. You had both graduated high school at the age of 16 and begun your two years of service. In three days, the military would hold a graduation and honorary after party for every girl who fulfilled the education and military requirements. ~~~

The next day

~~~

"Clar, I love that one!" you exclaimed, eyes bright and mouth beaming as your best friend came twirling out of the dressing room in an embroidered slate blue dress. "Oh, I love yours too!" she exclaimed, "but it's also giving me funeral vibes. If you'd gone to more parties, you'd pick something more ... spicy!" Her light laughter at your shocked expression and not-too-gentle slap to the arm left you feeling less offended and less anxious. Still, you had chosen a halter top that covered the scars on your back from when your wing removal went wrong. All Angeli with at least 1/4 blood grew wings, like angels (hence the name) but only 3/4 or fullbloods were allowed to keep them. The only exception was talented half-blood males, if they were useful to the military who prided themselves in their aerial regiments, they were taken away for special forces training. Most Angeli women had their scars removed or covered them (like you), not out of their own self comfort but it did bring stigmas. Even younger generations would stare in disbelief or disgust at a non-militant Angeli barring their removal scars. It was essentially forbidden. Clarissa got a free pass; she was 2/3 blood and was allowed to keep her wings. She also came from an affluent upper-class family, whilst you were a Nameless (orphan) from the Underground Entertainment District. It was customary for the women in the Entertainment or red-light districts to take in and rear orphans, especially after the government had realized women of any species were quickly becoming scarce. Despite the class differences and her family's complaints, you and Clar became close friends during your school and military years.

~~~

Inspiration off Pinterest (I do not own these photos, copyrights to the original owners)

She had the brightest smile, tears practically forming in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around you and looked at you both in the mirror. "I think Jay would be proud of us ..." she said quietly, making your smile instantly feel strained. She noticed your slight grimace and dropped her arm off your shoulder. It was a painful memory, and you knew that she wasn't trying to hurt you but it was hard not to miss the feeling of warmth and joy that your other best friend had always brought before he passed away. "I'm sorry" she whispered, seeing the sudden tenseness in your grip and shoulders. "It's alright, but let's think about the celebration for now" you replied, with a sad smile.

~~~

Two days later ~~~

Clar was in the shower, and you had just gotten out. The entire girl's dormitories were buzzing with excitement and energy, as families gathered two blocks away at the main venue. There was constant background noise, girls chattering, doors opening and closing, the jostle for the showers, showerheads going full blast, cramming for mirrors, the thunk of boots and click of high heels as they hit the floor, and the sound of fabric and zippers. It was a big day that only happened once every two years, since every girl who failed the requirements had to retake her two years of military service. This was a rare occurrence, as there were constantly mentors and counselors hoovering around desks and doorways, ensuring as many girls as possible would pass. The more girls that passed, the more marriages, the more children, and the faster the economy and working class would recover. It was the main goal of the state to accelerate the process as quickly as possible. ~~~

One chaotic and stressful hour later

~~~

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen, guests and family, for the 204th successful graduation at Purdy's Military School for Young Girls and Women!" the announcer practically shouted into the microphone to be heard over the whooping and cheering of the crowd. "Today we celebrate all 155 graduates! Please come up to the stage as your name is announced, there will be an afterparty in three hours time!" The roar of the crowd again, almost drowned out the amplified voice of the overexcited and sweating man on stage presenting with a cheesy smile. Suddenly the sky darkened and the man on stage paled, the audience instantly quieting as a piece of the darkness slowly descended from the sky, forming a shadowy creature on the stage. The creature approached the presenter until the presenter unfroze and handed it the microphone, while backing away off the stage. "I am a representative for the Stygian Council of the underground, and in lieu with the President of the Hava the enlightened Corbellia" the creature said with a gurgling noise and a sneering tone " and we demand that all festivities stop. We have been breached by the Radicalists. We are preparing for a CIVIL WAR, therefore all young women and their families are ORDERED to retreat. Additionally, it is DEMANDED that marriages are arranged as soon as possible to secure the future." With that, the creature drops the microphone on the stage and shoots up into the sky back into the darkness. The darkness does not alleviate, the families quietly murmuring as the girls reassure their loved ones and returning to the dorms. ~~~

Five days later

~~~ After a quiet quarantine in the dorms, all of the girls are subdued and speak in hushed tones, huddled in small groups while looking around to ensure no eavesdropping chauffer would appear out of thin air. Meanwhile, most of the supervising adults (all women of various species) were busy arranging marriages, consulting families and their daughters along the way. Clar was quickly matched to a merchant who came from the same area and social status as she, a kind, soft spoken faun. She had already left the dormitory complex to rejoin her family and her fiancé. Despite pleading with her parents, I had not received an invitation to the wedding, set for the following weekend. After desperately trying and failing to invite me, Clar began focusing on wedding preparations as well as her aspirations to be an opera singer. I, on the other hand, spent my time trying to contact my friends in the Terra to avoid being married off to some random stranger the counselors deem suitable. They all cluck, hover, and fuss when I insist that I know people my age from Terra, insisting that I would be much better off with someone better. It's a frustrating cycle of being pushed into the role of a compliant housewife well knowing that I would be better off with someone else. I had grown up with Ken Ryuguji at a Terra brothel, we had been both taken in by the women there. Funnily enough, he became the empathetic caring one, and I was the overreacting protective one, scowling at any man who I thought was mistreating my aunts. He was constantly counseling and attempted to have me join him, which worked sometimes, but I had too much energy to burn to just sit around and wait for someone to complain. He eventually grew a little distant after getting his iconic dragon tattoo and hanging out with Manjiro (Mikey) Sano. He spent most of his time outside, and I spent most of mine in school, or studying. Draken was still always around, willing to help, and caring, but he was always pushing me away, telling me to focus on my studies. Now that I'm older and understand he was deeply involved in biker gangs, I understand he was trying to protect me, in hopes that I would graduate and marry above my station, ending up happy in Hava. He was unsuccessful, I always tried to join him or meet his friends when he thought I was busy. I was somewhat successful, all of his friends laughed and treated me like a younger sister, a charge to protect. I still remember when Draken was off somewhere and Takashi Mitsuya protected me from an older gang member from a rival organization. When Draken rushed back, Taka cuffed him on the arm and told him it was taken care of. Now here I am, desperately trying to reach him or any of our old friends, scrambling for numbers and addresses. Eventually I resign to pleading with the administration to allow me to go to Terra and visit. ~~~

End. I'm lowkey drained and I want to save the visiting bit for part 2~ Lots of encounters!

#tokyo revengers #angst #ex husband fic #ran haitani #rindou haitani

[elisajdb]

Autumn Love

GoChi Fall Week 2022

Day One: Costumes

   Shopping was an activity Goku could not understand. He didn’t understand the excitement some women, particularly his wife, got over going to a shop; trying on several clothes, and buying a few items only to go to another store and repeat the process.

 But this shopping was different. They were shopping for Halloween clothes. Bulma invited them to a Halloween party she is hosting. It was a strange invite to ChiChi since the guests were people in Bulma’s West City circle: CEOs, heirs, heiresses, and celebrities of different forms of entertainment. ChiChi vowed to try mingling but knew it would be a struggle to keep Goku interested in guests he had nothing in common with.

 That’s probably why Bulma invited us ChiChi mused. Vegeta will be at the party, too. During past conversations, Bulma mentioned the problems Vegeta caused. Goku would keep Vegeta in line and not fly off the handle. As for herself, ChiChi hoped to enjoy the party with people in different circles and thought the best way to break the ice was by wearing a great Halloween costume.

“I’ve read about these adult parties in the city,” ChiChi said as she perused through a rack of costumes. “It’s different from how we do things at Mount Paozu and my Dad’s village.”

 Goku rubbed the back of his head confused. He didn’t like that idea. “How different?”

 ChiChi placed a black dress over an arm. “Women's costumes are daring. They wear things more for bedroom activities than a party.”

 “Bedroom? Do you mean like roleplay? What we do sometimes?”

 ChiChi placed another dress on her arm. “Something like that.”

 “What about the men?”

 ChiChi pulled a dress from the rack, flipped it from front to back, and placed it back on the rack. “Some are no different. Some dress in ancient warrior costumes that leaves their chest and most of the legs naked.”

 As long as the costumes weren’t stuffy, Goku wouldn’t mind wearing that. “What should I wear?”

 “Something that compliments us as a couple. Maybe Mistress of Evil for me and Dracula for you or the Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood.” With an arm full of costumes, ChiChi went over to the changing room. There was a TV, sofa and two other males waiting for their wives. “I’m gonna change into these.”

 “I think you look great in them.”

 “Goku,” ChiChi chuckled, “I haven’t put them on yet.”

 “I know but I know you will look great in them.” She will but Goku thought complimenting will make ChiChi decide faster and they won’t be shopping for long. The last time they went shopping it was for five hours. ChiChi promised they wouldn’t be longer than two or three hours but even that was too much.  

“We’ll see.” ChiChi patted the pile of dresses nervous. It was different from what she normally wore but thought the dresses were appropriate for the party they were attending.

 ChiChi went inside the changing room and Goku took a seat with the other men.

 “Smart move. Too bad it didn’t work,” a man at the end said.

 Goku frowned confused. “What didn’t work?”

 “Complimenting your wife and telling her she will look good in her costume before she comes out.” The man went back to watching the sports game on the TV. “My wife is trying on her fifth costume. It’s been two hours,” he groaned and Goku felt his pain. “Maybe this one will be a winner.”

 “ChiChi always looks good in what she wears. I thought complimenting will make her decide faster. Shopping is boring.”

 “Shopping with the wife sucks,” the man agreed but as for this guy’s wife looking good in her clothes, from what he saw, she looked frumpy. He couldn’t get a good look at her shape.

 “She’s a bit of a plain Jane,” the second guy was blunt, “but there’s nothing wrong with that. My wife’s the same without makeup.”

 “Plain Jane?” Were they talking about ChiChi? “My wife’s name is ChiChi.”

 “Doesn’t that mean boobs?” the first guy couldn’t recall seeing them on ChiChi.

 “Goku?” ChiChi called from the changing room’s entrance. “How about this?”

 The two men sitting with Goku fell silent as one man’s mouth dropped and the other eyes nearly popped from his face. A sharp, confused eyebrow rose on Goku’s face. Why are they looking like that? Is ChiChi’s costume bad? Goku slowly turned to see what caused the men’s reaction and nearly fell out of his seat.

 ChiChi wore a black, low-cut dress nearly exposing her full bosom. The dress hugged ChiChi’s body, accentuating the curves of her hips, tiny waist and appealing breasts. Side slits up both her thighs teased her slender yet muscular legs.

 “Her name does match her boobs,” Goku heard one of the men say.

 The other one grunted. “Mmm, those legs. That waist. Her breasts. No wonder he said she looks good in whatever she wears.”

 They spoke too low for ChiChi to hear but Goku heard every word. It was a gut reaction but Goku didn’t like that. He liked it better when they thought ChiChi was unappealing, and if these two couldn’t take their eyes off his wife, how would the men at Bulma’s party react if she wore that dress?

 Goku went to ChiChi blocking the men’s view of her. “It’s a Mistress of the Night costume.” ChiChi pulled the ribbon from her hair. Shaking her head, ChiChi’s dark hair fell enticing around her shoulders. “I think this costume works better with my hair down. I’ll have to buy the right eyeshadow and lipstick but….” ChiChi turned in a circle modeling her dress to Goku. He moved with her, hiding ChiChi from the men’s lewd view. “What do you think? Should I wear this to the party?”

 “No!” Goku shook his head like a stubborn child. “No way!”

 “No?” Goku’s aggressive rejection was surprising. Normally, he’d say ‘It looks great. Can we go?’ She never heard him say no to anything she wore. “What’s wrong with it?”

 “It’s tight. It looks like you can’t breathe.”

 “I can breathe and it looks tight because it shows everything but it feels comfortable. I worry about the heels of the shoes that go with this dress. I never liked thin heels. I always feel I am one step away from breaking my neck.”

 “You got the legs for it!” One of the men called out to ChiChi.

 “Hmm?” ChiChi looked past Goku at the two men. “Oh,” she didn’t expect that compliment. “Well, thank you.”

 “My wife has chunky legs and wears stilettos like a pro. You’ll be fine. Your legs are like a model or a ballerina. Strong. Sexy. You can balance yourself on your tip toes.”

 “Oh.” ChiChi was flattered. She knew her legs look good but a model's or a ballerina’s legs? Was that possible? ChiChi extended one leg giving the men a nice view and unwittingly annoying Goku with her flashiness. “I do work out. I do martial arts. I trained our son.”

 The man at the end gave her the ‘okay’ symbol with his hand. “That hard work paid off.”

 “Thank you!” ChiChi thought he was very nice. “Mr……?”

 “You can call me Ray.”

 “Hugh!” the first guy Goku talked to introduced himself. He was bolder as he approached ChiChi. He extended his hand for ChiChi to shake while he got a closer look at ChiChi. “That dress looks perfect on you. I don’t think you need to try anything else.”

 Goku slapped Hugh’s hand away. “Yes, she does!” He pushed Hugh aside and got in front of ChiChi. “You got other dresses to try on.”

 “I do but I actually like this dress more. There’s the Red Riding Hood one but you have to wear the wolf costume. We did that years ago with Gohan and you complained about how itchy the costume was.”

 “I won’t complain this time,” Goku promised. “I’ll love it.”

 He says that now but ChiChi knew better. “I also have the princess dress. It’s a safe costume,” which was nice but ChiChi wanted to be different for once, “but that prince costume will be too stuffy for you and it’ll be a hassle getting that crown to stay on your head.”

 “It won’t be stuffy and I can cut my hair so the crown fits.”

 “Aww,” ChiChi caressed his cheek, “you’ll sweet wanting to do that for me, but no, Goku. I don’t want you to cut your cute hair for me. I’ll get this dress and you can be a vampire. It won’t be too much work. The pants and shirt will be loose and the cape will save you from wearing a coat jacket. You won’t be stuffy.”

 “But… but…..” Goku wanted to protest but struggled with a reason for ChiChi to not wear this dress. “You got all those clothes to try on.”

 “Wait. You want me to try on more clothes?” ChiChi touched Goku’s forehead. No. No fever. Perhaps, he was being generous or trying to cooperate since she treated him to a big lunch before they went shopping. “You’re so sweet for wanting to put up with my shopping. Consider this a lucky break, Goku. You don’t have to.”

 “But…. but….” Stupid brain! It could think of ways to outwit monsters wanting to destroy the planet but came up short convincing his wife to not wear a sexy dress that will garner too much attention.

 “I’m gonna change and we can get your costume and go home. Gohan will be shocked we finished shopping so soon.”

 ChiChi turned to leave when Goku grabbed her hand. His brain finally worked to come up with a reason she does not wear this dress. “You shouldn’t listen to them. You told me guys say things to women for the wrong reason.”

 ChiChi leaned to the right to look at the two men in question. They seem like nice gentlemen. They looked at her but weren’t lewd about it. They were also very complimentary. Though she liked how she looked, she thought the years passed for her to wear this dress. Their compliments assured her the years had not. “They were complimenting, Goku, and they are married. One looks old enough to be my Dad. It was an older gentlemen's compliment.”

 She wouldn’t think that if she heard what they said around him. “But….”

 ChiChi kissed his cheek. “You’re being protective but it’s not needed, and if you are worried about someone at the party saying something, you know I can handle myself and if not, then my big, strong handsome husband will have to set them straight.”

 The twinkle in her eyes and the warm smile she gave him told Goku ChiChi was onto him. “You know.”

 ChiChi gave him a sheepish smile. “I had a suspicion when you insisted I try on other costumes. You know you have my heart, Goku, but it’s flattering seeing you express passion for something besides fighting and food. I hardly see it and sometimes I…..” she paused as she pushed back the hurt she felt at Goku’s obliviousness towards her “… I wonder.”

 Goku cupped a cheek. “You shouldn’t,” he spoke low and soft enough for ChiChi to hear. “You know how I feel.”

 “I know. It’ll be nice to see it a little more.”

 Now would be a good time. Goku knew it. Even though being expressive to ChiChi intimately in front of others wasn’t what he liked. But he saw the need in ChiChi’s eyes how she needed that moment now. It sadly changed to a resolution that wasn’t going to happen.

 Ah, why not!

 He bent his dark head to ChiChi’s wide eyes and took her mouth in a tantalizing kiss that was warm, unhurried, and very pleasurable. He could feel the shock and restraint in ChiChi. She thought she had to control her feelings and not give back but a slip of his tongue inside her mouth told her to relax and give in.

 And so she did, slipping her arms around his neck and kissing back with the love and need swelling. His alien tongue explored the secret places of her mouth as if it was his home. The longing he felt in ChiChi combined with his need to show her his love mixed with his big body molding against her softness aroused Goku’s desire to be alone with ChiChi without clothes and horizontal.

 He suddenly pulled back. His breathing was slightly labored and his eyes tinged a shade of green.

 “There’s a hotel nearby,” ChiChi suggested. “Since the boys aren’t expecting us back for another hour or two….”

 Goku didn’t need to hear more. “Hurry.”

 ChiChi quickly disappeared into the changing room.

 Behind him, Goku heard chuckles. It was from the men. He turned his head to see their approvals. Maybe they were complimentary as ChiChi thought or maybe they were looking too hard at something they couldn’t touch, but they respected him and were right about ChiChi’s costume. It looked perfect on her and she didn’t need to try anything else.

#GoChi Fall Week 2022 #Goku #ChiChi #GoChi #Costumes #dragonball #DragonBallZ #Fluff #Humor #Romance

[last-capy-hupping]

So, something really stuck out to me while reading the Targaryen section of The World of Ice and Fire and the early chapters of Fire and Blood. That something is how much power early Targaryen women who rode dragons had relative to their brother-husbands. For example, Fire and Blood suggests that Daenys the Dreamer was her brother-husband’s co-ruler and explicitly states that her children Aegon and Elaena had equal status as Lord of Dragonstone. As it says on page 4:

“Gaemon Targaryen, brother and husband to Daenys the Dreamer, followed Aenar the Exile as Lord of Dragonstone and became known as Gaemom the Glorious. Gaemon’s son Aegon and his daughter Elaena ruler together after his death. After them, the lordship passed to their son Maegon, his brother Aerys, and Aerys’ sons, Aelyx, Baelon and Daemion. The last of the three brothers was Daemion, whose son Aerion then succeeded to Dragonstone.”

So, this passage is the most detailed information that we get about Aenar’s descendants. It’s pretty sparse on details on both the men and the women—for example, why did Maegon, Aelyx, and Baelon all die without heirs and presumably so quickly? It doesn’t say. We can still see here that two Targaryen women held a lot of power on Dragonstone, with the first known Elaena Targaryen being described as a ruler who was equal to her brother-husband. The text doesn’t tell us why, but my guess is that she and Daenys garnered more respect and received more official power because they were also dragon riders. (Plus, Daenys was the one who saved House Targaryen from the Doom, so that certainly counts for something.) All the information that we have about the Valyrian freehold strongly suggests that female dragon riders had as much power and freedom as the male riders did. For example, the only other surnamed non-Targaryen rider is a woman: Jaenara Belaerys, who flew her dragon Terrax across Sothroyos. (The dragon lord Aurion, who tried to reclaim Valyria right after the Doom, doesn’t get a surname.) The term “dragon lord” also seems to have been gender neutral—Magali Villeneuve’s painting of the Dragon-lords of Valyria featured in the World Book shows a man and a woman, for example—which was likely a cultural result of dragons being intersex and not seeming to care about the sex or gender of their riders. (For example, Vhagar had both male and female riders.)

The next logical question is: what happened to the wives of Aerys and Daemion? My best guess is that they weren’t Dragonriders and that they weren’t Targaryens. We know that Aerion Targaryen’s wife was Valaena Velaryon, whose mother was a Targaryen, which suggests to me that after Aegon and Elaena, the Targaryens of Dragonstone started intermarrying pretty frequently with the Velaryons and the Celtigars because, as F and B notes, “Dragonstone[‘s]…location athwart the Gullet gave its lords a stranglehold on Blackwater Bay and enabled both the Targaryens and their close alllies, the Velaryons of Driftmark…to fill their coffers off the passing trade. Velaryon ships, along with those of another allied Valyrian house, the Celtigars of Claw Island, dominated the middle reaches of the narrow sea, whilst the Targaryens ruled the skies with their dragons” (4).

So, how did the Targaryens enforce these alliances? We have direct evidence that they strengthened their ties with House Velaryon through intermarriage, and from the above passage, we can logically infer that they also occasionally intermarried with the Celtigars, though they seem to have favored the Velaryons. The best explanation that I have for this favoritism so that the Velaryons were richer and more powerful and therefore more important.

Anyway, the point of these ramblings is that when we next hear about a Targaryen Lord of Dragonstone, Aegon the Conqueror, who married his dragon rider sisters, those sisters were extremely powerful. We don’t know exactly what role they played on Dragonstone, but we know that they were far more powerful and influential than any Queen Consort who lived after them, even more so than Queen Alysanne. In addition to performing their traditional queenly duties of arranging marriages and creating a cultured court——something that was more Rhaenys’ purview than Visenya’s—they were battle commanders. Even though Visenya seems to have had arms training that Rhaenys lacked, Rhaenys still led the first two failed conquests of Dorne and provided air support for Orys Baratheon’s conquest of Storm’s End. The fact that they both participated in battle as Dragonriders is actually very noteworthy because, with the exception of Rhaenys the Queen Who Never Was (Jaehaerys I’s granddaughter) and Baela Targaryen (Daemon’s daughter) no other Targaryen woman is recorded as riding a dragon into battle. Aenys I’s daughter Rhaena did not participate in the Battle over the God’s Eye, even though she was a more experienced rider than her brother-husband Aegon, and Alysanne seems to have only used Silverwing as a way to convey soft power, which she did very effectively. Queen Visenya and Queen Rhaenys were both militarily active however.

What’s more though, they also seem to have made policy directly. Not even Alysanne accomplished this. For example, she had to persuade Jaehaerys to abolish the Lord’s Right to the First Night. She did not have the authority to do so on her own. Alternatively, Aegon I ended up deferring to Visenya on the creation of the Kingsguard after she slashed him across the face with Dark Sister to prove that their current guards were useless (F and B, 49). (Seriously, can yon imagine any other Targaryen king letting that fly?) Rhaenys also held court at the Aegonfort, the castle that preceded the Red Keep, and officially established the Rule of Six and the Rule of Thumb without having to ask Aegon’s permission (47-48). Visenya also seems to have done a decent amount of direct ruling during the later years of Aegon’s reign after Rhaenys was dead and he was absent at Dragonstone.

So, what happened? The most likely explanation seems to be that the Targaryens increasingly assimilated themselves into Westerosi culture and that that led to a natural decrease in the power of the kings. It’s no coincidence in my mind that Jaehaerys I, the king who made compromises with the Faith and standardized law codes and roads throughout the Seven Kingdoms, also checked the power of his extremely popular and influential dragon riding wife and twice avoided letting a woman (the aforementioned Rhaenys the Queen Who Never Was) or the descendants of a woman (Rhaenys’ kids) succeed to the Iron Throne.

Anyway, those are my ramblings about Valyrian vs. Westerosi gender roles and power. The artwork is by the amazing Magali Villeneuve, and it’s my favorite illustration of Visenya, Aegon, and Rhaenys.

#asoiaf #fire and blood #world of ice and fire #aegon the conqueror #aegon i targaryen #visenya targaryen #rhaenys targaryen