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greycaelum · 1 year

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Hi ! How are you ? ✨

I love your contenu ! Reading about the Gojo family is so comforting, your blog has become my safe place. 💜 besides, I think twins who look like y/n with their father's character can be super funny 🤣 poor y/n who will have a lot to worry about

I don't know if the requests are open so if they are closed ignore this part : How was y/n officially introduced to the Gojo parents as a wife? We know that the parents were not happy that he broke his engagement with Tachibana but after the marriage with y/n? Marrying the head of the clan makes her someone high in the society of exorcists?

Ps : I'm really sorry for my broken English I'm French and I still have difficulties 🥲

Xoxo ~ Sunny

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters { Wife }

—Gojo Satoru X Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

"Mother..." Your Mother-in-Law stood at the door with a soft look on her face. Neither of you had to say a word to understand what you are feeling.

"You are the wife of Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer of his generation. Do you now understand the power you hold?" She took your hand into her own. "My son would do anything for you, anything. So you have to be strong my child. For your family."

He would raise high heaven and hell for you if you just ask him.

𑁍 Genre: angst, family theme, fluff

𑁍 CW/TW: (1.8k)— Y/n threatening the Tachibana Clan, violence directed not to reader, Marika & Tachibana Clan's punishment

𑁍 A/N: Hi sweetheart! I finally got a small breather since february, thesis defended, exams finished, but we have an upcoming ball and the deadline is killing me, but all is well~ how about you? Awiee thank you very much, it feels like it's been so long since I wrote for the mochis! In a semi-hiatus but this one sounds cute I can't resist. No worries I understand your English very well~✨

I don't think you fully grasp the power you hold.

Wife of the strongest sorcerer. Madame of the Gojo Clan.

It's easy for you to be overlooked because of Satoru. And while for others that could be the power your husband has over you, for you it was a blessing in disguise. You didn't have to associate yourself with political matters, not when Satoru is solely recognized in the Gojo Clan.

But it wasn't a smooth ride. No one would understand until they see it with their own eyes.

Satoru held your cold hand as the two of you ascend the stairs of the huge Gojo Residence. The stairs leading to the main hall where Satoru's parents are waiting seem to be too steep for you.

"Should I carry you? I know your knees are still weak from last night." Satoru teased with a sly grin and a knowing look behind those glasses of his.

It barely eased you but you couldn't hide the blush on your cheeks.

"You better shut your mouth or else I'll castrate you when we get home." You hissed and walked again.

That's right. You have Satoru. You have your husband. You're married and no one else can deny that.

But as you walk inside the large hall, too large for the two people waiting inside, but too suffocating with their conspicuous eyes trained on you.

You could feel your heart drum from the simple move of sitting in a seiza manner in front of them. They don't have to try hard in exuding the aura of indifference and eloquence, something they are born and raised with as an elite family of sorcerers. A clear difference between your worlds apart.

Their world you are not acquainted with.

"Y/n is my wife now." Satoru didn't hesitate to speak. He declared, looking them straight in the eyes. "I will never marry anyone else besides her."

Your heart pounded so hard you swear it would jump out of your rib cage. You know that but it feels different when your husband put it into words. The intensity it holds could shatter and build you up.

His parents didn't even act surprised. Perhaps deep down they already knew this will happen whether they agree or not.

You watch his mother's eyes pass a kaleidoscope of emotions. A mixture of pain, sadness, guilt, and softness. As if she hurts so much for her son.

You greeted them in a heedful manner, taking into account that you are not familiar with them ever since Satoru brought you in his ascending ceremony after breaking off the engagement with their ally clan, the Tachibana. No one may mention it with Satoru present, but you know that it was one of the many things it is hard for his parents to genuinely like you.

"It might not be much but Satoru and I prepared a gift, something we picked together." You held the paper bag, containing rectangular boxes. Inside are wine bottles you especially liked, Valais Mundi Electus and Pinot Noir from Basel-Landschaft.

"You didn't have to bother. But thank you for the gift." Your Mother-in-Law smiled politely and accepted the gift. Your Father-in-Law on the other hand remained silent, arms crossed on his chest.

"There will be a dinner banquet for your marriage. Right now everyone does not know you are already married. It would be uncalled to just have a civil wedding."

It's not hard to spot the unusual and sharp looks thrown in your direction. As if it's a sin to hold your husband's hand, and the glimmer of your rings tucked in your fingers.

Satoru notices this as well. One turn from his head sent them all facing to what they were doing.

None of them could touch you. Neither their dagger eyes nor their desperate nails for an Infinity lies between the only woman he will allow within his high walls, his wife.

He was first worried about you. He knows the clan might be subservient to him as their master, but not to you. One of the reasons he preferred building a home away from the estate is to keep you safe from the malice and hostility of anyone who might dare hurt you.

But everyone has claws. Even his calm and doting wife could be cruel if she needs to be.

Satoru hid behind the partition of the room. You sat on a raised chair and the vast hall was filled with overturned heads of the Tachibana Clan.

"Satoru didn't mention breaking your jaw." You blankly down and look at Marika, pinned down to the ground by her own family. "You should thank him. If it was me, I would sit on a chair and have all your limbs broken one by one."

Marika's mother shut her eyes and averted her head away from her daughter's pathetic sight. Even if you turn it all over around, it doesn't change the fact that this woman has also carried her daughter for nine months only to see her grow vain and miserable.

The whole Tachibana Clan wore white kimonos as if mourning for a person still alive. Or they were probably mourning for their lives.

"This won't take long. I still have a newborn to take care of." You straightened your back in the cushioned chair prepared especially for you. "I'll give you two choices to save your lives so choose wisely."

The room went silent. Everyone was on the edge, the glint in their eyes showed they are anticipating whatever you tell them to do for their lives.

"If you want to save your clan, feed your daughter the poison she gave me until she stops living. But if you want to save your daughter, all of you drink the poison, until you become sterile and die for how long it would take you to. It's a very easy deal don't you think?"

Satoru looks at the aghast faces of the clan, all staring at his wife, calmly sitting with an emotionless face. That was already a light punishment, but he didn't think you would use this kind of method, neither Marika nor the Tachibana Clan will escape condemnation and guilt no matter who survives.

Satoru resisted the urge to laugh. You sound so simple as if their lives is the same as asking how much is the box of eggs in the grocery.

Both two choices are certain demise for the clan. The guilt of making their daughter sterile and die. And all of them drink the poison that prevents them from having any more children, effectively ending the bloodline of the Tachibana Clan.

"But my husband will protect me anyways. Even if you think I'm hiding that doesn't change the fact I will take my due for what your Young Lady did to me and my daughter." The calmness in your voice only irked the men, pathetically kneeling, all too arrogant to kneel before a woman, but too cowardly to face the consequences of their actions.

"You make all this move because you're hiding in your husband's back." Someone snap out of spite.

It didn't faze you, but made you smile with no humor instead.

"Then it is our Young Lady's fault why are you roping us in!" More and more started to rise.

"Shut up!" But they all stopped when the Patriarch roared and look at you, with a final look in his eyes. "I will handle my daughter to your former choice. Just keep my clan safe."

"F-Father?!" Marika cried. Finally the cracks of her mask surfacing. "All my life, I did what you asked me for!"

But it fell on deaf ears. You watch the man discard his daughter. And you just know... What bounds he is willing to keep his clan afloat by hook or by crook.

They can never be trusted. You will remember their faces one by one.

"You can try taking revenge on me, but before you could even dare to take the first move, I will have my husband personally finish what you all started." You took your time to burn their faces at the back of your head. "If you think sacrificing your daughter will relieve you, it doesn't change that all of you are monstrous parasites using each other to satisfy your greed."

You stood up and leave, no one dared to stop you.

You've always thought you could live peacefully. You didn't have to bother with doing any duties in the Gojo Clan because Satoru never asked you to nor do you think you have the qualities to manage such a big and intricate household. But that apathy led you to where? You almost lost your daughter if not for alertness.

"Mother..." Your Mother-in-Law stood at the door with a soft look on her face. Neither of you had to say a word to understand what you are feeling.

He would raise high heaven and hell for you if you just ask him.

Just now, you could dictate the lives of a whole clan with one single word. Only then did you realize, you have to be strong to be the strongest's wife.

"It's a girl." Kouki huffed versus his sister.

"I told you it's a boy!" Saika pouted.

You watch the two fight out what will be the gender of their baby sibling.

"But what if they are twins?" You blink and put a hand over your lips, internally grinning.

Kouki instantly turned pale. Saika on the other hand jumped in excitement.

"I want a baby sister and a brother, looking like Mama." Your little sugarboo giggles, wiggling into your arms for a hug. She put her ears against your stomach which is barely showing yet.

"That's the last right? Mama?" Kouki wore a very complicated look, almost begging you to say yes.

Just in time, the front door opened, with Satoru loudly yelling "I'm home!"

Kouki didn't waste time running to his Papa. Readying his cuteness to take his father to his side.

"This is the last one right Pa? Right?" The mochi whined.

"What last Kikufuku?"

"Last sibling." You supplied for him, taking pity on your son. You ruffled your little princess's hair and ushered to the side, making space for Satoru who put Kouki on top of his lap.

"If it's the last then we should make it a two!"

"Yes!" Saika.

"NO!" Kouki.

Internally you faint just thinking of a twin with Satoru as the father. Boy oh boy, it'll be one hell of a ride for sure.

The callous hand of your husband held yours as he pull down the blindfold and rest his forehead against your shoulder.

You would do anything to keep this home safe and sound.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey

#kaleidoscope series #c&mchapters #kaleidoscope series y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk married gojo fluff #married gojo fluff #gojo satoru x wife #jjk gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo kouki #gojo saika #greycaelum #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk dad gojo fluff #jjk dad gojo satoru #dad gojo

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therainscene · 1 year

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Something that struck me about Will’s bedroom in S4 is how asexually it’s decorated:

This boy is about to turn 15 and yet there’s not a single hunk to be found anywhere on his walls! Being closeted isn’t an excuse -- there’s plenty of plausible deniability in having posters of your favourite musicians, athletes, characters, etc, as our extremely heterosexual friend Michael can demonstrate:

Perhaps Will just is asexual. After all, outside of his chaste love for Mike, we only ever see him express his sexuality in the form of revulsion towards girls/heterosexuality; he honestly seems kind of neutral on men in general.

However... I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.

Will happens to conform to certain 80s stereotypes about gay men -- he’s sensitive, well-groomed, prefers art over sport -- and these traits have made him a target for homophobic abuse, probably since before he even realized he was gay.

Imagine how it must have felt, then, when he finally did realize he was gay. The bullies were right about that, all along. So what else were they right about?

What other stereotypes plagued gay men in the 80s? They were seen as threats that wanted to recruit children into their “lifestyle”...

...as disgusting perverts...

...and as carriers of disease.

Even as a 12 year-old with an innocent crush on his best friend, this poor kid already feels ashamed of a sexuality he hasn’t even matured into yet. So when he does start maturing into it, he represses it.

It’s no wonder that he identifies with Alan Turing, a man who was chemically castrated for being gay.

Who else do we know who might identify with what happened to Alan Turing?

Henry is queer-coded by way of parallels to Will: he’s sensitive, well-groomed, and likes art. Like Will, he had a parent who tried to make him more “normal”. Like Will, he’s suffered abuse for being different.

But Henry is also queer-coded in a way that parallels those homophobic fears about “the gay agenda”: he preys on children, recruiting some and killing the rest. He’s angry at the world for not having space in it for people like him, but it doesn’t occur to him that he could peacefully co-exist with the rest of society -- he wants to burn it all down and remake the world in his own image.

The thing is, homophobes are telling on themselves when they express such fears about gay men -- because what they fear queer people will do to them is what heteronormative society is already doing to queer people. Like Henry, they think this is a zero-sum game in which only one side can “win”.

So I don’t think Henry’s queer-coding is meant to be read literally as him being a predatory gay man.

Rather, he’s a personification of homophobia: the homophobe’s gay boogeyman made flesh.

(When it comes to other characters, he personifies a more broadly-applicable version of this concept. But the Duffers have stated that S5 will focus heavily on Will and his coming of age, so I think this queer reading of Vecna is a deliberate and central one.)

If Vecna represents external homophobia, then the Mind Flayer represents internalized homophobia.

Vecna sends it after Will and it literally gets inside him, burying his true nature under a layer of torment. It’s partially defeated when his family and friends see what’s happening and shower him with unconditional love, but it lingers at the back of his head as he starts to go through puberty, flaring up when he’s near or otherwise thinking about Mike.

The only time he doesn’t have to deal with these flare-ups is when he’s in California, far away from both Vecna and the homophobic town he grew up in. And he gains a lot of confidence in his identity while he’s there!

But, as the asexually-decorated bedroom suggests, he still feels a lot of shame too.

Will can’t fully self-actualize as a gay man until he breaks his connection with Vecna once and for all...

...with the boy who makes him feel like he’s not a mistake by his side.

#stranger things #byler #will byers #henry creel #mind flayer #mike wheeler #my analysis

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 5 months

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https://www.wsj.com/articles/most-transgender-kids-turn-out-to-be-gay-gender-affirming-care-conversion-therapy-58111b2e

Most ‘Transgender’ Kids Turn Out to Be Gay

Subjecting them to medical interventions is the modern-day version of ‘conversion therapy.’

By: Roy Eappen

Published: Dec 14, 2023

As a medical professional who happens to be gay, I’ll be celebrating Dec. 15, the 50th anniversary of the American Psychiatric Association’s decision to remove homosexuality from its list of mental illnesses. The longstanding designation was based on prejudice, not medical research, and the revision marked the beginning of the end for so-called conversion therapy, which sought to “cure” gays and lesbians of a nonexistent malady.

Half a century later, the medical establishment is pushing a new kind of conversion therapy under the guise of transgender identity. No one is suffering more than gay kids. In Canada, where I practice, and in the U.S., physicians provide what’s euphemistically known as “gender-affirming care” to patients as young as 8, and the leading transgender health association has opened the door to interventions at even earlier ages. Under this framework, those who feel uncomfortable with their bodies may receive a medical regimen including puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones and sex-change surgeries. These interventions typically stunt, remove or irreversibly modify a patient’s sexual development, genitals and secondary sex characteristics. Any endocrinologist or other physician who rejects this approach is alleged to be endangering the health and even the life of his patients.

But are these patients really “transgender”? Research shows that some 80% of children with “gender dysphoria” eventually come to terms with their sex without surgical or pharmaceutical intervention. Multiple studies have found that most kids who are confused or distressed about their sex end up realizing they’re gay—nearly two-thirds in a 2021 study of boys. This makes sense: Gay kids often don’t conform to traditional sex roles. But gender ideology holds that feminine boys and masculine girls may be “born in the wrong body.”

In this light, “gender-affirming care” looks a lot like conversion therapy. In the past, it took the form of electroshock therapy, chemical castration and even lobotomy. Now it takes the form of rendering teenagers sterile and sexually dysfunctional for life. Clinicians from the main U.K. transgender service referred to prescribing puberty blockers as “transing the gay away”—a play on the description of old-fashioned conversion-therapy as “praying the gay away.” A clinician who resigned from the U.K. service accused it of “institutional homophobia.” Clinicians at the service had a “dark joke” that “there would be no gay people left at the rate Gids”—the Gender Identity Service—“was going.”

Consistent with conversion therapy, physicians are telling young gays and lesbians that something is wrong with them, based on a regressive view of what it is to be male or female. Also consistent with previous efforts to cure homosexuality: The resulting interventions often create lifelong medical problems, both physical and mental. Contrary to advocates’ claims, there’s no evidence that puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones, or surgeries reduce the risk of suicide.

Children who take this road face a lifetime of pain, infertility and anguish. They deserve real mental-health care to address common underlying comorbidities, not mind- and body-altering medical interventions that try to make them into something they aren’t.

Fifty years ago, the medical assault on homosexuals began to end. Now society has been told that accepting transgender identity is the same as accepting gays and lesbians. But it isn’t. Even well-intentioned acceptance of transgender identity disproportionately harms them. One day perhaps professional organizations like the Endocrine Society and the American Academy of Pediatrics will follow the evidence, as the APA did in 1973. Until then, gay kids will continue to suffer from an injustice that was supposed to end 50 years ago.

Dr. Eappen is a practicing endocrinologist in Montreal and a senior fellow at Do No Harm.

Reminder:

There's no such thing as "trans kid."

#Roy Eappen #gay conversion therapy #gay conversion #homophobia 2.0 #woke homophobia #gender ideology #queer theory #medical mutilation #medical malpractice #medical corruption #medical scandal #gender affirming care #gender affirming healthcare #religion is a mental illness

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lonelystarrs · 11 months

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𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑢 𝑅𝑦𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑋 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑋 𝑆𝑎𝑒 𝐼𝑡𝑜𝑠ℎ𝑖

Not even Blue Lock could rein in Shidou Ryusei, but you could at least tame him temporarily. He just didn’t know the man outside his little prison was already winning you over to use you both for his own benefit.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • Shidou is a warning • smut Shidou only • Dom FemReader SubShidou • spit play • foot play • bondage play • Shidou is smitten in his own messed up way • degrading • 🌶️ • Sae has plans bruh • toxic relationships•

Word count: 3.3k

“He is acting out of line, again, can’t you do something more permanent? Castration perhaps?”

You laughed, head tilting in the direction you held your phone to it, as your finger wrapped a strand of hair around your finger.

“It’s in his blood and mind, not his balls Ego, his testosterone is an entirely different issue.”

“Yes, which is exactly why you come in, somehow you keep upsetting him and it’s causing more issues than he already is.”

“You love the drama and seeing them all riled up, so don’t act like it’s entirely a bother. Is he in the usual room?”

“Outsiders aren’t supposed to be here and your visits are becoming more frequent.”

“You asked me to come, remember that. They’re getting more frequent because you’re pumping him up and stirring the pot, you know what he’s like.”

“Whatever, be here within the hour, you’ll be escorted as usual.”

“Ego?”

“What?”

“Take him off the standing restraint, tie his hands behind his back, his ankles together and put that nice little chain around his neck f’me. Muzzle on.”

The call has ended….

Your heels clicked through the empty halls, echoing with each step you stood signalling there was life throughout this huge, almost clinical looking building.

Shidou Ryusei, the bane but also the excitement in your life. Truly a foolish person to be involved as heavily as you were with the insanity that he brought into those lives around him.

That door slid open and close, your little tour guide not hanging around a second longer than he needed to. The dull lit room was cold as usual, only light being above where Shidou was on his knees on the floor. His head bowed and retrained exactly how you’d requested of Ego.

On his knees that were spread apart but ankles tied together, hands behind his back and a chain around his neck loosely hanging to the floor.

“Heh, knew the minute they restrained me like this your ass was on its way,”

You hummed and stepped forward, Shidou lifted his head a little, just so his eyes could look at you.

“You sound disappointed, Ryu.”

“Disappointed? Been fucking rocking a semi the whole time,”

He lifted his head fully, the chain rattling as he moved. He straightened his back and leaned back slightly onto his legs.

He groaned looking at you, white shirt all ironed perfectly, buttons undone showing your cleavage. Pencil skirt hugging your little waist showing all the curves you had to offer, he knew you had hold ups on under it, he could see the little lace topping from the slit in your skirt.

“-and damn you didn’t disappoint.”

“So what did you do this time?”

You squatted down, reaching out to run a finger along the chain that ran down the front of his body.

He shrugged, his fingers already flexing behind his back as he felt the need to reach out and touch you —fuck how long was it since you fucked? He couldn’t remember. His mouth watered at the thought of it, he never forgot how good you tasted, how good you felt.

You plagued his mind and fed his obsessive behaviour in a way that ran far from sane and he loved it.

He’d given up long ago on other girls, empty fucks and the thrill never lasted because he’d dominate them without seconds, to put it simply they just weren’t you. It was no challenge.

Men? Yeah he could do it, it still felt fucking good but it was just pure sex, but he still ended up thinking about you after it and there was good reason for it.

It’s why you were here.

His high to his little addiction.

Your hand tightened around the chain and you tugged him forward, tip of your nose meeting the muzzle he had on. Inhaling deeply so he could take in that perfume you wore, mixed with your natural scent.

His dick hardening in his joggers the painful angle of it needing to be released.

“You not gonna tell me, Ryu?”

“You gonna tell me if you’re marrying that fuckin’ guy?”

You smirked at him, eyebrow also raising slightly surprised at his words, his tone was vicious as he practically spat it out.

He’d unknowingly just given you his answer, he’s obviously had access to his phone and read one of the stupid articles from the press. Your CEO father being the one to cause a scene by drunkly blabbering on a night out with his fellow business men, stating he wanted an arranged marriage to some other CEO’s son to push their businesses forward into an empire.

You tugged the chain causing it to tighten around his throat and he gagged, mixed with a hint of a moan.

“Cute, I didn’t think you were the emotional type, isn’t it all just cum dumping for you?”

“So you’re in love? Fuck off hahahaha-ngh.”

You tugged again and it cut off his amusement, boredly looking at him, his pink eyes glowing in this dull light and hair all messy.

“Well you’ve given me your answer, I’m a little surprised though.”

He rolled his eyes and shifted, the retrains groaning as he tried to move his stiffening body.

“So, you gonna fuck me or what? Cause I’m hard as hell,” he grinned at you, leaning back giving you some kind of cocky ass flippant look.

It dropped when you stood, bringing the chain with you and wrapping it around your hand tugging him forward roughly, your head tilted to take him in with absolutely no amusement on your face.

“Fuck you? I can’t fuck you Ryu, I’m in love with someone remember?”

You weren’t expecting his face to fall as much as it did, to see his mind all but shutting down at your words before he started to assess your honesty of them.

You didn’t know his heart kicked in his ribs fighting to stay in place before it fell into his stomach to burn in acid. You didn’t know the air left his lungs and something hot, yet cold washed over him.

His mouth was watering, he almost felt nauseous.

But god you seen his face fall for a few seconds, only to harden into something vicious.

You stuck your foot out to press against his hard dick to distract him, still keeping tension on the chain and he choked out a moan.

“I can still help you cum though Ryu, you still can’t without me hmm?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Was this what hate felt like?

It boiled in him, rage splitting through his veins to leave him bleeding open before you. You pissed him off so much yet at the same he just couldn’t get enough of you, that annoyance over you disappeared when he buried his cock in that drooling, tight cunt of yours and he melted for you.

His cock still throbbed regardless of how he felt at the moment, his body betraying him as always. Pre was leaking from the slit to drool into his clothing and he was sure by now he had a small wet patch forming on his blue joggers. You rolled your foot forward, the sharp heel of your stiletto pressed into his balls the ball of your shoe resting along his thick length.

And he moaned, head dropping back he hissed through his teeth as you pressed harder, eyes closing as he rolled his hips the best he could to gain something.

You listened, you noticed and you helped him, foot rolling in a way that brought the skin of his dick to roll over the head in some fucked up hand job. It felt sticky, hot and he started to get uncomfortable with need for his cock to be released from his joggers.

Frustration started to bite over his body like insects, pricking under his skin like an itch he couldn’t scratch but it only made him harder, his dick solid under your foot.

The harder you pressed with your foot the more he moaned and he honestly he was ready to cum. He always did cum buckets, the amazing thing he had for staying hard and being able to go multiple rounds because his stamina was off the charts, his sex drive a demon in itself.

“I-I- hah- fuck, I knew you’d come here - god damn it that feels good.”

You hummed and tugged the chain, choking him out to stop him from talking, pink eyes now half lidded and looking up at you through his lashes, head tilted back and his hips rolling up into your foot. He started to drool as it spilt down the side of his mouth to his chin.

“You talk too much, Shidou.”

When he tried again you pulled the chain harder and this time he actually looked like he struggled with the tension, you held it for a few seconds then released. Choking out he sent spit flying and he leaned forward, voice a little shakey but still carrying its hint of amusement, he panted his words.

“S-Shit, you’re pissed, huh sweetheart?”

“You look pathetic,”

He did, truly but god didn’t it make you fucking wet seeing him like that, it was hard to not simply straddle him and ride him until you satisfied yourself using him —he’d enjoy every minute, he always did.

It was tempting with him chained like that, unable to really move.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll cum,”

“Funny, you say others don’t make you cum yet you do so easily with me, sound like you’re the one in love Ryu.”

You mocked, cold words without much behind it despite the heavy meaning of them.

He laughed and looked up to you, sparkling life back in those pink eyes but it wasn’t loving, he looked near to pissed —vulnerable almost. Trying to hide it behind that demonic smirk that crept across his mouth.

You’d got under his skin today, more than you’d ever been able to previously and it almost made your heart ache for him. Shidou Ryusei was a lost cause, he’d make someone see the sky before watching you splatter to the ground, but he never hid his insanity —anyone knew from the start what they were getting into when they wanted that wild ride that Shidou was.

You knew this, the highs and the lows, the games, the obsessive nature he had. He is the guy who no one could ever fix and you never tried. He embraced his crazy and he didn’t care who was in the way of his rampages, he was the definition of toxic love. He’d mock people saying they knew what he was like, what else were they expecting? Sex was cum dumping for him, nothing more or less.

“Heh what if I am?”

Your eyes widened briefly, your heart thumped in you chest as his response caught you off guard.

Love was a concept you didn’t think Ryusei understood or was capable of processing, much less admitting it in a way you almost believed him. His tone, his eyes and his body wasn’t lying he was just trying to hide the depth of it behind that shifty ass smirk.

The doubt you had for him strongly swayed any belief of honesty from him, logical thinking was your saving grace with him and it told you he was high at the moment and running on pure lust, he needed to cum and he was being teased in a way that made him feral.

It’ll disappear when he’s emptied his balls.

His breathing was heavy, he was drooling behind that muzzle and his dick was rock hard under your foot and shoe, you could feel him flexing it under it as he pushed his hips in to feel it pain him further.

Hardly the scene to admit your apparent love for someone.

“You look surprised, doll.”

“Your balls that full you’re delusional, Ryu?”

He shrugged and straightened himself again, smirk waivering as the weight of annoyance started to put pressure on his attempt to cover it up.

“How about you empty’em and find out? C’mon doll, I’ll blow m’load all over them pretty feet if you press harder and keep talking to me like shit. You know I love that attitude if yours, s’fucking hot. Can’t we just hate fuck it out again? Know I love watching it in your pretty eyes full of hate f’me whilst we make love~!”

You rolled your eyes at his blabbering attempt to taunt but pressed harder on his dick with your foot and the moan he gave was unholy, pink eyes glassing over as he tilted his head back, rutting his hips forward into it to create more movement.

“F-Fuck, c’mon-“

“Harder?”

He nodded quickly, his jaw slacked slightly and you took the opportunity to lean over him.

“Keep it open,”

Pink eyes met yours and he smirked, sharp canines glinting through the bars of the muzzle holding his tongue out knowing what you were gonna do.

“You’re disgusting, you know that Ryu?”

He nodded dumbly with his tongue out, looking almost desperately excited as he kept his gaze with yours above him. Hips rutting into your shoe and you pressed harder.

“You wanna cum?”

He mixed an airy moan with a grunt in response, nodding subtly as you watched him start to zone out, hips moving less steadily as he started to get messy rutting against your foot.

“Then you gotta behave for the next three weeks, otherwise I won’t come here again when you fuck up, do you understand?”

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head outweighing his options, wondering if the risk was really worth it and if you actually meant it. He knew you were stubborn and usually meant what you said, but he’d like to believe you’d get frustrated I’m not seeing him either.

“How about four and y’tell me if you’re actually marrying that douche bag,”

“Five and you tell me if that’s why you acted out to get me here.”

He laughed, eyes twinkling sickeningly like he was lovestruck.

“Fuck I love it when you’re like this, you’re so fucking hot.”

You pulled your foot back slightly in warning and he frowned.

“Fine, fine, shit you’re such a brat today -seen that post about you marrying and it pissed me off, thought if I just swatted some bug here that glasses freak would get you here. Worked a treat huh? C’mon, you gotta admit you’re happy to see me again right? Surely you’re cravin’ a good dicking.”

The only response was his reward of your foot pressing harder against his dick again.

“Do it yourself if you wanna cum Shidou, keep your mouth open when you do.”

You watched as he moaned, fucking himself against your foot painfully as he took himself over the edge, the unholy moans leaving him that made goosebumps rise over your skin, you pulled the chain to choke him a little more until his eyes glistened.

“M’cummin,” he slurred with his tongue out, refusing to close his eyes as you let spit leave your mouth to drool past his muzzle catching on the bars, as soon it hit his tongue his eyes rolled back. Hips stuttering against your foot as his dick flexed as he came hard under it. His body convulsed as he rode it out.

Those moans of his would haunt you, they always did. He always looked so fucking good when he came, like his entire soul was feeling it. Everything ran into overdrive for Shidou, like he felt everything ten times harder.

He swallowed whatever spit he collected on his tongue, eyes meeting yours again whilst his heart kicked on his ribs as they heaved coming down from his high, he was panting, body twitching as your foot kept moving against him.

“Wanna know somethin’ doll ♪”

You removed your foot and released the chain, letting it hit the ground and it pulled him forward a bit, his body a little lax from his come down.

“That was a nasty load, shit it’s still comin’ out always make me blow my entire load, looks like m’balls are empty huh? ♪” he sang behind you, a laugh echoing behind it as he watched you turn your back, as he heard your heels clicking on the floor whilst you stepped away to once again leave him in this shitty room.

The door opened, bright light flooding the entry and just as you were about to disappear from view he shouted out the words you had always dreaded to hear.

“-and I’m still in fucking love with ya! None of this bullshit post nut clarity! Like hell any douche bag is gonna keep me from you doll, enjoy it whilst you can cause I’ll kill the fucker then fuck ya over him ♪”

You sighed when the door shut, pinching the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes for a second trying to ignore how hard your heart was thumping in your ribs, how that anxious feeling spread through your body.

Your eyes stung from how overwhelmed you felt, frustrated that you thought you had control over yourself from him, tears threatening to spill because of that stupid prick and his bullshit. You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, not anymore…

Not when you had…

Opening your eyes when you heard a slow, almost sarcastic clap to see that very thing standing before you.

Itoshi Sae.

Your eyes met with teal, apathetic as always. Looking at you like he was above everyone else in the world, like nothing was worth his time but only a use for him to be where he wanted.

“Quite the show,” Sae shoved one hand back into his pocket, the other reached out to grip your chin tilting it up to look at him, “-can’t say you’ve ever taken attitude like that with me.”

Sae leaned forward, nose brushing against yours and his eyes keeping contact, seeing something burning behind them now he was closer.

“Perhaps I’d be jealous, if I were a weak ass.”

Your eyes turned away feeling unable to really meet his gaze at the moment, heat crawling up your neck from him just being here —the only guy who had ever emotionally dominated you, the only one you never found yourself fighting submitting to. Not even Shidou had put you into a sub space like Sae could and it made you melt for him.

“Think you’ll be good leverage for the little demon in there. I want his ego for myself on the field.”

Teal eyes were now looking past you, over your shoulder to the door that was shut containing Shidou Ryusei.

“Realise he swings both ways right? He’d be eying a guy like you, you don’t need my help in manipulating you’re perfectly good at it yourself. He’s obsessive Sae, so it’s easy when you play on it and give him a high.”

“Hmm..”

Sae turned his gaze to meet yours, ignoring your little dig at him for being a good manipulator, tilting his head he gave you the once over whilst his mind worked out the options.

“Then this will be easy,”

Sae’s thumb brushed over your jawline, in some pathetic attempt to show his affection, you knew it was fake and he was using this to get what he wanted. You doubted he cared about you at all, in fact, you considered yourself another mere pawn in his little game.

“-and I’ll just keep you to myself.” Incredible how Sae could say something like that, yet hold no weight behind the words because they came across as just that. Words.

You thought he was genuine to start, until he started asking about Shidou and Ego had spilled the details about you. You found it hard to believe him but it made your heart race none the less and you hated it.

He leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing his lips to your cheek before grazing them to your ear where he spoke into it, breath crawling down your neck.

Your gut screaming at you to get away before this ends badly, but your mind wondering if Sae could control Shidou and mange that toxic behaviour…

“Just imagine how feral he’d get watching you get fucked when he’s restrained.”

Then this could be the ride of your life.

#shidou smut #shidou x reader #bllk shidou #shidou ryusei #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x female reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #bllk sae #bllk fanfic #bllk smut #shidou x you

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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Hello! I saw your work when you wrote about three men from the house of the dragon (Jace, Aegon and Aemond) at once and I fucking loved it! I don't know if you can write something like this again? Maybe, somewhere during some kind of ball, some lord sticks to the reader in the corridor (very cruelly sticks, perhaps so that pieces of her paty remain (remember Sansa from the first season)) some lord, and she tries to fight back, but too much shocked and these men come to the rescue, God I hope you understand me thanks for your creativity!

My prince in shining silks?

Rating: Teen

Tags: Aegon II x Reader, Aemond x Reader, Jace x Reader, AFAB!Costayne reader, chivalry, sweetness really, fluffy, Aemond is emotionally constipated, Jace is a baby, Aegon and Sunfyre are BFFS, I get a little character studyish, TW: attempted rape, nondescript castration, Aegon’s past misdeeds

A/N: OF COURSE I LOVE STUFF LIKE THIS ENJOY XOXOXXO

Some say that the North remembers. But you’d like to say that the Hightower’s never, ever forgot a slight. They were too proud, too old of a family. Elevated to the highest position as they became the puppeteer for the Dragon. It was a grand tourney and feast in the Reach for young Prince Daeron’s 13th name day, a man grown now.

You were of House Costayne. Bannermen of the Hightowers, but had not so hidden preferences for Rhaenyra as rightful ruler for the future of the kingdom. Also the fact that your ancestor Elinor Costayne was a black bride of Maegor. Who was supposed to stay true to his Hightower bride. Therefore there wasn’t the best of blood between your families.

But your family was here. Quite spread thin if you could say. All filtered far away from the center of the jamboree. One of the dragons roared from far off. It sounded like Prince Daeron’s she-dragon Tessarion. Daeron was a kind soul and handsome. Too young for you by some years. You’d overheard Lord Hobart reprimand the lad after chatting to you, “You know what color her family’s flag flies.”

That was that. He didn’t speak to you much anymore, but would smile. You were a lady in waiting for Samantha Tarly, soon to be Hightower. It made things much worse for you and your position at the feast. Down with lesser nobility and the knights. Suddenly you felt very alone and afraid, picking at your meat nauseously.

A breath reeking of wine entered your ear, “Why’ve they got pretty little Costayne down here? You bed the princeling, incur the wrath of Lord Otto?” You turned to face the man, shock etched into your features, stuttering, “N-no my lord it must’ve b-been a mistake!” It was the huge second son of Lord Bulwer, Uther. He looked bullish like the sigil they bore.

He crowded into your space, grinning, huge hand gripping your shoulder. Bulwer grunted, “No one’s going to see when their pretty lady is gone, not down here. Maybe Prince Daeron will come to the rescue.” You remained quiet, eyes searching for a familiar face but found none. Tears leaked from your eyes as Uther led you farther away from the din of safety.

Aegon

Aegon hated these events. He lounged back and sloppily poured more mead down his throat. Alicent slapped his arm as to say, have some decorum you halfwit! The prince scoffed and got up, he needed to take a piss anyways. He sauntered through the woods, relieved himself, and decided to stagger over to his baby Sunfyre.

The golden beast huffed at Aegon, nuzzling his palm. The blonde softly chatted in Valyrian. He loved Sunfyre, so much, probably the only friend that unconditionally loved him. Both of their heads turned at the sound of a woman’s plea for help, cut off by the sound of a smack. Sunfyre growled lowly, turning to look at his owner as if to say, “Are we going to do something about that? What if it’s Hel?”

Aegon really couldn’t be bothered but he heard another shriek and Sunfyre had already dipped for Aegon to mount his beast. The elder prince eyed the dark forest, his golden dragon snorting and twitching it’s head to-and-fro. Aegon demanded, “Keligon,” he pat golden scales, “Ilagon.” Sunfyre let him hop off and come forward to the scene.

Some Reach lord, thick as a aurochs and hairy like one too had a girl shoved into the dirt, down in a rut, hands tearing at her garb. Aegon could see the tears in her eyes under the moonlight. Guilt constricted his chest. Is this what he thought was fun? The Targaryen needed to set himself right, help the girl.

“In the name of the Seven Kingdoms, your Prince commands you to cease at once!,” Aegon called down from his higher position. His dragon hung back, snorting and waiting. She cried, “Please! Prince Aegon! My virtue! I need Lady Tarly!” The lord snarled, “Your family stuck her at the end of the table for a reason, just having a little fun, get back to your silken chair.”

Just having a bit’ of fun.

Aegon was furious now, self-hatred fueling his desire to make this man burn. He barked, “I’ll ask one more time, get off the Lady and go back to your shitty house and their shitty wooden chairs.”

The aurochs scoffed and ripped the girls bodice with a grin. He really was stupid, drunk, or possibly both. She tried to cover her exposed teats, sobbing for Lady Tarly, her father, she was of Costayne. Costayne was a reputable house. This would be bad to ignore a bannermen’s virgin girl. Even if they were a bit astray. Maybe this could get them back.

Aegon looked over his shoulder to meet gleaming reptilian eyes. He pointed at the man and hissed, “Sunfyre, Dohaeris!” He mounted the dragon again, who let our a fierce screech. The ugly lordling hopped back and cried out in shock. The lady of Costayne covered herself and scurried backwards, getting even more dirty. The Prince directed his purple eyes to the man, “If I hear of you assaulting ladies of nobility again, all I have to do is say one word and you’ll be a nice roast.”

He dismounted again, thanking his dearest friend. The girl sat crumpled, heaving sobs, eyes swollen. Aegon offered her his cloak with a frown, asking, “Who was that?” Her wide eyes met his, beautiful in their sadness. Aegon liked sad things more than all of the revelry. She mumbled, “Uther Bulwer. I was supposed to be seated with Lady Tarly or my family. Thank you my Prince. I cannot repay you enough.”

Aegon hummed, “That’s horrid, I apologize on behalf of the dumb fuck who did that. C’mon, show me to your tent and I’ll get Tarly.” He gathered her up in his arms, her legs shaking too bad to take a step. Aegon looked at her crumpled face and asked gently, “Would you mind getting on my mount, he’s a good boy. Listens well.”

Her eyes grew wide at Sunfyre, but the dragon dipped its head and let out a soft purr as to show it’s good behavior. Aegon couldn’t help but smile at his mount. She stammered, “O-okay.”

She remained silent as Sunfyre ungainly took them to the Costayne and Tarly tents. He helped her down and carried the girl inside, who had calmed significantly. She even pat Sunfyre and whimpered, “T-thank you.” She received a pleased chuff in response.

When they entered the Costayne tent Aegon was assaulted by members of the family and a frantic Samantha Tarly. She cried and gathered the girl up, demanding, “Where was she? Where was my girl?” Lord Costayne came to Aegon and looked down, offering a hand to shake. Aegon explained, “I was uh- relieving myself and heard her. Uther Bulwark was attempting to take her virtue. His violets flicked over to the young lady being coddled by others, looking heavenly in his emerald cloak.

Costayne frowned deeply and hummed, “Raper. He should be sent to the wall. I would also request why the girl was seated at the end.”

Aegon dutifully nodded and replied, “I will return to my family and resolve the matter. May I speak to the girl?”

Narrowed eyes. Aegon still had a shite reputation.

“You may.”

Lady Sam looked up and allowed for Aegon to kneel at her side. He thumbed the ermine cloak and said, “Green is a nice color on you. Please be safe and mayhaps write a raven or send a message through Daeron. Good night to you.” She tearily smiled, “Thank you my prince, you are too kind.” The Costayne kissed his cheek with soft lips and that was it. He felt her eyes follow his retreating form.

Aegon decided he would marry the girl on his aggressive stomp back to the family tent. After he got Bulwer sent to freeze his cock off and chide his mother for being callous over the poor, beautiful, sad thing’s last name.

Jacaerys

Ser Harwin used to joke that Jace had his head constantly on a swivel. Which was a good trait, his father said. Jace knew the truth, who didn’t. Regardless, he was eyeing the feast. His Velaryon cousins were squabbling, the Targaryens looked pessimistic per usual. He took his time glaring down Daemon, who paid him no mind, whispering to mother. Daeron and Luke chatted amicably.

Baratheon, Lannister, Arryn, no Stark, Tyrell, even Martell had made their appearances. The rest of the Hightowers and their bannermen were at a table. Jace studied all the sigils of the Houses of the Kingdoms. He saw their green. Then the other colors of Tarly, Costayne, and Ball. Lord Costayne apparently had a very comely daughter, Lady Sam Tarly’s little lady in waiting. He didn’t spot her. Daeron had spoke of her beauty earlier but said he wasn’t allowed to interact per the old cunt Hobart.

He eyed to the outer tables of hedge knights, lesser houses, and high bastards. He saw the black and white of the Three Towers in a handsome dress. She was being shook and grabbed at by what seemed a Bulwer man. The man was twice his size but Jace would not stand for a raper or deviant like his cousin. He got up from his table, mother raising a questioning brow.

Jace silently stalked round to where the Bulwer was leading the muffled Costayne off. He darted behind them, using the cover of the night. Leaping forward he held a knife to the man’s thick neck, right on the pumping jugular. Jacaerys rumbled, “You’ll be castrated and sent to the wall for defiling a lady of her standing you fool.”

The man stiffened and Jace could smell piss as he nicked the skin of his neck with sharp Valyrian steel. He stammered, “She asked for it s-sir. Swear on it.” Jacaerys coolly replied, “Remove that paw of yours and let’s hear Lady Costayne then.” She turned to peer over Bulwer’s wide shoulder, weeping, “Please help Prince Jacaerys, I wish to be with my family!”

Bulwer let go of her and dashed off into the woods with a curse. She bowed and thanked him profusely, tears staining perfect cheeks. Jace frowned, “I apologize if the fool got piss on your beautiful dress m’lady. How in the Seven Hells did you end up at the edge of the feast?”

She bit her lip to stay quiet, eventually whispering, “My family supports your mother. The Queen did not like that. And no, somehow the piss missed my dress, thank you.”

Jacaerys gruffed, “Good choice on your family, even in the nest of Greens. Let me escort you back to their table, yes?” She grabbed his hands and kissed them gently, demurring, “Yes my prince, thank you.” Jace kept his hand at the small of her back as he led her to the Tarly-Costayne table. They received her joyfully, cheering the prince on. Lord Costayne gave a solemn nod and smile. The girl turned with flushed cheeks, “A dance later perhaps?”

Jacaerys smiled, “I’ll be waiting.”

Rhaenyra questioned him, “What were you doing over there? Right in the Tower. Or one of them.” Jace puffed his chest out, “I saved Lady Costayne’s virtue from some brutish Bulwer second son.” Daemon patted his back and commended, “Good man. That will be a boon for their support. Lady Tarly thinks her as a daughter.”

When Jace spun the beauty around later, he dreamt of her in a gorgeous Targaryen maiden’s cloak. They shared a kiss in the crowd later, her asking him to visit on Vermax some time. Jace eagerly acquiesced, promising to find the time. Something no one was sure how much was left.

Aemond

Aemond growled to himself, “Fuck tourneys, fuck parties, fuck feasts, and especially fuck my brother.” He swung at a tourney dummy outside of the revelry. They wouldn’t come looking, maybe send Criston if something was really needed. There was no time for shite like this, the man needed to train for the war.

He wanted blood. Especially Strong blood.

The Targaryen’s second son sharply swung down at the dummy, grunting with effort. He thought of drunkard Aegon probably taking some serving wench’s cunt and swung again. Why did the gods resort him to this status? The spare. They must have a purpose for him somewhere.

He heard shuffling and a grunt from his left. A girl’s muffled squeal. Aemond’s hearing was better on his blind side. See Criston had assisted him into honing that into an advantage. He stopped his swinging and paused.

“Stop! My virtue! They will know!,” came a small voice.

Clothes were ripped. A gruff voice slurred, “Like they care, Green’s just waiting for a reason to make you a silent sister. Shut up whore!” Another muffled yelp echoed into the quiet tourney grounds.

Aemond crouched and moved forward, eye searching for the raper. He was taking a lady of repute, he could hear that much from her accent. He arrived outside the stables, a horse whinnying in distress. Horses were smart like that, like his Vhagar, could pick up on people. The blonde snuck around the stables, quietly peering through slats until he saw the pair.

A…pretty young lady. Being defiled by some brute. Aemond swung open the door and yelled, “Stop now you raping cunt!” The man turned around with a growl, standing to his full height. He was obviously drunk. The man reached for his sword, clearly unable to tell he was about to swing on a Targaryen as Aemond had his cloak up.

The man wore the bull sigil of Bulwer. He had a great sword. Perfect, Aemond could outmaneuver the lummox. The girl held her arms over her exposed chest, mouth agape, deep eyes wide. The man swung down in a clumsy arc, the prince deflecting it and jumping to the side to strike at the man’s ankle, cutting him down. Bulwer howled and cursed, struggling to get up. Aemond yanked down his cloak and tossed it to the girl.

The bull’s face was etched with fear upon realization of who he just attacked. Aemond laughed bitterly, amused at the surprise. He crouched over the man and sheathed his sword, pulling out a sharp knife. The blonde politely called out, “Close your eyes my lady, I have to do something before this fool is sent to the wall.”

Bulwer trembled, struck with fear. Aemond grinned as he unlaced the man’s breeches, “Won’t have to freeze your cock and balls off at the wall if you don’t have any more.”

Cries and squalling of pain filled the tourney grounds, widely unheard by the feast. Now cradling his once privates, the Bulwer whimpered and moaned in pain. Aemond wiped his hands on the deviant’s clean doublet and stood back up.

The girl had gotten up by now, still closing her eyes. Aemond cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “It’s over now my lady. He won’t be able to hurt a lady again.” She opened her teary eyes and wrapped Aemond into a tight hug. The prince was shocked, wrapping his lean limbs around her waist, the jewels pressing into his sleeves. He murmured, “You’re safe, yes, what’s your house my lady?”

“C-Costayne.”

Black supporters. Aemond’s lips pressed together. He wanted the lady to be a fervent supporter of his family. The second son needed a wife too. Maybe this ordeal would change things around. She sighed, “I thought you were this scary, mean, vicious dog they kept at the keep.”

Aemond laughed, genuinely, he liked her melodic tone. He replied, “I can be, but I also practice chivalry.” She hummed, “Yes, I’ve seen that.” Aemond wanted to stay in her arms, smell her scent even if marred by the musk of horse.

He asked anyways, “Would you like an escort back?”

She shook her head, divine face looking up to his. Costayne meekly asked, “Would it be inappropriate if we stayed like this for awhile, my prince?” Aemond found himself pressing his lips to hers gently, sharing a sweet peck. He murmured, “Probably so, but let’s find a place better than around him.” They both chuckled, held hands, and found a spot by the babbling brook.

They’d find them later. Holding hands and chatting. That would be the last time she stayed in the Reach for many a year.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #jacaerys valaryon x reader #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen x reader #asks answered

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turtlesallthewaytomgreg · 1 year

Text

tomgreg internalized homophobia theory

I've been thinking a lot about how tomgreg seems stuck in a rut this season; greg getting excited about something and tom dismissing him like it's season one all over again.

I'm hoping this is intentional; that the writers are going for some kind of commentary on the difficulty of breaking the cycle of internalized/inter-generational homophobia.

in any case, there seems to be a recurring pattern in tom/greg's relationship of tom saying something homoerotic, then backtracking to protect his 'straightness.'

the most egregious example being, of course, when tom asks greg to kiss him, only to violently rip the meaning away in a bro-y, bravado-y display of 'no homo' (i.e., "I'm joking").

the same with 'i'd castrate you and mary you in a heartbeat.' there's sincerity in tom's face when he says it, but when greg doesn't say anything back? he rips the meaning away again, re-asserting his 'cis-hetness' by asking greg to "wrestle him to the ground."

looking back, greg seems pretty passive about tom's advances in s1 - 3. or more curious, than anything else (e.g., "are you trying to seduce me, tom?").

this season, i think it's the first time we're seeing greg actually reciprocate or even initiate that energy -- what if it's not the newfound 'confidence' making tom uncomfortable, but the homo-eroticism?

greg sneaking up on him at parties, teasing him about their sexual escapades, supporting him emotionally, getting jealous of his other assistants, making dick jokes, etc.

it seems like tom's dismissal of these advances isn't about greg at all, but a knee-jerk reaction to queerness itself; a familiar habit of 'shutting that shit down' to maintain the façade of straightness.

and the more overtly 'queer' greg acts, the more triggered and dismissive tom becomes.

the mention of greg's gay dad in 04x01 sets up s4 even more to explore this theme; perhaps greg has/is struggling with his own flavor over internalized homophobia, too.

i don't want to grasp at straws here, justifying what's ultimately an unsatisfying dynamic with tomgreg this season by claiming there's some deeper meaning, but i'm trying to be as gracious with the writers as possible.

it's just so hard for me to imagine them setting up an overt parallel to 'nero and sporus' (gay?) for them to go back to 'yep tom and greg super straight yep yep yep' like they forgot or something.

#tomgreg #tom and greg #nero and sporus

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lullaebies · 2 months

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Absolutely love your blog! If you're still taking Jaehaera/Aegon III requests what about one where they're in a secret relationship and are keeping it from their families but some shenanigans ensue (maybe they snuck out or something, or someone walked in on them kissing?) and they're somehow discovered? Also please overprotective father Aegon II because yes!

(Preferably an AU where the Dance happens later?)

The gathering in the room feels like a court of thorns, and Jaehaera feels as if she is going to hurl. Standing by her family with her grandmother looking at all around with hawk eyes, she feels if something is about to implode. Aegon had been taken from her side to his mother’s, Princess Rhaenyra. The heiress to the Throne had been most wroth, her, her husband, and her sons waking in the middle of the night for this… issue.

The worst of it all, Jaehaerys had been still laughing with damn near tears in his eyes while telling what he witnessed. She had begged him to leave it be, but then he and Aegon got into an altercation, and now… Ugh!

“So I enter her room because I left my book there—” he looks at Princess Rhaenyra and her family, particularly Aegon. “It was my room once too, do mind— and what do I see if not Aegon the Younger pining my sister against her own closet? The closet, grandmother. He didn’t have the mind to get her against a bed.”

She’s going to choke him.

“Oh, fuck off,” Aegon yells at her twin. “As if she hasn’t told me about you becoming a damn near Rosby stableboy in your visits there—”

Princess Rhaenyra pushes him back to his half-brothers, the lot of the brown haired boys holding their brother of nine and ten, yet only his father manages to stare him down. On the other hand, her father had been gritting his teeth beside her, while mother held onto Jaehaerys’s forearm in warning. Alicent gives her twin a pointed look.

“Mind your words, Jaehaerys,” she says, and turns to look at Rhaenyra and her family. “Prince Aegon, would you mind explaining how you came into my granddaughter's rooms?”

Aegon licks his lips, and Jaehaera swallows. The story is longer than both of them would be able to admit. Despite the blood feud of the families, they had managed to talk last year at the ball for her and Jaehaerys five and tenth nameday. Even went on a joint ride with Morghul and Stormcloud, and before he left for Dragonstone, they decided on a day to meet again at the Kingswood. Such meetings repeated. They could only afford a day a moon, but those days were all so sweet. Did she do anything wrong? Yes, had been the objective answer, but she couldn’t care for it.

And here he is, in her very own home. They could hardly speak by their family, how could she not ask for a moment of privacy?

Rhaenyra rubs her temples. “Things like these happen at this age, Alicent,” she says. “You are stressing Jaehaera and Aegon both.”

Alicent furrows her brows. “Oh, these things do happen at this age, don’t they?” she asks, glaring. “We had known since we were her age how reputation matters in finding marriage. Your son is three years her elder and should know not to fiddle with a noble girl’s corset strings at the hour of the bat.”

Jaehaera feels some tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t care for the embarrassment of being caught by now, but this makes her feel a fool. It had been nothing insidious, was it? They hadn’t even kissed until they celebrated the new year. She hadn’t lost her chastity, either. It is not just…

“He came into those rooms because your granddaughter let him in, Queen Alicent,” Prince Daemon says. “You should mind her doings before you lay judgement on my son’s.”

Jaehaera’s father had been standing quiet for the longest while, but with that he flares. “Men had been sent to the wall and got castrated for less, Uncle. If you don’t like my mother’s judgement, perhaps I should see to it?”

She holds onto her father’s arm. Please, let this stop.

Daemon eyes him dangerously. “See to your own misgivings,” he says. “Your own son laughs at your daughter's.”

“Father, please,” Jaehaera says, when Aegon the Elder tries and almost manages to escape her grip. Her mother and brother come quickly beside them. Her mother stands in front of her father and puts a hand on his chest, warning, while Jaehaerys comes to Jaehaera’s side, a wroth smirk thrown at their grand-uncle’s way.

“I am laughing at my sister’s choices, grand uncle. At least if it had been Viserys, he has my aunt’s pretty face,” he says, backing their father for once. They often argue, but at times they work together, they prove they’re made of the same cloth. “The Seven had laughed at Aegon giving him yours.”

Daemon starts stepping towards them. “You think you are a jester, you defected—”

Prince Jacaerys comes against his step-father to stop him from coming forward, the same ways her mother has to stop her father from doing the same. Her grandmother and Princess Rhaenyra had come to yell at one another, and even the kingsguard had come to get involved. Jaehaera’s body is reduced to shaking, fat tears fully sliding down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly between gentle sobs, the sleeves of a dishevelled dress wiping against her face again and again to try and catch all the tears. Only the family beside her hears, so loud were the voices in the room. Her brother and father turn around, with similarly apprehensive faces. “Please, please stop..”

Behind them, from the other side of the room, Aegon sees her in her pathetic state too. She never was the emotional type, and she had oft hoped he liked it for he had been none too different. The unusual petrification on his face makes her blood feel as if it is running dry, and it feels all gone when the dark amethyst of his eyes fall into what she could only call resigned acceptance.

Aegon, her Aegon, comes by his mother and her grandmother, holding Princess Rhaenyra’s arm. “It was my fault. We didn’t mean to… I took it too far,” he finally says. “I won’t come by her any more, Queen Alicent.”

It hurts more than anything else he could’ve said.

Her mother pushes their father aside to cloak her in an embrace. Jaehaera can only tremble and sob against her mother’s robe.

The room grows silent as Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent agree to not tell The King or all else of the incident; so ill had been King Viserys, it had not been worth ailing her grandfather further with this issue when he had been on the brink of passing.

All is to be forgotten, and cast away. Jaehaera’s puffy eyes lift from her mother’s shoulder, and catch his gaze one last time before he leaves. He tries to mouth something, but is pushed by his family out of the room.

Jaehaera sinks against her mother again. Even if she banishes the days in the green Kingswood from her thoughts, the scent of the campfire charring wood black will live in her dreams.

#and they completed the task they didn't manage that night in the middle of the war and brought peace 🙏 the end #i wish i could add more jaehaerys shittalking it was my favorite thing #i have one more request for jaehaera/aegon iii and then im focusing on exams and my longfic #jaehaegon #aegon iii targaryen x jaehaera targaryen #jaehaera targaryen x aegon iii targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #alicent hightower #prince jaehaerys targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #i would tag daemon and rhaenyra too but i don't think those who go their tag would care for this #hotd #hotd fanfic #my fics #my fanfics #reqs #answered #forwithinthishollowcrown

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the-martyrfication-of-the-matron · 1 month

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What piece of flesh do you think each Divine Warrior (other than Irene and Shad) sacrificed for godhood?

I have some guesses but I feel like you, the cannibal coniseur, have a better understanding.

Menphia - Her tail, as a meif'wa it is both her pride and joy and something used to keep balance.

Enki - His left ring finger. Magick is all in the hands so removing a finger is the same way as losing a wand. Can possibly limit control?

Esmund - At a loss, though maybe simply losing his humanity to become a God is enough for him? Maybe one of his kidneys.

TW, cannibalism. also, castration.

it really depends on WHO becomes patron of their godhood. I have answers for Shad and Irene, but not so much for gods outside of them two. it doesn't just depend on the ascending, but also their patron. And there are other gods.

With Irene as their Patron:

Menphia, the tail does work very well. It's an incredibly important aspect of how Mei'fwa move, and a big part of their identity. As a warrior, menphia would rely a lot on movement, and Irene would love to just... make that a little harder for her.

Enki, I think something a little more personal. Something that still impacts his magic, but is slightly more... invasive. Some brain matter, perhaps? A human can survive with only one hemisphere of their brain, and even learn to exist the exact same way they did before... but Irene would certainly love to watch him try and adjust to missing such a large part of his hippocampus.

Esmund, Loss of humanity, hm? Irene is a sucker for a metaphor. Whilst she isn't as centred on heart-consumption as Avra, why not indulge in a little bit of poetics? The Protector, who desires to retain his humanity, being literally heartless? That's amusing. maybe not my most creative idea, but... hm.

With Shad as their Patron:

Menphia, the tail thing probably wouldn't work. Shad is very centred on wanting to be able to exist as he is, he wouldn't go ahead and remove a notable non-human trait from someone. If she sacrifices it with Shad as her patron, that was a self-made decision. Shad also wouldn't eat her eyes, though, due to... meif'wa cat eyes and all. He'd settle for a thumb, perhaps. Giving up her ability to punch or hold a weapon in one hand, so that she may have a better ability to do as such in the other.

Enki, going along with the finger trend, yeah, he'd be the one to take Enki's finger. Shad is not overly cruel with his sacrifices, but he does know they need to have an impact. He prefers extremities to internal guts, when it comes to his friends at least.

Esmund, wouldn't have Shad as his patron, idk what to tell you. They don't mesh well, for a number of reasons, and Irene would prefer to keep Esmund. Who better to patron the Protector than the faux-sweet child-murderer? so... nothing.

HOWEVER--

(since i have Xavier in my divine warriors in LR, and he was the original SK)

whilst shad wouldn't Patron Xavier's godhood (considering Xavier being a sort of paladin type, sworn to a god - Irene - but not one himself), he would make a bit of a joke about being the Patron to Xavier's knighthood. He would ensure that the sacrifice would keep in line with a knight's most valuable vow... his vow of celibacy.

#aphmau #aphblr #aphverse #tw cannibalism #tw castration

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henghost · 3 months

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Twig Liveblog for Arc 13

aaaaaa ‼️‼️‼️ idk if i've metabolized my thoughts enough to be fully coherent about them but i feel like i'll burn alive if i don't get them out, so:

it's like, after 3.1-10: "oh this is fun! a little cat and mouse game with the lambs." then after 3.11: "i am ready to commit grievous acts of violence." the earlier chapters are nonetheless worth discussing as without them there could not be such a "devastating" fifth-act catastrophe. particularly the communication experiments fascinated me. what a perfect metaphor! what if a radio could feel fear? what if a a radio could feel love? might we not also ask--what if a weapon could feel horny?

of course the lillian perspective deserves special attention as well. even before she says so explicitly, we understand that she is "ruined." there is her drug use, her physiological response to even the smallest mention of sy. this is perhaps the anatomical effect of being so close as the lambs, who are essentially a single organism: losing one, especially the one to whom you were closest, is like cutting off a limb. poor girl! like the rest of them she's wrapped up in shit too vast to possibly understand much less overcome.

helen is also going through it :( maybe she'll be the next one to join sy... mary's perspective is also quite rough--this is when i realized that this sy guy is on a level of psychosis i hadn't really considered before lmao.

and then at last there's That Scene with lillian, which reads at first like some kind of fanfiction--some kind of fanfiction lillian herself might have written--complete with typically teenaged overdetail, melodramatic descriptions of flushes, body heat, etc., till finally there's a sort of "surrealist coup," we realize we are too deep in sy's subjectivity to understand the reality of the situation, there's a break, we are lost.

it's all just so (say the line, henghost!) freudian... one of freud's most correct insights is that eros permeates all aspects of life, and therefore that to deny, suppress, or compartmentalize it cannot achieve anything but to make it sick, make the host neurotic. for example, instead of simply fucking your best friend who's clearly into you, you might design an obscenely elaborate rube goldberg type contraption throughout a monument to your darkest trauma (that psychotic fucking carnival orphanage lmao) in order to "win" your ex back. it is wrong, therefore, though understandable, to say that sy has "castrated himself"--it would be more accurate to say that wyvern has his dick twisted up in knots while he's still trying to get hard, poor guy. (by the way, i really have to write something about how wyvern is an allegory for ssri's lol.)

i won't even broach the moral ambiguity, though i'm sure there's something interesting to be said about it--for me, it's like asking about the morality of a withered tree or oedipus rex. and it really is that sophoclean: it was doomed to happened; it was fate. it is written into jamie's dna. sy is a gun who wants, and a gun cannot help but fire. libido is the engine pushing us down a railway designed at best by deus sive natura or at worst by the Academy. i feel fucking sick to my stomach!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! nonetheless, i found it life-affirming. it's pessimistic, yes, but it's a pessimism of strength.

anyway, i've gotta give kudos to the author. for all the (deserved) shit i've given him, the wildbow of twig is clearly a far more mature writer than the wildbow of worm.

i must also--since this the last recorded arc for the audiobook!!--shoutout kim dauber, who provided professional-level audibook-reading for free!!! it's possible my reading will slow down without it :(

#twigblr #twig live blog #twig web serial #henghost's twig arc #sobbing #feel free to ask more!!!#sylvester lambsbridge

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pynkhues · 8 months

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This may be way off base but do you think there’s something to Kendall being the one handling Logan’s medication in S2 (and as such, looped into his health and medical care) and Roman and Shiv not being aware that Logan had a UTI in S3? I’m doing a rewatch and hadn’t connected these points before when the show was airing but I can’t help but link them now. Like, I can’t help but wonder if this gets at what Logan does or doesn’t share, or is comfortable sharing, with each child but I could also just be seeing things. Any thoughts?

I don't think you're way off base at all, anon, I think Logan's really specific about the vulnerabilities that he shares with his children, and his health is absolutely one of them.

This is a slight tangent, because I don't think the intent behind them is the same, but I do always find it interesting that Connor seems to be the only one Logan actually talked to about his death. He spends so much time avoiding that topic with the Golden Trio, but Connor's the only one who knew about the family plot / tomb and the backstory to it, he's the one to handle all the funeral arrangements, he's the one who - by speaking to their father about cryogenics - was talking about the realities and un-realities of death.

That's not something Logan ever does with Kendall, Roman or Shiv, and it's interesting to think about Logan syphoning off his feelings of vulnerability to disperse among his children. I do think a part of its genuine - I think Logan's terrified of feeling ganged up on by them, and I think he really does value that feeling of individual intimacy that comes with sharing in those moments - but I also think he knows it deepens divides and insecurities between them and keeps all of them isolated in their knowledge and lack there of.

Things can, and often do, mean more than one thing after all, and I think the show always relished in that.

But yes, more to the point of your question, I think Kendall managing Logan's health in s2 meant a lot of things, but I also think it most pointedly echoes Logan's words in the s1 finale.

I think there's a lot to be said about the way health brokers this degree of intimacy regardless, but nursing and doctoring are highly gendered, and Logan's emasculation of Kendall is a real throughline of the series. Care-based roles like nursing are inherently pink-collar, they're feminine, and in saying that in this scene, Logan's deliberately emasculating Kendall, but also the very idea of 'doing good'.

Kendall taking over Logan's meds in s2 I do think is meant to indicate a degree of thematic castration, but I also think it's designed to show Kendall's attempts to atone for Doddy's death. He's being a fucking nurse, he's doing good things. Even if they are just for his dad.

I think that there's also an argument to be made that Kendall perhaps also is seen by both Logan and the siblings to 'get' the health stuff better. I think a lot of that probably comes from him being the eldest of the golden trio, but also from being in rehab and his own struggles, and from Iverson (it's been interesting reading the scripts because I think they do indicate that a] Kendall does think about Sophie and Iverson more than what makes it to screen [even though this still isn't as much as he should and he is still without doubt a terrible father, haha] and b] he's a little more across Iverson's needs than we see / it's more explicit I think in the scripts that Iverson is intended to be on the autism spectrum). He's more experienced, if nothing else, y'know? And I think in the Roy network, that counts when no one else wants to deal with something.

As for this and the UTI incident being linked - - yeah, I think they are. I think there's a space that Kendall and Logan occupy together that's just theirs, and that we as an audience are supposed to extrapolate that Kendall could've (and would've) managed that situation better or, more realistically, never would've let it get to that point in the first place.

How much that's actually true, who knows, but I do think there's a deeper read of their relationship which is its own beast really. I actually have another ask in my inbox about Kendall and Logan's particular dynamic which I've been percolating on, so I hope you don't mind me leaving this here! I'll answer the other (and link back to this ;-) ) in the morning.

#it's been soooo interesting reading the s2 scripts #so much was cut!#the dynamics of it all #funnily enough i do think kendall is forever the one logan trusts the most #which isn't about competence but more that he's the most groomed #which is kind of my point in the ask i'll answer tomorrow #welcome to my ama #kendall roy #logan roy #kendall + logan #hbo succession #succession meta

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slashingdisneypasta · 7 months

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Imagine

You're walking home, or to work or school, or wherever- and you get caught in the rain. It starts to downpour. Like, big fat droplets of Gaia tears; Thick 'my son-husband has secretly hidden children within me causing a terrible migraine so welp; here baby Cronus, take this flint sickle and castrate brother-daddy' kinda rain. I'll stop with the Greek Mythology now, I'm sure you get it. Heavy rain.

You're getting soaked despite whatever you're using to protect your skin from it all (A binder, a bag, your jacket, a hat,.. an umbrella perhaps), your nose is cold, and you can barely see 10 feet in front of you apart from any street lights around, when-

A car pulls up directly next to you. You have the horrible panicked moment of 'am i going to be kidnapped today', before you recognise the car and the side door is thrown open in front of you.

Your F/O gestures and/or calls for you to get in. They knew you would be out at this time (They're familiar with your basic schedule ^^), saw the downpour and thought immediately 'Oh shit wait, Y/N's out in this'- and came right over to get you out of it.

What's their car like? Is it sleek and well taken car of? Is it a regular old thing? Does it look like its gonna break down any time now?

Do they have a blanket for you to throw over your legs? Or do they throw you their coat??~~~

Do they enforce seat belts? Are they gonna refuse to go if you just pull the blanket over your shoulders and 'forget' (Or genuinely forget) to buckle up or will they lean over and buckle you themselves?

Are they taking you to your destination or are they taking you to their house because you need a hot shower and to get warm or you're gonna catch a cold? Are they kind about it or bossy? XD

Will they stop by a drive thru to get you something to eat and/or drink? Maybe something lovely and hot?? Or are you two the crazy people who eat ice cream when its cold 'cuz it wont melt'?

Possibly most importantly; Is their any chance that your F/O would kick you back out into the rain for any reason? XD

#THIS WAS ME TODAY #there was me. a ragamuffin. walking home with my side bag full of a million things for placement #plus another bag with tea and a wooden tea set also for placement #wearing only a thin jacket and a hat- a s t r a w hat #and the heavens open up--#god what i would've given for 👠cruella to tear down the street and snap at me to get in the bloody car- XD #i'd have fur tickling my nose from the coat thrown at me and she would take me straight to her house without a word XD ^^#this gives me the warm and fuzzies ^^#🐊jim would take me through a drive thru and get me food and we sit in the parking while the rain threatens to break the roof of the car-#(oh my gosh more warm and fuzzies XD)#and 🖕otis is kidnapping me but he doesnt care if i shower and get warm or not he just wanted me and doesnt care about any plans i had >>#none of them care about seat belts #(though if cruella or otis is driving Iiii certainly care about seatbelts #and those two would also kick me out if i pushed their buttons 😅😅 no sense of humour. dang- XD #F/O #F/O's #F/O Imagine #F/O Imagines #F/O x Reader

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feminismisstillahatemovement · 9 months

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We are living through a great showdown between hysteria and reason. On one side stand the adherents to the cult of transgenderism, hawking their hocus pocus about gendered souls and self-authentication through castration. On the other side stand those of us who know that biology is real, and that every cell in the human body is sexed, and that a man is as likely to become a woman as that chalice of wine is to become the blood of Christ during Mass (apologies, Catholics).

You’ll never guess which side some New Atheists are taking in this clash between delusion and truth. The crazy side. The side that says a bloke with a beard and balls can literally be a lesbian. Which is infinitely more cranky than the idea that a bloke with a beard and balls can literally be the Son of God. How did rationalist bros, those secularists on steroids, those Dawkins acolytes whose hobby for years was to make fun of the faithful, become devotees of such a strange, post-truth sect?

One by one, atheists are falling at the altar of trans. This week a Twitterfeed called The New Atheists slammed Richard Dawkins for becoming a TERF. Dawkins is a rarity in the new rationalist ranks: he thinks people with penises are men, not women, just as bread is bread, not the body of Christ. He is ‘utterly confused’, decreed his angry apostates. Biology ‘isn’t black and white, it’s a full spectrum of colour just like a rainbow’, they said. This hippyish belief that humans can pick their sex from a multicoloured smorgasbord is entirely an article of faith, of course, not science. Behold rationalism’s turncoats.

We’ve witnessed Neil deGrasse Tyson, America’s best-known scientist, bow to the creed of gender-as-feeling. In a TikTok video he said ‘XX/XY chromosomes are insufficient’ when it comes to reading someone’s sex, because what people feel matters along with their biology. So someone might feel mostly female one day but ‘80 per cent male’ the next, which means they’ll ‘remove the make-up’ and ‘wear a muscle shirt’. Sir, that’s cross-dressing; it does nothing to refute the truth of chromosomes, which absolutely do tell us what sex a person is. As destransitioner Chloe Cole said to Tyson, you’re ‘confusing basic human biology with cosmetics’.

We’ve seen Matt Dillahunty, a leading American atheist, promote the mystic cry that there’s a difference between ‘what your chromosomes are’ and your ‘gender identity’. ‘Transwomen are women’, he piously declares, perhaps keen to prove that while he might be fond of bashing the old religions, he has not one cross or blasphemous word to say about the new religion. Well, no one wants to be excommunicated from polite society.

Stephen Fry is another godless lover of science who appears to have converted to the trans belief. Phillip Pullman, Stewart Lee and others who were once noisy cheerleaders for rationalism are likewise strikingly reserved on this new ideology, this devotional movement which, among other things, invites young women to submit themselves to bodily mortification in order that they might transubstantiate into ‘men’. Seems like something a rationalist should question.

Then there’s Humanists UK. Even Britain’s most influential God-free organisation has thrown its lot in with the Flat Earthism of the post-sex ideology. It entreated the British government not to change the definition of sex in the Equality Act to mean ‘biological sex’. Why? Because some people have a mysterious inner gender – soul? – which apparently counts for more than their biological sex when it comes to the question of which social spaces they should be allowed to enter. Forget biology, forget science; make feeling king. Some women resigned from Humanists UK over what they viewed as its abandonment of ‘compassionate, scientific [and] rational’ principles in favour of the unreality of gender subjectivity.

Witness the treachery of the atheists. Yesterday’s warriors for rationalism are now footsoldiers of postmodern delirium. The religion-bashers who came to prominence in the 2000s now pray to the gods of gender correctness, whether from fear of cancellation or because they really have had a Damascene conversion to the idea that feelings override reality; that scientific truth must sometimes play second fiddle to our flattering of the self-esteem of men who say they’re women, women who say they’re men, and presumably mere mortals who claim to be God. After all, if Dave with his dick and five o’clock shadow can literally be a woman, why shouldn’t Gary be the Second Coming? Subjectivity rules, no?

The rationalist bluster of the New Atheists was all sound and fury, it seems. The minute a real struggle over reason exploded into public life, they vacated the battlefield or joined the other side, crying ‘transwomen are women!’ as they went to signal their fidelity to the new faith. It’s easy to bash the old religions, especially Christianity. Newspaper columns, invites to literary festivals and conference halls full of the fawning godless middle class awaited those who said: ‘Jesus walking on water? As if!’ The consequences of deviating from the trans ideology are far more severe. Columns are taken away, invites evaporate, the middle classes will gather to scorn not cheer. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that some public atheists value their reputations more than rationalism.

What makes their desertion of reason even more galling is that they’ve done it in response to a neo-religion that really is harming the young. Fundamentalist Christians might try to convert gay kids out of their homosexuality, but this new religion mutilates them out of it, by transing young lesbians into ‘boys’ and gay lads into ‘girls’. Faith schools might promote zany miracle stories to their pupils, but this new cult imbues kids with far more disorientating beliefs about 72 genders and girldick and lesbians with penises. The old religions frown on blasphemy, and so does this new one, with its treatment of any ‘denier’ of its theological criteria as a social leper. Especially if the ‘denier’ is a woman: yes, this religion also hates uppity women. And yet it is at this moment, with all this unfolding, that some rationalists take a break from rationalism. It is moral cowardice in the garb of social justice.

Others go further than to criticise the complicity of some New Atheists with modern unreason. They say these godless agitators are to blame for the new madness. In chasing God from society, in further weakening the church, they ‘created a void that a new, dangerous ideology [has] filled’, says Tim Stanley at the Daily Telegraph. Kill God, get trans. Which means that even Dawkins, TERF-ish as he is, is partly culpable for the lunacy he now laments.

I think there’s something in this. But the problem is not that the New Atheists made a ‘void’ that others rushed to fill. It’s that they actively helped to foster the very hyper-atomisation that underpins an ideology like transgenderism. With their promotion of the post-God and post-humanist belief that human beings are nothing more than genetic machines, bundles of DNA in a pitiless world without meaning, the New Atheists contributed to our era’s great, tragic retreat of the individual from the social world into the self. From the external world of connection and engagement into the diminished universe of genetic determinism, bodily transformation and jealous cultivation of one’s own narcissistic virtue.

So, yes, there is a line from Dawkins to trans. Dawkins’ contribution to elite thinking was colossal, especially with his 1976 book, The Selfish Gene. He made evolutionary biology mainstream, the idea that we humans are not as special as we thought. Our universe has ‘no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference’, he once wrote: ‘DNA neither cares nor knows. DNA just is. And we dance to its music.’ Dance to its music. The most striking thing about Dawkins and other neo-Darwinists was not their atheism, said the great moral philosopher Mary Midgley, but their ‘fatalism’. In The Solitary Self, her stinging critique of the new evolutionists, Midgley rebuked Dawkins for his depiction of ‘helpless humans enslaved by a callous-like fate-figure’. Only his fatalistic view was more deadening than that of Ancient scribes, she wrote, because this time the ‘cosmic bully’ controlling our fate is not a ‘pagan deity’ but ‘a chemical, DNA, a part of our own cells’. ‘Like other organisms’, she lamented, we’re seen as ‘lumbering robots ruled by [biology]’.

The Dawkins view grew in influence in the 1980s and 1990s. It was given expression in the soulless technocracy of the New Atheism. It merged with other atomising trends of our time – the decline of social institutions, the rise of a culture of fear, and, yes, the withering of religion – to exacerbate a view of the individual as utterly alone, a genetic creature more than a social one, ruled not by reason but by instructions sent by our DNA. ‘Biological Thatcherism’, Midgley called it.

And here’s the thing: if we are our biology, and that alone, doesn’t it make sense that individuals who want to change themselves would feel the need to change their biology? If we dance to the music of our DNA, doesn’t it follow that people who want to become something else, something different, will have the urge to change the music of their DNA? In short, there is a link, surely, between the post-1970s reduction of the human being to mere genetics and this new millennium’s fad for trying, however forlornly, to alter oneself at the level of genetics. Taking hormones, cutting bits off, removing testes, removing ovaries, injecting, mutilating, pursuing a ceaseless, pitiless war against one’s very biological essence. That the trans movement, and identitarianism more broadly, treats the body as the sole site of change should not be surprising in our era of biological Thatcherism where there is no society, no morality, no good, no evil – just bodies, stardust made flesh, all following genetic impulses. There is a close relationship between the modern ideologies of atomisation and the fruitless infernal war the young now wage on their own bodies, on their DNA prisons we’re all told we inhabit.

Perhaps Dawkins is the grandfather of transgenderism. I jest. But I do think we need to wriggle free from this clash between biological determinism on one side and self-destructive biological ‘liberation’ on the other. Biology is real, but it does not control us. You cannot change your sex but you can change your circumstances. That, however, requires that we go beyond both the biological Thatcherism of the new sciences and the neoliberal self-regard of identity politics and rediscover our place in a world of other people and other ideas. We’re social creatures, not ‘lumbering robots’ to be controlled or, worse, carved up and replaced with new parts.

------------------------------------

Brendan O’Neill is spiked’s chief political writer and host of the spiked podcast, The Brendan O’Neill Show. Subscribe to the podcast here. His new book – A Heretic’s Manifesto: Essays on the Unsayable – is available to order on Amazon UK and Amazon US now.

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