#any other man who makes disgusting comments about women and their bodies

[failbaby]

Violent, sexual misogyny is not like a punishment that some women earn by being bad people btw. If we decide it’s okay for men to wield rapey behavior as a weapon, it’s never going to go away

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[creepy-friday]

YOOOO THAT WAS SO GOOD 😫

Although I couldn't help but think about the deer in forest watching them do this 💀

But ok, I actually have an idea:

Do you think you can make headcannons (they can have NSFW if you want) about what would happen if the three Proxies actually fell for/grew attracted to Y/N? 👀

Like I think that would be such an interesting concept, the rivalry would go through the roof 😰

But again! Only if you want to!!! 💖

I love this! 👀 inspiration kicked in!

What if the three Proxies would fall for you?

AFAB READER

Warnings:suggestive themes,misogyny,

abuse,mental illness and violence mentions

if you are unfortunate enough to be the object of affection to these 3 gremlins then all I can wish you is good luck!

since you're a proxy you would be mostly  assigned missions with the other minions of Slenderman,on very rare occasions you would work with the other creeps (I will get into that later)

you're also the only feminine presence they come in contact with,I'm also gonna press the fact that they are touch starved men in a manor filled with rapists,mentally ill and paranoic people.Things aren't pretty so I'm not gonna sugarcoat it

altough you're powerful given your rank and all,they are fully grown men.It's NEVER safe to be unarmed when spending time with any of them,including Toby who sometimes gives off the impression of being this sweet lost unfortunate boy

He's also the first one to be delusional enough to think you can be into him given your role to mediate others and to keep things under control.

he doesn't know shit about women,sure he can remember fragments of how his sister used to be,but he can't compare you to her.Given his experience with Clockwork+the constant bullying from Masky, he's insanely insecure

he has a mommy kink

he fell for the way you take care of him,even if it's just your job.If you do nice things like checking up on him even when you two aren't working it results into fuelling his delusions

because of his feelings he's a literal ticking bomb,wanting to spend as much time with you as he can but in the same time to stay as far away to not make a fool of himself

you cannot please him.He will literally want to crawl into your skin and head to know exactly what you're thinking 100% of the time.

at times,he knows he's wrong.He knows he's unhealthy,but he cannot give up on you now that you're stuck with him.His fights with Masky will get even more violent,resulting in him being patched up by either EJ or you

he will also fake bad moods,anxiety attacks and will even cut himself so that you pay attention to him.He can be a very good actor and knows how to manipulate his way into your arms

he takes out his sexual frustrations on his right hand tbh,thinking of like 100 scenarios under 5 minutes then repeating for half a night.Don't ask about his dark circles the next day,he will feel even more disgust towards himself than he feels already

whenever he's alone he acts like a horny teenager and whenever he's alone WITH YOU the scenario would go two ways: it's either complete silence with him acting all creepy and stealing glances in your direction or him acting even more creepier and being all over you.This results in two tic attacks,one worse than the other

I feel like Brian would be his biggest problem in order to get to you.He gets very clingy whenever the hooded man is around,and gives off the impression of being in control even tough he's in a constant state of anxiety

Masky is one son of a bitch.He will get all violent with you over every inconvenience and argument.

couldn't sleep last night?It's because of you.(I mean,it kinda is but still)

he has no power over you but desperately wants to.

makes nasty comments about your body whenever you're in a state of undress or if you wear clothes that accentuate your body shape.The comments might vary from slut shaming to cat calling he insists are "compliments" (he knows they are disrespectful,he does it on purpose to piss you off)

as long as your attention is on him he can sleep well at night.

this is how he started.You never gave in the fear nor the disrespect coming from him.Sure,you had your meltdowns,but he found your strength endearing ,he wanted to break you

he's sure you'll grow up on him.He counts on Tim to woo you with his gentlemanly behaviour,but he's just as mentally fucked as his other side.

Masky wants to own you.He daydreams of doing atrocious things to you while you either cry or praise him.He's one sick man,and he knows it.

at the same time,a small part of him wants you to fuck him and that big mouth of his.The only between is Tim,who wants to be by your side and to protect you from the other animals in the mansion

his fights with Toby get intense,but also longer than usual.If he loses in front of you he would have a bad day for the rest of the week tbh

arguments with Brian might also result in fights,but his friend has a way of slipping out of them since he knows you're the reason for his sudden increase of hormones

as I previously mentioned,on the rare occasion you might work with the other creeps,Masky would start to be a little fuck and make assumptions to whoever stayed in your presence for far too long,might also result in violence if said creep happens to be male.

Brian is way more manipulative than Toby when he needs to be,he laid eyes on you the first time you arrived there.

altough he's one tall boi,he blends well into his surroundings,that gives him the advantage to watch your every single move and to analyse your behaviour

you're fascinating to him,you're fearless yet you're sickly sweet.From your rare smile to the way your hair sticks to your forehead during long training sessions,he found himself way too attracted to you

couldn't care less about that prick nor anger issues in a person,he could simply get what he wants during a matter of time

he finds Toby pathetic but takes pity on him,and finds Tim irritating from to time to time,but more in a sibling type of way,he would be up for sharing tbh

he respects his work so he respects you as well,altough he won't take your side whenever Masky starts to insult you,no,he wants to see your reaction,the way you carry yourself

he sees you as his equal in the line of work,but has moments when he looks down on you,sometimes he's sure you won't last long in such a cruel world

Hoodie is the rival of no one,in terms of looks and strength he's intimidating,he could beat his teammates if they would ask for a fight,but he thrives off of mind games

Masky pissed you off?you can trash talk him to Brian.Toby made you uncomfortable?That's okay,he's here to listen!

he will be your shoulder to cry on,and he really listens to you without the need to mansplain or to invalidate your feelings.He has a way with women

he's unapologetic for the times he closed his eyes and pretended you're whimpering on his lap

Hoodie can act cold towards you whenever he wants your attention,he can be all touchy fuzzy for a day then the next day to treat you like you're no longer friends.Keeps you in hot-cold games to test your limits and to keep you interested in him

he can also be a little shit and to give others a side smirk whenever you choose him to partner up someplace

you got yourself in quite the situation. Good luck getting out! The woods are a dangerous place,so leave no marks behind as you run,some might enjoy the chase~

[milquetoast27]

I want to share my own thoughts that rose up while reading Holmes as an aroace person!

Something in particular that resonated with me is Holmes's disdain for romantic attraction and love. Living, especially, in a world that does not acknowledge the a-spectrum, it is no surprise that any aro/ace person (even today) would feel alienated and misunderstood. For Holmes, this manifested as disgust and bitterness towards, in his eyes, the rest of the planet who seem to grasp it. Because of this isolation, it heightens Holmes's need to have himself understood. He lacks the language that we have today, and it only gets murkier with the then, and still vague and varying usages of the word "love".

It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. (SCAN)

This line has been interpreted to death, but with the belief that this is something Holmes had made very clear to Watson, it's him wishing under all circumstances for him to be seen as he is.

Living in a hetero-amatanormative world, gender plays a large role into Holmes's descriptions of men and women. Holmes struggles to admit that he finds women aesthetically attractive (especially early-canon), for example affirming that Irene Adler being "the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet", is only known to him according to the men on the Serpentine-Mews. However, he never heistates on commenting on a man's attractiveness. For example, Godfrey Norton, only a few short sentences later, is described by Holmes as "dark, handsome and dashing." Holmes feels no reluctance to describe men in such a way due to the fact that a Victorian culture would never mistake this for romantic interest.

We can assume that in the majority of cases, this is Holmes trying to clarify -- to not be seen as a romantic, which unfortunately then was understood to be equal with aesthetic attraction. It is very clear, however, that Holmes possesses one and not the other.

Later in the canon, he is seen showing open appreciation for women's beauty, not only in appearance but also character, such as Violet de Merville or Maud Bellamy. I speculate strongly that this came about from understanding love in a new way through his partnership with Watson, and finding that love comes in many forms, between any two people. Perhaps he no longer feels insecure about being seen as a romantic individual, because he has someone who truly understands him. I find that this is true on many levels for Holmes, not only on his lack of attractions, but also his eccentricities and deeper emotions, that were likely never properly understood by many.

It's always gotta make me tear up, huh? A huge aspect of H&W's relationship is accepting people as they are, so long as there is something worth valuing. They may be misogynistic, seem "positively inhuman" at times, or destroy their own body. But they may also just prefer a little solitude, communicate in a different way, or see the world differently.

[hidden-poet]

S. lands on top: chapter 3

summary: Coriolanus returns home to the Capital with two women from district 12 plaguing his mind. One a (presumed) dead mystery but another well within his reach.

warnings: unco, dark!Coriolanus, possessive!Corirlanus, Dark themes, mentions of death, she/her pronouns, kidnapping, violence, somnophilia.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Mabel woke to an awful rendition of the Capitol anthem. 

She springs up, hitting Coriolanus who was sleeping soundly beside her,  with her flailing hands as she tries to catch herself. 

He wakes too, his hands going up to protect himself before he realizes there was no real threat. 

“Relax,” Coriolanus sits up as well, “It’s just grandma'am.” 

Mabel still felt her heart in her chest, “Crazy old bat.” 

She hears Coriolanus’s feet hit the floor with a hard thud. 

"Watch how you speak about her.” 

She instead watches her surroundings. She examines the bed she laid in instead of the floor. She examines her clothes upon her body and her relief turns into anger. 

“A Capitol dessert, you said.” 

“Would you have gotten into the bed any other way?”

“No! And you had no right to-”

“I had every right, or did you forget where you are?”

He puts on his dressing gown, and throws Mabel's to her. 

His eyes remained glued to her as she got out of the bed. Her hair was messy and curled slightly in front of her face. He was so used to it being slicked back in a braid. There was something so domestic about it being out. Almost reassuring of their relationship. 

He couldn’t touch her as a Peacekeeper and a worker. The braid seemed symbolic of it. As a worker, she needed her hair back out of her face, but as Coriolanus’ woman, she could wear it freely. She has shed her worker's clothes and sheltered herself with Coriolanus’ clothes. 

As she dressed warmly in his long dressing gown, it seemed official; Mabel belonged to Coriolanus Snow. 

Grandam’am finished the anthem and the music was shut off. 

“Does she do that every morning?” Mabel sighs. 

“Without fail.” He takes his keys off the table and unlocks the door, leading her out to the living room where Tigris sat sewing. 

Tigris greets them both but her attention goes to Mabel who quickly found comfort in her friend. 

Coriolanus leaves the girls embracing in the living room, going to the kitchen to press a button to let the staff know they are ready for breakfast. 

When he returns Mabel is fussing over a red dress held up by Tigris. Her hands float over the expensive material. 

“It’s beautiful, Tigris.” Mabel comments.

“I think so too,” she agrees, “I’ll have to make you one.” 

Tigris eyes her cousin at the table. 

“Breakfast should be up soon. Come to the living room, out of their way.”

The girls follow him to the couch, talking about the quality of the dress. 

Grandma’am had come out from getting dressed and looked upon Mabel with disgust.

“She’s still here?” Grandma’am refused to enter into the living room where Mabel sat. 

“Mabel is staying here, Grandma’am,” Coriolanus says. 

“But-But-” the old woman stumbles over her words. 

Coriolanus takes a deep breath before responding, “She’s staying here, Grandam’am, and I don’t want to hear anything else about it from anyone.” 

He eyes Tigris and Mabel across the space, meaning them. 

The bell to the penthouse rings. The Avox’s had made their way quickly from the servant's quarters to the Snow’s penthouse. Coriolanus unlocks the door for them. They bow as they enter to each household member as they make their way into the kitchen. 

Mabel watches them curiously. The older man in the white jacket and the older woman in a white long dress that covers her arms and neck don’t look back, but the younger girl, around the same age as Mabel does. 

She offers a kind smile before disappearing alongside her co-workers in the kitchen.

Mabel instantly felt connected to her. She half hoped she would be sent away with them after breakfast. 

Tigris tries to engage Mabel in polite conversation. How did she sleep? Was there anything she could do that would make Mabel’s stay more comfortable?

With Coriolanus only sitting on the other side of the couch, Mabel kept her answers short and positive. 

When the young girl enters back into the room, she begins to set the table with one large pretty plate, an identically smaller one and then tops them off with napkins in a gold napkin holder. She then goes back to the kitchen to bring out a large pot of white roses, placing them in the middle of the table. 

The older woman comes out after her, carrying a jug of juice, and a pot of coffee.

They place large amounts of food on the table. Too much for just four people. Mabel wondered if others would join, but the table was only set for household members. 

Coriolanus was determined to have Mabel sitting next to him and not Tigris this morning. He saw her attempt to follow Tigris to her chair but redirected her with a hold on his wrist. 

She had taken Grandama’am’s usual seat but she had let it go with a huff. 

As Coriolanus sits the older servant gives him the newspaper and pours his coffee. 

The young servant girl comes around to Mabel first and pours her a glass of orange liquid. 

“Hello.” Mabel greets her with a smile. 

“You don’t talk to them” Coriolanus instructs, unfolding his newspaper. 

Mabel rolls her eyes at the young girl but she doesn’t return the playfulness, quicking moving away from her. 

Mabel focuses on breakfast instead and takes the small plate off and places a slice of toast on it before collecting fruit from a bowl and throwing it on the large plate. 

“Mabel.” she could hear Coriolanus' disappointed tone. 

 The young girl looks up to see what she did wrong, 

“We don’t eat off those plates. They're for decoration.” 

Mabel huffs but scraps the food off the plate. “How stupid.”

“Stupid!” Grandma’am snarls, “A girl who can’t read or write calling Capitol society stupid. I won’t have it!”

“Ask me how to spell Coriolanus.” Mabel challenges, “C-O-R-I-O-L-A-N-U-S. 

Grandma’am looked shocked that she could spell the name. Mabel looked back smugly. Even if it was the only name at the table she could spell and had only learned it last night. 

“Enough Mabel,” Coriolanus warns. 

She had already won so she returned to eating in silence easily. 

“I have class at eleven today, Tigris. Then I spend the rest of the afternoon at Dr. Gaul's office.” He takes a sip of his coffee

“I’ll stop by on my way home to pick up the plans for the shop that need approval.” 

“I can do it, Coryo. You just come home.”

“I’d prefer it if you stayed home today. To keep Mabel company.”

Mabel looked relieved that Tigris would remain, and Coriolanus would go.

Tigris didn’t fight him. Happy with the arrangement. 

Watching Tigris take a sip of her juice, Mabel copies. It was sweet upon her tongue and before she knew it she was gulping air.

An Avox refills Mabel’s orange juice as soon as the glass is empty.

“Thank you,” she lifts the glass to the young girl, “Did you want some?”

The Avox looks startled, she eyes the table of socialites and shakes her head profusely before running back to the kitchen.

“Why don’t they speak?” Mabel asks. 

“Because they’ve had their tongues cut out” Coriolanus doesn’t look up from his paper as he speaks, “They are Avoxes.” 

“Is that what’s going to happen to me?” 

“Not an entirely bad idea.” Coriolanus jokes. 

“No.” Tigris interjects “Of course not”.

“Why’d they get it then?”

 He cringes at her sentence structure but it was a problem for another day. 

Coriolanus folds his newspaper, not allowing this teaching opportunity to pass him by, 

“Because they failed to follow Capitol order.” 

“Order? You call ‘do or die’ order?” 

Maybe he should cut out her tongue. Such talk could ruin his presidential run.

He could almost laugh. All the people he seemed to have a keen interest in seemed determined to stand against the institution he planned to one day rule; Sejanus, Lucy Gray. They also both ended up the same way. 

He would like to avoid history repeating itself a third time. 

“Yes. I think the stronger party gets to decide what order is.” 

He unfolds his newspaper but only stares at the words on the page, unable to read them. To emphasize his point, he barks an order at her, “Now finish your breakfast and go take a shower.”

She pushes back her plate in defiance but goes back to the bedroom to take a shower, singing the national anthem. 

“Gem of Panem! Mighty city through the ages you shine anew!”

Grandma’am hums in tune with her.

“Coriolanus humbly kneels to your ideals and pledges his love to you!” 

She disappears behind the corner after her verse and Grandma’am stops her humming.  

“Wicked girl,” Grandma’am was displeased with her remix of the anthem. Which in Grandma’am’s mind was perfect and should never be altered. 

“She was torn from her home yesterday, Grandam’am. You can’t blame her for being angry.” Tigris again jumps to defend her new friend. 

 Coriolanus feels blood rush up to his ears. Insolent, stupid, untrainable girl. She couldn’t take a hint to save her life. He folds his newspaper down again on the table and scrapes his chair back.

“Coriolanus, leave her,” Tigris begs. 

“She’s going to need fresh clothes, Tigris.”

For appearance's sake, he makes a detour to the spare room where Tigris had laid out some clothes. An old nightdress of hers, and a new creation out of her collection. A simple green dress that would reach Mabel’s ankle with a sweetheart neckline embellished with small designs. 

He takes it, leaving the night dress. If he had just been up to him, Mabel would only wear his clothes but Grandam’am already looked down on her, and Tigris wanted to remain in denial of Mabel's situation for as long as possible. 

He is quiet as he enters the room. He closes the door softly despite the loud sounds of the shower covering the sound of him entering. Tossing the dress on the bed, he sheds his own clothes as he walks to the bathroom. 

She doesn’t notice him at first. The steam from the shower fogged the glass window, and she seemed occupied trying to get the knots out of her hair, giving him the opportunity to join in. He yanks open the door with confidence, and steps in, getting as close to her as he could.

He expected a louder reaction but besides a startled sound, she made no other noise. 

She turns, of course, but Coriolanus grabs her chin and pushes her head against the bathroom tiles. 

With her hands covering her breasts, and her legs crossed, the only thing she could do was wiggle her head against his tight grip. 

“Are you mad talking like that?” he seethes. 

“Get off me!” She demands with the limited use of her jaw.

“You don’t talk like that to me or my family. You’ve been a brat from the second you woke today, and it’s going to stop.”

"Fine,” she struggles against him, trying to get out of his grip. 

He looks down to his desired view. The water dripped down her body now that she was out of the stream. He had imagined it many times before, but now it was just under his fingertips and he could feel his fingers involuntarily curl wanting to reach out and touch. 

“Did you want to reprimand me or did you just want a look?” she provokes him but her hands tighten around her body.

“Are you worried I’ll touch you?” 

Mabel scoffs. “You think you're special? You’re not even my first this week.” she spat. 

He feels more angry than he should. He knew, even in his Peacekeeper days, that Mabel was no virgin. 

He used to watch from the shadows of the Hob as she flirted and danced with multiple different men during the night. She could never be found buying herself a drink. She never had to. Many men were lining up for the opportunity. She deliberately avoided Peacekeepers. Choosing to ignore their existence. Many would offer to buy her a drink and she would turn to the nearest District 12 grunt and speak to him as if they had asked her. When Peacekeepers took her into their arms while dancing, she would stop immediately with a sour look on her face. One time, a Peacekeeper wouldn’t take the hint and she screamed into his face until he took his hands off. 

Needless to say, she was a beautiful woman. And a woman of an age where she could invite men into her bed, and why wouldn’t she? She had the pick of the litter. 

Still, Coriolanus didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want the images of another man pressed against her in his head. He convinced himself that before he had her, she was nothing. Simply waiting in District 12 for an existence so those other men don’t truly count. 

“Do you want to end up a tongueless Avox?” He threatens. 

He knew her tongue was her sword. The only power she had in her weak frame. She wielded it fearlessly. What would happen to her if it was cut out? How would she regain control? It was a last resort for both of them. 

Coriolanus wanted the prettiest of creatures on his arm as he walked into rooms; as an Avox he couldn’t allow her to touch him in public. Her sharp wit would also be secretly missed. He wasn’t sure he could wait for her to scribble backchat with her terrible writing. Their back and forth wouldn’t be as entertaining. 

“Well?” he pushed, tilting her head back, “If you can’t use your tongue, I might as well take it”.

She sticks it out to him, although her belly formed knots. 

He laughs as he releases her, stepping back into the warm water. He lets it run over his face, his hands wash the water through his hair. Even through her insubordination, her silence told him that he had won the argument. 

“Pass me the shampoo,” he orders. 

She takes a crystal glass bottle filled with white liquid and tries to pass it to him.

It was the wrong one, but she had no idea what shampoo looked like. Back home she would wash her hair with soap. 

“The one next to it.”

She tries again and this time Coriolanus takes the bottle from her. He spins her with his free hand, beginning to lather the liquid in her brown curls. 

He passes the bottle back to her and she places it back on the shelf. 

“Close your eyes.” 

He presses her back against him as he washes the shampoo out of her hair. She had not taken to closing her eyes as told. The shampoo stung her eyes, and as she had never felt the sensation before, she panicked. She cries out as she struggles against Coriolanus, who keeps a strong hold over her.

He tilts her head up to the stream, and she relaxes as it gets washed out of her eyes. 

"When are you going to trust me on matters of the Capitol?”

“Oh, like the Capitol dessert last night?” she reminded, pulling her head away from the running water. 

“You want me to apologize?” He wouldn’t. She knew it too. 

‘‘I want to go home.”

“This is your home now, Mabel”. He moves from her, grabbing the conditioner himself, and lathering it in his hand. He is rough as he massages it into her hair. 

“You can fight it or you can accept it.” 

She removes her hands from her breasts and stands straight. 

‘‘What do I have to do to be sent back home?”. 

Coriolanus steps out of the shower, now that she bares herself to him. He wanted to touch and squeeze but it would give her too much power. She was at his mercy not the other way around.

“The only way you’ll be sent home is in a box.”

The words deflate her and she covers herself once more. 

He dries himself with a towel, before wrapping it around his waist and standing in front of his mirrors. 

“I’ll be gone again today,” he runs a brush that acts as a hair dryer through his curls as he talks, “You won’t repeat the behavior of this morning, or your family will pay the price.” 

He hears the water being shut off, and before long Mabel is standing behind him wrapped in a towel. She looked incredibly sad as she stared at him in the mirror. 

—-------

The dress fits Mabel immaculately. It distracts Coriolanus greatly as he tries to finish his paper at the table.

She sat in the living room with Tigris as they sewed the designs. They seemed like lifelong friends as they talked. There were no awkward pauses or conversation fillers. 

They talked about everything besides Coriolanus and Mabel's purpose here. 

The only pause in their talk was due to Grandma’am bursting in the room. 

“Girl, get my coat!! The black one” Grandma’am ordered. 

Mabel rose without issue and took a black feather coat off the rack. 

She helped Grandma’am put it on and Grandma’am shooed her away once it was done. 

“Are you going somewhere?” Coriolanus had followed his Grandma’am to the door. Mabel had returned to the couch as soon as he came over.

“Lunch and then shopping” The old woman pulls her gloves on. 

Coriolanus clears his throat as he holds out a hand, ‘I’ll just need your house key before you leave. The housemaid can let you back up.”

She looked puzzled at his request but soon pieces the puzzle together. 

“The district girl?” Grandma’am whispers and Coriolanus nods his head. 

It was persuasive enough as the woman dug into her bag and retrieved the key. 

He kisses her goodbye with the key in his hand. Closing the door behind her, he then goes to Tigris' room and takes her house key off her keychain. 

He was sure that Tigris would never betray him, but felt increasingly more secure knowing she couldn’t. For just today, until he could make other arrangements, both Mabel and Tigris would be prisoners. 

It was unlikely that Tigris would even notice. She would make her own lunch, hating the fuss of the Avox cooking crew, and she wouldn’t leave Mabel alone in her new home. Unless there was a fire, she had no reason to try and open the door. 

Checking the time on his watch, he realized it was time to leave for class. He ducks into his room to collect his new coat and reappears in the living room where Tigris and Mabel are comparing a running stitch and a backstitch. 

“I’ll be back at 6,” he interrupts. Tigris looks up at him but Mabel continues her sewing. 

He bends down to his cousin and places a soft kiss on her cheek. 

He had wanted to kiss Mabel goodbye but it was too soon in their relationship. Tigris wouldn't accept the quick progression between the two, and Mabel wouldn't take it as a sign of affection. 

—---------

His lecture was dull. The professor said nothing that was not in the textbook from the night before. Coriolanus' homework was of course perfect, and he brushes it off with fake modesty as he gives his Professor unearned praise back. The whole two hours were spent daydreaming of Mabel. 

He didn’t even notice when the Professor dismissed them until a classmate slammed their book closed too hard. 

He sighed as he packed up his equipment. He wouldn’t return home until late. He still had the rest of the afternoon at Dr. Gaul's office and then had to pick up the plans for Tigris. 

It soured his mood greatly when his classmate tried to engage in idle chit-chat, all Coriolanus could manage was a tight smile and head nods. He didn’t even want to acknowledge them to that extent. But You never know when someone might be important to you later so he played nice. 

Dr. Gaul was not in when Coriolanus arrived. The team meeting went smoother without her. They rewatched the last Hunger Games, trying to come up with ways to make the Games longer. Four days seemed to be the max. They wanted it to be at least a week-long event. Coriolanus suggested a bigger arena that they could change each year so everything was new for each year’s tributes. There would be no opportunity for strategy before the games. Each Tribute would have to rely on their own wit. 

It would give the weaker opponents a chance to run and hide. Even the playing field a little bit. And it would give the audience a game of ‘hunter vs prey’. 

If it had just been him and Lucy Gray out there, he could have easily killed the mystery. But the mockingjays and the wide space made it impossible to utilize his strengths against hers. 

Like his homework, his work was praised and the team split up for proposals to utilize his ideas. 

He had isolated himself in his office, glad to be alone. They would only distract his brilliance with their stupidity, and he planned to finish his work quickly and have an early start home. 

The plan was running on schedule until Dr. Gaul darkened his doorway. 

“Mr. Snow, I am surprised to see you here after yesterday.”

Coriolanus finishes his sentence on the page before putting his pen back. 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“How is your little pet going?” 

Dr. Gaul sits on his desk next to him and Coriolanus wants to sweep her off like a dirty tissue. 

“Fine.”

“Hm,” Dr. Gaul hums. She had a special talent for knowing when someone was lying. “Give me an hour, Mr. Snow. I would have her as docile as a lamb.”

Coriolanus doubted it. No doubt Dr. Gaul was up for the challenge but it would take more than an hour to subdue Mabel’s will. The more you shaped her, the more she bit back. 

“Still I shouldn’t.” She looked almost sad to admit it. “You need the practice for when you are President. There are plenty more Mabels in the world.”

Coriolanus tried not to flinch as she said Mabel's name. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Dr. Gaul knew. Knowledge was power, and she knew everything. 

“I assure you, Dr. Gaul. I have her well under control.”

His thoughts go to the shower this morning. Proof, he thought, that he could control her. 

Dr. Gaul grins back, “I am sure you do. I can’t wait to meet her. Let’s say at the reaping this year?”

She gets off his desk and heads back to the door. It wasn’t a question. 

July 4th. A month from today.. He could control the fire before then. At least stow it for the hour of the reaping. 

Dr. Gaul giggles as she walks, “From what I hear, you have your work cut out for you, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus fists his unfinished work in his hands as soon as she leaves. He was done, even if his work was not. Gathering his things, he dashes to Dr. Gaul’s pigeonhole in the office and shoves his proposal in. The office staff looks at him curiously. Normally his pace is slow and purposeful, but his long, fast strides take over his legs and he rushes to his car before anyone could ask him about it. 

His driver was not ready, adding to his irritation. He could barely get the door open in time for Coriolanus. He puts the divider up as they drive across the city. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing him in his uncontrolled state. 

He gathers himself as they reach the planner's office and manages to play nice as he collects the paperwork. But as he reenters the car, his temper flared again. 

He would truly hate to cut out Mabel’s tongue, but if she sasses Dr. Gaul what choice would he have? 

Dr. Gaul was sure to taunt her and threats to her family would only hold so much weight. It would be Reaping Day too. She was sure to be highly emotional. Her sister was too young to have her name pulled but Mabel was sure to have lots of friends whose name stood a chance. 

Could he cause a distraction while District 12’s ceremony was aired? Something to cause her to hide and miss it. He wondered if he could cause her to be sick enough to be excused. Parade her in front of Dr. Gaul for an hour looking sick. A testimony to his power over her; sick and performing for him. If he could get her to vomit or faint around the calling of District 9 or 10 then it would lower suspicion when he casts her off to the bedroom. 

Still, he had to first worry about getting her to perform before he worried about her stage exit. 

It had to begin work right away with her. 

He looks down at his watch which reads 4 o'clock. If he returned home now he would have to explain his early departure from work. They weren’t expecting him until 6. He could get away with 5:30 without raising any questions. The drive home would take half an hour, which left him with an hour to kill. 

He directs his driver to his favorite coffee shop, and takes a seat at the far back corner with his coffee, drinking it as he strategizes a way to get his songbird to sing a note in front of Dr. Gaul. 

He remembers back to Tigris’ words about Lucy Gray. 

“I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. Not unless I could trust you”. 

Could they team up against Dr. Gaul? Gain her trust enough to point to the larger, common enemy. 

Show her the sweet life of Capitol living that he was giving her and show her the person who stood to tear it all away. He would have to be soft with one hand and strike with the other to achieve the desired result. But as Dr. Gaul had said, it would be great practice for when he ruled Panem. 

The time was close enough and he downs his coffee, sending a notification through his communicator that he was ready to be picked up. 

In passing he notices a jar of chocolate almonds for sale. He wondered if Mabel had ever eaten one before. He takes a jar to the counter as his car rolls up to the pickup line. His driver had left him to wait this afternoon and now Coriolanus was returning the favor. 

When he returned home, Tigris and Mabel were still sitting on the couch sewing, although their conversation had stopped. Material and half-finished dresses covered the room. A large box of sewing material had been strewn across the room. Normally, Coriolanus would chase Tigris back to her studio, but it was so packed, it wouldn’t have fit two seamstresses. 

Besides, he was glad to see his girls getting along, even if it came at the cost of a tidy living room. 

“Coryo!” Tigris greets, “How was class?”

She never asked about work, and it was a good thing as he never had anything positive to report. 

“Dull,” he admits. 

He hangs up his coat himself, using the arm of his good shoulder to do so. It was only Mabel’s second day so he didn’t expect her to take his coat for him just yet. 

“Mabel, come here,” Coriolanus demanded. 

She sticks her needle into the sleeve of the dress she was working on with a sigh but comes over to the door. 

He passes the chocolate almonds to her and she eyes the jar with a greedy stare. 

She pulls away from Coriolanus as if he were going to take them back and retreats to the living room. 

“Chocolate?” Grandma’am questions as Mabel comes near. 

She sits down next to the old woman and shares the chocolate almonds. A truce formed between the two while the jar lasts. 

While the born enemies share the chocolate, Tigris takes the moment of silence to approach her cousin. 

“She fits nicely into our family,” he comments as she nears. 

“She’s not a pet, Coriolanus. You can’t keep her.”

His cock twitches at the thought. 

“The threat in the district proves too intense to send her back. She’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”

“How long do you think that will be?”

“A while. I’ve arranged for a tutor to get her up to speed with Capitol etiquette.”

“Surely, you don’t expect her to integrate into the Capitol? She has her family back home.”

“Yes, and I am sure they would want her to be happy and comfortable in her new life”. 

“New life? The foreseeable future is that long? God, does she know?” 

Coriolanus shakes his head, “It’s best if we don’t mention it. You saw how she reacted to being here in the first place.”

TIgris curls her hands up against her face in sympathy. She wanted what was best for her new friend but

“We should move her to the end room so she has her own space.”

“She’s expressed the wish to remain in my room.”

Tigris looked unsure. 

“Why would she do that, Coriolanus? Just yesterday you held a knife to you, and now she wants to sleep in your bed? You want her to sleep next to you?. All your life you’ve only held contempt for the districts. Now you invite one into your home. Into your bed,” she turns harshly to her cousin, her voice low and upset, “Are you protecting her from a threat or are you the threat?” 

He pushes the paperwork for her shop into her hands.

“You don’t think they had other buildings to fit before yours? I am sorry that you feel a little bit guilty now that we have power to throw around but I’ve worked incredibly hard to ensure that our family always remains ‘the threat’. You don’t get to pick and choose when we use it”.

Tigris crumples the paper in her hand. 

“You reap your benefits and let me reap mine.” His words come out harsh and he rests his hand on her shoulder to defuse the situation. 

“Don’t worry about Mabel. Just focus on your shop and leave her to me”

He leaves her at the door to collect herself, going over to where Mabel and Grandma’am sat. The jar was almost finished. Both Mabel and Grandma’am had a sweet tooth. 

Mabel ate faster seeing Coriolanus coming closer, but kindly offered Grandma’am the last one. 

“Get me a napkin for my hands,” Grandma’am directs Mabel, who rises without complaint to do so. Coriolanus stops her by taking her shoulders in his hands. 

“Actually, Grandma’am I need Mabel,” He looked at his grandmother as he spoke and the old lady looked back at him, “Maybe that’s a job for Tigris.”

He looked back to Tigris still silent at the door. She nods weakly upon his stare. 

He pushes Mabel forward, taking her arm and leading her to the bedroom. 

He bends down to her ear and talks as they walk. 

“You’ll play nice with Grandam’am who treats you like a servant but bite my shoulder when i stop you from harming yourself?”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t Grandma’am who joined me uninvited in the shower this morning. Maybe if she tried she would be sitting there with a matching wound.”

He knew her words were meant to be harmful but they oddly uplifted him. She had given away that she’d thought about biting him when he entered the shower but refrained from doing so. He was training her without even knowing. Perhaps he needn’t cause a sickness on Reaping Day. 

He locks the door behind them as they enter the room. She goes straight to the bed, sitting down and picking at the skin around her nails. 

He drops his bag at the desk, taking a seat as well. 

He takes out a notebook and writes in it neatly, “I, Mable, am learning to write.” 

“Come here,” he commands as he tears out the page. 

He flips open his textbook with his other hand as he holds the page out for her. 

“Write this out, neatly, as many times as you can.” 

She takes the page from him, only knowing her own name. 

“What does it say?”

“Never mind what it says. Go over there and do as you’re told” 

She picks up a pen next to him and follows orders. Maybe the 4th of July wasn’t an impossible goal. 

He hears her scribble as he reads and takes notes. The end of the semester was only a month away, starting on the Reaping public holiday, and continuing until the end of September. A decent holiday but he had much to do before then. He was hoping to finish one of his six assignments tonight. Years of practice and self-criticism had left Coriolanus a master at writing essays. He only ever needed one draft, and a couple of hours. The trick was telling the teacher what they wanted to hear from the essay prompt. This one, comparing and choosing between the benefits of a stealth attack vs a broad-scale attack, was an easy one. His Professor was a man of war. He wanted to hear about the fear-invoking, violent, glory-filled ways to attack an opponent. Coriolanus obliged, even if he thought a stealth attack was always the clear choice when available. 

He finishes it in no time and checks in on Mabel’s progress. She sat smug on the bed which he knew was a bad sign. He tore the paper from under her pen. 

She had been repeatedly scrawling ‘no’ across the page. His neat cursive was now buried underneath her messy scribble. 

He sighed, sickness was back on the cards. 

“Your governess will be here tomorrow morning. Maybe she will teach you ‘yes’”.

“Governess?” Mabel questions. 

“They are private teachers. She will guide you to be of passing quality to Capitol society.” 

He could see it now. A gorgeous, secret heiress, who only comes out with Coriolanus. The only one worth her time. The Capitol elite will eat it up. He will be the talk of the city. 

“Passing quality?” She stands up tall to him, “I have to be passing quality to a society that watches children die for entertainment? You can forget it”.

He pushes her back down on the bed.

‘‘I bet your sister wouldn’t scoff at such an education. Math, science, English. You’ll learn it all, or at least enough to not embarrass me. Fail to do so, and I’ll see if your sister is the brighter of the two.”

He attacked her soft spot, wiping the smirk off her face instantly.

“You leave her out of this.” 

“You leave her out of this,” Coriolanus returns. 

He walks back over to his writing desk and rips out another page. 

“I want both sides of this filled out. If you hurry you might finish in time for dinner”. 

He leaves her with the paper and locks her in the room to complete it. 

Soft with one hand, strike with the other. 

Once he gives her clear rules to follow and consequences for failing those rules, he could begin to show her that within his game, he held all the cards. She could have as many chocolate almonds as she wanted on a good day, and on a bad day, she could go to sleep hungry. 

He wondered which it would be tonight. 

—-----------------------------------

She hadn’t finished in time for dinner so he left her there while his family ate. 

He and Grandma’am ate their fill but Tigris mostly poked at her food. He ordered a plate to be put aside for Mabel, but took his time in bringing it to her. 

Tigris went to bed straight after Coriolanus dismissed her from dinner, but he and Grandma’am took to the living room for dessert and tea. They watch TV together, Coriolanus in no rush to feed the starving girl in his room. 

He even waits for the staff to finish cleaning up and go. Only when Grandma’am yawns does he suggest that they retire for bed. He helps her up and sends her to her bedroom with a kiss. 

He puts the kettle on while he waits for the dinner to reheat. He makes a normal cup of tea, knowing that she will not fall for it again seeing as she seemed to like the taste.. 

Finishing his tasks he takes the items to his room, where Mabel had been working in his study chair. 

“Don’t get up,” he directs as she rises. 

He places the plate and the tea in front of her, leaving her to eat with only a fork. 

She eats but doesn’t drink as Coriolanus checks her writing.

It was still messy, but she had managed to pick up on his punctuation. 

She eats quickly and pushes away her plate, going to stand up but Coriolanus pushes down on her shoulder. 

“Drink your tea.”

“I don’t feel like dessert tonight.”

He picks it up and takes a drink himself. She waits for him to falter in movement before deciding that it is safe to drink. 

“Your governess will come early tomorrow. I will need to leave around lunch again but I will leave two Peacekeepers at the door”. 

Grandam’am and Tigris needed to move freely but after today he wasn’t certain that Tigris wouldn’t let her out. Peacekeepers would not only ensure that Mabel kept her temper in check but also act as gatekeepers. 

He grabs her chin, forcing her to look up at him, “You’ll do as she says. No back chat. No sass.”

“Do or die.” she reiterates. 

The lesson this morning was fruitful; The stronger party got to tell the weaker what to do. 

—-----------

Reaping Day was fast approaching but between his university and work, he had little time to train Mabel. 

He had given her governess the power to withhold lunch for bad behavior and reward good behavior with chocolate. But Mabel didn’t mind going hungry so it shaped her very little. 

He is greeted by the sight of her teacher every afternoon as he returns home from work. 

“How was she today?” 

The plump, hard woman scoffs, “A nightmare today, Mr. Snow. I couldn’t get her to sit still. She seems more eager to be a maid than rise through knowledge.” 

“How many times?” 

“12, Mr. Snow!”

The number of times Mabel refused to listen, back chatted, or gave cheek only ever went up each evening, never down. 

“I understand your frustrations, Mrs. Fox. Perhaps if you tried an interactive way of learning?”

Mrs. Fox nods her head harshly, “I tried that Mr. Snow. I tried teaching her eight times table by playing a game. For every right answer, she got a chocolate, and for every wrong answer, I got a chocolate. She got to 3 x 8 before she told me I looked like I enjoyed them more, and should have the rest.”

Coriolanus sighs deeply. If Mrs. Fox quit he would have a hell of a time finding someone as discreet as she is. 

He places a hand on her back, “I assure you, Mrs. Fox, she will be better by the  next lesson”.

“The districts don’t scare me, Mr. Snow. I just wish you would let me use a firmer hand with her. These district scum only know violence.”

He didn’t trust her not to leave a mark on Mabel, otherwise a firmer hand would be no issue for him. 

He takes his hand off her and places it on his doorknob, “We’ll see how she is next lesson. My car is downstairs to take you home. Have a nice night, Mrs. Fox.”

She thanks him as he enters his home, and he turns to close the door on her with a charming smile.

Mabel had learned now to come to the door upon his arrival and help with his coat. He couldn’t reprimand her with Tigris on the couch, so he took her chin into his hands and spoke quietly, “I’ll talk with you later. I am very disappointed.”

Mabel doesn’t respond but he can see her swallow a lump in her throat. He greets his family like usual, leaving Mabel a ball of anxiety as she waits to be summoned by him. 

Dinner was rushed. People had barely taken their last bite before Coriolanus rang the bell for the next course. 

Mabel only ate enough to keep her out of trouble. She didn’t need another reason to be punished tonight. 

The main courses were over, and Coriolanus rose from the table, pulling Mabel up by her wrist. 

He bids goodnight to his family and pulls Mabel through the house. She turns back to the dinner table to see that Tigris has begun crying. 

She is pulled into his bedroom where the door is subsequently locked. 

“How many times do you think you think you made a mistake today?” His voice was frustrated, but he let go of her and she sat on the bed as expected. 

“12 times, Mrs. Fox tells me. Your lesson lasted less than five hours today.”

He takes off his vest, leaving it unbuttoned around his shoulders. 

“And she tells me you can’t progress past the eight times table, still.” He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. 

“I wash Peacekeeper's uniforms, why do I need to know the eight times table?”

He hated that she still referred to her past life in the current tense. It only added fuel to the anger he already felt.

“Because Capitol children know it!” 

His yelling was a call to action for Mabel.

“Then ask them!” 

He slaps her across the cheek, but she turns her head right back to him, ready for more.

He pulls her up by her arm, and then pulls her down across his lap. It was common practice at night now, so Mabel didn’t even flinch as he did it. 

Bunching her dress over her ass, he lays the first smack of 12 against her bottom. 

She bites back her yelps as she mentally counts out her punishment. 

As the final 12th strike landed, Mabel released the breath she was holding and went to get up. But he forced her back down instead, prolonging the punishment. 

“What’s eight times nine?”

“What?” Mabel answers. 

He smacks her harshly against her bottom again. 

“Eight times nine” he repeats. 

She begins to try to wiggle away from his lap but he keeps his leg over hers, and a hand on her neck pushing her down. 

“Eight” he smacks. 

A yelp makes its way out of her mouth and he shushs her. 

“16.” Another smack lands. 

“24.” She begs him to stop. 

“32.” He does not. 

“40.” A hand came back to protect herself against his blows but was yanked and pinned to her back. 

“48.” Tears pool in her eyes from the pain. 

“56.” A strangled cry.

“64.” The tears roll down her face but Coriolanus is undeterred. 

“72.” She tried to let him know she got it, but he continued over her.

“80.” “Please,” she pleaded. 

“96.”

He smooths his hand over her reddened cheeks, “Your turn. Go.”

“Eight,16, 24” she pauses to count and another strike lands on her ass. 

“32,” he continues. 

“40.” She could count that one easily enough. 

“48.” She stops to count again and it earns two slaps. 

“56!” he growls with another tap. 

“64.” There was no need for quick math in the districts. But she could count easily enough with time. 

Frustrated, he finishes for her, smacking between counts, “72, 80, 88, 96.” 

He moves to gather both wrists in his hands, pinning them to her back. 

“Start again from the top.” 

Through tears, she does as he asks and endures the same treatment as she falters. It gets harder as the blood rushes to her head from her position and the fire on her bottom spreads to the back of her thighs. 

On the fourth go, she does get them all right and he releases her from his hold. 

Mabel lays on the bed, watching him as he stands tall over her.

“What’s eight times nine?” he asks again. 

“72,” she spat through gritted teeth.

He squats down to her level and places a kiss in her hair, “See I knew you could do it. You just need to stop being a brat.” 

He rises again and heads to the bathroom. 

“Come take a shower,” he demands. 

Taglist:

@urfavnoirette

@queenofshinigamis

@immyowndefender

[ellebakers]

☆ Fucking Targaryens II.

Part one

• Daemon Targaryen x (Martell) reader.

• Warning(s) : Angst, mention of sex, language..

@snowtargaryen here's part two.

The room went silent after you left, everyone looking in horror and disgust at Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Aegon and Aemond, who had witnessed the scene with the greatest interest and joy, exchanged amused glances, while Viserys threw dark glances at his daughter and his brother.

Your husband was fuming with anger towards you but also towards himself.

You were a more than respected princess, Daemon's wife that the people preferred, always altruistic, kind and gentle, by cheating on you, he pissed off the entire kingdom.

Some people left the meal without the slightest sign of respect, without the slightest reversion to the Targaryen family.

"Well.." Alicent broke the silence "It seems that some things haven't changed." She affirmed, bringing her glass of wine to her lips, hiding a satisfied smile.

Daemon glared at her as the queen finished her drink.

"Uncle, you know how to keep your women, when you don't kill them, you cheat on them." Aegon smirked.

“I don’t need the comment of a cunt usurper in any way.” Daemon spat.

"It's enough !" Viserys growled. "Daemon, you and I will have a conversion but later, for now go apologize to your wife and try to get her back."

The prince stood up, picked up your wedding ring and set off towards your marital bedroom.

Alicent scoffed and shook her head "It's a lost cause. The princess is better than all that, I doubt she will accept Prince Daemon's apology. She is a woman of values." She accentuated her last words by looking at Rhaenyra with disgust, then she left, along with the rest of the Greens, leaving Rhaenyra alone with her father's wrath.

Lucerys and Jacaerys smiled sadly at their mother and left in turn..

"We need to talk.." Viserys said in a cold tone.

.

When Daemon arrived in your bedroom, bags had been scattered across the bed as servants rushed to put your things in them.

You stood, putting your books into a bag, you had already changed into your outer clothes.

“Leave me alone with my wife.” Daemon ordered, when he noticed that the servants were waiting for your agreement to leave he shouted "OUT."

The servants jumped and rushed out of your room, closing the door behind them.

“So there you go, are you going to run away ?” He asked you, a slight hint of anger.

You scoffed as you closed your last bag. “If for you leaving a man who has no respect for me means running away, then yes.”

"Did you have to make a scene in front of everyone? Do you have any idea of ​​the shame that-"

You threw your bag on the ground "Don't even dare talk to me about shame, it's me who's ashamed, feels dirty..."

Daemon's face softened slightly "And for your information, I didn't cause a scene, I only stated the facts. The kingdom has the right to know how rotten you and your family are."

His face hardened again. “How dare you ?” He asked through gritted teeth.

"How dare I what ? Tell the truth ? Fucking your own niece, do you have any idea how disgusting that is. You were criticizing your other nephews by claiming how disgusting and horrible they are, but you are exactly like them."

He clenched his jaw, trying to control his anger.

“I gave you everything, my love, my body, I thought our love was sincere, but you just made fun of me.”

“Do you doubt my love ?” He growled "I love you and you know it perfectly, I only think about you day and night.."

“Were you thinking about me when your cock was buried in your niece’s cunt ?”

He saw red "Shut up, that's not the way to speak for a woman of your rank."

You shook your head and scoffed. “What did you expect ? For me to remain unmoved by all this ?”

“No, but I would have preferred you to react like a grown woman.” He spat out his words.

"That's what I do ! Forgive me for not been the wife you expected." You exclaimed sarcastically.

Your sarcasm irritated him. “That’s an understatement, I would have liked to have a wife capable of providing me with children at least.”

It was seeing the pain on your face that he realized he had gone too far.

"My love, excuse me, I didn't mean it."

You shook your head and grabbed your bag. “Thank you so much for reminding me of my infertility.”

You walked past him and left the room.

“Take my bags to the stagecoach.” You asked the servants, they nodded and hurried to grab your bags, taking them outside the castle.

The prince was unable to move, how could he have screwed up so badly ? all this for a quick fuck... in less than a day he had humiliated and hurt you in many ways, but he knew that bringing your inability to have children to the table was what hurted you the most.

He sat on your bed and burst into tears, he held his head as tears drowned his face, all the moments with you flashed before his eyes, all his sweet words, your perfume, your smile... he He had lost you for good and he didn't know how he was going to continue without you.

.

As you were leaving the castle you saw two shadows next to your stagecoach.

"Princess." you recognized Alicent’s voice. You walked closer and saw Otto standing next to him.

"My queen." you bowed. “Please forgive me for earlier.”

She smiled tenderly and shook her head "Don't apologize."

The servants put your bags in the stagecoach and left. "I'm sad to see you leave us." Alicent said.

You gave her a sad smile. “I have to, there’s no way I can stay.”

The redhead nodded "I understand your pain and... your anger." The way she said that to you and Otto's look made you raise an eyebrow.

"My queen ?"

"I'll come see you in Dorne, you and I need to have a talk." She smiled mischievously.

You frowned but nodded. “Of course, it would be my pleasure.”

"I'll bring you a Valyrian dress.. a green dress."

You understood her implication and you nodded "With pleasure.."

You knew that allying yourself with the greens would cost you but by the seven lords you were going to make Daemon and Rhaenyra pay.

Fucking Targaryens

[rissararity]

Wrote a little fic inspired by this meme. Art is not mine!

Astarion/Half succubus bard oc. Cat calling, references to SA, comfort, friends to lovers, partners in crime, protective Astarion

Might eventually become a more put together fic, if it does it would be a slow burn friends to lovers

“Do we have any other takers? Any more bets? How about you, sir? Betting man?” the gorgeous bard beamed while she played a melody to raise anticipation on her lute.

“You know what? Sure.” The man tossed a couple gold into the pot.

The crowd cheered while Astarion gave a close lipped smile, eye fucking a couple of the women in the group.

A few more coins trickled in, clinking against the others.

“Now watch and be amazed as I throw this dagger, up to the second floor, it bounces handle side down off that, that then that,” he pointed to a couple of things, “and into the center of that barrel.” He announced with a flourish, parading around dramatically.

While he distracted the crowd, the bard cast a little spell to ensure he’d succeed. Astarion felt the power and confidence surge as her spell took effect, making a big show out of throwing the dagger.

While it flew through the air, Liv took the opportunity to pick a few pockets then make her way to the front before the trick shot was over.

As the blade hit home, the crowd was a mix of cheers and jeers.

“Aww better luck next time, friends!” She offered a supportive smile that hid the inward smirk she felt.  She validated a few peoples feelings and casually got each of them to walk away.

The bard scooped up the gold while the rogue retrieved the dagger. They smiled at each other for a moment before quickly and discreetly leaving the area.

To an outsider they’d look like lovers exchanging a look. But they knew they were shit eating grins of victory, and they were in fact not lovers, but 200 gold richer.

Each.

As they reached the end of the alley, they waved to Gale, who stood with hid arms crossed. “Again? Really?” he glared, falling into step on Liv’s other side.

“Oh relax, you benefit from the spoils too. Most of this ends up going to potions and gifts for you.” The half elf snickered, purposely hip bumping him.

The wizard’s glare softened and he ducked his head. “I suppose that’s true. But if you two get caught, you’re on your own.”

The elves smirked at each other, “Somehow I think we’ll manage.” Astarion turned his ruby gaze to Gale who rolled his own.

The men grew uneasy while the trio walked by a group of men who began to whisper after them, staring at Liv in particular. The vampire could have torn their heads off with his bare hands for the disgusting way they spoke about her.

Gale glared back at them, putting an arm around her shoulders protectively. “Honestly, Liv, we can’t take you anywhere civilized.”

“I’d hardly call this place…much less those meat sacks civilized.” Astarion agreed, now wishing he’d been the one to grab her first.

“I’m not doing anything on purpose.” She muttered, dropping her chin.

“Boo hoo, it must be so hard being effortlessly gorgeous.”  The vampire rolled his eyes.

“When I cant go anywhere alone without being hassled, propositioned or having wives threaten me for stealing their husband’s eyes-“ “And hearts.” Gale added.

“Right. A few of them did say that.” She pouted, “I know I can more than take care of myself but I get so…” she crossed her arms over her ample chest and shivered with a frown.

The group had noticed fairly early on she seemed fairly oblivious to the leers she got everywhere she went, and that  when she no longer was, the attention made her extremely uncomfortable.

She could flirt her way out of trouble no problem but was easily flustered and nervous if a man just started commenting on her body. It made a pit form in her stomach that stayed until someone else from her party found her.

Even Shadowheart had played the role to make the men think they had no chance.

She sighed, “And Astarion,” he looked at her. “You sound jealous when you say stuff like that. You’re too pretty to be jealous.”

Gale smirked as the vampire’s jaw dropped for a moment, blinking in surprise “I…er..um..you’re absolutely right.” He pushed his hair from his face and shook out his shoulders, “You passed the test.”

Liv rolled her eyes while the wizard shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

Red eyes grew annoyed as he saw this, prompting him to cross his arms and pout, “I’ll meet you back at camp.” He strode of into the masses of people on the street.

The pair laughed, keeping their leisurely pace.

“He adores you,  you know.”  Gale told her once their laughs became little giggles.

Her cheeks grew dark, “No, he would have made a move by now if he did. We’re just good friends.”

He arched an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

She mimicked him, raising her own and dropping her voice, “Yes, that is so.”

The wizard made a face, “You’re too good at that.”

Wind whipped her long blonde hair around while carrying her laugh.  “What can I say? I give a performance like no other.”

Liv yelped as a hand seized her elbow. “I bet you do, babe. Why don’t you come with me and give a private show?”

Her entire body froze as ice set in, eyes wide with fear as her legs stopped moving.

“I’m going to give you one chance to let go of the lady and be on your way.” Gale’s voice dripped with venom in a way she’d only ever heard in situations like this.

The barbarian sized him up then laughed, yanking her arm confidently, causing her to stumble closer. “Fuck off, mate. If you can’t defend your woman, don’t bring her outside.”

They couldnt go throwing magic in the middle of town, the creep knew that.

What he didn’t expect,  was Gale to cast a hold person spell, locking him into place.

He then gently unfurled the man’s fingers from Liv’s arm and put a protective arm around her waist. “You need to learn some manners. Best hope we don’t ever meet in a battlefield.”

The man’s eyes burned with rage as Gale pressed a kiss to the still shocked bard’s temple and led them back into the crowd.

She pressed herself into her companion’s side all the way back to camp, trying to match his breathing the entire way.

No one knew what caused this reaction in her, but they had an idea. None dared broach the subject and figured talk if and when she wanted.

Normally in battle, she was fearless and thoughtful. But when confronted with someone like that barbarian she locked up.

When they returned to camp, Astarion had already thought up a snappy quip-the perfect amount of sting and sass.

Unfortunately,  it died in his throat as soon as he looked over at them. One look and he knew.

Gale was softly rubbing her forearm, reassuring her while he led her to his tent.

The vampire frowned and exchanged a look with the wizard on the way.  He immediately regretted his hasty exit earlier. He noticed pursuers were more easily deterred when she was with more than one man.

Astarion silently crept over to listen, able to hear their magic friend leading her through breathing exercises. When she’d calmed down, Gale finally left the tent to get some dinner.

He was about to stand only for Shadowheart to beat him to it, heading toward Gale’s tent to comfort the half elf.

 Annoyed as he was, he knew for Liv’s sake that only one person could be with her at a time.

Much to his dismay, she stayed for an entire hour and a half.

He started to head over only to stop in his tracks when the tent door moved and Liv emerged, looking tired but otherwise okay other than her red cheeks and the fact that she used a spell to change her appearance to the one she preferred-the one that more clearly showed her half-drow ancestry.

Her skin kept its pink hue but her hair shortened to a pixie cut, blonde at the root morphing into silver tips that sat perfectly in place. Her blue eyes shifted to one bright blue and one silver. A ring sat in her septum above her lips that wore a coat of black paint, matching her winged eyeliner and eyeshadow.

Her pointed ears were dotted with two in her cartilage on both sides, and a silver ring on the lobe. She bore tattoos of solid black up her throat with flame-like tendrils licking at her jaw, a small flame adorning her forhead.

This was who she preferred to be. Who she felt the strongest,  and most confident as. It was also her defense.

The others knew not to be surprised or comment on what she decided to look like that day. The long blonde look was always used for public performances; it had even earned her the title “The Angel” by word of mouth.

Astarion thought she was perfect both ways, but he knew the other men liked The Angel, while Shadowheart and Karlach shared his adoration of who he dubbed the demoness, the little devil, and simply the drow.

She hadn’t noticed him,  and headed for her bedroll by the fire.

Astarion’s chest tightened as he realized he was too late to comfort her. If he hadn’t ditched her this probably wouldn’t have happened. They’d be sitting around the fire while she played her lute and told them legends and stories.

He should have stayed. This was his fault.

He should have stayed.

Jaw clenched,  he thought, I’ll never abandon you again, my angel. You have my word I will remain close at hand.

What he couldn’t see, was her small smile as their tadpoles relayed the message in his voice.

In fact, he'd been so distracted that all his thoughts of guilt and protectiveness were made privy to the blonde.

He didn’t know it, but they grew closer that night without him ever speaking a word.

--

The following morning when they returned to the little town of Hodge to continue their search for information. Gale noticed Liv go out of her way to insure they passed by the same intersection from last night.

It was fairly early and the roads were fairly clear,  blue sky above them.

As they neared it, Gale stepped forward and took her hand. To everyone’s surprise, she turned her blue and silver gaze to Astarion and held her other hand out to him.

Shadowheart pouted as the visibly confused vampire somewhat hesitantly took her hand and walked on her other side.

Liv squeezed both of their hands as they strode down the road like they owned it. When they got to the next street, she pressed a kiss to the back of Astarion’s hand and gave him a grateful look before letting go and repeating the gesture with Gale.

The vampire blinked in surprise as an odd fluttering feeling danced in his stomach, Gale’s cheeks darkened a little as he returned her smile.

He followed her blindly like they were magnetized, eyes wide as he tried to make heads or tails of this feeling.

Her still short hair shined like silver in the sun, contrasting the warm, sunny light from the blonde near her scalp. Even painted with dark makeup, she was breath taking-silver septum ring glinting back at him a top her confident smile.

Especially when she was exuding confidence like she now was, leading them through the streets to their first contact.

Her rapier carefully tucked into her overcoat, lute strapped to her back, she walked through intersection exuding joy once again.

Astarion’s maroon eyes stayed locked on her profile while he continued to remain at her side. Gale went to talk to Karlach, leaving the two side by side leading the group.

The vampire's eyes flicked down to her hand, yearning to hold it again; to feel her soft, dainty hands in his calloused but well manicured ones.

The butterflies in his stomach hadn’t quite settled down yet-he’d heard some young women gossiping recently and learned that’s what it was called.

Though if it meant what they insinuated it did he refused to believe that was what was happening to him.  

He supposed Liv was pretty enough…oh who was he kidding?  They didn’t call her The Angel  for nothing. She was beauty incarnate, in both of her forms. Her movements were naturally elegant and graceful, her acrobatics during battle were unreal.

Everywhere she went an air of lavender and vanilla followed. You couldn’t be in a bad mood when she was around-he would know. He tried.

She was exactly what Cazador would have sent him after.

At that, he looked away from her shamefully. He didn’t deserve to walk beside her, figuratively or literally. His steps slowed so he could merge with the others but this stopped when her hand brushed the back of his – making his breath catch for a moment as sparks shot up his arm.

She caught his eye and winked, a small smile on her soft lips.  “Walk with me, Astar.”

He was about to scold her for the nickname but for some reason from her he didn’t mind it.

“Gale holds your arm through town.” He murmured quietly as they walked.

Her cheeks darkened, “So he does.”

“It’s only fair-rr- I mean….proper.” He collected himself. “It’s only proper that a lady gets escorted.” He raised his chin, keeping his eyes ahead.

“Of course.”

“After all, you tend to get sidetracked and lost.”

“Sounds like me.”

“Hells forbid you see a cat!”

A  little annoyed now, she glared, “Are you gonna do it or what?”

“Of course I am, don’t be stupid!” Came his rushed reply just before he almost aggressively looped arms with her like Gale often did.

Behind them, the entire team silently laughed. Gale crossed his arms over his chest, batting away Shadowheart to pretended to try and loop arms with him. He turned away from her and glared playfully before pushing her into Karlach who caught her then gave her arm a reassuring pat before going back to minding her business.

Astarion glared venomously at any one that looked at them too long, thankfully only a few people due to her still being in little demon form. He felt like her bodyguard, and as such had to be the scary dog that made outsiders keep their distance.

And unlike most bodyguards,  he actually HAD bite.

Meanwhile, Liv was blissfully unaware of the mission he’d given himself, waltzing down the street casually.

When they arrived at their agreed upon meeting place, Liv wanted to go in alone but the entire group was quick to shut that down.

“Just in and out-it’ll be quick. Everyone leaves happy, no big deal.”

Astarion’s lips quirked up in a grin while he held his laughter, little sounds sneaking out. Karlach immediately began to belly laugh, drawing the attention of a few townspeople. Gale sighed and shook his head while the bard looked at him oddly.

“Sweet summer child.” He pressed a patronly kiss to her temple and hugged her cheek to his chest for a moment.

With knit brows, she let him hold her for a moment. “Anyway, any alternative plans then?”

“Well, you aren’t allowed to go anywhere alone so write that down.” The vampire rolled his eyes, missing her little smile.

“Our best bet here is to not arouse suspicion, and to appear as normal as possible to blend in. I think Liv and I should go in together,  since we look the most like the locals." The wizard spoke up.

“Human, you mean?” Shadowheart asked, crossing her arms at the other half-elf.

“And not head to toe in armor. Not exactly common garb in these parts.”

She relented, “Liv and I could go. Two women won’t look odd and I’m sure she has an outfit I can borrow.”

Gale gave a snappy retort, angering the Cleric. They bickered over who was going in with Liv until Karlach  physically turned their heads to show them Astarion had already whisked her away and toward little café, both in all their silver headed glory.

After casting an apologetic look over her shoulder, she spoke “You didn’t ask me to put on the angel.”

He paused, “I’ll never ask you  to change, darling. However you feel best is how I want you.”

She squeezed his arm, smiling up at him while he avoided her gaze.

Luckily everything went according to plan for once and they got another lead.

Before they returned to their team, waiting in the distance in the town square, they decided to slip out the back door  to see if they could make a few extra coins.

Liv put on the angel to aid in the con on her own accord, excitement in her stomach as she and Astarion approached a small group of people already with a game in progress.

---

“Where is she? I need to see her.” Astarion pushed past Shadowheart and headed toward Wyll’s tent.

“She’s going to live. Don’t interrupt her healing session. It’s…private.” She trailed after him, wishing Wyll hadn’t taken some personal time away so he could cast a hold spell.

Ordinarily  Shadowheart was stronger than Astarion, but now he was in a protective rage, eyes blazing like a wildfire as he sought his little devil.

This fueled him to overpower her, tugging free of her grip and delivering a sharp shove that sent her on her ass, blinking in shock.

He entered the bubble of silence cast around Gale’s tent and froze as he recognized the sounds of lust and sex, as well as the all to familiar scents that went along with it.

His blood ran cold as he hid and peaked in. He knew what to expect but was still aghast when he saw Gale on top of Liv.

Liv’s nude body was dotted with scrapes and bruises from their last fight, her head lulled to the side, eyes half open. She didn’t react much to the wizards deliberate, confident thrusts, her breasts bounced in recoil to punctuate each one.

Gale bit his lip, brows knit as he began to speed up. Liv's shallow breaths along with a few gasps softly joined the other sounds.

Astarion felt rage like never before and had the biggest urge to reach straight through Gale’s back and pull out his still beating heart.

But he knew that was a bad idea.

Liv’s head turned to the other side and she accidently met the vampire’s eyes, her own going from half lidded to wide, cheeks ablaze.

Feeling much like a scorned lover,  though not sure why, he silently sneered at her and left.

--

The following morning, the air was tense between the two troublemakers-Astarion and Liv.

Gale hadn’t noticed him, and she hadn’t told him.

She avoided her rogue as much as possible without drawing attention, seeking a distraction.

Otherwise back to her normal self, she pulled her violin from her bag of holding  and began to play an upbeat jig, a smile on her face as she watched Karlach and Wyll prepare breakfast.

Gale and Shadowheart clapped in time with the music, smiling and enjoying the morning.

His eyes narrowed at Gale as he approached, considering how he could catch the wizard’s robe on fire, stopping short to watch the end of the song.

Liv hesitated a bit upon seeing him, but being the professional she is, she didn’t let it hiccup the song. Gale noticed the jovial mood in her eyes dulled, and used his tadpole to connect to the vampire -immediately realizing what had happened.

The bard finished the song with a flourish of her bow then bowed for the applause  that came from everyone that didn’t drink blood.

Gale connected to Liv for a moment to see if she knew, appreciating that she told him the truth and didn’t make him search her memory.

I think it’s time to tell him, Angel. He’s the only one that doesn’t know and he’s clearly upset.

She sighed, I have to, now. We can’t keep going like this.

He gave a short nod, then made an excuse about wanting to show Liv how to feel the weave so they could both go into the woods together.

They were correct in assuming Astarion’s jealousy would have him tailing them.

Once they were away from camp, his body froze mid-step as Gale cast a hold person spell on him.

The pair turned around and headed over to him, ignoring the slew of curse words falling from his fangs.

“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?!” He growled at last.

“We need to talk- and by that I mean you need to listen. We can’t have you attacking Gale or running off before we explain.”

He glared at her, inwardly annoyed that the passing breeze carried over her lavender scent.

“I’m not sure what I saw other than the two of you acting like a couple of randy teenagers.”

Liv crossed her arms, nodding, “That’s exactly why you’re stuck right now.”

Gale’s lip quirked up for a moment at her flat tone before he spoke, “That’s all you saw? Are you absolutely sure there was nothing else of note?”

“Gale, darling, I’m not going to comment on the size of your staff if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

The wizard blinked in shock, blushing,  “No! No that’s not what I meant.”

Standing slightly behind him, Liv giggled, cutting herself off when Astarian glared at her again.

“Think back. Really think-I’ll even help you.” She cast a focus spell on him while he huffed and closed his eyes.

His mind’s eye took him back Gale’s tent, his eyes glued to the scene before him. Liv looked exhausted from their last battle. Her body was scraped and bruised here and there and bags sat under her eyes.

Her baby blues lacked the spark they usually held.

The vampire knit his brows, growling at the other man. “Did you do something to her?”

Gale’s jaw dropped, Liv spoke up and vehemently denied it.

“It’s not like that either. I look right as rain today, right?” she gestured to her face- bright and clear as always.

He nodded.

“You know I’m a half elf, right?”

“Of course. Drow-correct?”

Liv smiled, happy he remembered that given her normal, warm and sunny appearance. “Right. Well…it turns out…the other half wasn’t human.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed Liv is much more adept at magic than a normal bard…hells I’ve been trying to convince her to let me train her as a spellcaster…”

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, the other half…my father…was an incubus. So…I’m half elf half-“

“Succubus.” Astarion sneered, “It all makes sense now. The power you hold over others with the simple toss of your hair.”

They waited to see what he would say next, giving him a moment to think.

“That’s why you look so much better than you did…last night.”

She nodded, “I seem to have an odd mix of traits and abilities. My little demon appearance can’t be washed away by any manor of magic because it’s still real. When I take after my father, I become the angel. But my mother was the drow.”

“It doesn’t trigger my detect magic ability either.” Gale added, “Because of her half succubus nature, every week or so she needs to be…reset, or she gets sickly and weak.”

“That’s why she’s gotten so much stronger since the began traveling together.”

Liv blushed and shuffled her feet, “Look, I’m really not as smooth as I pretend to be-its an act.”

The vampire was quiet for a long while, “So when you say you cant sleep alone-“

The half elf gasped, “Not every night! God’s Astarion I’m not an animal! Gale told you…once a week. I try to hold out for as long as I can though…” she looked down, “I know it’s a big ask. More often than not I just need to cuddle.”

Gale patted her shoulder, a kind smile on his lips. “I assure you it’s no toil for us. I admit it can be difficult when you’re…in rough shape but knowing it’s the best way we can help you-“

“Mmmhm nothing to do with the fact that you get to have sex with her, I’m sure.” The vampire cut him off, winking when he was done.

The wizard’s warm brown eyes widened, cheeks darkening-it was certainly not a chore, but an honor.

Liv quirked an eyebrow at him, stifling a laugh and trying to force the corner of her mouth down.

Astarion relaxed as he watched her reaction to this. His jealousy faded as he realized for Gale, and hopefully Wyll, this was a friends with benefits situation, not a romantic relationship.

“Oh do let me go now. I’m listening.”

After a nod from Liv, Gale released the hold spell.

Astarion straightened himself and pushed his hair back, shaking off the stiffness. “The girls were already aware, I’m assuming?”

Liv nodded. “Unfortunately, my succubus healing only seems to kick in with men. I guess I need a…bridge to transfer.”

“You had sex with Shadowheart?”

Gale raised an eyebrow, “You tried to.”

“Well yes, but for a different reason. It’s not the same.”

“If anything, my reason is better than yours.” Liv glared.

He tilted his head, “Is it? Who’s to say? Besides, it only makes sense to gather as many…potential healers as possible and keep one on hand at all times. It was smart of you to try, since the two of you normally pair up when we split.”

Silence for a beat.

"Though I must tell you, I thought we were closer than this, little angel.” He turned to her. “Why was I the only one left unaware of your…condition? Did you not want my…” he gestured to his body, “help.”

Gale turned to her, too, curious.

The bard blushed, keeping her eyes on the ground. “We've always been great friends and I didn’t want to risk making it weird.”

“So you didn’t think it weird to proposition your companions weekly to steal their energy when they orgasm?”

Silence.

“It's really not bad. One sip of a health potion and you're back to rights.” Gale defended her.

“Alright, well,” he approached Liv, who shyly looked up. “This doesn’t change anything between us, darling, not if you don’t want it to.” He tilted her chin with one finger. “But if you decide you do, I assure you I’m more than capable of not treating you any differently if we slept together; dearest friend of mine.”

Her cheeks blazed, lips parting in shock. Gale rolled his eyes and looked away while the two had a moment.

He knew his friendship with Liv was clearly different than whatever it was she had with Astarion, so hearing her admit that hadn’t stung like one might expect. It was no secret the two had more in common, more laughs and a knack for getting in and out of trouble.

Gale, as well as Wyll, knew what this was.

Giving the half elf a wink, Astarion turned around and headed back toward camp.

She didn't ask for his help yet, but he hoped she would.

And when she did he would be whatever she wanted him to be; a simple friend with benefits due to a caring heart and sense of obligation or...maybe...

Well he wasn't sure but he was looking forward to her helping him find that out.

[multific]

Pure Love

Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mention of Smut, Murder

When your husband mentioned a meeting with his family, you knew things would go down fast.

When you married him you knew at one point his family will have issues with you.

You weren't a Targaryen, you weren't a God. You were a simple woman who fell in love with a man who happened to be Targaryen.

Daemon and you never allowed his last name to get between you two until now.

He warned you of his family, and of the comments, you might receive. You knew they definitely have something to say.

"Just ignore their comments, they are weak and they try to compensate."

"They are not weak, they are jealous, My Love. You and I got married out of love and not duty, something they do not understand, something they might never experience in their lives." Daemon smiled and nodded, you understood so well.

You could tell by everyone's faces, your arrival was not expected. You being wed to Daemon was not expected. But besides a couple side-eyed glances, nothing was said or done.

Until dinner.

First, it was bickering between the children, but soon the adults joined in. 

As everyone got more and more drinks, resulting in many men drunk, that's when it started.

A person, a man, his name you forgot but Daemon repeated before dinner, said to be married to his niece or something, you didn't really pay attention Daemon looked way too beautiful in his formal clothing. The man started insulting you.

First, it was just a couple of words about you not being noble, not being born with 'dragon blood' as he said, this, you could have forgiven him. 

"I don't think a whore like her should sit with us." to this comment, your husband's hand clenched the chair, you only hoped he wouldn't do anything too irrational but then again, this man was really challenging you two on your patience. 

"I'm not too sure I understand what you mean, Daenegar." the two men looked at each other intensely as everyone just stayed silent.

"This whore you married." he said pointing at you. "She obviously just wanted to get your royal name, what a disgrace." 

"Be careful with your words, Cousin." Deamon warned but the man just laughed, obviously very drunk.

"Careful with my words? How about you be careful where you stick it into,  she is truly disgusting. And also-" with a swift movement, Daenegar's head was now on the table, blood oozing everywhere as you lift your cup.

"Cheers." you said to the others before taking a drink and continuing with your meal. Everyone looked terrified, not even the men expected this kind of reaction yet here it was. Daenegar dead as Daemon cleaned off his sword. And you just continued to eat as if nothing happened. 

"Anyone else has any words towards my wife will meet the same fate." he simply said as he sat down beside you.

Needless to say, dinner wasn't the same after. Not to say that most women went white as the wall upon seeing the head and the decapitated body of Daenegar. 

You two were now back at your chambers, his fingers caressing your naked back as he looked at you with pure love.

"Did you really marry me for my name?" he asked. You were still a bit disoriented, Daemon made a point to you about how much he loves you truly, once both of you were back in your chambers. The love-making went on for a long time, it must have been very late now, but you just kept staring into his gorgeous eyes, barely feeling your legs at this point.

"Totally. I married you for your name, indeed. And your dragon."

"I always knew you liked Caraxes."

"Not that dragon." you smirked at it took him a moment to realize what you meant.

"You naughty fox." he laughed a little as he moved onto his elbow, you shifted as well, moving closer to him. "I love you so much."

"I know Daemon. You proved yourself today quite a bit. You defended my honour, and you proved your tongue was made for more than just talking." 

"You really are a naughty fox, My Lady." that damn smirk on his face was possibly the sexiest thing you have seen in your entire life.

You lifted your hand to run your fingers down his cheeks and jaw to his lips. As you moved your finger he placed a kiss on it, pouting against it, making you smile. 

Just how pure your for this man was, it almost hurt at times. 

"Tomorrow will be hectic."

"More so than today?" you asked as you let out a yawn.

"Precisely. Word will spread that I killed Daenegar. People might come fight me."

"I doubt that. Everyone here is afraid of you, I highly doubt they will even dare to look at me the wrong way, let alone fight you."

"If that's true, then my plan worked." you hummed as you closed your eyes, ready to sleep after such an exhausting day. "I love you too."

Daemon placed his head into the crook of your neck, placing a kiss on your skin and he too decided to get some sleep.

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[heartfeltcierra]

Marco and Ace (Separate) With an Insecure plus sized reader (Female)

Request- Hi, I really liked your hurt-comfort stories. Could you do Ace, Marco or Vista with a female reader who is not conventionally attractive. Maybe someone makes a comment about looks or weight? I read a lot of stories where reader has a "small frame" and it makes me feel sad about my body. If you don't take request ignore this. Thank you :)

AN- This request hit home, as a plus sized person myself I understand the pain of reader having a "small frame". But it does not make you any less worthy of love! I went with Marco and Ace! Thank you for the request and Thank you @seafoamxshayde for helping me edit!

Masterlist

Warnings- Violence, Self Hatred, mentions of knives, light cussing, mentions of insecurities about looks/weight. Angsty with fluffy endings!

Base Story 

 The atmosphere on the Moby was as lively as ever. The smell of booze laced with Thatch’s top tier food filled the cool night air. You watch as  your fellow crew mates dance around with mugs in their hands- singing songs, sometimes their words slurred. A chuckle escaped your lips. It’s times like this you don’t regret becoming a pirate. You walk over to the only open seat on deck, it was at a table filled with newcomers. You don’t really mind, knowing you need to get comfortable with them sooner or later.

 You slot yourself between two of the newbies. The men looked at you for a moment but turned their attention back to each other. Your plush thigh accidentally brushed up against the man on your right, he snarled before rolling his eyes. Typical. You know these men dream of hot mermaids or drop dead gorgeous women in general. Everything you are not. If you were, the men around you would be pouring your drinks and flirting you up. But you notice the look in their eyes, it calls out “She is undesirable.” And you feel the rejection burrowing deep within your chest. You try to shake your thoughts, tonight is supposed to be fun right? You attempt to jump into a few conversations but we’re dismissed. Not giving up you turned to the man on your left who slammed his mug against the oak table.

 “Man, I have drunk so much I feel like I’m going to die.” He let out a burp and wiped the foam from his mouth. “Too bad if I do. I’ll die without knowing the warm touch of a woman.” An idea popped into your head. You slowly reached out and touched the man's shoulder. The table went quiet as all eyes turned to you.

 “There you go. I hope it was everything you ever dreamed of.” You let out a laugh and gave him a playful smack on the back. The man snickered and his eyes caught yours. 

 “Let me add to my previous statement. I want the touch of a beautiful woman. Am I right, fellas?” Your eyes widened,  the men around you started laughing and banging their hands against the table. Your eyes go to your lap. You look at your stomach, how it sticks out. The same stomach you’ve held a knife up to. Wishing you could cut the fat off. Then your eyes travel to your plush thighs. You realize that even you are disgusted by your flawed body. Ugly. Fat. Undesirable. Freak. These words repeat  like a mantra in your head. The laughter died down and eyes fell on you yet again. You needed to say something. 

 “Yeah.” You could only mutter one word. You followed it with a laugh that seemed to satisfy them. Their conversations switched to different things as you sat mortified. You could feel the building pressure in your face. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream. Every fiber in your body said to get up and go hide in your self loathing.  

 “Thatch where are you going?” You turn around and see the cook walking towards the kitchen.

 “Someone has to wash the dishes.” Thatch stretched his arms out dramatically. “It’s going to be a tough job.” 

 “Commander Thatch let me do the dishes!” Your voice was shaky, but hopefully he didn’t notice. 

 “Are you sure? You just got here Y/N, you haven't even eaten yet.” He quirked a brow at you. 

 “I’m sure. Plus I do a better job than you.” You throw some playful banter to throw him off your trail.

 “Okay then.” He returned to the table he was sitting at. Ace, Marco, and pops were also resting there. 

 Without another word you make a beeline to the kitchen. Tears pooled in your eyes, causing them to blur. Once you got to the safety of the kitchen and made sure you were alone, you came undone. The sobs that left your mouth echoed in the kitchen. You wonder what it is like to be thin and beautiful, to have that power that could make a man turn his head. You wish you were small, you wish you were cute. But you are big.  You wish you were a delicate flower in the wind, one who could be easily picked up by a man. But you were a rock that had sunk deep within the ocean. A rock no one wanted or sought after. You are worthless. You were drowning in your mind  with an anchor tied around your foot. No one could save you, or so you thought. 

 Marco The Phoenix 

  “NO PLEASE COMMANDER!” A man screams out, pulling you from your thoughts. The blood curdling scream came from the deck. You could not help but be curious, so you peek out of the kitchen door. There was a group of men standing in a circle cheering on someone. Hoping to get a better view you walk out towards the railing. A burst of azure fire shoots into the dark sky. Looking down in the middle of the circle you see Marco in his half phoenix form. He had a skull crushing talon gripped around a man's head. You notice the clothes on the man, the realization hits you like lighting. It was the man from the table.

 “How dare you.” Marco’s voice booms. You have never seen him this angry before, he was always so calm and collected. Seeing him like this was scary to say the least.  “You wanna know something newbie? I can hurt you just as much as I can heal you.” You see blood trickling down the side of the man's head. His body was thrashing around, begging for Marco to let him go. 

 “Marco, I think that's enough. You’ve beat a lifetime of fear into him.” Thatch tried to reason with the Doctor, but it was no good. You wonder what could have got Marco this riled up?

 “Shut it Thatch. I’m only done with him when I say so. I ought to throw your pathetic ass overboard for saying what you said about Y/N-yoi.” Marco removed his Talon only to wrap it around the man's throat. “Now listen up, prick. Y/N may not be beautiful in your worthless eyes, but to me she is the most beautiful woman that ever walked the earth.” That statement made your heart flutter. 

 “Commander, I'm sorry. Please let me go.” The man pawed at the talon. Marco smirked down at him in triumph. He slowly released the talon, causing the man to gasp out for air.

 “So now that we cleared that up.” Marco grabbed the collar of his shirt and brought him close to his face. “I’m not going to kill you so consider it your lucky day. But I recall Y/N went to go do dishes. So you're gonna take her place, got it?” 

 “Yes Commander Marco.” The man got up and stumbled right back to the ground.

 “Good, now hurry before I change my mind.” Marco gave him one last death glance before he ran up the stairs, passing you in at a frantic speed as he busted the kitchen door open.  

 Your head turned back to the crowd below you. Marco was staring right at you with a gentle smile on his face. He must have known you were there the entire time.  Heat rose to your cheeks like a wildfire when your eyes met his. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on him. But you never acted on it, knowing it would end up in a rejection like they all have. Marco was gorgeous. Tall and strong, yet so gentle. Plus  a doctor of all things.  Why would he ever want someone like you? The negative thoughts seeped back into your mind. The smile that adorned Marco’s face turned to one of concern. Before you could turn and run away a flash of blue stopped you in your tracks. Marco’s blue wings of fire were spread in front of you before disappearing from his body.

 “Hey gorgeous, wanna go talk somewhere more private?” Marco motioned at the sea of eyes below you. The heat found its way back to your cheeks at the attention you were receiving. You nod shyly. Marco placed a hand on the middle of your back and led you to Moby's back deck. You cringe at his hand placement. It was ghosting over the fat you hated so much. You subconsciously pull away from his warm touch. Marco quirked a brow at you as you walked over to the railing. 

 “Marco, I really appreciate what you did and what you said. But you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” Your nails digged into the wooden railing as tears of frustration rolled down your chubby cheeks. “It’s really cruel to give someone like me hope you know.” You bite your lip in hopes you don’t let out a sob.

 “Lie? Y/N everything I said was the truth.” Marco’s large hand grabbed your shoulder signaling for you to turn around but you couldn't face him. 

 “SHUT UP.” You were at your breaking point. “Marco you know just as well as I do. I am not attractive. And I’m definitely not someone who you should waste your time fighting for. I mean just look at me. I’m a monster. I’m big, I take up too much space. And I-” You turn to face him. You expect the look of disgust like you're used to seeing. But the eyes that look down on you show something different. They were filled with adoration and sadness. His hands grab the railing on both sides of your body, caging you between him and rails.

 “I am looking at you Y/N. But I don’t see a monster. All I see is the woman who I adore more than anything.” He reached his hand to cup your cheek, wiping away the tears in the process . You wanted to retract from his touch, but you craved the soothing feeling they gave. “ I know you don’t see what I see and I know you’ve been told things in the past that make you think what I’m telling you is a lie, but it is not. And if you’d let me, I’d like to prove to you everyday from here on out how much I truly love you. All of you.”

 For a moment you just stared at his face. Looking for signs of malicious intent, but there was none. His brown eyes were soft and twinkled with affection. You never thought a man would look at you like this in your lifetime. This was something you’d only experience in a book, but here you were on the back deck of the Moby sharing an intimate moment with the man you had fallen in love with. 

 “Can I kiss you?” You notice a tint of pink on his cheeks. You shake your head in approval. Marco brought a hand under your chin to tilt it up, his lips connected with yours in a soft, sweet first kiss. The caterpillars you never let grow in your stomach had turned into butterflies. This man really loved you. You are wanted. You are desired. You both pull away and take in much needed air. 

 “So I take that as a yes?” Marco’s face was fully flushed and you don’t think it’s from the lack of oxygen.

 “Of course it’s a yes.” Marco let out a relieved sigh. Your emotions were running wild, you could feel tears trying to start again. 

 “Hey now, no more tears, pretty girl. Even if they are happy ones. I don’t think my heart can handle it.” He brought his hand up to his heart dramatically causing you to laugh at his antics.

 “Okay fine. No more crying. I’d hate to kill the best and only doctor on the ship.” A new found confidence finds its way to you as you reach up and take his hand from his chest, lacing it with yours. His hand grips yours back giving you all the reassurance you need.  “We better hurry back to the party. Hopefully there is some food left for us.” Marco’s eyes widened. You and him both know food goes fast on the Moby. 

 “Oh crap you're right. Now that you mention it I’m starving.” You hear a grumble form in Marco’s stomach. 

 “I guess almost killing a guy and confessing to me has worked you up an appetite.” You laugh as you begin to walk with Marco hand in hand. 

 “It did. But I’d do it all over again. Both kicking that bums ass and confessing to you dear.” He brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles. The gesture makes your heart flutter. 

 The Moby was still lively even after the fight that took place. If anything it was more so. Marco led you to the table with Pops, Ace and Thatch. Pops let out his signature laugh as you and Marco sat down.

 “Son, you sure know how to put on a show.” Marco let out a weary chuckle at pops statement. 

 “Yeah, sorry for the ruckus pops. I just couldn't let that slide-yoi.” His arm reached around you and pulled your body so you were snug against him. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t stand up for the woman I love.” The men at the table all smiled at Marco’s declaration. 

 “Look who grew some balls.” Thach stuck his tongue out causing Marco to kick him from underneath the table. “OUCH. Dammit Marco I was just joking. But in all seriousness I’m happy  for you both. Dare I say you make a cute couple.” The cook gave a sincere smile.

 “I think so too. Tho Y/N may be a little too good for you.” Again Marco kicked, this time it was Ace who fell victim. “Can’t pull that move on me bird brain.” 

 “Ace I swear I’ll throw you overboard. See how cocky you are then.” Marco stood up from the table and Ace followed . You reached for his purple jacket and pulled him back down to the table laughing your head off.

 “Less arguing, more eating and drinking.” Marco smiled down and gave your forehead a soft peck. 

 “Okay, but only because you're cute.” He sent you a wink that made your stomach do a backflip. “Ace I’ll put your ass whooping on hold for now. With that being said,  let’s dig in.” Marco pulled a huge plate of meat towards you and let you pick your piece out first like a true gentleman. 

 The rest of the night you spent in pure bliss. Not once did you think about your body or how much you disliked how you looked. You ate without any guilt. Your thigh was connected with Marco’s, but he welcomed it. Loving the feeling of your body so close to his. He was proud to call you his, as were you. 

Portgas D. Ace

 

 “Pull yourself together Y/N” You bring your hands up to your cheeks. “I did say I’d wash the dishes for Thatch.” You look at the massive pile and you regret it instantly, but it got you away from the table. 

 You walk over to the sink and turn the hot water on. You pour a hearty amount of dish soap into the flowing water and watch as the bubbles fill the sink. The smell of the lemon dish soap filled your nostrils. It was calming. The handle squeaked as you turned the faucet off. Rolling your sleeves up you got to work immediately. One after another you washed the dishes. Scrub, rinse, repeat, scrub, rinse repeat. You felt like you’ve spent an eternity washing the dishes, but you weren't even halfway through the pile. You let out a sigh as you rest your arms on the sink. Looking down in the water you met with your reflection. You’ve never been one to look in mirrors or anything reflective due to hating what looked back at you. But for whatever reason you were locked on water. 

 You understand why the man said what he said. How could anyone see beauty in this face in the water? You hated her. You hated you. Tears from your eyes and into the soap water below. 

 “Dammit.” Your hand clashed your reflection in the water out of frustration.   

 “Yeah Y/N, show those dishes whose boss!” You yelped in surprise at the voice. You whipped your head around to see the one and only Ace standing with a huge smile on his face. 

 “Ace, what are you doing here?” Your eyes met him for a moment before you looked away. You hoped he didn’t notice your tears.   

 “Hey, what's wrong?” You should have known better. Nothing gets past fire fist Ace.  He walked closer to you. “You didn’t get hurt did ya?” His eyes studied your body to see if there was any injury. 

 “No, I’m fine.” You turn back around and go back to doing dishes. Ace walked up beside you, grabbing the dish you had washed out of your hand.

 “Here, you wash and I’ll dry.” His wide smile sent a wave of comfort over you. 

 “Thank you.” The two of you worked in silence. You would occasionally glance over at him, watching his muscles flex as he dried the dishes. 

 “Like what ya see hmm?” Busted. Yours eyes shot away from the smirking man.

 “I umm,” Your words stutter as you lose the grip on the dish you were washing. It sank back into the soapy water.

 “I’m just teasing ya Y/N. Look all you want.” Ace bumped his hip into yours playfully. You swayed slightly before side eyeing him. Ace has always been a flirt. The attention he would give you made you feel good, but you know it was all just for fun. Ace could have any woman he wanted. You’ve seen the women that throw themselves at him. You could not compete. A man like Ace deserves a gorgeous woman by his side. Not a fat nobody like you. 

 “Hey Y/N what's on your mind. You sure look lost in thought over there.” Ace’s velvet voice pulled you from your bleak thinking.

 “Nothing.” You hand the next dish over to him.

 “Stop lying. You know you can tell me anything.” His hands reach over yours, grabbing some bubbles. You watched as he brought them up to his face. He slapped the bubble on and made what appeared to be a beard. “This is the beard of a trustworthy, sophisticated man.” He made his voice sound deeper than what it was. You couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted from you. Ace smiled happily. “It’s good to see a smile on that pretty face.” 

 “Haven’t you teased me enough tonight?” You roll your eyes and hand him the last dish.

 “Who said I was teas-” Ace cut himself off and started coughing. “Damn I got soap in my mouth, gross.” Ace flung his hat so it hung on his back. He held his tongue out and turned the water on. He stuck his head under the faucet, letting the water drown out the soap taste. You let out a snort at the sight. He turned the water off and brought his head up. Water droplets fell from his dark locks and rolled down his tone chest. “You think that’s funny huh? Well how about this?” Ace shook his head like a dog, making the water shake out and land on you.

 “Ace you jerk!” You step back and grab some bubbles from the sink to throw at him.

 “Ohh so that’s how you're gonna play. Well then, in that case.” Ace grabbed a huge pile of bubbles and threw them at you. “Take this, BUBBLE FIST.” Ace threw the bubble only for them to float gracefully to the floor.

 “That was so lame.” You stuck your tongue out at the pouting man.

 “Yeah, I’ll admit it was very lame.” He scratched the back of his head as a blush found its way to his freckled cheeks. “Well that’s enough fun for now. Now will you please tell me what made you cry?” You know he wasn’t going to stop until you fessed up.  

 “Fine.” You tell him everything that happened. After reliving the incident you started crying again. “But you know what Ace, he wasn’t lying.” Ace watched as you broke down in front of him. His eyes grew darker and darker by the second.

 “You stay here. I’m going to take care of this.” Ace bent over and placed a kiss on your forehead before turning around. You watched in shock as the jolly roger on his back flexed with every angry step he took.

 “Wait, what?” You snap back into reality and realize what he is about to do. “Wait Ace.” You followed behind him but it was too late. He jumped up on the railing and looked down on the party below.

 “Which one of you assholes made my Y/N cry?” Ace yelled out grabbing everyone's attention. Everyone went silent before the man stood up.

 “Y/N, you talking about that fatass that sat beside me earlier.” The man stood up, he was obviously drunk considering he was slurring his words. “I meant what I said. What are you gonna do about it punk?” Ace turned around and looked at you. 

 “Don’t listen to him Y/N. You're gorgeous. Now sit back and enjoy the show.” Ace stretched out his arms and legs. “Hold on to this for me please.” He places his hat on top of your head before jumping off the rails. You watch as his lower half turns into fire. He floats through the air and drops down on the table where the man was, breaking it clean in half.

 “What the hell.” The man fell from his seat and onto Moby's wooden deck. Ace towered over him with a look that would make any man tremble in fear.

 “You brought this on yourself. This will be a lesson you will never forget.” Ace grabbed the man. “Don’t” Punch “Ever.” Punch. “Talk.” Punch. “About my girl.” Ace landed one last blow on the man. 

 “Fuck you and that ugly bitch.” One of the man's teeth fell out with a little blood. 

 “Guess you didn’t learn huh?” Ace grabbed the man's throat. Flames erupt from Ace’s hands. He slung the man back and finished him off with his signature “Fire fist” Sending the man flying over board. You watched the scene unfold slack jawed. The guy deserved it and your glad Ace took care of him, but it was too much. 

 Your knees drop to the floor, causing Ace’s hat to fall beside you. Your vision was turning red and you felt light headed. Why did he kiss me? Why did he refer to me as his girl? Was he just playing with my feelings?  Why would he fight over someone as undeserving as me? Your mind raced before you face planted into the floor, losing consciousness.

 ~~~~A few hours later~~~~

 “You dumbass. Why in the hell did you think that was a good idea?” Your eyes open to see Marco scolding Ace who had a very prominent knot on his head.

 “You're right I’m sorry. It’s just I couldn't just stand back and let that guy get away for making Y/N cry. Seeing tears falling down her pretty face really struck a nerve in me and I acted on it. I don't regret doing it though.” Neither of the men notice you awake.

 “Make sure you take her into consideration next time before diving head first into a fight. You have a lot to learn.” Marco shook his head and looked over at you. A small smile made his way on your face before he motioned Ace in your direction. He turned his body around and ran to your side.

 “You're awake!” Ace kneeled beside your bed and took your hand in his. 

 “How do you feel Y/N?” Marco asked as he brought  you a glass of water, you gladly accepted it and gulped it down. 

 “I feel tired. Other than that I’m fine.” You lift your body off the bed as Ace grabs the empty glass from your hands.

 “Good. I diagnose you with being overwhelmed by this idiot.” Marco wacked Ace in the back of the head. “ Sadly for you Y/N there is no cure. My condolences.” 

 “Oh no, how will I live?” You say dramatically falling back on the bed. You close your eyes and stick your tongue like a dead animal causing both men to laugh.

 “I’m sure you will manage. But in all seriousness you’ll be okay. Stay in bed for the next few days and get some rest.” Marco walked towards your bedroom door and turned the handle. “I’ll leave you two alone. If you need me let me know. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.” Marco winked and walked out of the room.  

 “I’m really sorry Y/N. I hope you can forgive me.” Ace’s eyes looked down. He was riddled with guilt and it hurt you to watch.

 “It’s okay, I’ll forgive you if you answer a question for me?” Ace nodded, signaling for you to continue. “Well I guess it’s more like two. First, Why did you kiss me? Second, why did you refer to me as your girl?” 

 “Well, to answer both. I like you. No, if I’m being more honest. I love you Y/N.” Ace smiled as he looked at you. You became aware of his gaze and grabbed a pillow, shielding your stomach from him. “Don’t hide yourself from me.” He reached out and pulled the pillow away from you.

 “Ace, I'm not worth your love. You deserve someone pretty.” You lower your head, causing Ace to click his tongue.

 “The first part is a lie, but I can fully back that second statement. I know you don’t see yourself as the ideal girl. But in my eyes you are everything I’ve ever wanted and then some. You're sweet, you have the cutest laugh, you're fun to be around and don’t get me started on your hips and as-” You throw a pillow before you could let him finish. “Sorry, I deserved that. But what I’m trying to get at is you are beautiful. I wish you didn’t think so poorly of yourself. I will do whatever it takes to show you just how stunning you are.” Ace cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing up and down lovingly.

 “Ace, what do you mean by that?” Your cheeks heat up under his soft touch.

 “Well pretty, what I’m saying is. Do you want to do this fool the honor of calling you his girlfriend?” Was this real? Did Ace really just ask you out?

 “Am I dreaming?” You reach your hand out and trace your finger over his freckles.

 “Nope, it’s real life. Here let me prove it to you.” Ace leaned over and planted his soft lips on yours. Your hands found their way to his soft hair, gently intertwining your fingers within the dark strands. Ace pulled away and planted little kisses all over your face. The heat in your face from his actions did not go unnoticed, “You look so cute when you're shy.” The smug man winked, causing you to hide your face in a pillow.

 “Portgas D. Ace.” You muffled from the pillow. “You are going to be the death of me.”

 “No, you're not dying anytime soon. We are going to grow old and wrinkly together whether you like it or not.” Ace stood up from the chair and stretched his body. “Now that sounds good doesn't it?” 

 “Yeah, yeah it does.” You pull your face from the pillow to peer up at him.

 “Good. Now, I think I’ve terrorized you enough for one day.” Ace leaned down and kissed your forehead just like earlier. “I’ll let you get some rest sweet girl.” Ace turned to leave but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he got too far.

 “Ace, wait.” He turned and curled a brow at you. “WIll you stay with me, please?” Ace’s expression softened.

 “Of course I will. Is it okay If I lay next to you?” You nod and scooch over in the bed, giving Ace some room to lay down. He took his hat off and threw it on your nightstand. You could feel the heat radiate off him as he laid down in the bed. It took everything in you not to reach out for him. You were unaware how hard you were staring at him until he spoke up. “You know you could stare at me all night or.” Ace lifted his arm out to you. “Or you could come closer so I can hold you.” 

 “But what If I’m too heavy and I-” You hesitated but Ace wrapped a strong arm around your midsection and nestled you into his toned chest. 

 “You will never be too heavy for me sweet girl.” His lips meet your forehead yet again. “Now get some rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up. Goodnight Y/N, sweet dreams.” You let your tense body relax in his hold. Between the warmth of his body and the feeling of protection being in his strong hold gave you, you fell asleep looking forward to all the nights like this to come.

 ~~Bonus~~

 “Vista move, I can’t see.” Izou whispered  while pushing the large man away from the door.

 “Young love, such a heartwarming sight.” Vista swooned at the sight of you in Ace’s embrace.

 “Cut it out you two you're going to wake them up.” Marco came up from behind and dragged them away from the door.

 “Fine.” Izou rolled his eyes and walked away, Vista followed. Marco made sure they left before spying on yours and Ace’s sleeping forms. He hates to admit it, but you are both very adorable. 

 “They grow up so fast.” He shut the door back before walking to his office. “Damn, I sound like a old man.”

[gayhenrycreel]

i think people need to stop being so angry about people having genital preferences. its not transphobic to not want to eat cunt.

im a trans man and im only attracted to men with a dick and a flat chest (this includes trans men). i cant help it. its just how i am. its not because i don't see trans men as men or something, im just not into pussy.

stop shaming people for not being into girldick or boypussy.

ive also noticed that a lot of these people shaming others about this are also very... weird about bottom surgery. bottom surgery is just as life saving as top surgery. if you actually look on transbucket you can see that it does look real and its very rare that someone completely loses sensation after bottom surgery.

im not as familiar with vaginoplasty, but it seems that people who fear phalloplasty think that scars are hideous and that the first stage is the only stage. thats not true. scars are just a part of someones body, and phalloplasty has secondary stages, after which the neo penis looks just any other dick. stop looking at photos a few weeks after surgery, look for photos a few years post op. it takes time to heal.

people who fear metoidioplasty just think micropenises are gross. thats it. they also think bottom growth is disgusting.

weirdly, all of these people are trans. i have not seen a single cis person on this site go into trans tags and claim bottom surgery is mutilation. ive seen many trans men do it. (the terfs seem to stick to their own tags).

honestly with all the terfs around here its really fuckin weird.

they also seem to believe that there are 4 genders: men, trans men, women, and trans women. thats clearly not right.

they stereotype trans men (they call them boys regardless of age) as being white, submissive, and never wanting to transition. its very rare i see art of trans men who are not white femboys.

they do the same to trans women- sorry, "trans girlies".

interestingly, they always draw feminine women and men, but never masculine anyone. art of masculine people is always drawn by those who are in the process of transition or butch lesbians.

its the terf kool aid. they think masculinity will make them like their oppressors, so they cant imagine that anyone would ever want to be masculine in any way.

they really seem to think bears are gross too. smells like fatphobia.

theyre also weird about trans people who are... not young twinks? why do they keep drawing us in maid outfits? consistently?

and then theres the fanfics. a while ago i made a post about cis people doing this, but since then ive realized trans people do it too. a lot. i am yet to find a fanfic featuring a trans man who is not a submissive bottom. always with tits. always scrawny. always ALWAYS into having his cervix destroyed.

some trans men are like that and they deserve representation, but its the only representation i see.

also, when you look at these peoples bios, you see that they are either cis women in their 20s, or teenage trans guys.

i think they are so out of touch with real world queerness that they have come to believe the stereotypes chasers have made for us.

and thats why trans tags read like fetish tags.

also, transhet people get thrown under the bus. completely erased. i have never seen a fic depicting a straight trans man- sorry, "pussyboy". sometimes i see one saying noooo, hes bisexual. and then he gets railed by a cis man youd see in hollywood.

and why is every fic about trans people porn? do we exist outside of porn or are we just mpreg fetish fuel? yeah, a lot of its mpreg. and they react to REAL LIFE MEN getting pregnant as some kind of joke. they make suggestive comments, theyre just all sorts of weird and invasive. its gross. those are real people.

it fucking hurts to see other trans people talk about bodies like mine as if we're not real actual humans, just sexual fantasies.

i cant go into ftm tags because theres porn everywhere. and its not bots. its young trans men who think trans men are only defined by pussy.

thats not how it works. we're defined by being men. not all trans men have tits and vaginas. surgery exists. this place is crazy.

on youtube men declare that women and faggots are destroying western civilization for wanting basic autonomy.

on tumblr, everyone, except a select few who stop to think, declare that masculinity is inherently restrictive and oppressive and that testosterone is poison. which republicans on youtube also claim. the difference is that tumblrinas think cis men are included in being poisoned by testosterone.

go back to terf island and grovel at the feet of jkr like you have wet dreams about.

just because youre trans doesnt mean you cant be transphobic.

have you heard of tirfs? trans-inclusive radfems. they believe that trans women are women and must be saved from the evil men, and that trans men are men and so are rapists. terfs love them.

you need to understand that transphobia is not the defining trait of terfs. the defining trait of terfism is the belief that men are disgusting, violent, sex driven, out of control, abusive, and rapists in waiting. ive seen them say that male fetuses should be aborted by law. thats eugenics. ya know, like fascism.

because thats what it is. by my definition, fascism is the belief that certain humans are not worthy of life. terfs think men are not worthy of life, and drag trans people into it.

before you decide that trans men, or whatever fetishy term you call us, are all twinks, think. like, at all. is there a reason you think this way? do you have room in your worldview for hairy trans men? hairy feminine trans men? trans bears? trans men of colour? masculine trans men with long hair?

trans men who have surgery and T shots?

or does that seem too much like... i dunno... body horror to you?

thats how these people react to sex changes. they make comments on photos of phalloplasty scars and say it looks like a horrible burn scar. it looks painful they say. "how do you go out in public?", "why would you put yourself through that?".

if someone had a kidney transplant would you say such things about those scars?

both are life saving surgeries. treat them as such.

stop writing the same smut over and over about a woman who can only have vaginal sex and never be anything other than submissive and breedable and slap the word "cuntboy" on it. has it occurred to you that some trans men would like to read about guys like them? not a bunch of white twink clones? fucking hell, it hard to find twink clone smut where the twink even has a flat chest!

it actually makes a lot of trans guys really dysphoric to have so much attention put on the parts we're born with. not all trans guys, but a lot. honestly the lack of representation makes me feel like i have to use parts of me that i cant even look at. ive seen a lot of other guys express this feeling too.

are we not sexy if we don't have sex a certain way? not getting representation hurts. it feels very isolating. the only kind of people like me who get called sexy are called sexy for things i can not do. (seriously i am physically not able to get anything in my front hole without extreme pain. how do you think trans guys like me who are physically incapable of vaginal sex feel about boypussy fetishism?)

anal sex is a thing. do you think its too gross for your twink clone to try? almost like... its unnatural...?... its dirty...?... its... sinful?

good fuckin job, buckaroo, ya reinvented classic homophobia.

there is no form of consensual sex that is sinful. you're just anti kink! if ya think anal sex is gross wait till ya hear about fisting.

youre all "i wanna turn that femboys prostate into jelly" until you realize it in his ass. so you give that femboy a g-spot instead. it doesn't take much to realize that all holes have something gross that comes outta them, not just ya asshole. i mean, blood and earwax is pretty unpleasant too. youre fine with kissing and vomits definitely gross! (your nose is also connected to the back of your throat so if you french someone youre gonna get nasal cavity mucus on your tongue)

if you think anal sex is gross youre just an 80s homophobe.

think of of it this way: i dont wanna stick my dick in a hole that ejects a buncha blood every month anymore than you want to acknowledge that some people prefer to shove something up their asshole. both are equally gross, and neither of them are actually gross at all unless youve been told its gross your whole life.

stop deciding that (however unconsciously) trans men can only be skinny white young twinks. i have actually yet to met a trans man above the age of 20 who is skinny. the trans guys ive met irl are fat and hairy. its quite obvious that the twink thing is just a stereotype.

seriously, yous are missing out on writing smut about fat hairy men, but youre too scared of being *gasp* not perfect under white cishetpatriarchy, ergo it is incomprehensible that someone would be attracted to that let alone want to be like that.

ever since i watched Jumanji: welcome to the jungle, i have wanted to be a fat middle-aged man. i was genuinely confused that that barbie didn't like it. cant remember her name.

yous are the same people who wanna "fuck that old man" arent ya? the people who are usually grossed out when you see an old man above the age of 30? it seems like the same sorta mentality.

if a cis guy got hairy would you call him disgusting and unattractive? not that ive seen. its reserved for trans guys on T.

tldr; theres nothing wrong with having a preference for certain genitals, those people who say its wrong just think its transphobic because they think not being attracted to someone means you hate them. they just don't realize that some people get bottom surgery and that its not a bad thing. theyve been drinking the terf koolaid

[thateclecticbitch]

"l am a mid-thirties gay man, and in the mid 2010's, I was almost taken in by some of this propaganda as well. It was exactly as you layed out, and for me it was the line that I was going to be 'forced to have sex with vaginas'. I never went full transphobe, denying peoples identities or misgendering or deadnaming, but I did spend a lot of time reenforcing the idea that sex was immutable and that being gay meant I was only into 'biological males', not 'men' as a gender identity.

Over time the awful way people in these circles treated not just trans people but gay and lesbian people started to bother me intensely. I also had several experiences where I found myself attracted to men who I later learned were trans. l couldn't deny my own experience of being attracted to them, so I had to rethink how I conceived of my sexuality.

If I listened to terfs, me being attracted to transmen would mean I'd have to identify as 'bi', even though l've never been attracted to any women. Their perspective just didn't make sense.

More introspection led me to realize that what I thought was a lack of attraction to trans men because 'they are biologically female and I'm gay' was actually cognitive dissonance I felt because I was both attracted to some trans men, but also disgusted by trans bodies in general. I grew up with Ace Ventura and other depictions of trans people as disgusting, and I had a sense that any bodies that didn't neatly fall into one or the other binary category was somehow inherently gross.

More exposure to trans people through YouTube, real life meeting people, and positive media representation has deeply shifted this feeling of disgust I had. I feel ashamed that I didn't realize what was going on sooner, and feel sorry to anyone who saw my online footprint at that time and was hurt by it.

The way you layed this all out, the way these transphobes bait gay people into their cult and stoke bigoted disgust, was so spot on to my experience. Really stellar work. Thanks again."

-commenter on Calean Conrad's "Inside A Cult" a YouTube docuseries about what goes on in private gender critical Facebook groups.

[paula-of-christ]

I feel defeated. I know this sounds pathetic, but I kind of wish I was d*ead right now or at least I feel like I don’t belong to Christianity anymore like what’s the point. One of the things I worried about after finding God was that I have tattoos and I knew at the time like it didn’t matter and well honestly I saw and still see so many people getting saved who have loads and I know God doesn’t look at outwards but the heart, and more recently it gave me such joy to see kat von d being saved. That being said, I just came across a video of a priest idk maybe an orthodox priest on YouTube speaking on how it’s completely wrong and how awful it is etc and then the comments sections was filled with people saying how disgusting it looks on women and legit any confidence I had just vanished and I feel like a piece of dirt who has no right to call herself Christian lol I honestly feel like no matter how much I run after God or feel peace about everything and let go I see stuff like this and feel like I should give up like

I'd be interested to know why the priest said something like that. While frivolous tattoos are wrong to get, because it's disrespecting the body, Christianity has a very long history of tattooing. Off the top of my head, a traditional pilgrimage activity to Jerusalem is getting a tattoo of a cross, or some other Christian symbol. As well, in Croatia, the tattooing of young girls was common practice as a sign of their Catholic faith, and as a way to stop them from being taken as sex slaves. These often had Christian elements of crosses.

I posted it a few days ago but I'll link it again of this man (Shayne Smith) converting to Catholicism, and feeling accepted by Catholics despite his appearance having many tattoos, several of them on his face [time stamp starting at 38:45, but honestly all of it is so good I encourage you to listen to the whole thing].

I think perhaps a lesson to be learned, is that when you're online, and you see something upsetting, it's best to just keep scrolling/move on. It is pretty much never worth it to look at or to comment on things. I personally like the look of tattoos, and think that if they mean something to a person, that it's completely fine. Both of my bridesmaids had visible tattoos at my wedding, and I know one of the guys I had on my side has a tattoo (wasn't visible because tuxes cover a lot more). I don't personally have them because they are expensive and my husband doesn't care for them, and his opinion on how I look is the only one that matters.

That's also something, unless those people in those comments are people you are trying to date or get to know in a romantic sense, their opinions on women having tattoos is completely irrelevant. Even then, those types of people aren't who you should be looking to be in fellowship with, because if they are that negative on a random youtube short, they probably aren't all that pleasant in real life either.

As an example since my husband doesn't care for tattoos, if I did go and get one, it wouldn't make him less attracted to me. The people that are so against tattoos on women, are reducing those women to how they look, rather than the quality of their character. You can easily be a very high quality person and have tattoos, those things are not mutually exclusive.

As just an end note, I'll leave you with Fr. Mike Schmitz on tattoos. He even got one himself.

[badger-with-a-boa]

(Long post)

I just had to check the comments under this post.

Trigger warning for a fuckton of transphobia, mentions of murder & rape from my rant.

Apologies for any spelling mistakes and such.

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I am fuming right now. I'm not even surprised of all the transphobia, but the amount of it is sickening. One comment was good, that's it.

I'll never be able to love my fiancée in peace without some transphoic asshole saying I can't be a real lesbian if I'm with her, if I love her, if I'm okay with her being pre-op. Shut the fuck up.

I have to live in fear every fucking day that there's a decently high chance my fiancée could end up harmed, raped or even murdered. It all started because of disguising and close minded bigots like the people here. I have to hope every single damn day and every single time my fiancée goes out in public that someone won't attack her. Imagine living with that.

Imagine the families, the friends, the partners that lost someone simply because they were trans. Imagine someone finding out their wife was killed for simply existing in the same room because she was trans. Imagine finding out your brother was attacked and raped by a stranger or date because he was trans. Imagine living with that pain for the rest of your life.

My fiancée is such an amazing woman. She is a talented writer. She loves music with her entire heart. She feeds deer in her backyard. She got so excited seeing bunnies play outside her work. She loves coffee and cheese. She likes to play Animal Jam for nostalgia all the time. She feeds the stray cats in her area. She loves going to thift stores and antique stores. She loves the color purple. She adores horror movies. She tells me facts about the Doctor Who franchise so I better understand references. She's so excited for us to finally see each other next week for the first time. We plan to have a horror movie marathon and eat Halloween candy while wearing matching costumes on Halloween. We plan to be the gayest motherfuckers around.

She's fucking human. She's a sister, daughter, a fiancée, a niece. She wants to be a mom one day. She wants to make music, write comics, have cats and ferrets and bunnies, live in a nice home with a wraparound porch and have rocking chairs so we can watch the sunset together.

Does that sound predatory? Does that sound disgusting? Does it sound like she's harming anyone? Does it seem like she's a man pretending to be a woman to prey upon lesbians?

We are not a straight couple. We are not straight with extra steps. We are both lesbians who love each other and are gay as fuck. She is a talented, beautiful, kind-loving human being that just wants to fucking live without watching behind her back. I'm allowed to love her, I'm allowed to love her body pre-op and post-op, I'm allowed to love her before & after she's on estrogen, I'm allowed to hold her hand and kiss her in public, I'm allowed to marry her, I'm allowed to want a family with her, I'm allowed to love my fiancée. It does not make me less of a lesbian to do so.

She's the love of my life and no one would ever convince me she's just a man pretending to be a woman, she's sick, she's dangerous, she's a risk to children. She is a woman. She always has been. She's my girlfriend, my fiancée, and eventually my wife. We will always be lesbians. No chromosome or genitalia bullshit changes that. She's my girl, she's my beautiful love, she's my whole heart and soul. I'll fight tooth and nail to stand up for her, to fight beside her, to protect her. I'd happily go to prison for attacking someone if they harmed her. Whether that be a complete stranger, a family member, or even police. She can easily stand up for herself, but that will never stop me from being right beside her.

To all transphobes, to all lesbians who think trans women can't be lesbians, to all lesbians that "speak for all lesbians" like this, to anyone that thinks trans women are men, to anyone that thinks trans women can't be lesbians. Sincerely, go fuck yourselves.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Tw, Parental abuse, threats of murder, threatened violence against women, sexism, A boy being told to toughen up deal, being called names

Looking for support and validation (💛📼 sorry for the emojis i want to be able to find this post once it gets answered, don't know if this counts as symbols and is against the rules, im so sorry)

My dad (45) talks about how to could kill me at any moment anytime i (15M) am annoying to him. He's been doing it since i was a child, getting in my face and screaming about how he would brutally kill me if he could. Now that i'm a little older i try to make jokes like "you wouldn't i'm just so cool and awesome, i can't be killed" but he goes on about how "i could. i could. i can. i will kill you."

I feel like this is pennies compared to other people and their parents but i can't take it anymore. I'm tired of threats and hands on me and him getting in my face and the yelling and blowing up over little things like my nails or clothes or whatever. There's a stigma for boys and abuse, and it feels really isolating... I've heard all the "toughen up" and "man up" and "be stronger" and "you're being weak" and i'm really lonely

I know so many more women are victimized and oppressed and scrutinized and abused and hurt than men and i really don't want to take away from that, but i don't know what to do. I'm so tired and stressed and scared and lonely. Like i'm the only boy out here who is being yelled at and crying about it, i can't help but feel like im being weak for crying. He keeps talking about how men are so much better than women and can take them down and hurt them and i hate it.

he wont let me have a heater in my room, winter is coming soon and my room has shitty ventilation and insulation because i'm above the garage. He said no to the heater because my room is messy (bits of laundry and wrappers here and there, i think it's pretty clean and stuff) and therefore i'm a disgusting pig and going to burn the house down and should have thought about that before i asked. I'm so cold, my body is freezing, i can feel the coldness of my hands as i type this. Every winter is colder and colder these days. I'm thinking if buying a heater secretly tho! maybe i'll feel a little less sad if i can sleep warm and cozy...

thanks for reading, sorry this went into a tangent, i tried to tw everything at the top but i don't know if i did it all right, i'm sorry. Thank you again, thank you so much. I feel a little better now that i typed all this out. I should go to bed now, nightnight, have a good day, thank you.

Hi anon,

It sounds like you've experienced these threats so many times that you've become desensitized to them and have normalized them to the extent that you feel this experience is equivalent to "pennies" compared to others. But threats on your life should be taken seriously, regardless of who says it, how many times it's been said, or even your gender identity. You're right that the culture around boys and men is to be "tough" but that shouldn't mean tolerating abuse. You're not decentering misogynistic abuse by highlighting toxic masculinity. Your dad sounds like an incel.

Hearing about the heater situation is even more concerning because it's starting to sound like neglect as well as child endangerment. I recommend that you reach out to a crisis resource such as 741741 or 988. You can also take a look at this spreadsheet with other crisis resources, as some of those include crisis resources specifically for men or minors. If anyone has any additional suggestions or comments, please feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[ihhfhonao3]

Some hate I’ve gathered over the past two (2) days because I think they’d make funny copypastas. Tw for rabid ableism and transphobia because that’s just what people do on here I guess lmao

Having gender dysphoria is being delusional; you are deluded about your own body to the point where you seek to change it to conform to misogynistic stereotypes. Calling someone delusional who is, in fact, delusional, is not, in fact, ableism. Being delusional is undesirable. Being mentally ill is undesirable. Saying otherwise is ableist. Everything you listed is indicative of being delusional, besides the disabled bit. None of what you listed has anything to do with being disabled. Using the term "neurodiverse" to identify yourself is as fucking stupid as using "biodiverse" to identify a plant. The human population is neurodiverse, our planet is biodiverse. "Neurodiverse" is a term neither coined, nor used, nor sanctioned by neuroscientists. "Queer" is a slur against LGB (HOMOSEXUAL) people. It is not an identity. Being a delusional misogynistic, science-denier like all trans and "non-binary" people are, has nothing to do with being LGB. Additionally, there is no oppression that trans people face for being trans. Being a furry is disgusting, as well as delusional, and, again, has nothing to do with being LGB. No furry is oppressed; people find them disgusting bc they simply, by definition, are. I don't even really know what the fuck "otherkin" means and I don't want to. No one cares about this niche bullshit, and no one is oppressed due to their attempt to be it. Other people thinking you're stupid, misogynistic, homophobic, insane, obnoxious, and revolting isn't, in and of itself, a form of oppression. Sometimes, others think you're stupid, misogynistic, homophobic, insane, obnoxious, and revolting bc that's precisely what you are. I'm here to tell you that anyone who uses the "identities" you listed (besides being disabled), and/or believes in the ideologies connected to them; that person is stupid, misogynistic, homophobic, insane, obnoxious, and revolting. Grow the fuck up. Stop talking about LGB people, and stop including us in your larping puppyplay creepy bs. Your ahistoric delusional porn-sick behavior has nothing to do with us, and it never has.

@ihhfhonao3 tried to "call me out" by reposting my page to their blog, calling me a bigot etc. yet when I responded to their post with logic and explained that as a gay man I do not accept an ideology created by pe do John Money, they deleted my comments and responded with infantile and massochistic messages. This is so typical of the left, their hypocrisy, and their love of censorship.

I do not intend to harm any individual, however I will not hesitate to call bullshit on an ideology that is absolutely harming people. Its harming children and young people, its harming women, its harming LGB people. I have been "radicalized" by my first hand experience of narcissistic trans individuals, and my observation of the interesting correlation between governments, and corporations promotion of the "progressive" pride flag and all things trans. I absolutely believe there is a nefarious agenda.

Have there been "gender non confirming" people forever!? Absolutely. But they havent used drugs and surgery to ruin their bodies. It was only ever a very small number of people that were so non conforming as to be "cross dressing." Someone told me the other day in all seriousness that they didnt think men should wear shorts. Peoples ideas about conformity and gender are all over the map. You can wear whatever the f you want to now... just dont tell children that they need to become sterile to "be their true selves."

Yes gender separate from sex is a construct. Its a normative set of traits. However these things are not at all concrete. To conflate ones biology with the clothes one likes to wear is NORMATIVE CAPITULATION! So why are the supposed rebels perpetuating NORMATIVE STEREOTYPES!?

Its ludicrous and is evidence that these people are actually weak minded victims of a massive psychological operation fomented many decades ago. These same people will say thats just a "conspiracy theory" and yet believe that "THE PATRIARCHY MUST BE SMASHED," yet want to give children's bodies and minds over to Pharma Corp and Rockefeller medicine!?

It is a psy op.

There are autogynaphilics, and there are gay men with internalized homophobia. These are mental states of confusion. They are not lifestyles to be celebrated or something to take pride in.

These people are not part of the LGB. They are hostile to everything that LGB is. Drag queens and transvestites are not transexual. You are not born in the wrong body. You are not too "butch" to be a woman, or to "femme" to be a man. Gender separate from sex is just a concept, a lens, a made up thing like unicorns. We can talk about them, but it doesnt make them real.

This is a nuanced conversation that must occur before its all out war and were literally murdering each other in the street. Thats what the puppet masters want. They want chaos. They want us hating each other. I dont hate people, but I do hate lies. And I will stand up to lies and liars till my very last breath.

Not all people who identify as “queer” are mentally ill, but you definitely are, OP. Seek help, please, as wanting to be dehumanized and suffering from violent mood swings are very serious signs of deep disturbance. Also I don’t believe you have the “spoons” to make a phone call, let alone rip out someone’s entrails.

[thelasttime]

About Timmy x Kylie, sorry to dump this on you but the way the Internet talks bout women makes me sick. I was reading comments and people were like 'why would a guy his age be with a mom of 2?' 'who wants a women with children?' and then other people responding 'well she a billionare single mom' and i'm sorrY WHAT?

I'm not a Kardashian/Jenner fan AT ALL but this is not just about them, i see comments like this all the time. I remember the Harry started dating Olivia, similar comments. Like 'your body count makes you worth less' 'being a single mom is red flag'. As if the only thing Kylie or any woman with children can offer is their bank account!

When a man marries a single mom there are so many men saying 'he so dumb' and very offensive shit about the woman and the child.

And these podcasts with aLpHa males talking down at women is getting so popular and ughhh. Saying 'thats why a 30 year old prefers a 19/20 cause they have less experience and are not used up'. It's just so disgusting.

"being a single mom is a red flag" like . what . a child is a red flag ???????????????????????????????????????????????? A WOMAN CAN BE USED UP AS THOUGH SHE'S A TOY AND NOT A HUMAN BEING ?!?!?????