#so fucked up. it has to do with the grown women abusing her out of jealousy and sitting back while it happened. and yet she’s the one

[stargirlfeyre]

“All the sisters have wronged each other in some type of way” actually Feyre has never done anything wrong. Don’t try to group her in Nesta and Elain’s bullshit.

#feyre archeron #pro feyre #high lady of the night court #high lady feyre #even the ‘wrong’ things she’s done to them was never done with the intention to hurt them. she’s not the cause of their relationship being #so fucked up. it has to do with the grown women abusing her out of jealousy and sitting back while it happened. and yet she’s the one #putting in the most effort to fix a relationship THEY fucked up😕. #nesta archeron #elain archeron

[ivymarquis]

The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#ocaptainchallenge #john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #implied plus size reader #take a shot every time john calls the reader pretty #but dont or youll get alcohol poisoning #also I used ‘turn into a chew toy’ 3 times and I dont care :) #my writing

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

#splled ink #writeblr #it's really hard to describe what im feeling

[lyricailove]

Does it ever hit you that because of Frank and Monica's emotional detachment, all of the Gallagher's seek out affection from romantic partners? But like to an almost obsessive degree.

Fiona's is obvious. She's hypersexual and falls in love easily. She will downplay her issues with Frank as something she's grown used to, but it's clear that it still affects her. She also does the same when it comes to Monica but I feel like her hostility towards other women comes from how she doesn't trust Monica, doesn't really trust herself, and sees those insecurities on other women. Ex: Her treatment of Mandy and distrust of her around Lip.

Lip is a classic case of a man dealing with his mommy issues by making it every woman's problem. He's hostile towards his romantic partners when they want a real commitment from him and he talks to women with so much disrespect that it's a wonder someone hasn't stomped his ass out yet. He's especially harsh towards his own sisters even though they've been the one's who have been there for him. He may hate Frank but he's noticeably giving and extremely forgiving towards men, even those he's only known for a short while. Almost like the story about the turtle was just as much about him hoping that he could fix Frank as it was about Frank crushing his hopes of a real father figure.

Ian being groomed is in no way his fault and is the fault of the creeps who pursued him. But I can't ignore the fact that Frank's abuse and neglect opened him up the further abuse he suffered at the hands of Kash and Ned. It's no coincidence that both Kash and Ned shower Ian with gifts and compliments about how impressive, smart, and mature he is.

Debbie 1. deals with comphet in the first few seasons, and 2. Feels ignored by her family so she tries to create her own family. Debbie is visibly the one most affected by Frank's issues and even when she for all intents and purposes gives up on him, it still affects her. Frank's hurtful words about her only finding love with someone "just as fucked up as she is" pushes her to put consider a dangerous situation with Heidi. She's also someone who struggles with control issues because she needs to help other people. She's a problem solver by nature. It's just that the two problems she wishes she could solve more than anything are out of her hands (Frank and Monica). She can't fix Frank's addiction, his selfishness, or his abusive tendencies. She can't fix Monica's wanderlust, her avoidance, or her aversion to long-term commitment.

Carl is so good at masking his emotions. It's easy to miss. But then you notice things like his attachment to Fiona, his absolute devotion to the girls he likes, and his need to protect. Carl is hypersexual, even though I've seen it rarely brought up in fandom, and longs for a long-term girlfriend. When he does get girlfriends he's all in from the beginning. When Carl loves someone he is all about them. He's so casual when it comes to talking about Frank and Monica, but that doesn't mean those feelings aren't there and they aren't affecting him.

Liam is still young so we don't get to see him in a relationship. He's the one Gallagher who's consistently treated like an actual kid. Probably the one who has the best chance at healthy emotional attachments. But then again, Fiona leaving most likely did a number on him and we weren't privy to what that looks like for him because the latter seasons forgot how to do long-term storytelling and emotional payoff. All we know is that he doesn't remember Monica, Frank being gone makes him an orphan and he's worried about where he's gonna live because Lip forgot that Liam was technically under Frank's care. We didn't get to see it, but I'd say Liam's first emotional crash is probably on the horizon.

#Mine #Shameless #Shameless US #Fiona Gallagher #Lip Gallagher #Ian Gallagher #Debbie Gallagher #Carl Gallagher #Liam Gallagher #Shameless meta #I lost the plot halfway through this post but I think the overall point shines through #Frank and Monica did a number on their kids #Someone get the siblings into therapy please

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 1

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Word Count: 3,502

Warnings: Abused animal, domestic violence, stalker ex-boyfriend, mention of nightmares/PTSD, smut in future chapters.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A big thanks to @shellyshellshell for encouraging me to write this story!

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

*Syverson POV*

It’s certainly difficult to leave the cool air conditioning of the house to head to work when the weather forecast predicts another scorching Texas summer day where the humidity makes your clothes immediately stick to your skin. It’s nothing I’m not familiar with having grown up in Texas my whole life and then spending two tours in the desert before returning home. You’d think I would move somewhere cold, but the south is all I know. I certainly couldn’t leave Nana and Pawpaw either. After finishing my last tour, I came home and bought an empty house in disrepair and spent the better part of a year ripping it to studs and rebuilding. I was really struggling with returning to civvy life after spending the majority last ten years in the sand pit. Originally, I had just planned to fix up my house so that it was comfortable and hell, livable, until I discovered what I wanted to do outside of the army. Remodeling my house taught me that I really enjoyed working with my hands and building things. I guess you could say taking a broken, outdated home and making it beautiful and functional again really resonated with me on a deeper level. I was lucky to leave the army with only some mild PTSD and nightmares. Hell, I had all of my limbs and was alive which is more that I can say I deserve. Staying busy helped me cope so after working towards getting my contractor’s license, I decided to start my own company, Syverson Contracting. It was still a small operation with only about seven employees including my cousin Alex, but we got by just fine.

After getting ready for the day and sipping on my cup of coffee on the porch with my German Shepard, Aika, I put my boots on and headed to the truck for the first day on a new worksite. Like usual, I called Nana on the way to work to check in. My grandparents lived about fifteen minutes away from me, but I still called to check on them every morning and make sure they’re doing alright. As I drive, Nana starts chattering all about how her friend’s granddaughter is single and I should be looking for a good woman to marry and settle down with. We’ve had this conversation umpteen times before but I can’t seem to get it through my stubborn grandmother’s head that it’s useless. I’ve been burned by too many women in the past as a young and naïve man and I just don’t want to bring someone into all of my problems. Yes, I go to therapy at the VA to help with my PTSD but it still doesn’t stop the sleepless nights and nightmares that immediately send me back to wartime in the desert. As much as I’ve always wanted a partner in life; a beautiful wife to come home to, a couple of kids and the proverbial picket fence, I just don’t see how it could be in the cards for me now. I’m too fucked up. Nana of course would never understand and I certainly don’t want to drag her into it so I just listen to her drone on and on about some chick named Susanne and then tell her that I’ve got to go.

After speaking with my team and giving instructions for the job, I went to Alex’s flatbed truck and we all started unloading the materials. The home we were working on was owned by a young couple expecting their first child. It was a simple job, replacing the flooring throughout the house, building a shed in the backyard for lawnmowers and other garden tools, and repairing some dry rotting siding near the fireplace. The great thing about my team is that I could get them started and didn’t have to micromanage them. After several hours in the walloping sun, we all broke for lunch. After cooling off and reenergizing at the local Wendy’s, we all headed back to the house to continue our work. Since I was used to being in these weather conditions, I decided to head out toward the edge of the woods in the backyard and start building the garden shed. When I went to lift up some of the plywood, I was beyond shocked to find a shaking and filthy little tan dog who appeared to be injured and terrified.

“Shit. Heya buddy, I ain’t gonna hurt you. It’s alright pal. Let me take a look atcha.”

As a true animal lover, I was immediately enraged. Someone had intentionally abused this poor defenseless animal and either abandoned it or it was able to limp off to the woods. The little male pup, couldn’t be older than a year was bleeding from four different wounds on the side of his sand colored body. The second I scooped him up, he was whining and cowering in fear.

“You’re alright little man. I’m gonna take care of ya. Let’s see if we can getcha to a vet.” I call Aika’s vet office and unfortunately there is no answer. Janet must still be taking her lunch break.

I see Alex walking outside to grab some of the flooring to bring inside and yell for him to come here.

“What’s up, Sy?”

“Just found this little guy beat to hell by the woods.”

“Jesus. What kind of bastards do that to an animal?” Alex ponders as he was looking at the injured and sick animal. 

“I’m gonna see if Dr. Robinson’s in. Hopefully I can get the little feller in today but I need you to run the site until I get back.”

“No problem, Sy. Didn’t she just have another kid? I’m not sure if she’ll be there but I know Jessica said something about them hiring a new vet so I’m sure someone will be around.”

The veterinarian’s office was only a fifteen-minute drive from the site so after giving the poor thing some water, I loaded him up and drove there.

On the ride over, he seemed to relax a bit and not shake as bad as he had been and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Oh Austin! How good to see you! Did your Aika have an appointment?”

“Hey Ms. Janet, is Dr. Robinson in? It’s not for Aika. I found this guy by the woods and he’s been hurt something awful.”

“Heavens to Betsy! Poor little angel! Elizabeth is out on maternity leave but we’ve hired a new vet. You'll like her. Let me check with her and see if she can work you in.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A few moments later, Janet scurries back and directs me to an exam room with the little guy. I guess I could have just dropped him off and went back to work but my heart just couldn’t stand it. Hell, I fought to bring back Aika from Afghanistan because of how quickly I fell in love with her and she’s been the best dog ever. I can’t imagine leaving this little guy to potentially die from his injuries without a friendly face nearby.

*Knock Knock!*

The door opens and my heart stops at the same time. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen enters while carrying a clipboard and a stethoscope. She’s a petite little thing only reaching to my shoulders with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and crystal blue eyes that feel like they see straight to my soul.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Emma Miller. I hear you found this little guy in the woods?”

“Uh, yes ma’am. Hello there, I’m Austin Syverson. Yeah, I uh, I found him and he looks like he’s been abused.”

She smiles brightly and shakes my hand when I introduce myself and the moment I touch her soft skin, I can hardly think straight. Why the hell do I feel so jittery? It’s just a beautiful woman Sy. Get ahold of yourself. I tell her exactly what I found and she quickly starts examining him while speaking to him in a sweet voice.

“Hi sweet boy. You poor thing! I’m so sorry someone has been treating you so horribly. We’re going to take care of you, yes we are. You’re going to be good as new! I’m going to give you some fluids because you’re dehydrated little guy. Once we get some fluids in you, I’ll try giving you some food. How about that little man?”

I can’t help but smile as she baby talks to him while inserting an IV in his tiny arm and starting him on fluids. She examines the wounds more carefully before retrieving a pair of things that look like tweezers.

“If I had to guess, I would say this guy is about 10-12 months old. I suspect these wounds on his side are from a BB gun. Would you mind holding his head? I’m going to give him some pain relief in his IV to help him relax and then try and clean the area and see if I can remove them. We’re a bit short staffed at the moment with Dr. Robinson out and two of our techs calling in sick so I’ll need your help if that’s okay?”

“Fucking BB guns.” I murmur under my breath. Damn some people are just the worst.

“I’m happy to help.” I tell her quickly and take up residence next to the puppy’s head to hold him still.

“Thank you.” She replies quietly while concentrating on rubbing some brown cleaner across each wound.

I can’t help but watch her as she focuses on removing all four bb’s and placing them into a metal bowl. She’s so effortlessly beautiful and incredibly adorable as she works on the dog who seems to be feeling so much better with the medication and fluids that he has received. She sews up each wound quickly and efficiently. The pup seems to be almost as captivated by her as I am. When she’s done, he even attempts to wag his tail for her. Dr. Miller explains that he will need a flea and tick bath before she can dress the wounds because he has several fleas on him and she doesn’t want them getting into the incisions.

“Mr. Syverson, I hate to keep you from your day. Would you want to just come back for him in a little while? I have to do an exam on a yorkie with diabetes but then I’ll bathe him on my break and get his wounds dressed.”

“Sugar?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, pardon?” She responds a bit flustered.

I smirk as I see the blush tinting her cheeks. “The yorkie. Is it named Sugar?”

“Oh! Yes! Someone you know?”

“My grandma’s neighbor, Mrs. Clayton, has a yappy little yorkie named Sugar and I believe I overheard that it has diabetes.”

“Yes, well that would be her.” She smirks back.

“I don’t mind waiting with the little guy. Is it alright if I stay and help you bathe him? Since your short staffed and all?” I ask with my most charming smile.

Her beaming grin tells me all I need to know. “Sure, Mr. Syverson. Can you give me about twenty minutes?”

“Only if you’ll call me Austin or Sy. Mr. Syverson is my pawpaw.” I say with a grin.

“Alright Austin. I’m going to leave you with some wet food on the table for this little fellow, but can I trust you to only give him small amounts slowly? We don’t know when his last meal was so we don’t want to overwhelm his belly.”

“Yes ma’am.” I mock salute at her with two fingers and she giggles when she leaves the exam room. I swear the moment she did I was a goner. I need to find a way to hear that giggle more.

“Well little guy, it looks as though we are helping each other out, huh? You ain’t the only one broken and battered.” I say as I give the dog a small plastic spoonful of wet dog food that he almost swallows hole.

“What should I call you?” I hypothesize aloud while the pup continues eating sloppily from the spoon I’m holding.

“Since Dr. Miller here patched you up, how about Miller? We can call you Mills for short. What do you think about that? I like it.”

Emma finally returns to the exam room and is happy to see that the Mills has eaten the food I gave him and kept it all down. Due to the food, medications, and fluids he received you can already tell a slight difference in his demeanor.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up, shall we?” She says while carefully picking him up and carrying him to the back of the building before pausing. “You coming, Austin?” She asks.

God, I hope I will be soon. I think before I rush over to open the exam door for her and follow her to the back.

“You know, I’m breaking rules by letting you back here so don’t make me regret it.” She says to me teasingly as she carefully sets Mills into a large stainless-steel sink and begins to bathe him with medicated shampoo.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Dr. Miller.”

“No, if I have to call you Austin, you have to call me Emma. It’s only fair.”

“Well, Emma is a beautiful name so that will be easy. If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from? We haven’t had a new vet in town since Dr. Robinson came and that was probably ten years ago.” I watch as Emma carefully removes three ticks from his fur and want to outwardly cringe. Ticks are the devil’s bug.

“I’m from Alabama. I’ve only been in Texas for about a month but just started working in the office this last week.” She tells me as she very carefully continues to clean Mills.

“What brought you all the way out here? Did your husband get transferred out here or something?”

She side eyes my question with a smirk. “Nope, just the job. No husband or kids. No boyfriend either in case that was your next question.” She remarks sarcastically.

My stomach flips with excitement even though she caught on to what I was really fishing for.

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re here. For Mills’ health needs of course.” I add quickly while gesturing to the pup.

“Mills?”

“Yup. Short for Miller, after the doctor who’s taking care of him.”

Her cheeks blush bright red as she runs a flea comb gently through his fur. “Well aren’t you just the charmer. I’m surprised Janet didn’t warn me about you. She’s been clueing me in on pretty much the entire town.”

“Ah, good ole’ Janet. She knows there’s no need to warn you about me. She’s known me since I was in diapers so that should tell you enough about my character if she didn’t warn you off.”

“That’s good to know. So, are you planning on keeping little Mills? Or are you wanting us to adopt him out once he’s all healed?”

“Oh, I plan on keeping him if that’s alright. As long as my girl, Aika, is okay with it I’ll keep him. Can’t imagine sending him off to a stranger after what he’s already been through.”

“Well, if your girlfriend isn’t on board with keeping him just let us know and we can see about arranging a foster for him until he’s able to be put up for adoption.” She says while stepping a little further away from me.

Girlfriend? Oh dumbass, you made her think Aika is your girlfriend.

“Aika’s my German Shepard. I don’t have a wife, kids, or a girlfriend either.” I said poking fun at her sarcastic comment from earlier.

Emma grins but just continues to rinse Mills off. She notices that one of his paws looks a bit swollen but she can’t find any cuts or wounds so she thinks it may just be bruised from trying to run from his abuser.

Once we get him dried off, I hold his head again for her to clean and dress the wounds on his side and I’m dreading leaving.

“So, I’ll need to see little Mills in 3 days to check his wounds and remove the stitches. I need you to clean and redress the wounds one time a day like I’ve shown you. I’ve got his medication and antibiotics here and a couple of cans of that wet food that you fed him earlier. I recommend continuing to feed it to him slowly so that his tummy doesn’t get upset. Nobody likes waking up to a dog throwing up or having diarrhea in the house. If he does okay with that food we can discuss increasing his food intake at the next appointment. Do you have any questions, Austin?”

“Just one. Can I get your number, Emma? You know, in case I have questions about your prodigy, Little Mills, here.” I add with a smirk.

“I’m sure you have the number for the vet’s office.” She smirks.

“That I do, but I’d like yours as well, please.” I ask with my most convincing smile.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t advertise it. The last thing I need is people like Mrs. Clayton calling me after hours.” She concedes with a giggle and I can’t help my boisterous laughter at the last part.

“Nobody wants someone like Mrs. Clayton calling them all the time. That woman would talk to a wall just to hear her own voice.” I hand her my phone and she quickly types her number and I save it under “Mills’ Future Mama” and smirk to myself.

I pay and make the next appointment for Mills and then head to the local pet store for a collar, leash, dog bed, and more dog food. Luckily, Mills sleeps on the ride home and I can’t decide if he’s finally realized I’m not going to hurt him or if he’s still drowsy from the effects of the meds he received. I head home and send Alex an update that I’ll be back at the site tomorrow.

When I get home, I bring everything inside before carrying Mills over to Aika and carefully introducing him. After the initial excitement wears off, Aika heads outside to the backyard and I’m relieved that she seems to accept him. She’s always been such a good dog so hopefully I can rely on her to show our little rookie around and teach him our routines.

I go about showering and eating dinner, but I can’t seem to get my mind off Emma. I obviously want to play it cool but she has infiltrated my mind to the point where I just can’t think of anything else. I know this is a bad idea but I can't stop myself. I decide to take a picture of Mills in his little bed and text it to her.

Sy: <attached image>

Mills’ Future Mama: I’m glad to see my namesake is adjusting to his new life. I take it that his sibling accepts him?

Mills’ Future Mama: Also, you’re lucky I opened that picture text. Typically receiving a picture from an unknown number is never a good thing 😖

Sy: Sounds like your mind is in the gutter or you have some seriously unhinged acquaintances, darlin. Aika has accepted him into the pack without hesitation.

Mills’ Future Mama: More like, men are nasty and will take any opportunity to send an unsolicited dick pic to even the most unwilling recipients. Glad you found the little guy. He seems right at home.

Sy: He is. You should come visit him sometime.

Mills’ Future Mama: Why would I do that when he’ll be in my office in three days?

Sy: Maybe to see his owner?

Mills’ Future Mama: I’d imagine his daddy will be the one bringing him back to my office though?

Sy: Alright then, how about I make you some dinner at my place? Say tomorrow at 5pm?

Mills’ Future Mama: Make it 5:30 and I’ll be there. Just know I’ll be sending your information to my best friend in case you try and murder me.

Sy: What type of people were you surrounded by in Alabama? 🤨

Mills’ Future Mama: I was actually in a super safe town. Just watch too many crime shows to make careless mistakes.

Sy: Smart lady. You can tell whoever you want, darlin’. I’ve got nothing to hide and I appreciate a woman who has some self-preservation skills.

Mills’ Future Mama: Trust me, I’m very skilled at many things. 😜

Sy: Damn woman, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. It’s not fair to tease me.

Mills’ Future Mama: Not teasing. Just stating facts. 🙃

Sy: Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough. Here’s my address. Any food allergies?

Mills’ Future Mama: Nope! I’ll bring dessert. I’m interested to test your cooking prowess.

Sy: You’re killing me.

Mills’ Future Mama: See you tomorrow!

Part 2

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal

#captain syverson fanfiction #captain sy #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #captain syverson #captain syverson fluff #syverson #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #sand castle #henry cavill

[kneelingshadowsalome]

This daughter talk has been fun, but can we talk abt if Konig had a son instead?? I can see the two being treated very differently.

(I think I remember you talking about in a post months ago how Konig would probably put his son into some sort of fighting class from a young age.)

He would probably have play fights with him, too, that get a bit aggressive, and if he had more than one son, he'd make them fight each other. He probably has the poor boy doing push-ups before bed at like 7 years old. Buys him nerfs guns so he can "start to practice early."

He doesn't care as much when his son gets a girlfriend, too. Just a pat on the back🙄.

König with a son… Oh man.

CW: ANGST :)

I mean he adores him when he’s small and can do nothing but wriggle around and look up at him in awe. König is a lowly servant to his daughter(s) but this little guy? He fills him with raw, pure pain. He vaguely recognizes it as some form of love, attachment, furious need to protect… But when the boy starts to walk and talk and run around and do shitty little things, he has to get more stern.

His son smiles a lot with his mother, helps her to bake cakes and pastries, hangs the laundry to dry on his command and then goes out to play for the rest of the day. He’s at the age where kids bully frogs and ants, and it sends a sting through his heart, but what is he to do? Boys will be boys.

He grows height, grows and grows and grows, there arrives a challenge in his eyes. Some trouble with school, the first crush, bone-crushing punches that hit a wall at the far end of the house. More and more resentment in the stare, he’s like a young stag trying to look for a fight and topple his old man.

His ire grows along with the kid's spine: he hasn't deserved the hate, he has done nothing wrong to this kid. If that little wuss only knew what he had to go through in his age...

There could be more laughter in this house, more loving kindness, yes. But at least he doesn’t hit him. At least his son doesn’t have to watch how a grown man abuses mommy. Quite the opposite: his son hates it when he’s kind to his wife, and he’s no better. They’re both jealous of her, of warmth, tenderness and love, and König tries, he really tries to be more understanding and forgiving. His worst nightmare is to become his father, an abusive prick who uses kids and women to feel better of himself.

But he never learned how to be a good dad… He didn’t learn how to be a ‘dad’ at all.

His tries to build a bridge to his son only makes the kid more reckless, and his wife never sees fault in the youngster, she only tells him to be more tender. More soft.

He laughs humourlessly. If he becomes softer than this, the kid will become a total loser and a wimp…

...Wait, what?

Fuck…

#könig angst #sorryyyy #könig with kids #könig's son

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

KATHERINA MINOLA (THE TAMING OF THE SHREW) (CW: Domestic Abuse)

1.) We had to read this for English my senior year. I got so mad at the way she's treated. She's the titular "shrew" of the play. She has to be married off before her younger sister can get married, because that makes sense.

Then the most dogshit man imaginable comes along, and everybody thinks they're perfect. He literally gaslights her and denies her food and water.

Fuck Petruchio and Katherine Minola deserved better!

2.) Literally the whole play is about how she is so awful that the main guy needs to change her entire personality, which he does as a challenge not because he likes her, and then proceeds to her abuse her for the rest of the play. Yet, he is portrayed as the hero, not a villain and she is shown to have "improved" at the end. People will say, oh it's open to interpretation, it can be played different ways, it's satire, but i don't find abuse funny and there is a distinct lack of commentary in the play to count as satire imo. Taming of the Shrew is a tragedy not a comedy, I will die on this hill. Kate deserves better!

3.) The title isn’t joking, ya’ll. She literally gets broken like a rebellious feral animal and it’s treated as a happy ending.

BARBARARA GORDON (DC COMICS) (CW: Ableism)

1.) Famously fridged in 1988, which was so popular with misogynists it became canon. After almost 2 decades of being one of the only disabled characters, was rebooted to a younger, more fun version of herself whose only history is that she was fridged but not disabled by it.

2.) The Killing Joke is one of the biggest comic examples of a female character getting hurt to motivate male characters. Also tbe way different cannons will trade off who her romantic intrest is out of Batfamily is pretty disturbing ranging from Bruce Wayne in Batman the Animated series universe (ew) to Tim Drake in the Arkham games (ew). Not to mention DC now is not letting her grow out of being Batgirl taking away her legacy of other young female heroes taking up her mantle and her getting to mentor them instead forcing her into a Batgirl cycle of purgatory when she was always better as Oracle (Its a little more complicated in the new Batgirl book but its still not solving the issues in a way that feels meaningful enough to make up the damage).

3.) Was shot as angst value for Bruce and her dad, implied to be sexually assaulted in The Killing Joke with absolutely no respect for her long career as Batgirl. When Alan Moore asked if he could, the editor said "cripple the bitch." She became paralyzed from the waist down. THankfully, an actually good writer picked her up from there and then wrote one of the best stories ever written (Oracle Year One: Born from Hope). Was one of the most iconic disabled characters in comic book history, hell, as Oracle, she was definitely up there as one of the most iconic disabled characters ever as well as a fantastic character, period. There were a few moments where people kept trying to make things out of her disability and had her be shitty to other women for no reason but for the most part, she was awesome. During her time In 2011, Dan Didio and some other misogynistic/ableist comic book writers were responsible for "curing" her disability and forcing her back into Batgirl, despite her having shown absolutely no desire to do so, as part of the New 52. They also made it an editorial mandate that she couldn't have glasses, a cool secret base, and her time as Oracle couldn't be referenced. This was because those writers were nostalgic for the 60s Batman show where Babs was played by an actress they all had the hots for and couldn't accept she'd grown up and moved on. That was bad enough, but over time, she's been increasingly deaged and reduced even further to just Dick Grayson's on and off again girlfriend and a generic girlboss. Batgirl of Burnsides burn in hell.

#polls #round 1 #week 2 #new #cw domestic abuse #cw ableism

[despazito]

like i have such conflicting feelings about the pathologizing of mental illness nowadays and the culture it creates. i think the need to have ones dx, at least in my case, was driven by a fundamental urge for validation that what i’m feeling isn't just a phase or something that will sort itself out. i think women especially have had our pain and struggles so minimized, i had lows wishing i just had a broken leg so others could at least see my pain. i clung to my dx and feet like waving it to the world shouting its not just in my head!! i’m not just lazy!!

in some ways getting the dx is like getting a pedigree for your fucked up brain. like this isnt some backyard bred tiktok adhd, this is PUREBRED adhd with the papers to prove it!!! all these women like myself who were looking for a voice and affirmation through dx to prove they “aren’t just one of those girls who’s too sensitive and googled their symptoms”, but now that’s also created its own trope of “overdiagnosed girl in her 20s” and there’s a whole new stereotype to mock and invalidate. there’s just no winning, it really feels like our pain will never get taken seriously by society to matter which route we take to get heard we are dismissed.

but of course these slips of paper become vital if you need any assistance or accommodations, so they are incredibly beneficial to have.

my issue is the more i reflect, the more i do feel like many emotional disturbances or brain funkiness ESPECIALLY depression and anxiety are the result of, or at least become more aggravated, by unluckiness in your childhood relationships and the narrative we created about it. turns out you don’t need to be textbook abused to have adverse experiences, and a failure to have a healthy secure relationship to your primary caregiver fucks with you for life but nobody wants to talk about that. i do think we live in a society here in canada where parental rights to parent how their want is overstepping on the child’s right to have the healthiest possible environment to be raised in. i had spent years reading about the lifelong effects of parental deprivation or bad socialization in dogs and parrots before reading about it in humans, and i think we forget how much humans are also animals.

but the thing is you can work on relationships, you can begin to process trauma. when i tell myself “i’m a person with anxiety” it feels really loaded with a sense of finality that i will always live this way.. the more i use that language the more futile it feels about ever improving, when so often depression and anxiety are the result of deeper unresolved issues. I see so many people with phobias or fears resign to living painful lives than trying to work on any exposure or processing their fears. i’d still be miserable if i never worked through my intense fears of intimacy, i was perfectly resigned to a life of being alone and thought i was content with that.

turns out growing up with trauma can cause the same unfocused and disorganized presentation as clinical adhd.i’ll admit i didn’t like learning that one, as adhd already has so many deniers my kneejerk response was anger at my adhd being invalidated. but i think a lot of adhd people fall somewhere in between that venn diagram, and rejecting a traumagenic theory for some people’s symptoms means they will be prescribed the wrong treatment plan. and this is why all treatment plans put emphasis on talk therapy just as much as pharmacological intervention.

obviously some things aren’t the result of your childhood! your mom yelling at you doesn’t cause autism, but chances are if you’re autistic and had cruddy support you’ll face more adversities and mental health struggles than a good supportive environment. similarly, you could’ve grown up with all the love and support to thrive but one day your thyroid decides it’s time to make you feel like roadkill.

idk, what i’m trying to say is don’t corner yourself or resign from living life because of your mental health dx or think that you’ll never get better because you “have” this, chances are there’s always room to feel better. the most hurtful thing is our inner voice if it’s internalized negative language, and there’s exercises you can practice to drill more positive or at least neutral nonjudgemental language into your inner critic. because even if you have something that will never be cured, the way we talk to ourselves about it is a variable we have some power over.

the narrative part experiencing trauma is uniquely human. some people will experience horrible things and internalize the negativity or self blame, but resilient people have better prognosis because they have ability to frame things in a narrative that don’t assign self blame, and critiques the behaviour instead of the self. because so many complications and struggles arise out of kicking ourselves when we’re down. but the thing is this usually can’t happen on its own, we need to see this modeled by the people around us. but thankfully if we missed the boat, we CAN retrain that voice

anyway that’s my musings from my perspective. for anyone curious here’s a lecture that really resonated with me, its got some hard hitting truths i didn’t want to hear but sometimes you gotta hear things that make you uncomfortable

#mental health #maybe you feel like none of this applies to you and thats ok! #im speaking for my own experiences

[beautifulloverwitch]

By Fire, Sea and Blood

the untold tale of an approaching collapse

Act I: Chapter eleven: another visit.

Previous ///// Next

Summary: the search goes on for Rhaenyras missing daughter, but hopes begin to dwindle as many begin to believe a cruel face had paid a visit once more.

A/n: I have not revised this at all lmao, if there are any mistakes please overlook them for the time being&lt;3

_________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 9k

Warnings: descriptions of death, abuse of power, death.

Masterlist

Cries echoed in the village as men, women and children were ripped away from their homes. Made to watch while their homes were ransacked, floorboards ripped out, and walls broken open. Outlaws herded together and brought in for questioning, their confessor being the fearsome, lean and red Caraxes.

Daemon stood at the centre of the village, his eyes flitting to each house, patiently waiting for someone to come forth. Daemon did not believe a reward of coin had sufficed, for as shiny and valuable it may have been, it was not worth more than one's only life. 

He ignored the cries, and the curses thrown at him by man, woman and child.

His dark clothes weighed heavily with rain water, his feet sunk into the mud as he stood and watched. His hair wet around his tired and sharp face.

Glancing over his shoulder he hummed in satisfaction as he saw his Dragon gnaw away at another outlaw, he wondered to himself which one had this been? Rapist? Thief? Murderer? He scoffed at the thought, what did it matter? They were all the same to him. The sound of desperate pleads hit his ears, a sound he had grown to find annoying. He found solace in hearing the booming thunder overshadow the sounds of their cries.

Glancing to his left he saw a crazed woman trying to gain the guardsmen's attention, pleading them for help, on what matter, none of them had been interested in entertaining.

An uneasy knight carefully approached the scarily calm prince “have you found her?” he asked.

“No my prince, we’ve searched every home,” the knight reported, looking around himself, wondering how necessary this all was.

Daemons jaw ticked with impatience, this has gone on too long “then start searching their fucking heads before they start losing them,” he commanded.

The knight's eyes widened “We’ve tried,” he told “All of them have claimed to not even know what she looks like, terrorising them like this is unnecessary,” Daemon turned back to look at him, stepping away from his horse as he eyed the brave young knight “what's your name?”

“Ser Lance Beesbury, my prince,” he answered.

Daemon let out a hum of feigned amazement as he looked him up and down “how old are you?”

“Seven and ten my prince, I was knighted by the lord commander Westerling three months ago,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you that.”

He shook his head “you did not, my prince, forgive me,” the poor knight feared that he would meet his end at the hand of the rogue prince, so early on in his knighthood. 

“A fresh knight,” Daemon mumbled to himself, “searching for my wife's missing daughter.”

Lance squirmed fearing to meet the end of Daemon's sharp sword, or his even sharper tongue.

“Ser Mychael!” Daemon called out, his eyes not leaving the face of the young knight.

“Why are knights without an ounce of experience searching for my step daughter?” he questioned, the approaching white cloak.

Mychael glanced towards the fear-struck boy, speaking in his defence “my prince, we need more men, so I gathered every knight new and old to help, without them we would not be able to fulfil such a search with the effort we have.”

Daemon hummed, unimpressed by the idea “no wonder this search has gone for so long,” he mumbled.

“My prince! The princess Rhaenyra requests that you join her in the painted room, you have guests,” A messenger told.

Daemon frowned “who?”

“Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

Daemons eyes widened, rushing to his horse as he grumbled “The fuck do they want?”

Lance watched the prince as he left, heaving out a breath he had not known he had been holding. He hissed as he earned himself a swat to the back of the head from his superior.

“First day here and your already on your way to Caraxes’s gullet?” Mychael chastised.

Lance stumbled back before being pulled forward, he kept a stiff lip in the face of his frustrated superior. He had not meant to have such a confrontation with the rogue prince, he came here to help that was all, not stir strife. 

“I thought it best to explain to the prince-.”

“You explain nothing to the prince, you only listen!” Mychael harshly reminded.

Lance clenched his jaw to not speak, he would need to learn not to speak out of turn, a skill that had slipped his mind as he exhausted himself to be worthy of knighthood. His face flushed in humiliation as he saw two familiar knights heading his way, preparing himself for their remarks.

“I fear you may need to say that again Ser, I think the boy may be as slow as his father,” one of them advised, speaking of Lance as though he was not there. 

Lance frowned at the insult made towards his father, as true as it may have been. 

The other knight tore off Lance’s helm, pushing his hair away as he shouted in his ear “HE SAID YOU DON’T SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO!”

Lance shoved him away after taking back his helm, clutching his ear, he was with a head of unspecial light brown short hair, his pale blue eyes looked awake compared to his fathers tired ones, he was tall and muscular in stature for his age, from afar one would have perceived him a man three decades old before noticing the innocent gleam in his eyes, no wonder Harrold had decided to knight the boy, he oozed with promising potential.

Humfrey chuckled, taking a quick swig from his flask before looking towards Lorent, leaning against the frustrated Lance “shall we take to the ports Ser, I’m sure we’ll find a misplaced crate to present as a clue to the princess.”

Mychael gave him a pointed glare before sighing “No… I cannot have you be here when prince Daemon returns,” he said, glancing out towards the chaos before recalling the irritated concerns he had received from the people. He nodded towards the two dragonkeepers that were stood idly by, the younger of the two fearfully looking at the disrepair around him.

“I’ve heard word of dragons taking lambs from pastures,” Mychael said. 

Humfrey frowned, puzzled as to why this was a problem “sheepstealer? They should be happy that the ugly cunt is sating his hunger with their sheep and not their lives.”

“But it isn’t Sheepstealer,” the younger Dragonkeeper quickly corrected, bowing his head beneath the knight's judging stare. He continued once Mychael had given him a sign to go on “all the large dragons have all sheltered in, they’ve already gathered their stock for the winter,” he explained before telling them “there has been a sighting of three baby dragons, black, red and green, small enough to catch, large enough to be a concern.”

The other knight interrupted, “this sounds like a problem for your lot to solve.”

“It is and you will all help them,” Mychael instructed, his eyes landing back on the quiet Lance “find them and bring them to the dragonmont.” 

“Why not slay them?” Humfrey questioned, his hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword, seemingly excited.

Lorent arched his brow “Eager to be a dragonslayer ay?”

“All dragons belong to house Targaryen you half wit, even the wild ones,” Lance explained.

Mychael nodded “killing them costs you your head, catching them grants you a fortune of honours,” he frowned as he saw the reluctant looks on their faces “what appeals to you facing three baby dragons, or a dragon that doesn’t need flames to kill you?”

Their faces paled as they recalled the darkness that loomed about the unusually calm rogue prince, fearful of what small thing could trigger his fury to unleash.

“Ser Humfrey, I expect this to not be too much of a hassle for you,” Mychael asked, ignoring the look of disbelief from Lance.

“Him?!”

“Not at all Ser Mychael,” Humfreys answered, a smirk stretching across his thin lips as he relished in Lance’s outrage.

Mychaelleft, ignoring Lance's protests. Humfreys arm slung around his shoulder “you’ve much to learn little bee before you take charge of this hive.”

Lance shrugged his arm off, sneering at his now superior.

The other knight next to him chuckled as he cheekily asked “regretting your choices now aren’t ya lad?”

Lance sent the knight a pointed look, warning him not to prod and pick at the matter.

“Go polish your shields!” He commanded, laughing as he smacked the backsides of the two knights as they left before looking at the two unimpressed dragon keepers.

Rhaenyras fingers tapped over one another as they lay clasped on the table. Bloodshot eyes flitting across the ancient painted table, wondering what corner she had left unsearched. She was surrounded by commanders, members of her court, guardsmen, and her Maester, Gerardys. Twas another day of hearing their reports of what little progress they had made in their search.

Gerardys’s hand circled his wrist anxiously beneath his cloak “I’ve received word from the wardens in the west, and south and the lord of Storm's end…” he gulped before glancing over to Rhaenyra as she looked his way “they have all ceased their search for the princess.”

Rhaenyras lips tightened with contempt as she looked at the southern region of the painted table. Wondering if they had forgotten the cost of their stagnance. 

One of the commanders glanced from the Maester and towards the distraught princess, searching for a reaction he would not find on her tense face.

“But I have received word from the north and the riverlands, they remain as eager as we are,” he quickly assured.

The commander fiddled with the handle of his sheathed sword, contemplating the right words to say as he stepped forward “Might I give my counsel on this matter your grace?”

Rhaenyra looked his way, expecting something useful to fall from his lips.

“It should be no surprise that many have begun to… halt their search for your sweet daughter,” he walked on the edge of danger as he spoke, his words pushing him over to the flames on the other side “for they know the harsh truth, that all here know as well,” he claimed, many began to shake their heads for none had agreed that he would be speaking on their behest “I would wager, that even you know but refuse to admit it,” he spoke, hoping to guide her gently to what he was to say next “this world is unkind to little girls, tis’ not possible that the princess Daenerys had avoided its cruelty.”

A dreadful silence fell upon the room, so silent you could almost hear the warning cracks of Rhaenyra’s fiery glare, her voice was eerily cold as she asked “are you tired Commander Irwin?”

His lips parted in surprise, stammering out his answer “no, I am not princess.”

“Your words tell me otherwise,” she said, before asking another question “do you think my daughter dead?”

The man gulped, glancing around him for help, but everyone seemed to have stepped away, he was alone in this dragon's den. He knew there was no right answer to that question but he needed to answer either way “Tis not an impossibility-.”

“So you’ve found her then?” she asked expectantly.

He shook his head, bewildered by this line of rapid questioning “no, I have not.”

“So you're proclaiming my daughter dead without a body to prove it,” tilting her head as she waited for his answer. Words of dragon fire tingling at the tip of her tongue as she stared at him.

“I… I-”

“You’re useless, I realise that now” she said, finishing for him the sentence he had yet to form. She was tired of his stammering, and angry for he had wasted valuable time “Commander Mervin, do find someone else to take your place, for you have been instated as first in command, know that your first assignment is to get Irwin out of my sights.”

Mervin’s widened eyes met with his once superior, surprise soon turned to pride. Nodding to the other guardsmen to help escort the protesting Irwin out of the hall.

“You can’t do this!” he cried out, he received no answer from Rhaenyra, who saw no use in entertaining these feeble attempts. He was fortunate for the restraint the princess had, if the rogue prince was present he would have needed to be replaced for different reasons.

Rhaenyra’s eyes passed over each face of the men in the room before cautioning them “should I hear another one of you proclaiming my daughter to be dead without evidence of it, know that I will have you walk yourself willingly to my dragon's gullet.”

“Princess!” 

Rhaenyra looked towards the guard at the door “what is it?”

“The Sea Snake requests an audience with you, urgently,” he informed.

Rhaenyra sighed, she had delayed the audience with them so long,hoping that Daemon would show up already. In her defence, they had arrived uninvited, she was not aware of their coming presence.

With a wave she dismissed them, and they were quick to file out. 

“Let them in,” Rhaenyra reluctantly told before returning her focus back to the painted table.

A thousand words stung the tongue of Rhaenys Targaryen as her gaze landed upon Rhaenyra. A wild fire burning around the reflection of the heir within her brown eyes. 

Her mind still ached with sorrow but her heart burned with a rage, her house was humiliated and insulted before the realm. She was robbed of everything left that had been held dear to her once full heart, and even that had amounted to nothing to this world. In her years she has seen pigs treated with more respect than her children, whose memories had turned to ash with them. All because of their desires, all because of that greedy throne. Her eyes scoured Rhaenyra’s face for regret, for guilt, for something, she was irked to find nothing that she wanted. Only a face ailed by sleepless nights.

The seeds of their animosity began to sprout and quickly shaped into a twisted sapling, waiting to be nourished again, but they were old and wise enough to know to restrain it, to hide their disdain behind looks and remarks.

 She did not tense beneath the weighty stares of her unexpected visitors.

Before they even had the chance to speak, the doors of the hall burst open and Daemon stomped his way in angrily, their intrusion was not a welcome one. He looked across the table where his wife was sitting, frowning as he saw her slumped and weak stature; he had spent these days in agony, watching her slowly cave in on herself with every passing moment without her daughter.

“What occasion grants you the right to invite yourselves here?” Daemon angrily questioned the stiff faced Corlys and Rhaenys, Standing tall beside the slumped Rhaenyra.

The seething Corlys spoke with an indifferent expression that did well to mask his anger “I admit it unseemly to come here without notice, especially at a time like this,” his judging eyes narrowed as they flitted over to Rhaenyra “but we have come here to take our granddaughter, if I recall correctly I have been promised to have her as my wifes ward.”

Daemon's face twisted with disbelief, his head so slightly reared back as he heard their words, a note of caution laced in his worryingly quiet voice as he spoke “I never said you would be taking her, we promised she would be sent to you, did we not?” he asked glancing at Rhaenyra for support, but she was not with them in this discussion, it had not involved the mention of her daughter, so what point was their to listen to them bicker?

He breathed in a heavy breath through his nose before turning to look at them again, slowly stepping towards them, a sly attempt at shielding his wife from being seen like this any longer, he doubted that the Velaryons were above spreading word of how pitiful the realms heir had looked especially with the grievances that had been stewing silently between them.

“That was more than two months prior to today,” Corlys pointed out angrily.

“If I recall, all my kin were still beneath the roof of this castle two months prior, were they not?” Daemon reminded.

Corlys let out a sharp sigh “We know of the predicament you are in, I worry for my granddaughter just as much as the two of you,” his eyes widened with anger at the short snigger that left the lips of the man in front of him.

“Had that been true you would have granted us your help, instead you’ve come to make demands of us,” Daemon told a slight twitch pulling down at the corner of his smirk.

Rhaenyra finally looked up from the table, towards the three, her red eyes landing on Corlys. For a second Rhaenys had begun to believe that she had nothing to do with her son's death, but she quickly concluded that Rhaenyra was arrogant enough to expect such services from the people she had hurt.

Quite the contrary, he had offered some help, upon receiving the news of her disappearance, he had his ports searched and informed every voyager that returned and left to keep a keen eye out for her, to him, that seemed to be the bare minimum he could have done as her apparent grandsire.

“I have not come here to argue,” Corlys was not pleased with the accusation as he tried to steer away from the matter “We have come all this way-.”

“For naught unfortunately,” Daemon interrupted “I do not know if news passed over your sorry island but your eldest granddaughter has gone missing and until I have Daenerys brought before me I will not have any of my children leaving my sights.”

“Do you really think it safe for your daughters to stay on the very island she went missing on?” Rhaenys spoke, cutting between them. The action startled Corlys, who retreated away from her as she stepped forward; they may have arrived together but the wall of tension between them kept them far apart, neither knowing how to tear it down gently. 

Rhaenys spoke to the fear Daemon would never wish to admit “let them come with us,” she advised, reluctantly continuing as she glanced over towards Rhaenyra “all of them.”

Rhaenys did not want to take the boys, but she needed to make them think that she had believed this delusion if she had wanted to have her Granddaughters.

Rhaenyra ran her hands over her face before telling them “how thankful we are for your thoughtful offer, we will consider it duly… but not now,” she said, nodding towards Daemon “the children will be staying here, until Daenerys is brought home.”

Corlys breathed out, looking towards his jaded wife.

“I understand the journey was long,” Rhaenyra assured as she sat taller in her seat “I offer you both a place to stay here, til you have rested well enough to leave, and hopefully by then my daughter will have returned to me for us to fulfil our promise to you.”

The two arched their brow, they knew Rhaenyra wanted her daughter to be home sooner rather than later.

Rhaenyra gestured for a servant to come her way, informing him to have chambers befitting the lord of the tides and the princess prepared as soon as possible.

“Might I see my granddaughters?” Rhaenys abruptly requested once the servant had walked past.

Daemon eyed the woman suspiciously, before looking towards Rhaenyra, who had returned to the confines of her mind. He stared at Rhaenys and Corlys before walking past them muttering “follow,” as he guided them, he would not leave them alone with his daughters.

Rhaenyras tired eyes returned to the painted table, the urge to break it was strong. Waiting for it to grow a tongue and tell her where it had kept her daughter.

The large hall of the great sept sung a solemn song, candles fighting to stay alight within them this night. The loud sounds of raindrops hitting the stone walls of its structure blanketing the sounds of whispered prayers.

Green gown pooled on the floor behind where she was sat, hair tightly put up in a ring of braids crowning her bowed head,and fingers bare of any rings to adorn them. Her hands rested on the table, clasped so tightly that the crescents of her nails dented the skin of them. Lips muttering a prayer to the father, the mother, the warrior, the maiden, the smith and the crone. Every prayer contained the name of the missing princess.

She prayed to the mother for her protection, to keep the girl -where ever she was- in her gentle arms.

She prayed to the warrior, to brandish his sword and defend her from every danger that would come her way.

She prayed to the smith, to mend the girl a path for her to return home, and she prayed to the crone to guide her to that path.

She prayed that the maiden would keep her safe, to protect her innocence from wickedness. 

And she prayed to the father, to forgive and forget the curses she had prayed befall Rhaenyra and her kin.

A shuddered breath left her lips as her eyes came open, glancing up towards the looming statue that stared down. Shrinking beneath its displeased gaze, clutching her cloak tightly around her shoulders as she made her way out.

She exited the sept grimacing as the rain hit her skin, ushered into the carriage by the loyal Ser Criston. 

A sigh of relief passed through her lips as she settled into the small carriage. Prayers still echoing in her mind as she got further away from the great sept. She had hoped they would be met with a swift answer, that when she returns a letter would arrive from Dragonstone that the girl was somehow miraculously found. 

The keep was quiet in anxious wait, waiting to hear what had become of the missing princess each passing day. None had dared stay in the king's presence too long, not even his council. For the first time many had begun to believe that he was once the rider of the legendary Black Dread Balerion. 

He would spend much time in his chambers, running his fingers over his rings anxiously as he stared deeply into the fire of his hearth. He prayed that he would only see flame in that hearth.

How he worried for his daughter, fearing what grief she must be feeling. He was thankful that Daemon -as angry as he may have still been about their secret union- was at her side, he has never known a man to be as steadfast as him, not even Laenor.

The door to his chambers came open and he glanced over his shoulder to see whom it was.

“The hand, my king,” His Kingsguard informed.

Viserys grumbled, turning his attention back towards the hearth.

Otto strolled in standing beside the king’s chair, patiently awaiting the king's attention. Otto's face was not haunted by trepidation, he was one of the few who was able to get a good night's rest. He had his pity for Rhaenyra and the King, but he was not on tenterhooks waiting for her return. Decorating himself to be a patient man, for if he was ailed by their fears he would not be so effective in guiding this search.

“There best be a good reason for this late visit,” Viserys acknowledged.

Otto bowed his head to look down at the sitting King “I’ve received letters of apology from the lords Tyrell, Lannister and Baratheon,” he informed “they have ceased searching for  princess Daenerys on their lands, but they pray for her swift return to princess Rhaenyra.”

Otto grimaced as he spoke those words, as indifferent as he may have seemed, he did take careful steps. He knew that this action by those houses would not be appreciated, and for it, the king would not hold them dear to heart. House Lannister was warm in Otto's pocket thanks to his diplomacy, in time he hoped the Tyrells would be as well. They were two of the wealthiest houses in the seven kingdoms, and if the king had the malice to even wish for it, he could change that with a quick wave of his hand.

Had Tyland mentioned word of it to him, he would have been quick to advise against it, for the sake of house Lannister.

A hot breath left the frustrated lips, clenching the ends of his chair.

Otto was quick to rush to their defence “they had searched every corner of their territory, your grace, not a stone was left unturned, not a port left unchecked, they’ve exhausted much of their resources and they’ve yet to prepare for the summer storm.”

Viserys’s eyes fell shut “my granddaughter has yet to be found, and they’ve already began to lounge away.”

“Your grace, you are first the realms king, before being the girl's grandsire,” Otto advised, patronisingly reminding Viserys, who had seemingly forgotten.

Viserys glared up at Otto before shaking his head and turning his attention back towards the flames.

“Leave me,” Viserys dismissed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his dry fingers. 

Otto hummed, but did not bow his head in goodbye “the queen has just returned from the great Sept, she has finished her evening prayers for the princess,” he informed “Daenerys’s vanishing has saddened my daughters good heart, I can barely find her without a prayer falling from her lips.”

Viserys looked over at the ground where Otto stood.

“Neither she nor your children have known a moment of serenity,” a note of sorrow in Otto's voice as he tried to imagine a bit of sadness on the indifferent Aegons face. 

Viserys sighed a sharp breath through his nose. Wondering to himself if they were well, he could only imagine how her disappearance must have been affecting them. 

“I shall report to you their standing on the morrow,” Otto told dismissing himself.

His face returned to the same indiscernible expression as he made his way to Alicents chambers, where she and her children waited for her alive.

Alicent stared blankly on the table, the array of foods spread across it turning into a blur of colour as she sunk into her thoughts. Hands itching for a pen and quill to express her sympathies to Rhaenyra, her formal sympathies for all that existed amidst the strife between them was formality. 

Aemond looked over at his mother worriedly, the only one amongst the table who seemed to care for her well being. He wanted to tell her how unnecessary it was, for her to worry so much, if it had not been so long since Daenerys had gone missing.

He thought that within the first week since her disappearance was announced she would have been found. Instead, weeks had passed and she was still missing. He would lay in his bed wondering where she could have gone, but soon, he began to wonder why she had ever disappeared.

Even though he had sworn to forget her, with her disappearance he could only think of her, and what they could have done to her. He knew her to only ever disappear when she was hurt, and how hurt she was decided how long she would be missing for. So he began to ponder, whenever she was stared at too long she would be gone for an hour, hating the discomfort of being a spectacle, she was smart enough to not have subtle insults slip past her ears, that would cause her to disappear for the rest of the day, and when Aegon had taken a blade to her hair she was gone for nearly two days, and even then she had not returned by her own volition. So he wondered, what horror had they done to her that would make her disappear for two weeks.

Otto entered the room and sat upon the chair he most commonly sat at, brushing Helaenas shoulder and giving her a warm smile. One that would have startled Alicent for it was not a sight she had seen even in her younger years had she noticed it.

“Prayer before we begin?” Otto asked Alicent, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Her eyes fluttered as she looked over towards him “Of course.”

They all rested their clasped hands upon the table, bowing their heads as Alicent led the prayer “may the mother smile down upon this supper with love, and may her warmth shroud Daenerys as she finds her way back home.”

The winds turned the rain into sharp needles, swiftly tearing through the air and upon the skin of the men's faces. Soaking their cloaks as soon as they had left their tents.

Humfrey tried to look through the thick rain, relying on the bolts of lightning that brightened the sky and ground. Trying to not lose sight of the two dragon keepers ahead of him.

Lance tried to observe his surroundings, hoping for some sign to show him that they were close to the Dragon Caves would appear, but to his dismay there was nothing. Only a thick mist of water droplets splashing up from the ground. He feared that a flood would soon ensue because of this downpour. He was the furthest behind, for in Humfrey's opinion he was still a baby bee, best he stayed at a safe distance. He was made to pull a cart of small dragon cages.

The young dragon keeper's voice shouted out to them “We’re nearly there!” 

“What?!” Humfrey loudly asked.

“He said we’re nearly there!” Lance shouted, earning himself a sharp look he could not see from Humfrey.

The gaping dark pits protruding from the ground soon appeared from the mist. Prompting them to halt in their tracks, Humfrey asked the two dragon keepers “what now?!”

The elder of the two nodded for the young one to let go of the poor sheep. Letting it stroll about the stoney field around the caves. 

Humfrey glanced behind him to the two knights that accompanied him, Thankful to see that they too were confused.

“They should come out when they catch scent of the sheep,” the young dragon keeper explained as he approached Humfrey “it is best we seek shelter, keep watch from afar.”

They frantically searched the field for a spot to wait in that had a clear view of the dragon caves. The knights had no doubt that they would succumb to a cold for how long they had been out in the rain.

Eventually, after an exchange of many yells of disagreement, they had found a large stone jutting from the ground, a suitable shelter for the short time they had hoped to spend there.

Humfrey was quick to claim the most sheltered spot, leaving the rest to huddle tightly together. Unfortunately, Lance was the last to reach them, sitting at the edge of the shelter, shuddering as he felt the water trickle down his back. 

Humfrey smirked his way as he asked “not as glamorous as you thought, ain’t it little bee?”

Lance grumbled as he heard the vexing nickname.

Humfrey leaned back “what I would give for a warm bed, a warm cunt and a hot cup of tea sweetened with the finest honeys.”

“Can’t be that good, if our little bee so gladly left it all,” the other knight stated, sending a look of disdain towards the annoyed Lance. 

Lances lip twisted to the side, restraining the urge to argue. Turning to look out on the field his eyes squinted as he searched for the wandering sheep, pitying the poor thing as it fought against the wind.

“Do you think they’ve any luck in the search?” the knight asked.

Lance arched his brow curiously, tilting his head their way.

Humfrey scoffed “I doubt it, we’re faring better than they are in a few hours when they’ve had two months,” proud to see them nodding in reluctant agreement with him.

An uncomfortable silence befell them, and all they could hear was the sound of the whooshing rain around them.

Lance stared out onto the field, frowning to himself “you think she's still alive?” he asked abruptly. 

All of them had squirmed uncomfortably at the mention, in truth they were so used to Daemon's presence, hearing tellings of what he would do to those who dared even discuss the matter of her living or dead.

“You’d have to be daft to believe that true,” Humfrey answered quietly “at this point they’re hunting for a pile of bones.”

The knight beside him scoffed, shaking his head in pity for the missing girl's family “it’s best they spare themselves the grief and stop searching, better to think her still alive than find her dead.”

Lance glanced over her shoulder pondering their words, surprised by how true they were. He had seen the princess once, on her seventh name day, he saw how much she was adored by the king and her family, frowning as he imagined the grief they would feel if such a thing were true.  

The frantic bleats of a sheep reached their ears and they all shot up from the ground, turning towards the crying sheep as it battled with a small dragon, struggling to latch its teeth onto the sheeps neck as it thrashed about.

Lance moved to get up only to be shoved down by Humfrey as he ran past him “Get the cart!” Humfrey yelled, grasping the hilt of his sword as he rushed towards the dragon.

Another dragon leapt down from the sky, small but significantly bigger than the first. The bigger dragon landed on the sheep's back, claws digging through its coat of wool, through to its pink flesh. Growling as it latched its teeth around the poor creatures neck. The sheep thrashed about a feeble attempt to break free. The dragon began to gnash and pull at the flesh of its neck, frustrated by the fight it put up. 

The dragon's jaw was coated with bright red blood and saliva dripping down from it, it was hungry, thirsting to be sated by this fresh flesh. 

The little dragon watched on, roaring out to the bigger dragon as it saw the sheep begin to succumb to its fate.

The bigger dragon continued to gnaw at its neck, spurts of blood shooting out from the sheeps open neck. A final attempt by its heart to encourage the poor thing to keep fighting, gone for naught.

The dragon finally let go of the creature's neck, shaking its head before looking credulously at the other dragon.

The little dragon gestured with its head back towards the caves, the bigger dragon following its gaze and croaking in answer, turning its attention back towards the carcass at its feet.

His flaws had dug deep enough into the sheeps skin for it to be confident that its food would not fall from its grasp. Beginning to beat its wide spanning wings and lifting itself and the carcass up into the air.

The little dragon spread its wings to join the other dragon but its attention was caught by the four men charging their way. Jumping back in fear of such a sight for it was not something it had seen before, a sorry roar passing its mouth as it tried to frighten them.

The dragon that took flight, snapped its neck towards the sound. The black of its eyes narrowed at the sight. He dropped to the ground, staring at the metal men running its way.

A familiar scent reached him, scrunching his snout for it was the smell of human flesh.

But there was a twinge of something unfamiliar, something unwelcome, they may have smelt of flesh but they were missing something else. That was enough for the fierce dragon to label them a threat. Hovering closely to the ground eying them all as they approached asking itself, which one?

Humfrey felt a thrill rush through him, seeing the two dragons still on the ground, unmoving. His hand grasping the hilt of his sword unknowingly. 

They surrounded the dragons, the two dragon keepers approached the two beasts, speaking in their foreign tongue.

Humfrey would be annoyed had he not been so focused on the dragon's movements, waiting for a slip up, waiting for the right move that would lead to a great story and an even greater title.

The elder dragon keeper gestured for the young one beside him to step forth, seeing this as a great chance for the boy to learn. These were baby dragons, what could be so harmful about them?

The boy gulped nervously as he stepped forwards, his ears not missing the sound of the black dragons growls growing louder the closer he got. 

“Gīda byka zaldrīzes,” he softly commanded.

That seemed to only make the dragon angrier, tilting its head at the gall, but it continued to wait.

The boy stepped closer, and was a few feet away from the beast's mouth, but he was close enough. 

The dragon snapped forward, the sound of its teeth clashing together as it clamped its jaw down onto nothing.

The boy fell back, scrambling away from the dragon and towards the feet of the confused elder dragonkeeper.

In a flash, Humfrey removed his sword from its sheath and charged forward.

Everyone around him cried out for him to stand down, but he did not listen. Standing before the dragon and raising his sword above his head. From his perspective, he could not see the orange glow omitting from within the dragon's gullet.

As he moved to lower his blade upon the dragons back, a burst of fire came forth, bathing Humfreys front in a blaze that had him crying out in agony. The burst of flame did not stop, it kept flowing from the dragons mouth until Humfrey fell back onto the ground. Writhing on the wet ground as he attempted to pry off the armour that had begun to melt to his flesh.

 The dragon roared once more, keeping away the knight who tried to come to Humfrey’s aid. The dragon turned away climbing on the carcass and latching its claws into its body before taking flight, closely followed by the reluctant little dragon, who glanced behind it and back towards the group of men before taking after him.

Lance watched on in horror at what had unfolded, dropping the cart and rushing to the man patting down every region of his body frantically, too frightened to realise the damage that had already been done.

“GET OFF! GET OFF OF ME!” he cried out.

Lance’s brow furrowed in worry for him, he glanced back to where the dragons flew off to and was surprised to see them flying so close to the ground. He stood up from beside Humfrey instructing the knight “get him back to the castle!”

“How?” the knight asked, grimacing as he heard Humfrey cry out for him to get away.

Lance yelled as he turned “figure it out!”

Lance chased after the dragons, with no desire to confront them of course, he was not stupid, but he thought it best he knew where the dragons were going to come back with a greater amount of men. He could not have imagined such a reaction to come from a young dragon, he had heard stories of larger dragons attacking, but never had he heard of baby dragons' fury. 

As he reached the edge of a cave he gasped and dropped behind a rock as he saw all three dragons together. Narrowing his eyes to get a clearer look of the three.

The largest of them was a pitch black, its darkness absorbed the light that hit its body. Like an untethered shadow. The second was a dragon of iridescent green, the loudest of the three and most regal, its eyes a stark yellow. The last was a far smaller dragon, the size of a pup. His eyes were a beautiful ocean blue and skin was a red of the softest hue, one that was painful to the eye, its behaviour possessed dare Lance say it, an innocence. 

In awe of the sight his hand slipped against the wet stone and he fell to his knees, the sound of his armour scraping against itself alerting the three creatures.

The black dragon's fearsome demeanour returned as it prowled towards Lance, the small beasty was considerate enough to give the man a string of warning roars.

Lance raised his hands up, showing that he was without a weapon, and hoped that it was not blinded by its hunger to understand that Lance was no threat.

The green dragon seemed to call out to its black companion, a discussion between them that Lance was puzzled by but was hopeful for it to be in his favour. As he moved to adjust his footing, the black dragons attention quickly snapped back to him, eyes demanding the man stay still in his place.

Lance could have sworn he could see small wisps of steam passing from the corners of its mouth.

Lance stilled “I just want to leave,” he told, as though the dragon could understand. He moved around the dragon slowly, thankful that it was too busy roaring back at its two companions to focus on the man before him.

He knew of a safe path back to the castle that led up the shore, before he had decided to leave the comfort of Honeywine and vibrance of the red keep he had indulged all the books regarding warfare, knighthood, and history, most importantly he had poured over the schematic filled parchments, for he had no desire to be lost on the first day of the job. His access to knowledge was the one thing he appreciated most from his privileged upbringing. 

He was careful as he stepped over the stones that littered the ground, wincing at every misstep that had made too much noise for comfort.

One stone he had stepped over was rather odd, it crumbled beneath his feet so quickly.

He frowned as he heard the crumble and glanced down in horror as he realised what he had stepped on. 

At first it blended into the scorched ground from afar it would have been mistaken for a line of small rocks on the ground. Upon closer inspection it was revealed to be something terrible.

a hollow pit of darkness stared up at him, darkened flesh still attached in ashened patches scattered all over, the rain seemingly had managed to wash most of it away, turning some of it to a sludge carried towards the shore. Body curled into a foetal position, left leg having crumbled beneath the man's foot, mouth agape leaving Lance to imagine the rasps of distress that once fell from it. 

A flash of lightning reflected from something clutched in the corpses ashened hands. He knelt down beside it, careful not to step on another fragile limb. Bringing himself closer to get a better look without having to pry it away from the small corpse's hands.

His eyes widened as he reared back realising the figure that hugged the blade's handle.

It was a seahorse.

The handles once sea blue base burnt away revealing the metal beneath, no longer were its surfaces smooth but they were marred with patches of bubbles and melted metal. What remained of it was enough for him to recognise that such a dagger was not crafted by any smith, this had surely belonged to a noble. One of house Velaryon.

A shrill roar made him look away from the body as he began to dread who it had belonged to. 

The pale red dragon had made its way towards him trying to catch his attention. Once it had gained it, it turned to face the cave and looked back towards the man, a gesture for him to follow the small dragon.

Lance was too lost in his own mind to understand what it had meant. He glanced back towards the body, eyes looking over it, noticing how small it was, how fair it was to assume who it had belonged to.

“Ser Lance!” a familiar voice called out.

He looked up to where it had come from, five knights led by Ser Mychael headed his way.

The dragons grew fearful but the little one did not seize its urging. The green dragon had seen enough, and knew it was time they left. Teeth lightly grabbing at the smaller dragons tail, pulling it back to the cave.

The largest of the free leapt forth and bellowed a wall of fire around the caves entrance, an attempt to ward them off. An action not appreciated by the red dragon.

The men drew their swords and shields and surrounded the dragons shielded by their wall of flame. 

The water hitting the hot stone quickly turned to a thick steam. The dragons wisely took this valuable opportunity, fleeing to escape, disappearing into the inky depths of the cave.

Lance slowly looked back down away from where they had disappeared, returning his gaze to the charred corpse at his knees. His face, a mask of horror and disbelief, most of all fear.

Mychael noticed this, following the boy's gaze, and soon, the same mask fell upon his aged face. 

The rest of the knights circled the body, staring down in horror, not for disbelief and disgust at what had happened to what they assumed was a poor child, but the terrible omen behind it, the terrible promise of a wrath unimaginable.

“It's her…” Lance whimpered, his arms limp at his sides as he stared at the remains.

Mychael gulped “how do you know?”

Lance sniffled, his hands gentle as he pointed at the clutched blade.

Mychael knelt down and soon a sombre look marred his face, deep lines lining between his brows and at the corners of his downturned lips.

A fearful knight frantically suggested “we needn’t do this, we could let the search continue, they do not need to know.”

“Let them go on thinking her alive Ser, give them that mercy!” the other pleaded, in agreement with the first knight.

Lance looked at them in disbelief.

Mychael sounded a rumbling hum from deep within his chest as though he was pondering it. Lance looked towards the man, awe struck by how long his answer had taken.

“Are you sure that this would be a mercy to them or to you, a litter of cravens?” he rhetorically asked, his eyes not leaving the body of the child.

They fell silent, but squirmed in fear as they imagined the fire that would soon hit their skin once they’d presented the dead dragonling to its mother.

“Go to your tents, go to your rooms, and rest, sleep well knowing yourselves safe,” Mychael told, pulling his wet cloak from his back, laying it on the ground “but let your cowardice burn itself into your minds, and may it remind you that the title you wear of Ser, of Knight, of protector, is made of a sheep's coat and not worn like a lion's mane,” he was gentle as he slid the body carefully upon his cloak “what dishonour you bring, what a stain you all are.” 

His last words before he stood, cradling the body in his arms, marching with a stiff lip and steely eyes to the dragon's den

Lance arose from the ground paying no glance to the sulking cravens that surrounded him and instead tailed after the man.

Mychael stilled in his steps turning to face the solemn boy “do my commands always pass through to the otherside of your ear?” he questioned.

Lance attempted to match the mans face, but there was the smallest hint of fear in his young eyes “I found her, tis I who should be seeing it to its end.”

“You expect an award?” Mychael asked.

“I expect a duty fulfilled, that ends with no gratitude.”

The man stared at the boy stepping forth towards him “know this is your next duty boy, rest.”

“You can’t.”

“You will.”

Lance's eyes flickered between the man's eyes, outraged by how he was addressed. He was no boy, he was a man grown, he was a knight, a knight that fulfilled his duty, a duty that led to anguish but he had fulfilled it nonetheless. 

“Rest,” Mychael commanded before turning his back and continuing his solemn march. His breaths turned shallow as he grew closer to the almost villainous looking castle.

He readied his mind and his heart, so that they would be prepared to greet the strangers fury with grace.

Lance watched dejectedly as the man walked away. Turning behind him to see that all the other knights had dispersed, not questioning the command. He had wondered if Mychaels words had done anything to them. He frowned as he saw the same pale red dragon emerged from the inky cave again, crying out to him, urging him in a tongue he could not understand.

He tiredly looked at the small creature, exhaustion wrapping its limbs around his stiff body, and guiding him away from the terrible scene, which he knew would haunt him, he knew it would forever haunt him. 

His first duty had ended with expected anguish.

 Cries of agony echoed through the castle of dragonstone, the empty and quiet halls carrying the sound throughout the structure, waking its uneasy inhabitants.

Rhaenyra's eyes flew open at the sound, rising from her bed as quick as the flash of lightning that shone from outside her window. Angry at the interruption, for she worked behind closed eyes to shape her daughter's face, the face she had begun to forget. Her eyes were a blur of purple, her head a blur of brown, and her face devoid of detail.

Daemon arose from the chaise by the fire, alarmed by the sound, rushing for his sword and leaving the room without a word.

Rhaenyra stared at the upon door, curious by what was beyond it.

‘Has she returned, as my sweet girl returned?’ she asked the world, knowing that its answer lies behind those doors.

She rushed to grab her robe, slinging it around her shoulders, briskly sliding her arms through the sleeves and tying it painfully tight around her waist. The pain did not matter for the excitement quickly subsided as her feet carried her swiftly down the halls and towards the painted room.

Her mind raced as she wondered to herself, would she find her daughter well? Was she injured? Mayhaps she was starving. Was she afraid? Would she charge to her mother and fall into her arms, a safe embrace that Rhaenyra promised to offer all her children no matter what.

Her footsteps stilled at the sound of a familiar grunt, and the sound of a terrible squelch. The hall was empty, likely having all gathered into the painted room, their shouts and pleas proving her right as she heard them come from the rooms open doors.An orange glow omitting from the firelit chamber, cutting through the cold shadows of the hallway.

She began to move slowly towards the room, rounding its corner, eyes widening as she saw her husband straddling a man's body, one hand around the man's neck and the other tightly gripping the man's helm. 

The once silver helmet was coated red, its curves flicking out the blood that had pooled into them with every quick raise before being brought back down upon the gaping red hole where the man's face should have been. All that was left of it was a mess of flesh, muscle, blood, and skull fragments, all scattered across the floor.

She stood at the centre of the doorway watching Daemon as he unpromptedly bestowed his wrath upon the poor man. Corlys and many other guards urging him off the already dead man, but careful enough to not be within the reach of the thrashing wormy limbs of his fury.

All sound seemed to fade from her ears as she saw a black mound resting on the table. Her tired eyes had made it look like a black blob from afar, a pile of soot.

As her feet brought her closer towards it, detail began to form from the dark mound, the same details she had fought to retain as she tried to remember her daughter's face. 

Soon the mound had a bony foot, missing a two toes, that foot then connected to leg, with ashened and shrunken flesh that latched around the charred bones of its thigh, the beginning of the femur loosely attached to a pelvis, that then joined to a small cage of ribs and a short rod of spine, barely held together by the skin of the shrunken flesh covering the remainder of the body.

And lastly.

A head.

A small skull to be more correct.

Detached from the spine.

Its base against the curved shoulder its body rested on.

A thin layer of black flesh hugging the eye canals, disappearing from the cheeks.

Jaw loose from its place, hung open.

Rhaenyra stared at it for a moment before pushing away the horror, the dread, the fear, and worst of all the anguish, the grief, a grief she prayed not to feel, not ever.

The eyes of the hall stared at her, Daemon seized his assault as he looked at Rhaenyra with blood splattered across his face. He was overwhelmed by failure, by defeat, he broke his promise to her, his oath to her.

Rhaenyra could feel their gazes bore into her, how they waited for her reaction. 

She sniffled, not realising the heavy tears that slipped down her cheeks as she turned to look at them, her face eerily credulous but her eyes a pool of hot anguish waiting to burst forth.

“Who is this?” she asked, her heart feigning her naivety, forcing her mind to submission as it refused to admit who was laid before her.

None dared speak, standing in silence as they watched her, flinching at every subtle movement she had made. Her hands rested over her rounding belly, bruising the lengths of her fingers as she twisted them harshly.

The brave Corlys stepped forth in his hands a dagger resting within them. 

“Tis with a heavy heart I tell you this Princess,” he gently spoke, staring at the dagger in his hands, hiding the sheen of tears on his eyes as he stared at the familiar object “know that my house sends its greatest sympathies good daughter.”

Rhaenyra kept her credulousness, but her eyes screamed a warning to him.

With a heavy heart he spoke the words none else dared say, words that sent waves of dread rolling through those who only heard it.

“Tis your sweet daughter Daenerys, she has been found.”

Taglist: @takemetotheweirdness @grungegrrrl @paininmyasgard @deadunicorn159

#House of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #aegon targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc #alicent hightower #dragons #helaena targaryen #hotd #Rhaenyra Targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #otto hightower #aemond targaryen x reader

[yelling-space]

sex hcs

// Might be a lil heavy 4 a first post idk??? thought it be a good indicator of what u can expect from me in relation 2 each charter encase that's sming u want 2 avoid tho,

so enjoy this short summary the Main 4s feelings on/relationship with sex and daans here 2 for some reason

none the left over colours fitted Enki so i made him pink 2 spite him

Cw :(Impyed) child prostitution + s/a

Cahara

-whore by birth,slut by choise

-has a hate-love relationship with sex(regardless position) and kinda treats it like a "get out of jail free" card, rellised from a young age the amount of horrble suitions he can get out of if he opens his mouth a lil wider and swings his hips a little

-can be pear pressured/guilted into agreeing 2 sex + for as mutch as hes into and enjoys sex he feels so gross and unclean and not comfy in his own skin after regadles who its with (he will internaly throw up and try 2 rip his skin of if you call him "exotic")

-will cry if he has totally normal fully consensual sane safe sex w a partner/ his wife

-doesnt understand the religious belifes of immodesty or sodomy esply when those higher up dont tend 2 practice what they preach , OPPOSITE of a prude , open whore.

D'arce

-closeted butch top that didnt realize her desire to fuck pretty men was actually her lesbian soul shining through

-lotta her,,,less practical ,vewis on sex stem from deep rooted homophba + was 2 goal oriented and determined 2 became a knight 2 even think about or consider it before espacping the dugon

-full heartedly believed all women harbour a disgust 4 the male sex organ and that coupes just did not have sex endless it was 2 convive a child , as you can imagine she was in for a surprise when discovering that was not the case.

-horrifically inexperienced and guided by her desire to dominate, and thus becomes known for owning The Scary Strap" that medieval men are afraid of

Enki

-Dead body fucker. That Necromancy spell is NOT going to just go too waist ,

-not all that interested in sex in general and never really saw any reason to engage with it when spell books are literally RIGHT there . saying that he most definitely gets of on having something completely under his control regardless what end the "fucked-fucking" scale he's on

- not really into sex with living people + how he's probably kind of inexperienced due to an isolated upbringing hence the want for control over puppeteering a sexual partner (dead body), or the high he gets off inflicting acts of sadism given how his ideas of intimacy have been twisted from childhood

-100%%%%%%% a fucking freek btw just cuz hes not 2 instered in sex dosnt mean hes not a fucking freek man fucks dead people and probs vry mutch into s/m

Rag

-wife kink. you don't understand how much he loves his wife.

-probs thinks sex is something shared between two lovers and is something meant 2 be full of affection and enjoyed by both party's

-probs see's s/a being viewed as something incredibly disrespectful, cowardly and the abuser deserve of death getting his shit kicked in (this is funny because i like 2 imagen rag starts projecting his dead wife onto cahara when he starts 2 lose it in the dungeon)

-did not know sex work existed or brothels were a thing, got jump scared by it when taking cahra back 2 see his wife with the others , he was vry confused and not rly sure where he was MENT 2 look so spent most the time with his eyes glued to the floor, celling or his friends faces (he respects women even if he's not rly sure what's going on)

Daan

-lil sex adictic freek , dosnt even realy enjoy sex that much,just so used 2 it being apart his life hes not entirely sure what 2 do without it,+allows himself to ast least feel incontrol the situion (for once in his life) cus he knows what the goal is and faster he gets it over with faster he'll be left to his own devices again.

-sex is all he rly knowns and grown up around, as well as one the only things hes ever seen actually be meaningful to anybody,regardless there relationships with there partner. but it feels like its something he owes people/doesnt really enjoy it regardless if he acrly wants it or not.

-dosnt proply understand how relationships work or that there's more 2 them then just sex (or that people could even *want* him for more then sex for that matter)

-sex was allways seen as something transactional or something for control - cant have any of that with fagcat, but can at least indulge in it in a way that makes him feel like he's way 2 finally has some small aspect control his life again.

-Honesty like ¾ his sex life is just him being abused by Pocketcat

#cw implied child abuse #fear and hunger #I hate all them btw #Cahara🤝Daan it's not rape if I don't say no but also don't say yes #cahara #enki #ragnvaldr #D'arce #daan #daan von dutch #Funger #fear and hunger termina #Pocketcat #stupid rambles

[sexisdisgusting]

okay so hear me out, I have a theory.......... I think men are physically stronger than women, yes, but I think women are emotionally stronger than men. Think about it. Sure, theres a lot of emotionally weak women- "handmaidens" for example. But women has always had the advantage of being able to emotionally adapt to the cruelist of environments. Women have always been the ones to teach compassion and empathy.

Im not one of those people who say "oh men are all terrible, they all lack empathy and emotions" but I do think its true that women are the ones who are emotionally superior to men.

Men love to paint women as "emotionally fragile" crybabies and all that. The "hysterical women". They see women's emotional superiority as weakness instead of a gift. When in reality, its always been an advantage.

I mean look at the crime statistics. Look how many men turn to violence (which requires emotional immaturity) when things don't go their way.

Look how TiMs act compared to TiFs. Look how any women acts when she idolizes/relies on men, she becomes emotionally immature.

And if you think about it biologically and spiritually, it makes sense. To survive, women needed to rely on her emotions to weed out undesirable mates. Men needed to be physically strong to defend. Women may be physically weaker, but men are emotionally weaker.

This is why men are such threats. It's that lack of emotion that is dangerous. It's also why abuse from a mother can be more damaging than abuse from a father. Mothers are meant to be the nurturing counterpart. Mothers teach you how to control your emotions and be a better leader as mothers are inherently the "leader" of the relationship. When that relationship is fucked up, when the father is the one "in charge", it destroys everything because the father is less emotional and more out of control. It's why most abusive fathers are more outwardly aggressive. Yet women, who have abusive fathers, are better at handling it than men. Yet when a woman has an abusive mother, it hits harder because it affects her emotional growth.

I like how mainstream media loves to paint abusive mothers as more common than it is. Don't get me wrong, I grown up with an abusive mom. But what people don't talk about is that more often than not it's reactionary abuse. A lot of moms I've seen who were abusive were also "boy moms". It's fucking rare to see a mother who's just naturally abusive toward her children without influence from a man or drugs. Not saying it doesnt happen, but its not "common". Its nowhere near an "unspoken issue thats bigger than people think".

I dunno, im being controversial lol

I FUCKING HAD A CONVERSATION LIKE THIS THE OTHER DAY GIRL I AM GRABBING YOU BY YOUR SHOULDERS AND SHAKING YOU SO HARD BECAUSE YES!!!!!!!!! YES YES YES SYNFHAYZSYSYCYES

yes

YES

THEY LOOOOVE SAYING "women are soooo emotional lol" but they are the ones who KILL WOMEN FOR SAYING 'NO' TO THEM

and

OFTEN

when

MOTHERS ABUSE their KIDS it stems from abuse that came from other places in their lives, the media LOVES talking about evil mothers and highlighting it but men constantly abuse their kids because theyre all emotionally immature idiots who dont know how to regulate their emotions by nature

stoppppp im so happy we're mutuals youre so fucking SMART I WISH I COULD KISS UR BRAIN

#asks

[lokisprettygirl]

Lose me to Love you (Loki x Female Reader) (AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 22 here / Series Masterlist

Chapter 23

Summary: Loki isn't the only one fighting with his inner demons. People from your past continues to turn up.

Trigger Warning: 18+, Description of rape and assault, panic attack, violence against women, Extreme dark themes, Sexual abuse, physical abuse, public sex, Rough violent sex, 18+, Steamy stuff, age difference ,Rough language, mention of suicide, talk of virginity and slut shaming, manipulative behaviour, mention of trauma, smut, toxic relationship between main characters. Dark themes, cult stuff

His palms felt clammy, he had been standing outside the orphanage for half an hour and you were taking your own sweet time coming out, as he noticed a girl approaching him he was slightly surprised. For some reason he kept picturing the eleven year old sweet girl that he knew instead of this fully matured grown woman that he probably would have fucked if he met her at the club. Just 18, he had to remind himself that you were barely an adult.

"Hiiii" you smiled at him and he snapped out of his thoughts.

"Y/n"

"Lokii..how are you?" You were the reason he was even alive today, for a moment the feeling overwhelmed him so he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him to hug you.

"Thank you darling, thank you..I'll take care of you I promise" the gratitude slipped past his lips and as he felt your arms around his waist his nerves went calm for a moment.

"So it was your birthday a few days ago, want to do something?" You looked at him as he said that.

"Not really..Where are we going?"

"Ummm my place" you hummed as he answered.

He drove you to his house and you looked around as you both entered the studio apartment he was renting in Brooklyn. It wasn't enough for you two but that's all he was able to do at the time, the divorce settlement has ruined him even further.

"It's cozy, I like it" you placed your backpack down on the couch and smiled again.

"Well you can take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch, food is in the fridge, here's the..umm some money..you can go grocery shopping or get whatever you need..the girl stuff and all" he passed you a few dollar bills so you took it from him, everything was awkward with you two and he felt it in his bones.

"What do you do for work?" You asked him and he sighed

"A small gig at a club"

"What type of gig, are you a bartender?" He combed his hair with his fingers as he tried to avoid your constant gaze.

"A bouncer..you ask too many questions" The job always paid okay, that's also how he met Jolene as well, she frequented the club he worked at and she finally asked him out one fine day. When they got married she got him a position at her accounting firm but he was fired while he was resting after the wrist slitting incident. Now he wished that he never ever met her at all.

"That's hot..i like bouncers..they're soo strong and so manly" his brows furrowed as you said that, how the hell you had even been in a nightclub? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know that.

"Well I have to go meet someone..when I come back we can discuss your uhhhh future plans…if you want to get into college or–"

"No discussion required..I want to become an actor..we should probably move to LA" you mumbled nonchalantly before you proceeded to raid the fridge that was mostly empty.

"Excuse me?" He looked at you all perplexed, getting you into acting business didn't seem feasible to him.

"LA? Los angeles?"

"I know where LA is ..are you serious about this acting thing?"

"As serious as Joker was before his dad carved his face" he looked at you all confused again as you quipped "Really??never?? Oh my god we are definitely going to watch the dark knight once you come back.. Don't worry we don't need to watch the first part.. honestly 60 percent of people skipped the first part and went straight to TDK and somehow it makes perfect sense ..it's like you're not even missing anything important or worth knowing…you know…"

Your voice faded in the background as you continued to speak gibberish to him. However your sweet voice also filled his empty sad apartment and he liked that. Alot. That was the moment he knew that life wouldn't be the same from then, he knew he'd have to make several adjustments and since he had taken the responsibility of taking care of you, your dreams and aspirations became his as well.

His eyes opened to your shaking form and he absolutely abhorred that, every time you had a nightmare he felt afraid that you'd slip past his fingers like that one horrible time. It had happened a few days prior to your mother's anniversary during the second year of living together. He never talks about it because you don't seem to have any recollection of those two days, at first he wasn't sure how to deal with you, how to bring you back but on the third night you went to sleep and came back absolutely normal. You had a bad dream last night too but it was about Thor and he just knew this one was different from that. He knew you'd probably not remember this one because it involved your mother.

"Hey sweetheart" he turned the lamp on to see you properly. His heart rendered as he noticed the tears running down the corner of your eyes,

"Loloooo …mommmyy .. I want mommmy" you sniffled, your voice reminded him of that little girl he had left at the orphanage.

"I know baby..it's okay.. open your eyes..I'm here..im here" he shook your body a little and you woke up gasping for air,

"Lolooo mommyyy ..I need mommmy"

"Shhhhhh baby.. everything is okay..you're safe" he mumbled softly as he wiped your tears, his lips lingered over your forehead before he wrapped his arm around your waist and made you sit up so he could embrace you, you felt safe that way.

He leaned against the headboard while you clutched onto him and cried your heart out.

"I'm here baby, my sweet girl, come back to me, I'm right here, you have me i promise" he mumbled mindlessly

"Don't send me away ..they sent me away every time I had a nightmare..they sent me to that place I hated" you sniffled between your words and his eyes welled up.

"You have me okay? I got you baby, I got you i promise" you hugged him as tightly as you could and your foggy grief stricken mind lulled you to sleep but he couldn't sleep that night, next morning as usual you didn't remember the outburst like always, a few years ago he had asked Steve about that place you kept talking about after such nightmares and Steve told him that it was a psychiatric hospital where they sent you whenever you relapsed or whenever you showed the signs of dissociative Amnesia.

"What are you making?" You hugged him from behind so he smiled.

"Guess" you opened the lid of the pot and all the excitement disappeared

"Porridge" your face scrunched in disgust and it made him smile.

"Well you wanted to eat healthy remember"

"Just take me to the gym again, it's been months" you groaned as you moved around the kitchen to make tea

"I will.. as soon as he's caught" You hummed as he said that "Are you feeling okay sweetheart?" He asked you softly and you shrugged

"Yeahh why?" He sighed as you said that. He wanted to ignore it like he had done before but after last night and the way you were trying to help him cope with his trauma, it had made him reflect upon your own situation, you didn't get away unscathed from his father's abuse, sure he wasn't able to harm you irrevocably but the damage was already done when he had hurt your mother.

"Because of the nightmare? Do you remember what you saw?" He asked you and you stopped doing whatever you were doing.

"Nooo.. i .. I didn't have a nightmare last night..it was the night before remember?" You walked over to him to kiss him on the cheek and he hummed in response. He can't just dump it on you, that would only make the matters worse, he had to find a way to talk to you about this.

"Take me shopping today daddy, it's my birthday in a few days"

He picked you up and sat you down on the counter as you said that. Your birthday. He promised to fuck you senselessly on your birthday but the approaching date had him feeling someway, he couldn't decide if it was a good feeling or not, a part of him wanted to ravish you and enjoy every second of it. The other part though? that bastard wanted to keep himself away from your precious body as far as possible, he didn't deserve to fuck a girl like you, he was one of the reasons why girls like you lost their lives, he was the reason why their dreams got broken so how come he got so blessed as to have someone as pure as you saving herself for him.

"What else would you like to do? A party perhaps?" You thought about it as he said that.

"Or we could just spend it together..just the two of us" you answered him while your fingers played with his chest hairs so he kissed you.

"Aren't you bored of seeing my face all the time?" He chuckled after speaking.

"Ask that girl who spent 7 years without seeing this angelic face. She'd always say no" his eyes softened as you said that.

"For this to happen it had to be that way"

"For what to happen?" You asked him confused so he cupped your cheeks.

"For this to happen.." he kissed you passionately, it wasn't a touch and go type of kiss either, his tongue slid into your mouth so you sucked on it, he tasted like peppermint. Delicious "It had to be that way" you inhaled sharply as he finally decided to allow you to breathe.

"Does it bother you that I was into you way before you were into me?" You asked him

"You were just a child sweetheart, you didn't even know what you felt"

"Well I knew I wanted to kiss you, I was ten when I knew that I wanted to kiss you and –"

"Shut Up.. that's inappropriate as hell" He pressed his thumb onto your lips but his digit couldn't really stop you from smiling or talking even

"It's just the truth, and to this date you are still the prettiest boy i have ever seen in my life"

"Well i'm no boy now my darling" he wrapped your legs around his waist to pull you closer to him and his mouth travelled down from your lips, you moaned as he sucked the soft skin of your neck.

"Some parts of you is still the boy i met"

"Uhhhuh like what?" He chuckled condescendingly so you held his cheeks and kissed him lovingly, as lovingly as you could.

"Like these eyes, still as gentle as I remember, mommy always told me that you could judge a person fairly well by the look in their eyes, you have the kindest eyes lolo" his eyes teared up as you said that. He thought you'd give him a break after last night but you were hell bent on coddling him like a baby.

"Well your mommy wasn't really the best judge of character"

"Take it back" your voice broke because the meanie in him came out again so he kissed you again.

"I'm sorry baby" he murmured against your mouth and you almost melted into a puddle because of how tender he seemed at the moment "You're forgiven" He smiled as you whispered. He wondered how badly he'd have to hurt you to make him unforgivable in your eyes because no matter what he did or said you always forgave him and that too pretty easily.

"What else?" He asked you and it confused you for a moment before it finally dawned upon you. He wanted to know more about those boyish parts of him.

"The smile, still the same, everytime I felt scared at the orphanage I would just think about you and your smiling face, that calmed me down immediately" he kissed you again instead of responding with words "And your voice hasn't changed in the slightest either"

"You are such a sentimental little girl"

"Is that bad?"

"Not at all, I just don't want to disappoint you with my stoicism" a smile graced your features at the blatant lie.

"You're pretty sentimental yourself mister "

"No I'm not"

"Yes you are"

"Shhhhhh"

After force feeding you that unsavory porridge he took you shopping like you had asked him to, you also had to be at an audition tomorrow, you needed to find work or you knew he'd try and find other works, like that thing he used to do at the club, you hated not having him at home all night.

You picked a dress but you didn't want him to see it just yet. You both spent the whole day out, it was a peaceful day but it didn't stay that way. Ofcourse it didn't. It came crashing down on you.

Your soul almost evaporated as someone ran in front of the car, you both watched a woman lying unconscious in the middle of the deserted road and you wondered if she was alive.

"Is she…oh gooddd" you mumbled under your breath so he looked at you

"Stay in here okay?" He asked you so you nodded. She had long blonde hair so it wasn't Jolene, you hated that it was your first thought. Your worries didn't cease there because as Loki rolled her over, it was someone you knew, someone you both knew very well. He picked her up hurriedly before you two could get caught by a passerby or something. After laying her down on the backseat, he quickly got in and drove towards the apartment as fast as he could.

"Ummm is that uhh--"

"Yeah and I don't trust the bitch so we are going to take her home and you're going to help me tie her up as securely as we can okay?" You looked at him all perplexed and he glared at you so you nodded.

The cops on the patrol tonight asked him about her so he lied that she was a friend that had gotten drunk out of her mind. As soon as you all reached the apartment you helped him tie her up onto a chair.

"Lokiii what are we doing..is she even alive?" you asked him nervously so he walked towards you and grabbed you by the shoulders.

"She's alive and breathing, it makes no fucking sense that she'd end up right in front of our car of all people"

"We should tell Steve "

"No not after Thor's situation, I'm already on his radar"

"But what if this brings us more trouble?" he wiped the sweat beads from his forehead as you said that. Ever since his bastard father has escaped your lives has turned into a rollercoaster that just doesn't seem to stop rolling.

You both waited for her to come back to consciousness and when she did she started to struggle against the binds almost immediately.

"Why the fuck are you here?" He asked her as he pulled up a chair right in front of her, you dragged another chair from the kitchen table, it almost looked comical as you tried to be as quiet as you could but the situation wasn't funny at all.

"Lokiii? Y/n?"

Well no memory loss it seems.

"Why the fuck You have me tied up Loki? I know you enjoyed that one time I had--" your eyes widened as she said that. He fucked her all tied up? Again you hated how your mind couldn't move past the jealousy

"Shut up.. shut the fuck up okay? Why are you here..answer me" he glared at her and she looked at you, she then gave you the sickly sweet smile that you remembered really well.

"Oh look at you now, turned yourself into Loki's pretty little girl huh?? Dreams do come true i guess"

"Sister Natasha–" Loki glared at you so you corrected yourself

"Natasha..what are you doing?"

"I don't understand, do you guys like own LA now that I can't be here?" She chuckled and Loki's teeth gritted in anger, he was so close to doing something awful

"Are you here to do his bidding again? He sent you.. didn't he?" she started laughing as he said that.

"You are still so naive loki. You know if he wanted to be here and eat her heart he'd be here, he won't need me" He stood up and all of a sudden there was a smacking sound that you heard, you looked at him shocked as he slapped her. Her lower lip split open at the force he used, your eyes teared up because you weren't expecting him to just go off like that, he never lost his control like that with you. He wasn't like that. Not with women. Not outside of consensual bedroom shenanigans.

"Ohhh I have missed that" her reaction wasn't shocking though, you knew they fucked, you just didn't know they indulged into this, though you should have guessed considering the sexual history of the cult.

"Don't make me kill you Natasha, just tell me the truth, for once in your life, tell me the truth"

He heard you sniffling so he turned his head to the side to look at you, the look on your face was enough to kill whatever shred of self esteem he still had left in him.

He walked towards you and grabbed your arm to take you to the bedroom.

"Stay here" he warned you before he turned around to leave

"This is not you loki" his eyes teared up as you said that.

"That's me sweetheart, that's the real me..still want to believe that bullshit you had made up in your head about me? This is me..the monster I keep warning you about"

You shook your head as he said that, you wanted to stop him and hold him, tell him that he wasn't a monster but he didn't give you a chance, just an hour later cops raided the house, they were tipped off. Natasha told them that he had kidnapped her, she told them that you had no involvement in all of this, you begged Steve to not believe her, you asked him to not take him away from you but he said that he was helpless. All the evidence was against him.

They wanted to take him away to lock him behind the bars, he was to be questioned later on about his motives.

And that's when you were finally able to understand why he went crazy on her, he knew her. You didn't.

You didn't know that she was as rotten as Odin. He wasn't wrong, she was there to do his bidding and she got what she needed. You without him by your side.

@annoyingsweetsstranger @whylokiissocute @loki-s-wife @fraoid3 @siggytumbles @crzyplantladyvibes @stupidthoughtsinwriting @vickie5446 @wheredafandomat @mcufan72 @xxntiimulti @loz-3 @dishahaldar @mcdesij @scram1326 @elthreetimes @army24--7 @sinsandguilt @holotacopeely @huntress-artemiss @blog-the-lilly @ultraviolencexxss @disneyismyworldforever @bunny24sstuff @kats72 @somewiseguy @asgardianprincess1050 @multifandom-world8 @loki-laufeyson-1054 @daddylokisqueen @lulubelle814 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @rogerrhqpsody @praq123

🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

If I'm not able to tag you please check your settings

#loki x female reader #loki #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader insert #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki x reader angst #loki alternate universe #loki au #dark themes

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

The verbal aggression towards women has been something about the show that makes me uncomfortable. Physical aggression is called out on the show, as it should be. But, verbal aggression or threatening body language is rarely shown as the abusive act that it is. There are two distinct scenes that spiked my anxiety from this. One is Ian leaning right over Fiona and hissing at her after she asked about his meds. I know he didn't mean it because he wasn't in his right mind and Fiona picked a terrible moment to ask that question. The other is Lip screaming at Fiona in s9 and that one made me mad because no one told him to chill out. He's standing directly above her and his body language looks way out of line.

i agree with this so much.

i usually sympathize with ian more when it comes to this situation, mainly because, as you said, he was really having a difficult time- but despite this, how he was acting was not acceptable and made me very uncomfortable.

as for lip, fuck him in that scene. he had no fucking right to yell at her and if you think he did, fuck you too. at least ian had a decent-ish reason; but lip was just mad because his sponsor relapsed (due to fiona, but fiona had no fucking clue who this guy was so how was that her fault) and he needed to take his anger out because somebody never learned anger management and so he needs to act like a goddamn toddler all of the fucking time (sorry i love lip but lip slander is also fun oops).

and debbie, carl, and kelly all just watching it happen really irked me. especially debbie and carl. like they’re used to this fucking grown man having temper tantrum’s and yelling at women. carl and liam will always be the most well-adjusted men in the family because they treat women like people (ian too, of course, but there is the scene i just talked about in season 8 + the scene in season 11 of him and mickey that v called them out for, but i don’t completely blame them there because everyone on that show has said bitch or something like that before- still wrong, but yk).

i think if you really want to look into why ian and lip act that way, you can just see how frank treated monica. how monica said that frank literally has physically fought her and given her scars and how frank screams at monica. they grew up in a hostile environment where men doing that wasn’t necessarily a big deal, but newsflah! you’re both adults, and that’s your sister, fucking act like it.

i really wish that verbal aggression was addressed more, as you said. or at least, i wish that it was made to seem as big of a deal as it really is because it’s not just like “men having emotions” it’s men acting unacceptable.

honorable mention to this, although it wasn’t verbal, it was physical: remember when frank hit debbie in 7x12? we (the fandom) don’t talk about that enough, and we should.

moments like ian and lip screaming at fiona really remind me that this show was in fact, written by men. i mean- yeah there’s a few women who have written some episodes or have helped but overall, it was created originally by a man (paul abbott), and it was written by a man (john wells). the show is amazing, fucking phenomenal, actually, but it is also about a white man, written by white men. it has homophobic, biphobic, and sexist undertones. it will always be fucking great, yet fucking awful.

#this isn’t lip or ian slander i love them both #…well it’s kinda slander but oh well you’ll get over it #it’s more lip slander if anything because ian’s my babygirl #shameless #ian gallagher #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #frank gallagher #debbie gallagher #carl gallagher #liam gallagher shameless #monica gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless us #veronica fisher #kevin ball #meta #shameless meta #lip gallagher: treat women right challenge (level impossible)!! #shameless rant #did i read this before posting? nope

[gvftea]

After seeing this latest Jen Ivy situation I had to take a few days to collect my thoughts. The behavior of fans is insane and keeps escalating without anyone raising their voice against it. I haven’t been a fan for long, but in the time I have been here the deranged behavior has appalled me and there are a lot of things that need to be addressed and called out.

Mackenzi being labeled a groomer, a serious allegation casually thrown around as though it is fact, even though nobody knows what the fuck was going on in their relationship but Danny and Mackenzi. You know neither of these people and what happened between them, and yet you are confidently, loudly and relentlessly making these disgusting allegations against her. Allegations that can have very real world consequences for this woman whose only crime was dating a man you want to fuck. Let’s try a quick lesson in empathy, shall we? How would you feel if someone could look you up online and find strangers accusing you of grooming a fucking child? Do you think it might impact your life? Yet you gleefully do shit like this to the people in their lives and then have the audacity to run crying to Twitter when it’s pointed out how fucking obnoxious and toxic you are.

Now let’s turn to Hannah. I don’t understand how Sam can be so kind and open towards fans, when they are so beyond disgusting to her. Yeah, she said some shitty things when she was younger. And yet, you grown women go back in her history over a decade to resurrect old tweets from a teenager and use them to abuse not only Hannah, but also Sam for choosing to be with her. It sucked seeing him posting about something that he cared about and worked so hard on and having a considerable number of people using it to take shots at Hannah and tearing down a project he was very proud of. But y’all really think that this is completely normal and justified behavior. You sick fucks even brag about your constant and unending harassment like it’s some badge of fucking honor.

And let’s not forget what you did to Danny. Again, based off of social media posts from when he was a young teenager. You act like he was a child being taken advantage of when he was in a consensual, years long relationship with a woman three years older than him, but was a full adult when he posted things on his social media at 14 years old that you don’t agree with. And don’t forget, being absolute cunts to him online and feeling justified in it because he’s “not a blood brother.” Like the band would’ve made it to where they are without his contributions. The whole concept of a Danny anti is completely off the rails. If you feel that strongly about the man then stop supporting the band. Put your energy into improving your own sad life instead of spitefully trying to tear someone down.

These are four men that are working to be taken seriously for their considerable talent, but are constantly being embarrassed by the actions of their chronically online, socially stunted fans. Grown men being infantilized by stupid “uwu, He’s my baby girl, Pookie, I must protect him, no one can harm him!” idiot fan girls. It is fucking frustrating to work so hard to earn the respect of fellow musicians and peers and end up with a teenybopper label and having credibility chipped away because of the actions of overly invested socially maladapted idiots.

Then to really have the cognitive dissonance to wonder why some members of the band don’t want to fuck with you. To see this maladjusted, online mob stalking and attacking their friends, family, and collaborators and then wonder why they seem so standoffish and won’t reward your actions with more content, or more engagement, or whatever the fuck it is you’re demanding of them. I’ve seen it pointed out that Jake doesn’t like interacting with fans and can you blame him? He’s a talented man who wants to be taken seriously for the skills he’s spent his life working on, and yet has lonely delusional idiots objectifying him and treating him like a fantasy boyfriend insert. He was much more open to fans back when they were older, respectful, fucking sane, and treated him like a person.

I’ve watched this idiot mob rage against so many people in the guys lives. Friends, partners, collaborators, rumored love interests… People who know them for real, all their faults and character flaws and not as some fantasy person that doesn’t exist anywhere else but in your delusional mind. They are real men, not fan-fiction characters. The people that surround them are not paper villains that they need protection from and you are not their fucking saviors. Tearing down other people in their defense accomplishes nothing. I don’t know what it is that you are getting out of hurting the people around them but there are obviously serious issues you need to address with yourself.

TLDR: your relentless obsession with attacking and harassing people that are associated with the band is sick and unhinged. Seek help.

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh gvf #sam gvf #jake gvf #josh kiszka #danny wagner #danny gvf #jake kiszka #sam kiskza

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

so youve talked about daemon. but what are your thoughts on alicent?

Here, have some unhinged Alicent meta, anon who obviously wants me to get beat up.

Where the fuck do I even start with Alicent Hightower?

So I actually do enjoy the changes from the book to the show, at least in the first half of season one. I think that the added intrigue and drama of having her and Rhaenyra be friends and contemporaries added a lot of good potential. I love the angle of that first forbidden love (that was actually Emily’s idea, not the show runners, so stop being weird about that, certain TB people). It added depth to her character and gave us a taste of how much she would change as the story unfolds. Young Alicent is a sad girl, but still a girl full of hope, who had dreams and a best friend that became her family. To a lot of people, she’s very relatable. She’s sassy (the gossip at the tourney will never not be one of my favorite scenes), she’s smart, she works hard to learn and to impress those around her. And then, when tragedy strikes, she’s pulled away from Rhaenyra, the person she wanted to comfort in the ways that Alicent had found comfort in when her own mother died, and essentially pimped out by her father to the king (we can have a separate conversation about the whole Laena thing, which I do actually view as very different from what Otto did with Alicent), sent in her dead mother’s clothes to a grown man’s rooms, alone, to “soothe his grief.” There is very little left to the imagination about what Otto intended with this (I pretty firmly believe that Viserys took her maidenhead the night before the announcement was made that he would marry her instead of Laena and that’s why Alicent is wearing the same dress and jewelry the next day). 

So you have this fifteen year old girl, who was assaulted by a man she’s known all her life, the father of her best friend, and king of the realm. She’s rightfully terrified, she sees her life flashing before her eyes, she sees the implosion of the one friendship she really has. And honestly, the lead up to this is where Alicent loses me a bit. She is incredibly isolated, we see this. We see how she and Rhaenyra are held up as women with power, but powerless to do anything with it - it is power in name only. They are portrayed as each other's safe harbor in the storm. And I find myself asking ‘why didn’t Alicent go to Rhaenyra? Why didn’t she confide in her best friend about this, when that confiding would have the power to remove her from this situation, or at least, have her be less alone in it and have her best friend know what’s going on?’ Like we know, Alicent is a smart girl. So I will blame this one on the writing. Because it genuinely doesn’t compute to me. Yes, her father said “keep quiet.” Viserys said “keep quiet.” But, in a more real life scenario, would she have kept quiet? Especially before the guilt and shame of any sexual events (i.e assualt by the king) have happened and made the emotional spiral messier. I very much understand how sexual assault makes us clam up, and I, in no way, would ever shame or brow beat anyone for how they handle that. But what about the months before that happened? We are constantly shown how these girls share and gossip and spend all of their time together. It would have made sense for Alicent to be like "this is happening and I don't like it and I'm nervous." So, to me, this is more of a forced drama point to push the narrative along. It’s clunky and awkward and doesn’t make sense for the people that we now know Rhaenyra and Alicent to be. 

It was the first moment where I was like “bad call, Alicent.” But I do think that this clunky narrative choice by the writers does play into the person that we see Alicent grow into, which is where she almost completely loses me. 

Alicent Hightower is both victim and abuser. These are two things that can be true at one time, and I can be full of both sympathy for her plight and fury at the way she treats those around her. She has been isolated and preyed upon by her father, and assaulted and made to birth babies for a man who doesn’t care for her or for them. She has led a life of trauma, and it twisted her into something unrecognizable from the girl we met in episode one. 

And she made Rhaenyra the center of that, the touchstone of her righteous rage. 

She becomes fixated on the Velaryon boy’s lack of Valyrian features (which is an extension on the bad blood that grew between her and Rhaenyra when she found out that Rhaenyra and Criston slept together - do not come at me about which way the power dynamics skew in that situation). Why the show made the change to Rhaenys’ black hair and darker coloring will never fail to both astound and piss me off. This was meant to be vague. It was meant to not be able to be pinned down because those boys could have easily gotten their grandmother’s coloring. But whatever. Even still, Alicent’s treatment of Rhaenyra and Joffrey immediately after his birth is nothing short of fucking atrocious at best and abusive at worst. Even Laenor’s line of “haven’t we moved past this by now” shows us that this has been going on for the last eleven years.

That said, there are eleven years of missing pieces here. And we as the audience are left to interpret what could have gone on in that time. But to me, it looks like Alicent could not come to grips with the fact that Rhaenyra no longer saw her as someone that she could trust, that she could confide in. Rhaenyra took the omission of the fact that Alicent was spending time with Viserys (of her own volition or not, Rhaenyra has no idea, because Alicent kept it a secret, and we can’t look at that through the modern lens we want to. Because fifteen year old girls were married to men in their forties all the time, despicable as it is) and felt that it was the deathblow to their friendship, which further isolated them both.

We see that Alicent has become more pious over the years, which makes sense because 1) the Hightowers have a very deep connection to and relationship with the faith of the seven 2) she says in an early episode that the sept is where she goes to feel closer to her mother, and she is very much isolated at this point, needing that connection, and 3) it gives her a more tangible reason for her hatred for Rhaenyra’s children (more than just the show narrative idea of “hey, Alicent can’t get over a pseudo breakup with her childhood sort of girlfriend). In her mind, if the Valrayon boys are bastards, they are evil, and her faith backs up that train of thought. It gives her something to cleave to, something that substantiates all the feelings that she can’t make sense of but that feel awful. And while all of this is happening, she has Otto whispering “oh, Rhaenyra will certainly kill your sons should she come to the throne.” 

Now, again, Alicent loses me here. Because Rhaenyra has never indicated that she would do that (or allow that, for those of you who want to say ‘Oh well Daemon…’ or ‘Oh well Corlys…’). Alicent has seen that, where her father is concerned, that she is “simply a piece to move about the board,” that he never had her best interest, or her children’s at heart, and still she chooses to believe that? So is it just weak writing, or is Alicent weak in this instance? And where does that piety stand when she is covering up the fact that her son raped a maid? She doesn’t hold Aegon responsible for the action, only for how it would reflect on the family. She is so quick to blame the Velaryon boys for the pig incident, when, on screen, it is very obvious to see that it was Aegon’s idea and he roped an eleven and a four year old into it. Even Viserys sees it. And when it’s brought to Rhaenyra’s attention, Rhaenyra extends the offer of a dragon egg to Aemond, as well as a betrothal between Jace and Helaena (jacelaena, my beloveds). Alicent, however, only tells Aegon that he can “cuff his brother about at home as he wishes” but that outside of their home, they must present a united front. I will say that I do believe that Alicent is doing everything she can to keep her family together, to keep them safe. She has never not been isolated. She is not a dragon, she is not a Targaryen, she holds absolutely no power. Do I think she did the right things? No. But I also don't think everything she did came from a hateful or evil place. No one taught this woman how to be a mother, no one taught her how to love her children without hurting them (metaphorically. She can catch these hands for the physical abuse she commits against Aegon. There is never an excuse for putting your hands on children).

Then we have Driftmark, an all around unfortunate situation. A dragon cannot be stolen, so I’m not even going to touch on that. But children who should have been in bed, watched by guards, weren’t, and the ensuing fight happened. Aemond lost an eye, everyone is corralled into the great hall and Jace tells Rhaenyra “he called us bastards.” I don’t think enough people understand the concept that bastardry in this instance can get you killed. Rhaenyra, the boys, Harwin, if he wasn’t already dead, could have lost their lives; it wasn’t just the crown or the throne at risk. And these are the words that Alicent is teaching her sons to use in regard to Rhaenyra and the Velaryon boys. Should the name calling have been the main focus of this? Absolutely not, a child had his eye cut out. Was it on purpose? No. Should it have been addressed? Yes, and Viserys fucking dropped the ball there, just the same way he had done for the entirety of his reign. But calling Jace and Luke bastards could cost them their lives. And I don’t think that twelve year old Aemond gets this. He doesn’t have that total understanding of it. But Alicent does. And she has been speaking these words, more loudly than she should, for over a decade at this point. 

Aemond doesn't understand what he's saying in this moment, but every adult in that room does because of how bastardry is looked at within the realm. And not just for the treason of it, but because every woman in the realm worries about her husbands bastards usurping her children on claim (look at Cat Stark and Jon Snow). There’s no denying that Rhaeynra put her sons in a dangerous position (we can talk about her rights and wrongs in another post if anyone wants to). Alicent is not the only one who sees it, but right now she's the loudest, and that's where the possible hope to get someone else to talk about it would come in. Would it have just been easier had someone other than Alicent’s inner circle bought into the bastard rumors and forced the issue? Yeah. And to a certain degree, I think that's what she wanted.

So tldr Alicent drives me fucking crazy, in both good and bad ways. I think the time skip did her and Rhaenyra, both as individuals and together, a huge disservice, and we somehow ended up with whatever the fuck happened in episode 9 where all of a sudden Alicent was back to being team “we gotta save Rhaenyra.”

#alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd

[mermaidsirennikita]

Fat Heroines in M/F Romance: Quick Recs

For no particular reason, a few books I love where the heroine is described as fat/plus-sized/whatever, may or may not experience weight-related insecurities, but never loses weight and is always seen as super hot, not the girl who just escaped his notice until she glowed up, by the hero.

(I will add that I've definitely read many more books with this kind of rep, but it isn't always as explicit, and I wanted it to be super clear. And I'll probably add on to this later.)

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean. Callie is very clearly fat, and she does long for Ralston from afar... but largely because she was a literal teenager when she first noticed him, and he doing grown man shit with grown women. Once she's in his notice, he is obsessed, and is super worshipful of her body. Never has a man been more upset that a woman bound her breasts; he is PERSONALLY offended. He must heal them! With his mouth!

Brazen and the Beast by Sarah MacLean. Noteworthy for featuring a plus size model on the cover and stepback. Hattie is a total babe, Whit is absolutely about it from the moment he wakes tied up in her carriage, and she ties him up some more after that! I also really love the degree to which Hattie is embraced as a beautiful, vivacious woman who throws this man for a loop.

The Brown Sisters Trilogy by Talia Hibbert. All the Brown sisters are plus size, it's on the cover, and they fall into their own unique love stories. Personally, Act Your Age, Eve Brown is my favorite, but they're all very good.

*Get a Life, Chloe Brown features a heroine who has suffered from chronic pain all her life (and as a TW, the hero is coming off a relationship with an abusive ex-girlfriend) trying to get the most out of life after sitting on the sidelines for years

*Take A Hint, Dani Brown features a queer, witchy heroine and a hero who suffers from anxiety (plus the rare interracial romance with no white people) embarking on a fake relationship after being caught in a compromising situation

*Act Your Age, Eve Brown features two leads who are both on the spectrum as our heroine attempts to "grow up" and ends up ruffling allll the hero's feathers (also, a purply sparkly dildo is utilized super effectively)

All Scot and Bothered by Kerrigan Byrne. Unfortunately not reflected super well on the cover (though it is a beautiful cover otherwise) this book has a heroine who is fat, loves food, and is loved by a giant Scottish motherfucker who watches her eat chocolate and is like "this is the greatest trial God has ever bestowed upon me".

A Merry Little Meet Cute by Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone. Heroine is a fat porn star with what is essentially an OnlyFans; she wants to break into vanilla cinema, and gets cast in a Hallmark-style Christmas movie opposite a formerly famous boy bander... who of course, is a BIIIIIG fan of her work. Also, bisexuality galore!

The Truth About Cads and Dukes by Elisa Braden. Our heroine considers herself plain, as does much of society; the hero is NEVER about that life. Before they're even engaged, she goes on a spiel about how he wouldn't understand her inner thoughts unless he's been inside her, and he does have a sadly aroused coughing fit.

Possession by Adriana Anders. Heroine and hero are actors in a PR marriage of convenience, with the specific stipulation that they won't have sex; and then he gets caught fucking a woman on camera, who looks just! Like! Her! Heroine's size is very clear; she's also Latina, and the hero is pansexual. She follows him to ~kink camp~ and they discover that they're actually quite! Compatible! One of the hottest books I've ever read, so body-affirming.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #books #book reviews #anyway i just really hate the 'fat girl is ugly until she glows up' thing #especially when the fat girl has obviously always been gorgeous #she just needs to Get Over the main impediment--her fatness--either thru weight loss or like #mental growth surrounding her weight