#noble pig

[fieriframes]

[Is there an association -- a world order of Noble Pig? [ Laughs ] BATES: It's like a brotherhood. It's top-secret. There's a handshake and all? There's a handshake. [ Imitates pig snort ]]

[aloofobtuse]

Cult of Gental Heart lamb, I guess.

[howdydopillar]

okay, I gotta ask everybody and anybody, EVERYBODY AND ANYBODY. even if you’re not a Care Bears fan or don’t know anything about it that well;

[hybridreviews]

ANIME DISCOVERY - Time of the Season Fall 2023 Wrap-up

One more before the ultimate best and worst of lists!

Here we are, folks. We are at the end of the year and close to the end of the anime season and year overall and for what happened in the last 3 months…… well, the strikes ended but mostly in some not-so-good terms but hey, you get to talk about movies without someone calling you a scab or something. There are also voice actors not knowing when to shut the fuck up or just NOT to be the jerk in…

[fakin-friendos]

My beautiful daughter

[newts-and-sharks]

Picture of an oc no one asked for! Marshanda Capterre

Please ignore the “tiger milf boobas” those were written by a friend-

[demonlikejudgeoffire]

Every once in a while I'm watching a documentary and learn something mundane but completely new to me and it's incredible!!!! Did you know that golden hamsters are from Syria????

[ljaesch]

J-Novel Club's Announcements at Anime NYC 2023

J-Novel Club announced during its Anime NYC 2023 panel that it has licensed the following titles: Title: Chivalry of a Failed Knight novels Author: Riku Misora (story), Won (art) Release Date: December 2023 Summary: In a world where people with supernatural powers, called Blazers, manifest their souls as weapons, Kurogane Ikki dreams of becoming a Mage-Knight. It’s too bad he has no natural…

[allmypink]

[struggles-and-prose]

📚 Beautiful Books part 3: Death On The Nile And Other Hercule Poirot Mysteries by Agatha Christie 📚

Ordered this book on the Barnes & Noble website, along with my previous Agatha Christie that’s part of the Collectible Editions, also from HarperCollins Publishers. The cover is a brown/orange colour with big white lettering and a drawing of pyramids in the horizon. Absolutely mesmerizing if you ask me.

In the back, there’s a sun on the horizon, surrounded by some leaves. This book has 3 stories in 1. "Death On The Nile", "The ABC Murders" and "Five Little Pigs".

The spine has 2 hubs, one on top and the other at the bottom. The red lines on the orange background gives it some very subtle beauty.

The end paper is again, really adorable. A beige background, plastered with little drawings of red, orange, black and white hats, daggers, moustaches and bow ties.

Here's a closer look at the end paper.

The side of the pages are decorated with gold.

The text is a relatively good size, like my previous Agatha Christie book, with a total of 693 pages.

And we have a gorgeous dark red bookmark ribbon inside, which pairs well with the orange of the cover.

Here's a closer look at the bookmark ribbon.

My favourite part of this book has to be the end paper again, because it's adorable. This book pairs well with the 2 other Agatha Christie books from the Barnes & Noble Collectible Editions, which I will also show in a future post.

Fun fact about Agatha Christie: World War I shaped her writing, considering Agatha worked as a volunteer nurse and was trained in pharmaceuticals, where she gained a strong knowledge of poisons. Something she would put to very good use in her literary career. 🧡

[jyoongim]

This isn't exactly a request but a thought that had been so heavy on my brain. Hellborn royalty reader x Alastor who's stronger than he is. I just can't stop thinking about it. Maybe even Goetia reader whew they are stronger and protect him from something and I just go FERAL at the thought.

Some background context:

The Ars Goetia are a royal dynasty of noble hellborn demons who serve as prophets, messengers, and observers of the mortal plane for the King of Hell. They are responsible for maintaining stability within the seven rings. They are highly knowledgeable in the heavens, society, and prophecies of all domains.

—————————————————————————————

The hotel was a wreck.

The Angels had made it their personal mission to eliminate those who resided in the hotel.

The Princess of Hell had acquired your assistance if things got shaky for them.

And OH things were shaking.

Alastor had took it upon himself to fight Adam, when you suggested you could of great help he turned you down. Stating that he would be able to handle the Angel himself.

But things were not looking good for the Radio Demon.

You admired the confidence he had, but the demon was in a sticky situation and you would be damned if anyone hurt YOUR demon.

You were fuming and it was showing.

You calmly walked through the fighting, every attack thrown your way didn’t even touch you as you quickly dispatched your attackers. 

You appeared in front of the injured deer in a cloud of smoke. 

“Hehe who the fuck are you?” Adam asked, but you ignored him as you checked on Alastor.

He was bleeding and weak, you placed your hands on his face, scowling softly “Oh Alastor my sweet. You did good my love but Ill take over from here” he tried to object, but with a wave of your hand, you dissolved him in mist to keep him safe.

You turned to Adam, who was smirking “Tch! You think you can take me? Ha! If your best couldn’t scratch me what thinks you can?”

You smiled, your body morphed into mist “who said he was our best?”

He attacked, swinging his axe and trying to bring it down on you. Your eyes glowed white and with a flick of the wrist he was frozen to the spot. You curled your fingers and watched as the Angel contorted in pain. You hissed “I am the judge and executioner and you, you arrogant pig have no authority here. Divine violence is my right for power belongs to those who take it.” At your words, the sky formed dark clouds and the realm shook.

Adam let out a scream as your magic crackled along his skin, searing pain riddling his body as you burned his wings and corrupted his every soul.

“YOU CANT DO THIS! I AM ADAM! THE FIRST MAN! YOU BITCH! NO NO NO NO!” Your mist enveloped his body and he slowly morphed to black as you took his life. You watched as his soul screeched and struggle. 

You pulled him towards him and smirked, sneering at him with sharp teeth

“Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord” 

And with a soft blow from your lips, he dispersed. His soul crying as you sent him to Limbo.

Hell shook as your magic rocked the cosmos.

The remaining Angels let out a cry as they were struck with pain, felt in their soul.

You were sucking their power and in an attempt to save themselves they retreated back to Heaven.

You morphed back to normal and your misty shadows revealed Alastor to you.

You picked up the red demon and nudged him with your nose, he grumbled ”Y-You didn’t have to intervene. I had it under control”

You hummed, a soft smile on your face a his stubbornness “completely but I wasn’t going to stand around when you clearly needed my help.”

Your face dropped to a pout “don’t tell me that me being stronger hurts your pride? You should be honored. A woman willing to protect her love is a powerful thing to behold”

Alastor sighed, relaxing against you, feeling the exhaustion of the battle overtake him.

You cooed at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Don’t worry I don’t think anything less of you. I think you’re the strongest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting”

The Radio Demon might have been a prideful soul, but it was you who was the strongest.

And really…he was ok with that fact.

[flowerandblood]

Object of Desire (1/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, hate sex, sex content, smut, angst, domination, violence, swearing, humiliation, hard chauvinism ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. This story is an Anon Request, sorry it took me so long. I know anon wanted it to be a softer and sweeter story, but it didn't fit Aemond's character and what I think would be going on in his head. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. Lots of humiliation, violence and chauvinism. ]

Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

______

He thought the greatest humiliation of his life was behind him when he lost an eye, when his brother and nephews gave him a pig instead of a dragon. He thought that now that he was a man, rider of the greatest dragon walking the earth, he would finally get everything he deserved − a wife from a dignified, respected House, and with her an offspring, his inheritance, an extension of his lineage.

He could not hide his expression of disappointment, disgust and bitterness when his mother informed him that instead of one of Lord Baratheon's daughters he would be marrying Lord Arryn's niece − his grandfather, intent on strengthening his brother's position on the throne felt that depriving Rheanyra of the support of the Eyrie, her mother's kin, would greatly weaken her in the ongoing war.

He would have endured this change without a word were it not for one thing.

The woman was a fucking widow.

Already intimate with another man who had taken her maidenhood, she was worn, marked, like an overbitten apple that now someone had to eat to the end to keep it from rotting.

He imagined in the back of his mind how the court, which both feared and mocked him, would spread rumours that the One-Eyed Prince was not only crippled but must marry a woman devoid of value and her greatest virtue, for no other lady would agree to be his wife.

However, he knew what duty was and intended to fulfil it.

Despite his mother's suggestion, he did not want to see her before the nuptial day. He felt that he did not want to further exacerbate her bad enough appearance in his eyes; he feared that she was not only worthless but plain ugly, her mind empty and shallow.

Although the nuptials were to take place in the noble family, knowing that this would not be her first wedding it was decided that the whole ceremony would be modest, only the most loyal lords and relatives who supported their cause were invited.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror in shame and disgust, at his emerald tunic adorned with golden threads swirling in embroidery reminiscent of dragon's heads, he thought it seemed too refined for such an occasion, for such a woman who could offer him nothing.

He knew that there was no fault of hers in her husband's sudden passing from this world, that it was pure politics, but he could not help thinking that it would have been better if she had died with him.

Waiting for her in the Great Sept, he felt nothing − he had not even bestowed a single glance on her when he heard the sound of trumpets, indicating that she and her father had entered the temple and were heading towards him.

As he felt her presence beside him he immediately noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was dressed in a blue gown, flowers of the same colour in her hair − curiosity forced him to at least glance at her and he swallowed loudly as his gaze met her violet eyes.

The colour of the Targaryens.

He froze, feeling his heart suddenly begin to beat faster, unable to look away from her irises, from her long, dark lashes and eyebrows surrounding her eyes like a sky surrounding the sun − unintentionally his gaze studied quickly her entire silhouette and face.

He swallowed with difficulty, turning his head away, realising that her figure was pleasingly girlish, she was young, too young in his eyes to be a widow − her dark hair was tied back, myosotis tucked into her curls at the sides of her head, her gown made of some thin, smooth, shiny material shimmering blue and purple at the same time.

He couldn't focus on what the Septon was saying; he only glanced at her again when Daeron handed him the cloak with which he was to cover her − her gaze fixed on him, her eyebrows arched in sorrow as if she was in pain, her eyes gleaming, slightly reddened, as if she was barely holding back tears.

He felt like asking if she was so disgusted with him, but no sound came out of his mouth.

With a stony face expressing indifference, he threw his cloak embroidered with a three-headed red dragon over her back and then took her hand in his, small and surprisingly smooth.

She didn't look at him when, in a trembling, soft voice, she repeated the words of her vows with him. He tried to remember her doing it for the second time in her life, that she was someone else's, warming someone else's bed, but he couldn't.

She seemed so innocent.

They hadn't exchanged a word during the wedding feast; he watched from the corner of his eye her demeanour, her face − she seemed to him absent, sad, ashamed.

He thought with a squeeze in his throat, filled with jealousy and envy, that she was a beautiful young woman, and someone had her before him.

He took a loud, impatient sip of wine from his cup, its tart, slightly sweet aftertaste spilling over his tongue, dulling his mind.

He felt like his head was going to burst.

They both tried to put it off for as long as they could, however, eventually his mother suggested that his spouse was surely tired and should retire to bed.

He pressed his lips together at her words, rising silently, looking at this strange, frightened girl out of the corner of his eye, her face turned towards him, her eyes open wide in terror.

"Come, wife." He hummed coldly, without emotion and heard her swallow hard − she followed him quietly as he left the hall, heading down the dark torch-lit corridors to his chamber.

He watched indifferently as her servants helped her undress from her beautiful gown, slowly untangling the curls of her hair, one of them wanted to remove the flowers from them, but he protested.

"No. The flowers are to stay. Let at least some semblance of innocence and purity remain." He sneered, saw that the corners of her mouth twitched, her eyebrows arched in pained humiliation.

He cocked his head, intrigued that she endured his words and what was happening with such humility.

He thought that if she behaved like this, perhaps he would take pity on her and actually put his child inside her, so that she could somehow regain her dignity, to be the mother of his heir.

"That's enough." He said at last, when she was left only in her nightgown, from under which he could see the outline of the pleasing shapes of her womanly body, waiting patiently until they were left alone.

She was looking somewhere far away, sad, tired, humiliated, her face, although pale, as if filled with mourning, was smooth and pleasant, the shade of her eyes seemed to him more blue in the firelight.

Proof that they shared ancestors, a common heritage.

For some reason he felt some kind of affection for her at the thought.

He got up from his seat with a loud creak of wood, walking with a slow, lazy step towards her − he saw that she twitched but did not look at him, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her nervousness.

He walked around her, looking at her as if she were an object, assessing her figure, the shade of her hair, the shape of her face from every angle. She swallowed quietly and lifted her chin, looking at him with some kind of challenge, a decision that she would accept what was about to happen and give him no reason to mock her.

He hummed at the thought, stepping behind her, feeling her flinch all over as she felt his large hands touch her waist and then slide lower, to her womb − he felt surprised, licking his lips with his tongue, that his manhood swelled hard in his breeches when, in some sudden, involuntary reflex, her small hands grabbed his wrists, yet not stopping his movements, just trying to maintain some semblance of control over what was happening.

She let the air out of her lungs nervously, closing her eyes for a moment as his nose sank into her sweet-smelling, smooth hair, his hands stroking her lower abdomen trailing over it in tender, slow movements as if he imagined she was already carrying his child, his reason for being proud and pleased with her.

"This poor man, whose name I can't even remember, died without an heir. Why?" He whispered in her ear, a note of menace in his voice, his fingers digging into the fabric of her nightgown and her stomach, forcing her to take a step back, bumping into his throbbing manhood pushing against her buttocks. He heard her gasp softly, swallowing loudly, her body quivering in his embrace.

"The will of the Gods." She replied softly, her voice melodious, warm, pleasant to his ear. He hummed again, acknowledging her answer, his hands again beginning to stroke her womb in an unhurried, tender gesture.

"Why would I need a wife who won't give me an inheritance? Hm?" He asked in a tone as if he was curious and intrigued − he felt her whole body tense up in fear knowing that he was mocking her.

She drew in air loudly, suddenly tightening her fingers on his arm as his hand slid lower, between her thighs, the tips of his fingers began to brush her there with calm, steady strokes.

His free hand rose higher, to her neck, tightening around it warningly when he felt her buttocks begin to rub against his length, feeling a pleasant wave of heat surge through his spine and lower abdomen. He looked down at his fingers between her thighs, even through the material feeling the moisture leaking through it.

"A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse." She cooed softly, responding with a rocking of her hips to the touch of his fingers. He involuntarily chuckled at her words, charmed that she understood exactly his approach, that her mind was not obscured by bottomless female fantasies, but stood in reality.

"Why would I need a chipped sword, an empty book, or a blind horse?" He asked lowly, his hand from her neck moved higher − his fingers cupped her cheeks, forcing her to turn her head towards him, to look at him, her violet eyes misty, bright, beautiful.

She smiled and giggled softly, startling him completely, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"It's amusing to hear you speak about blindness, husband. I hope the lack of your eye doesn't bother you anymore." She whispered with a satisfaction that made him snort in fury − she squealed quietly and closed her eyes as his fingers dug into her cheeks and shook her, as if he wanted her to come to her senses and remember who she was standing in front of.

"You are nothing, whore. Do you understand? Nothing. A worn-out cup to be filled with seed. I don't have an eye, but I do have a fucking dignity that my mother deprived me of by forcing me to marry a creature like you." He hissed, shaking her head violently once in a while, wanting it to get into her little empty head what he had just said.

She looked at him with hatred, her gaze seeming darker, more dangerous to him, her tongue hitting her palate with a quiet click of her saliva as she whispered a single word in his direction.

"Pathetic."

He didn't even know when his hand tightened in her hair, slamming her head against the table that stood in front of them forcing her to lean forward with a violent gesture − she squirmed loudly and cried out, clenching her fingers on the tabletop as she tried to catch her balance − he kicked her ankle with his foot forcing her to spread her thighs wider.

"You like it rough, hm? You find yourself better at being a whore than a wife? Very well then." He growled, his free hand undoing the buckles of his tunic, untying his breeches quickly, releasing his throbbing erection, giving it a few sure squeezes at the base, for some reason what was happening, their quick, rapturous breaths aroused him even more.

"Fucking male pride. Take what you want, you won't break me." She hissed with such hateful envy that he chuckled out loud, somehow impressed by how brazen she was.

"There's a little dragon burning inside you, isn't it? We shall see. I'm a man full of patience." He sneered, lifting her nightgown up in an impatient motion, exposing what was between her thighs, her rosy, puffy folds glistening with her moisture.

She pressed her lips together, struggling to hold back the sound of discomfort as he pushed against her, forcing the fat, pink head of his cock between her tight walls. He sighed heavily, feeling how wonderfully she clenched around him on all sides, hot and surprisingly soft.

"− fuck −" He gasped out, spreading her thighs wider with his leg − she cried out loudly as he sank all the way into her with one sure thrust, her fleshy muscles throbbing againt him in panic.

They both began panting loudly as, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he began to pound into her with the impatient, aggressive stabs of his hips.

"− fucking whore −" He growled angrily, clamping his hand painfully tight on her hair, her mouth parted wide in a helpless moan as he suddenly quickened his pace, looking down, feeling a wonderful thrill of elation at the sight of his manhood opening her slick folds wide again and again with deep, brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− bastard −" She cried out, responding however to the pushes of his hips with a fierceness from which his voice stuck in his throat. He was no longer sure, groaning low with pleasure, feeling the way her walls squeezed him wonderfully, sucking him inside, whether what they were saying was true or just a test of strength and dominance, an attempt to establish who would have the last word.

"− shut the fuck up − to think you still have the strength to babble − shall I put it in your mouth so you'll finally be quiet? −" He snorted through clenched teeth, gripping his free hand over the soft, smooth skin of her firm buttocks, slamming into her like mad.

It seemed to him that they were both moaning and panting too loudly, as if they were in some kind of frenzy, his thighs slapping against her bare skin with a sticky smack again and again, barely sliding out of her.

"− fuck − o-oh fuck, stop −" He gasped out as he felt her muscles suddenly clench greedily against his manhood at his words, intensifying his sensations. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he heard sweet, loud moans of fulfillment begin to erupt from her throat, her body trembling all over − she whimpered when he didn't slow down, chasing his own fulfilment.

"− I know − fuck, just a moment longer − shhh −" He hushed her and groaned low, sighing in relief when he felt that wonderful, relaxing feeling, bliss in his mind and whole body, delight as his seed spilled deep inside her, right where it belonged.

His hips rocked inside her a moment longer with her mumble of displeasure, her eyes closed, her breathing ragged, her fingers trailing over the table top as if she couldn't calm down.

"− it's alright − easy − it's alright −" He whispered, panting heavily, stroking her soft hair with slow, tender gesture, her eyebrows arched in pain as she wept loudly, tears one after another began to run down her face.

He wasn't sure if she was crying from relief that she had it behind her or from grief that she had to go through this again.

"− I know − I know −" He hummed, running his fingers over her smooth, dark curls, for some reason feeling the need to reassure her, fulfilled and content after what had happened between them, his half-soft manhood still twitching deep inside her, all slick from their shared moisture.

"− I don't blame you, wife − that man was weak, as was his seed − you will soon bear me a son −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar

[kickasstorrents]

pigs are an extremely killable animal but its shameful & dirty to do it, pig impurity takes a long time to clean out from ur aura

dogs are mass produced & breakable tools so theyre a disposable animal. you can eat them freely but it makes you more like a dog's level of spiritual dirt

cows are noble and beautiful and provide dairy & prestige so it's only good to kill them in auspicious conditions when they have had a happy life. Sheep, goats, and most humans are on a similar level to this.

horses are knight-animals meant to die in battle or be eaten during noble struggles like in wartime or famine

God loves dead chickens

You should never hurt a cat

Water creatures are dirty to eat but it is our solemn duty to suffer indignity for the sake of iodine

[blackopals-world]

One of you once said that my Yuus had pets like monster high dolls. I took that seriously. To here take it.

What are the Yuus' pets:

🪡-Tailor!Yuu- Lace the Show Poodle

🩺-Vet!Yuu- Hank the tank, the tortoises

🔫-Special Forces!Yuu- Suzette the lop-eared bunny

🌊- Marine Biologist!Yuu- Florian the dumbo octopus and Isabella the cuttlefish

🪶-Harpy!Yuu- Krik the pet rock (its a very nice rock)

🌷-Gardener!Yuu- Cashmere and Cotten the Highland calfs (Vil named the first one)

🍴-Chef!Yuu- Hamantha the pig

♨️-Onsen!Yuu- Lotus the Spa cat

🌙-Immortal!Yuu- Orpheus the star Raven

🎮-Otaku!Yuu- Mojo the ring-tailed lemur

🔮-(???)Yuu- Creature the thing

🎬-Theater kid!Yuu- Viola the Songbird

✒️-Writer!Yuu- Chekhov the Owl

💉-Nurse!Yuu- Hope the mourning dove

⛓️- Disciplinary Committee!Yuu- Knight the police dog and that weird monitor lizard that follows them around

🧹-Maid!Yuu- Lavender the Packrat

💎-Noble!Yuu- Duke the Dire wolf

🛼-Delivery Service!Yuu- Trash Bandit the Racoon

🎉-Jester!Yuu- Barnaby "Bozo" Wigglesworth the goat

🪀-Toymaker!Yuu- Sprocket the steampunk puppy

🎨-Artist!Yuu- Ink the Chinchilla

Dancer!Yuu- Grace the duckling

(There now you have it!)

[clonerightsagenda]

Since I'm w359posting this week apparently, I wanted to share something neat I learned from the AMAs about how the writers designed the characters.

Apparently, the original four crewmembers were plotted on two axes - human vs inhuman and order vs chaos. Eiffel and Minkowski were the chaos human and order human, and Hera and Hilbert were the chaos inhuman and order (metaphorical) inhuman. Lovelace upon her introduction was plotted at the dead center of both axes.

To really amp up everyone reflecting each other, when they started designing the SI5 characters, they took the original three humans' personalities and job titles and rotated them. So, they set up a commander, scientist, and technician, but gave the commander Hilbert's traits, the scientist Eiffel's traits, and the technician Minkowski's traits.

Obviously that was only a starting point, and all three characters grew into their own people very different from where they began. However, you can see traces of these influences. Least so with Jacobi, imo, but in the Rashomon episode where each person's account reflects their priorities and anxieties, he's striving to portray himself as a dedicated, safety-conscious professional frustrated that no one else takes his work seriously, which is something Minkowski can relate to. He's also Kepler's administrative officer, even if we don't see him doing paperwork very often.

Maxwell is clearer. She's the most friendly and social of her team and strikes up the closest connection with Hera. Also, as soon as she's gone, the rest of her team implodes, much as in "Pan Pan" the remaining crew is at each other's throats.

Finally, Kepler's alignment with Hilbert is obvious to me at least - they both are people with theoretically noble goals who are willing to do terrible things to achieve them, and Goddard takes advantage of that to get them to do terrible things full stop. Hilbert is just further along on the Goddard employee lifecycle of getting chewed up and discarded (he's had more of his legs eaten, to use the pig story's metaphor). They hate each other so much because they recognize each other.

... I am only thinking this now as I type it out, but I always wondered why Eiffel disliked Maxwell after only knowing her for a couple days, most of which he'd spent convalescing. I figured she was probably asking invasive questions about Hera, but if I'm suggesting Hilbert and Kepler hate each other because they recognize each other as card carrying members of the face-eating leopards party.... maybe Eiffel dislikes Maxwell because he sees something of himself in her.

[racefortheironthrone]

Hello, I’ve a part asoiaf part medieval history question. So despite the strict gender roles, we know that women (at least noble women) can enjoy some “male” activities like horse riding and some kinds of hunting (Cat says Arya can have a hunting hawk). Are there any other “male” activities women can partake too without being judged about it, or even encouraged to do so (both in Westeros and real world)?

So as medievalists and historians of gender have pointed out, ASOIAF is far more restrictive for women than actual medieval Europe. I'm actually going to leave aside the situation of noblewoman for a second, because the vast majority of women were not nobles and their experience of gender would be radically different.

What counted as "male activities" for example would vary enormously by location (rural vs. urban) and thus occupation (farmer vs. artisan). Among the peasantry, while men tended to work in the fields and concentrated on cereal-crop production and women tended to do the manifold work of maintaining the home, the reality is that the irregular nature of agricultural labor meant that in times of high demand (especially spring sowing and autumn harvest) it was a matter of survival for every single member of the household to work in the fields. So women absolutely knew how to work a plow, and swing a scythe.

As for the urban worker, while there was also a high degree of gender segregation by occupation and guilds could often be quite misogynistic when it came to trying to masculinize trades (especially those involving higher rates of capital investment), it was also true that the entire household was expected to contribute their labor, so that wives, daughters, collateral female relatives, and female servants picked up the trade alongside their male counterpart. Moreover, as biased towards men as guilds could be, they were even more committed to the principle that guild businesses were family businesses, and so in situations where a master artisan had only daughters or died childless or died with underage heirs, it was absolutely routine for guilds to admit daughters and widows as guild members, indeed usually at the rank of master, all so that the business could remain in the same family. This is why medievalists can point to so many examples of women who worked in skilled trades, often at a high level.

That's what I think GRRM's portrait of medieval society is missing: an entire world of women in business, working elbow-to-elbow with men to make a living.

As for noblewomen, part of the difficulty is that a big part of being a noble was not doing stuff - not working for a living, chiefly - and instead engaging in leisure activities as much as possible. And women were very much a part of those activities (indeed, for many of them the point was to mingle with eligible people of the opposite gender), whether that's feasting, dancing, hunting, hawking, theater and other entertainments, fireworks, tourneys and jousts, etc.

However, women were also engaged in the main "occupations" of the nobility - estate management and politics - way more than GRRM really takes note of. To begin with, as even GRRM acknowledges to some extent, the lady of the house was expected to take an active role in running the house, which meant managing servants, keeping track of accounts payable and receivable, making sure the supplies arrive on time and in the right quality and quantity, keeping an eye on maintenance and repairs (with the help of servants, natch), etc.

Given that even the manor houses of the nobility were units of economic production, the lady of the house would also be responsible for oversight of how the house was doing with its pigs, goats, chickens and pigeons and geese, bees (because beeswax and honey were really important commodities), sheep, and so on, and what kind of figures they were pulling down at the mill and the weir, and so forth.

As medievalists have known for a long time, this list of duties got even longer whenever the lord of the house was away at war or on business, when the lady would be expected to pick up all his work too - which means making sure the rents and taxes get paid, deciding which fields to distribute manpower to and when, dealing with legal disputes in the manorial court, and so on. And if the war came home, the lady of the house was expected to lead the defense of the castle and there are many, many examples of noblewomen who had to organize sieges that lasted months and even years.

However, we also have to consider the impact of inheritance by birth and the inherent randomness of sex at birth - as much as they tried to avoid it, plenty of noble houses ended up with female heirs or in the hands of widows. Most of the time in most countries, women could and did inherit (or at the very least their male children and relatives could inherit through them) titles and fiefdoms, and while their husbands would often take on overlordship de jure uxoris, unmarried women and widows very much exercised their authority as the Lady or Baroness or Countess or whatever, and history is also full of women who were extremely influential in medieval politics and backed up their influence by any means necessary.