#women were also saying they were just blaming their mother and other women which made me think of the quote again

[velvetures]

Hello loves💕 I still can't get over your writing I'm obsessed!!

I would love to request Roommate König x fem reader. König hears you fucking some guy on the other side of the wall and he can tell you faked it so once the dude is gone he's got you over his shoulder and is walking you to his bedroom to fuck you right. I love the idea of her trying to get him to confess to her and trying anything after months or years of mutual pining, her last resort is to make him jealous.

Overheard

a/n: I'm so sorry for being so slow my love... I always have the worst self-confidence with nsfw reqs. I constantly write them, delete them, and start all over... (this is like... the 8th full-draft retry) So I hope you'll forgive me if this isn't up to standard. Also, I know this trope has been covered by some really talented writers and I hoped to do it justice, and not feel like a carbon copy of something better. (ps. This shit is too long... but I knew if I deleted anything, I'd delete the whole thing over again.)

tw's: 18+ ONLY, nameless hookup, alluded unprotected sex w/side character, unintentional orgasm denial, the reader is mentally not in the best place for sex (disconnected), voyeurism, jealously, fem-oral receiving, fem-fingering receiving, dirty talk, König being a bit of a loser, König omitting his lack of experience, aftercare.

His mom kept saying it was about time to settle down. That the biological clock, normally pushed on women, was ever-present and ticking against his favor. But his sweet, innocent, mother didn’t know the depth of his awkwardness. Not even the slightest idea that her well-mannered boy, turned praise-worthy Colonel was nothing but a bumbling fucking idiot when it came to speaking with women. In the field, sure. He could give orders, discuss tactics, and even bullshit with the best of the best… but if a woman was among those? Oh hell. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall with a randomly developed stuttering issue.

He didn’t understand where it came from either.

It wasn’t like his mother was one of the overbearing types that made dating impossible, and nor did he exactly have the worst time when he was younger with women being interested. It was just… after they showed interest, that became the struggle. Relaxing wasn’t possible. Not when he knew that a woman’s perception of him was far higher than that of any man. Believing that even the smallest of gestures and phrases could earn him an immediate dismissal, and his name or photo being sent in some group-chat to be berated after a first date. He didn’t blame any of the women though… he knew what he looked like. What he sounded like… and God, how miserable his personality was compared to what his career and position would lead others to assume.

A shred of truth could always be found in his mother’s warning though.

He’d gone years without any meaningful relationship where the softer, side of a woman could be found. He found bastardized ways of getting a taste, but he could only allocate so much money a month to porn sites and camgirls without feeling like a total sleaze. The Colonel felt much more confident mapping out a prospective warzone than the contours of a woman’s body, and fuck… it made him more than a little embarrassed to admit. Enough so, that when you mentioned that your rental agreement was coming to an end, and you were trying to find somewhere new to stay, he offered for you to just move in with him.

He owned. Which made the idea of ‘rent’ or you paying it almost unquestionably stupid. It made the deal a little sweeter -in his mind- for you to agree, and then he wouldn’t have to be quite so personally diligent on logging onto online portals to pay utilities. That is, if he could get you to move in. And while in his own mind and body, every synapse screamed that he was being unrealistic, you hadn’t caught on. He’d looked just as stoic and cold as ever when he propositioned that you just start moving over your things into his house. Save money… it’ll be easier for you; He’d said, hard eyes glancing over your face. You thought saying ‘yes’ was anxiety-inducing? König nearly passed out in his office after walking there on numb feet and weak knees.

In the week following, he brought you a small ring of keys, and you started moving your life into his, one cardboard box at a time. And every night after returning from his on-base duties, he would have to physically restrain himself from opening up the taped flaps and getting a peek at the unattended items sitting by the front door. At the time, he thought it was nothing more than unchecked curiosity and instinct to feel-out a new situation. Just simply wanting to learn more about you before you started sleeping over. Merely the soldier in him. But box, by box, that curiosity didn’t dampen down. Even when your items began making their way out of their containers and enmeshing with his around the house.

Tea cups in the kitchen cabinet next to his thicker, coffee mugs. Throw blankets rolled and stacked in the far corning of the couch he rarely sat on. A little rug you’d tossed down in the kitchen in front of the stove with a little floral print that he’d been utterly possessed to not get any stains on while cooking, or by taking off his boots before walking inside. And while never claiming to be a ‘minimalist’ man, he learned right away that his house was nothing short of a hotel when it came to personality.

You’d brought at least five full walls worth of decor. Little trinkets and cute things from all over the world you’d been sneaky enough to stuff into the pockets of your gear. And all of it, had initially been shoved into an empty linen closet he’d been perfect happy with you claiming as your own since it was ‘on your side of the house’. That was, until he found himself noticing that you’d put more than “storage” things away, and had silently refused to put them where they belonged.

On the damn walls.

“I don’t decorate well anyways..” It’d been his excuse… or at least something along those lines. Maybe a little bit more gruff. Guarded. Because even in his own home, he had the tendency of walking around like someone was going to sneak up behind him.

So one week, while he was away, you took the permission and ran with it. Buying the picture hanging kits, and everything else needed to begin covering the Colonel’s walls with your amassed collection of utterly unnecessary, but brain-scratching decorations, art, and collectable junk. Spending a good half hour walking around the halls and rooms with a little smile of accomplishment on your face seeing the colonel’s house feeling more like a home. Totally unaware that he’d been checking the security cameras dotted around, watching you scale a shitty stepladder, climb the kitchen cabinets, and struggle to lift the more heavy items. All the while, growing more and more intrigued with this new arrangement. Debating whether he liked it or not. Rapt attention making the instinctive suggestion that you’d make a good wife far less perverse than he should’ve felt it to be.

Missions took precedence though. And it kept both of you busy more than not. Fully living adjacent instead of in a more dependent role. But there were decidedly small decisions that needed to be made. Like who was in charge of buying groceries, and getting essentials that you both used. König ended up just leaving cash on the counter once a week so you could take care of his end for him. Saving the trouble of a second loaf of bread being bought, or doubling up on paper towels after a miscommunication lead to fifty rolls of the shit needing to be stored somewhere. You did the job more than credibly, and it got you out of the house too.

Which was good, because you rarely left.

Not unlike him, you preferred your time spent in calm situations. Either reading reports, answering emails, and other related tasks before just closing that tab on your laptop and opening up an new one to watch a show or scroll on your phone. You appeared to thrive in his house when you could curl up like some little bird in a nest and just rest. Developing almost permanently sleepy eyes when you came through the door, and a softer tone of voice that took some getting used to. König didn’t exactly understand it. Why your demeanor changed so much within the house, and how it got substantially much more noticeable when your schedules aligned for both of you to be there at the same time.

A solid seven months or more passed before he got his answer. And from your late-night scrolling nonetheless.

Some woman, blabbering on about her husband, and all of the ways that he effected her life once she moved in with him. And, honestly, König wasn’t listening all that much. Having just begun sitting on the other end of the couch with you, since it was where you spent your evenings after dinner. And, it’d become a little bit of a new experience. Just being halfway close to you. Interacting, but not. A safe way to enjoy your presence without any expectations. But that woman on your phone caught his attention when she made the joke about being tired all the time. Tired. Sleepy. All the fucking time. He had to stare down at the TV to keep his head from snapping in your direction.

Apparently it was chemical. Some little thing in the back of a woman’s mind that men didn’t have the complexity to experience the same way. That this woman -and you- were so mentally focused for such a long time, that when the right person was around you, and created a safe space, it acted like a the strongest sleeping pill in existence. Flooding you with dopamine and melatonin to the point that your pretty face got even sweeter with those deep, sleepy looks and constant yawns at all times of the day. Getting a glimpse of you tapping the screen twice, and then tapping at your keyboard to leave a comment only reinforced his inquisitiveness. From the moving boxes, to watching you on cameras while away… and now realizing that you acted so sweet and docile around the house because of him..? He didn’t know how to control himself, and still find a way to keep figuring you out.

Wanting more…

Needing a chance to find out if things could go further than just living in his house.

Dating wasn’t a walk in the park for you either. Call it a hazard of military work. Computers and filing paperwork was more your speed than the guns and blood that König was accustomed to, but it still limited the amount of men who were interested. Especially in the long-term.

It really came down to the uniform and lack of free time that could be allotted to the guys that you did have the fortune to meet. They wanted to take you on dates, and your superiors preferred you stay late to take minutes for a meeting. They always suggested you take a vacation, since it was clear just how tired you were on a daily basis. But vacations were practically a laughable dream you knew wouldn’t come to fruition until you finally were sent the retirement packet everyone in the service dreamed of. But.. on the rare occasion, you did have the energy to entertain a man for a night. Just. One. Night.

Thankfully König was out.

Such good timing considering you’d spent nearly a week, taking your sweet time to wring orgasms out of yourself just for the sheer frustration of getting them, and still not feeling satisfied. Instinctively missing the warmth of skin on skin and the dynamic of having someone else provide and take pleasure from you. Even getting on the app had felt more like a shopping trip than a chance to go on a date. Looking through photos and bios with nothing more on your mind than someone big enough, and pretty enough to make the ordeal worth it. The guy who answered back to your painfully blatant request for a good fuck, didn’t ask any questions either. Just asked politely asked if you wanted to go to him, or vice versa and gave you ample time to get yourself ready before the knock on the front door.

Your mental ruined any chance of having a good time though.

The poor guy sucking at your neck and grunting soft praises was nice… but you couldn’t get into it. Feeling tense. Going through the motions. Foreplay becoming an act of forced moans to reassure the guy genuinely trying to make you feel good, and unable to even make eye contact for a slightly guilty feeling that pervaded your thoughts. Hell, you even refused to have missionary, just to make sure that your facial expressions didn’t have to constantly match the fake whimpers and whines.

John… Joe… Jacob… whatever his name was, he was honestly a sweet guy. Giving your clit attention, no just shoving his cock in you without prep, and actively checking in without making it overbearing. On another day, you’d have really been trying harder to impress him. Give the impression that you were interested in him for more than the sex you couldn’t surrender to. Hope that he liked you enough to stick around. But deep down, you thought better of it. Withholding your feelings to ensure that when he left you alone for the night, that you wouldn’t hate yourself.

König, on the other hand, came home a bit earlier than expected. Walking in the door quietly to expect a silent house, and you sleeping in your bed or on the couch after waiting up for him. Only to be stunned with wet, skin slapping and familiar, pathetic, whimpers getting overrun by deep grunts and low, almost whispered sounds from a man.

God… you were getting fucked.

His whole chest tightened in embarrassment and his face felt hot. You’d never been quite this comfortable… at least to his knowledge. Plenty of nights he had overheard the faint sounds of you getting off alone… soft little moans and gentle hums of a vibrator filtering down the hallway to him. But he’d never heard anything quite that… loud. Even when you fucked yourself on a dildo -he’d always been too curious not to listen intently- the slick sounds of your cunt always made louder noise than your voice. As mortified as he was hearing it… part of him knew something was wrong. Like his whole body was stiff, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. Faking it… for some unknown reason.

Why couldn’t you say something? Surely you could ask him to… to do something different right? To let you use a toy? Or… or touch your clit? Whatever it took to help you enjoy yourself. But those pinched, almost broken moans starting grating on him within seconds. Stalking towards your bedroom door quietly, and leaning against the wall. Eyes closed and his breath getting heavier with each imagined scene in his head that developed. Picturing him doing all the wrong things… Touching you… tasting you… and living out his own pleasure without the slightest idea that every sound out of your mouth was a fucking lie.

König’s jaw clenched. Resisting a sudden desire to bang on the door or make some other loud noise that would bring this all to an end. Even his fist clenched at his side flinched towards the bedroom door, as if he was insane enough to actually bust in.

What would he even do?

The question rang out a bit too harshly in his mind.

He didn’t have the first idea how to… do better. To make you feel good, or any woman really. Plenty of jealousy rose in his throat at the thought of that bastard fucking you, but he hadn’t even touched a pussy in years. And the last time he did it, he was, pathetically inexperienced. Using his huge fingers to try and prep his partner, but not hitting any of the right spots. Accidentally taking a clinical approach, and it left him feeling like a damn gynecologist instead of a good fuck.

He couldn’t please you, no matter how much he wanted to…

The sobering thought forced him to back away from your bedroom door. But pride alone forced him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of scotch in his hand. The last -and unavoidable- line of defense before the front door. No doubt in his mind that if nothing else, he’d get a good look at the man you’d brought home for a disappointing night of sex. Wanting to at least humiliate the bastard for a few seconds. Because while he knew himself to not be an acceptable partner, the guy currently riding out his high in your bedroom wasn’t going to know it. And seeing him -in his daily fatigues- and his hood, would give any man a moment of pause.

You felt sticky. Hot. And more than a little achy in all the wrong ways as Jeff… Josh… whoever the fuck he was, removed himself form your bed and began pulling on his jeans. Watching cautiously as he excused himself into your bathroom -sweetly- offering you a wet washcloth and a too-shy smile for a man who’d just come all over your stomach.

You didn’t bother putting on pants to walk him out to the front door. Too disappointed and stuck in your own head to see König standing in the corner of the kitchen. His dark eyes glaring daggers at your… ‘guest’ who was much more observant, and stood stock still. Shirt in his hands, and forced to raise his gaze more than normal to get the best look at the terrifying man looming in the shadows. It took you far longer than it should’ve. To trace Jonah… Josiah’s… gaze, and recognize your roommate. And even longer to remember that you weren’t wearing pants.

“Hey man…”

You had to give what’s-his-name credit for being as casual as he sounded. Because in all honesty, you were just as taken aback. Shuffling to stand behind the guy just enough that your bare pussy and ass weren’t totally out for him to see.

“Evening…” König sounded… bored? Not his normal tone. “Heading out already?” The guy you were using as a shield, just nodded his head. Looking a bit apologetic, but still anxious.

“Yeah, man…” He pulled his head over his shirt, patting his pockets for the jingle of car keys before glancing back at you with an truly apologetic smile, and a clear unpreparedness for the situation. “I… uh…. thanks for… letting me come over…”

You can’t manage more than a nod. No smile, no reassuring touch to him… nothing. Just a silent acknowledgment and the subsequent scamper over to the couch to grab a blanket to cover yourself up.

Shit… König fucking waved bye…

He didn’t expect you to come out. Nor to get his first-ever look at your pussy. And god it’d taken a lot of restraint not to just stare at you and memorize what he could get get a look at. You just looked soft. So fucking small and soft… A slight sheen of sweat on your face and the roots of your hair damp from the erotic affair.

Too bad it was all an act.

“Thanks for letting him come, huh?” He can’t resist… the guy just hadn’t been cautious enough to not fuel the fire of jealously in him.

Seeing you wrap that blanket around you tighter, avoiding all eye contact, and even turning your side to him a bit… it makes him smile under his hood. An amused one. A sickeningly happy sort of feeling rising in his gut where you appear vulnerable under his gaze. You’re already much more expressive just talking to him than you’d sounded with that bastards cock inside you.

“Didn’t think you’d be back for a while…” Your valid excuse falls a bit flat, especially when those dark brown eyes scan your entire body. He lifts his tumbler of scotch under his hood, nodding before taking a long drink. Feeling a secondary burn that soothes the heat building everywhere else in him.

“I can see that…” He chuckles lowly. To him, it sounds unsure… and maybe tinged with anger, jealously. But on your face, he’s clear that you don’t recognize it. Far too embarrassed to see that there’s just as much uncertainty flooding him as well. “Could hear it too…”

He literally sees your shoulders sink. The wave of embarrassment. Part of him loves it. Knowing you’re experiencing some of the same things he is. That you to, know what it’s like to leave a bed feeling like things didn’t go right, and there’s a guilt that hardens like sediment in your gut. Yet the other half, resists pushing harder. Using this same, defensive, and chastising tone. To give you just a bit of respite, because, he’s not really mad… he’s just fuming with jealously.

“If I knew… I wouldn’t have…” You can’t manage much more. Both of you knowing damn well this wouldn’t have happened if you knew what his arrival was going to be. You always kept so good to his schedules… and not just because this was his house. But because you were so genuinely sweet around him.

“Been so loud?” He suggests, downing the last gulp of his scotch and pushing away from the counter. “Speaking of that…” His gaze lingers on your throat… those faked moans echoing in his mind.

“I didn’t know it was common practice for women to walk their fucktoys to the door… especially when he doesn’t make you come.”

If your stomach was twisting before, there wasn’t a doubt now. And god… you couldn’t tell if it was that he was home, or his voice, or just the edged-feeling of your aching pussy; but König was making you squirm. More than he’d ever done before… and you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of him plenty of times before when no other fantasy had done the trick.

“I finished.” You defend, tightening the blanket around your waist and tucking your bare feet under the excess material pooling on the floor.

König’s eyes blacken, and he laughs lowly. It’s the closest you’ve seen to his behavior when he’s interrogating someone. His power of knowing all the right answers and just dangling the freedom to lie right in front of your face. Maddening, to say the least. And enough to make your thighs flex together.

“I’d like to believe you…” he begins, making leisurely steps closer. “Yet, I’ve spent more nights than I care to admit hearing you come… and what I just hear… is nothing close to the real thing.”

“It’s different with—when it’s not just me.” You gape at him, trying to find anger at the audacity.

Searching for something other than a feeling of arousal knowing that despite your muffled cries into pillows, he’d still heard you at night. Still listened, and if nothing else, knew what your true pleasure sounded like to call you on bullshit. He shrugs, massive hands resting on his hips. Watching them sway a little as he keeps getting closer. Testing the boundary lines you no doubt had. Pushing and prodding at weak spots, and wondering if he can set foot on the living room rug you stood at the center of.

“Different, huh?” The fake acceptance doesn’t last long. “So if I asked for proof… you’d have it?”

“Proof?” You choke out. “What kind of proof could I even give you?” There are plenty running around in your head, all of them raunchier than the previous. But you’re almost desperate to hear him say it.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got the wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever heard,” He growls softly. “You never finish yourself off without making the slickest goddamn noises. Can hear it from down the hallway like it’s playing off my phone.” He adds, voice getting gritty, eyes lowering towards your hips and back up.

“Show me, that is… if he really did make you come.”

Air in your lungs evaporates. God it’s criminal how fucking lewd anything could sound coming from his mouth. And your dry pussy is pathetically getting wetter by the second. Fluttering muscles twitching with each filthy admission he makes. You’re already resorting to putting pressure against your clit by flexing your legs, trying to deny the feelings. Excusing it all by the still-lingering desire for release and not König. Not moving, and a miserable lack of a response forces him to approach faster. Stepping onto the rug serving as a mental barrier for you.

“Embarrassed?” He asks, head tilting a little and stretching the hood to pull away from his chest a little. Putting a bit more of his chest on display in that tight t-shirt.

You shake your head defiantly.

“Oh? Okay then… you should be able to show me then, right? Pretty girl like you, wanting to get fucked… Should be more than willing to brag that you got satisfied. That he left you satiated…”

Your face burns. Debating how to answer. If it’s even smart to try and test your voice in the first place.

“Nothing to see… got-got cleaned up…” God the miserable truth that your no-name partner’s cum was the only thing needing cleaned off of you hits like a punch to the gut.

A massive hand grabs at the blanket in your grip stops all possibility of lying anymore. A warning. Gentle, for sure and meant to be just a small test of consent. However, you too far into this to not want more. He’s just hitting all the right buttons, whether he means to or not.

“How about I… check for myself?” He asks lowly, free hand -covered in a glove- sliding up under his hood and returning into sight with the achingly sexy sight of a huge, scarred hand. His meaning isn’t lost on you, and it’s almost like your cunt floods in anticipation.

“Slide my hand between your pretty thighs, and see just how good he treated you…” He murmurs, trailing fingers down the two sides of the blanket pulled together. “Let me see if that pussy is fucking drenched like she deserves to be.”

“König.” You warn softly, eyes darting down to his hand and back to his eyes.

Not the slightest bit worried about him touching you. Not at all. But about what would happen after all the tension faded. What would come of your relationship if you fucked… or, just made things complicated in general.And he pauses, looking to you a bit cooler. His breathing still heavy, and laden with emotion.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You’re desperate to think of a way to explain yourself, but the most basic, stupid, comment comes out of your mouth.

“I don’t want this to end badly.”

He straightens just a bit. But his hands don’t move. And while from your perspective, it seems he’s hesitating on whether or not to continue, that’s not what’s got him stuck mere inches away from slipping his fingers between your folds.

He’s worried you know. That you’ve caught on to his inexperience, and are merely defending yourself from a second bad experience in one night. And god it makes this throat burn. Desperate to defend himself and prove that while -yes- he’s more than a little bit lost when it comes to the manual process, he’s still going to be the most teachable fucking man you’ve ever met.

“I’ll listen so well…” He eventually mutters, stepping just a bit closer. Voice lowering and a hint of desperation entering it. “Can—can give you everything you want… Just need to tell me…” he adds, unable to look you in the eyes.

It’s not exactly what you were expecting to hear, but it still strokes that burn between your thighs. Especially when his hands grip your hips through the blanket wrapped around you. Groping softly, massaging at the fat over your muscles and feeling hungry just to touch you.

“I… I don’t want things to be awkward afterwards.” You try to reexplain. Hoping the clarification will help him see why you hadn’t already leaned into his commanding touch.

“Awkward,” he repeats, as if it’s a foreign idea. Like it’d never crossed his mind. “Don’t plan on ignoring you anymore… Not—Not after hearing that… and knowing… fuck…”

“He couldn’t have listened… please tell me you tried to tell him what to do… what you wanted,” His rambles get more panicked. Like every thought in his head is equally important and he can’t take the time to pick one and let me even answer. “Should’ve asked what your pussy needed… how to make you feel good… make those pretty sounds..”

You’re half dazed just watching his breathy words fan the material of his hood to react to his boot kicking your feet apart. Wide hand sliding between your thighs and groaning. A deep, guttural sound that reminds of him being winded. And really… he probably should be. Because your inner thighs are dry to the touch. The wetness he’d been creating still not enough to make much fuss over. But he’s not satisfied with that alone. Immediately curling a finger to spread your lips, feeling the thick, slick of new arousal that had been nothing, if not his doing.

“Ohh, you poor baby…” He sighs lowly, head rolling back at the mere sensation of your pussy under his fingertips. Feeling you a bit anxiously, yet getting a buzz in the back of his skull when your hole pulses against his prodding touch. “Left you so fucking hot…”

It’s a fast movement but he’s got you off your feet and dropped down onto the couch in one swift move. Your back arched in the slumped position and the blanket that’d been covering your -pathetic- modesty, fluttered open on both sides of your hips. Leaving your core exposed to his hungry and heavy-lidded eyes. Letting out a little whine of a sound when he slowly drops to a knee; tracing his hands down your inner thighs like he was scared of touching you too harshly.

“König, please…” You gasp out, watching his thumb run over your swollen labias. Pinching your fat lips together softly and inadvertently putting delicious pressure on your swollen clit. He curses under his breath, free hand grabbing your thigh with bruising strength.

“Tell me how to please you,” He commands, eyes flashing dangerously wide in the icy moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “I need to make you come.”

His desperate, and knows you can see it. His whole body shakes seeing your flushed pussy a mere foot away from his face, and nothing but opportunity and his hood preventing him from burying his face in it. Watching as you shyly reach for his wrist, guiding his hand where you want it. Extending his fingers and whimpering when your motion for him to rub small circles over your clit sends those to-intense waves of pleasure through your pussy.

“Like that… just like that…” You’re able to praise with a shaky nod of your head.

Rocking your hips in tandem with his movements and nearly crying out in relief when he diligently keeps the same pressure to you despite your little twitches and grinds. Allowing you the freedom to plant your feet on the edge of the couch and simply feel. König’s lost in it. Lost in the sight of you. Your pretty mouth gaping open and your hips chasing the touch he’s providing. His breath catching when you cry out or give a weak praise for his work. Like you’re enjoyingwhat he’s doing.

But god he’s happy to stay right where you want him, how you want him. Feeling his knee dig into the harsh floorboards, and ignoring it with a refreshed feeling of duty he’d long lost as a soldier. Never had he been given such a pretty fucking prize to work for. Nothing as sweet as seeing your cunt drip from his rough fingers rubbing soft, almost too-soft circles over it. Not even realizing that he’d spent almost fifteen minutes just rubbing your clit lazily when your hand reaches back down. Happy to direct him yet again, especially when he doesn’t even need a verbal direction to do exactly what you want.

“Fingers,” You whisper through panting exhales. “Give me your fingers…”

Your little hand grabs his pointer and middle fingers, spreading your own slick over them like a goddamn professional before guiding him down to your aching hole. Letting go just long enough to feel the thick digits press though that first little ring of tightened muscle. Forcing your eyes open to witness his mostly-hidden expression as he sinks knuckle deep inside of you.

“So fucking pretty,” His head shakes a little, lost in the creamy slick gathering at the base of his fingers as he curls him up towards your pelvis just a little. Subconsciously scared to do the wrong thing, but desperate to keep your cunt flex and mold to his touch. “Tell me, sweetheart… show me what she needs.”

You’re too possessed to chase your high to not listen. Readjusting your bent legs on the couch to gently lift your hips and sink them back down. Slowly getting used to the feeling of his thick fingers, already deeper than your no-name partner. Groaning when they bump into your g-spot just hard enough to make your clit burn. Grinding against his hand and keeping one hand wrapped around his wrist just to try and ground yourself to the present situation. Lost in the rhythm of fucking yourself -quite literally- stupid within mere minutes. Beginning to hear that vulgar, sucking sound of your pussy gripping his fingers and utterly drooling over his palms.

König’s helpless to so more than sing your praise. “That’s a good girl… so good for me. Using me like a fucking toy.”

It’s the best he’s felt in a long time. Watching you take from him. Too absorbed to even think about anything other than yourself. Not in enough control to even worry about the true moans and yelps escaping you. Real pleasure wracking your body and burning every nerve ending.

“More… please more…” You cry softly, hips slowing to a painfully sexy grind as you squeeze the tendons in his wrist with your thumb.

König takes a little more initiative than he’s normally comfortably using, but adds a third finger. Slowly pumping them in and out, little by little, to help you adjust. Watching as your eyebrows pinch together in focus. A low growl rumbles in his chest, his mouth practically watering as your cunt sucks him in.

“Let me taste it, baby…” He huffs, head flinching forwards before backing off, repeating the action a couple more times. “Wanna help… just—just let me taste you…”

You clench around his fingers when he rests his cheek against your inner thigh. Big, wide eyes pleading with you so innocently like he isn’t stretching your hole wider than the biggest of your toys can with nothing but a few fingers. Forcing you to slow the roll of your hips, a shaky hand reaching out to cup his face through the mask. Rubbing a thumb over his hidden cheekbone with a little whimpered hum. Pulling his head closer to you, hissing when the hem of his hood merely grazes your clit.

“How’d you want it?” He asks, head down and pulling his mask up so you’re stuck. Forced to merely feel his mouth so close to you, and not see the shape of his mouth.

“Lick-lick my clit… s-soft…” You whine, eye shutting when the hot fan of his exhale his your fevered skin.

Holding his head steady with one hand, you almost coming up off the couch when his tongue makes one, long, lazy, lap between your folds. Gripping at the material of his hood just tight enough that he ends up ripping the whole thing off. Tossing it to the floor with an aggressive snarl that rumbles against your clit. Sparks of pleasure forcing your thighs apart and jerking your hips back up. Chasing his mouth. The rough texture of his tongue, and the slight graze of his teeth against your slicked folds.

Your orgasm approaches fast from there. Between his fingertips stroking you deep, and the new rhythm of his tongue lapping your slick up to massage your clit, it’s hard to even warn König that he can’t stop for risk of ruining your long-awaited release.

“König… K… oh… fuucckk…”

Your back arches tightly, both hands grabbing harshly at his hair with an unintelligible shout as you come. Jerking wildly and one of your feet losing it’s hold on the edge of the couch. Trying to fight through the shocks of pleasure, and groaning curses with a hoarse throat. Feeling König’s free hand latch onto your thigh to keep you from running away too far from his still-working lips and tongue. Sucking up the wet drips of release trying to drip down his hand.

“Slow, slow down.” You whimper, pushing at his forehead just a little. The pressure too much. The stretch of his fingers still satisfying but overstimulating.

Your so fucking grateful that he doesn’t fight you on it, or force you to try for another. And maybe it’s just the mere sight of you. abdominal muscles twitching, forcing your upper body to do baby-curls with each flex of your pulsing cunt. Toes curled and an all-over buzzing sensation making it hard to even make sense of where your limbs are in relation to the rest of your body, much less König or the couch your hardly laying on.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His softened voice almost gives you emotional whiplash, especially when he bends over you forehead resting against yours softly.

Gently removing his fingers with murmured apologies when your little winces mar your pretty features. Both hands sliding up your sides to help lift you back onto the couch, moving to sit himself next to you just long enough to reposition your body on his lap. Pulling that blanket back over your bottom half and maneuvering your cold, tingling feet between his thighs like he can tell they’re freezing. He presses soft kisses all over your forehead and nose. Rocking you softly and squeezing at the muscles in the back of your neck reassuringly.

“You needed that… needed to feel good…” he murmurs almost lovingly.

You nod dumbly, laying your head against his shoulder. Letting out soft nearly unconscious whimpers and a soft repetition of his name in cum-drunk appreciation.

“Told you I could listen… could be good for you,” He adds, almost like he’s reassuring himself of the idea. “Wanted to be better than him. Needed to prove it.”

He holds up your weighty head, stabilizing it with care and a sickeningly sweet look of devotion in his eyes.

“You’re never going to fake it again, sweetheart.”

reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

[11queensupreme11]

Here comes another platonic AU I was interested in Percy's future children and how they would deal with the bi-racial culture that combining Percy's marriage with any yandere would bring upon the children

Percy is loved for being herself and that means she can indulge in her human culture without any problems because the gods find her values ​​and beliefs adorable but any children she has will not have that same privilege

Any child independent of his father will be raised as a God and if he is expected to behave like a worthy God, it would be totally confusing for the child to see people loving his mother for her humanity only to criticize and punish that child whenever he shows any hint of resemblance to his own mother

I definitely see Percy teaching and reproducing little traditions and values ​​that she herself learned from her mother to her children, the yanderes would let this continue because seeing Percy acting so happy and excited warms their hearts

It would be so difficult for the children because literally all the gods around him would be criticizing humanity and its customs while at the same time idolizing their mother who is the definition of humanity, the children would be criticized for having 25% human blood ( which is ironic because Percy is 50% human and NOBODY cares about that), the gods make children feel inadequate because they have human traits (maybe they don't even realize they do it, maybe they treat it as something more fragile and dumb, like they accidentally underestimate and infantilize children) while also adoring their mother for the same reason

An example: no one cares that Percy is a disaster at mathematics, this has become another of her charms but that would be the opposite with her children, it would be shameful if any of them were incapable of performing basic operations (Beelzebub is a scientist so I imagine he would be livid if his own son couldn't calculate a mathematical operation) definitely human traits would take the blame, everyone would talk about how human blood made them inferior to the other gods and again no one will blame Percy, everyone they blamed poor Sally

Imagine that for years this feeling of shame, comparison, insufficiency and anger builds up inside the boys until one day all these feelings explode while Percy was just trying to recreate a human tradition that she did with her mother (baking blue cookies) until that Makarios and Kyrr just explode saying that they don't care about her stupid human traditions and that they don't care about her inferior human mother and that they disown her as a grandmother and that she is ashamed of having human blood and that they hate her for being half -human, Thalassus and Luke even try to calm the situation but in the end they admit that they also hate her human side (they don't really hate her, they just said it in the heat of the moment)

Maybe in the heat of their anger, Thalassus and Luke even ask if they are really bastards, if it's true that the nobleman from Atlântica really isn't their father (a bit like that scene in House of the Dragons where the eldest sons Rhaenyra asks if the rumors are true and she just remains silent without being able to answer), the younger brothers are horrified (they have always heard that only dishonored women and prostitutes have children outside of marriage, and that a woman's greatest sin is cheat on your husband) then they scream and insult her   Percy would first be shocked and then she would be deeply hurt, it would be an underlying pain worse than any injury she had ever received on any mission (and she would know a lot about painful injuries), she loves her mother very much and always misses her but like her now she's probably dead, the only way to revive those good ones would be to pass those beloved traditions on to her own children (since all the other gods despise anything remotely human), to know that the only beings she can share her own culture with in truth, despising everything she loves would be extremely painful, and I won't even describe the pain of a mother when she hears her child scream that he hates her

And she was also insulted for something that wasn't even in her control, she never chose to sleep with the yanderes, she was simply forced (eventually she came to love the yanderes and their children but that doesn't erase the abuse she suffered), Hearing her beloved children saying they feel ashamed and disgusted with her for something she didn't even have the power to change (she didn't choose to marry the nobleman in the same way she didn't choose to get pregnant by yanderes) simply DESTROYED her heart

I just remembered that there is a syndrome called "Broken Heart Syndrome" it is extremely rare, going through extremely stressful situations such as the loss of a loved one or hearing great negative news makes the heart beat so hard and so quickly it causes symptoms of a heart attack and sometimes can even be fatal, after hearing everything he heard, Percy's heart LITERALLY breaks (let's imagine that Percy inherited this genetic syndrome from one of Sally's ancestors), she spits blood from her mouth (just like in wmmap, I like to be dramatic) and just falls to the ground like a merionet that has had its strings cut

The children despair and scream for help, the yanderes arrive desperately in the kitchen trying to understand what happened, Percy is cured by the joint efforts of Beelzebub and Apollo, he is placed on absolute rest, the children go to her room to apologize Percy, like a good mother, accepts the apology but when the children look into her eyes they notice that her eyes are dull and have lost that happy glow, after that many things change

Percy is depressed, she has stopped all human traditions, she has lost her appetite and not even blue food attracts her, she just lies in bed staring silently at the ceiling, Poseidon is so desperate that he offers her fatty food but she doesn't show it interest, he tried to take her to New York but even that didn't cheer her up, the romantic yanderes are desperately trying to cheer her up and her children are feeling very guilty and ashamed

Now more than ever Percy feels suffocated in his supposed home so she asks to stay at Uncle Adamas' house for a while, Poseidon doesn't like the idea but considering it's the first time she's spoken in days he lets her, since Percy left In the Palace the atmosphere is tense, the children, feeling guilty, go to land to get some human gift for their mother in an attempt to improve her mood and it is while they are on the nearby beach that they see something shocking: The nobleman from Atlântica lovingly kissing a pregnant woman

(I'm going to stop here because this post was very long but I'm going to write part 2, I had sent you a post almost similar to this one by mistake, that post was the draft of this one and I ended up sending it by mistake because I got confused with Google translate 🤣🤣🤣)

WAIT I NEED CLARIFICATION BEFORE I GO ON SO QUICK QUESTION:

since you stated here that percy is still 50% human and her kids are all 25%, does this mean percy is still a demigod in this AU? like, she hasn't ascended so she's still aging, can die later, etc? or is she already dead and a spirit in valhalla? OR is it that she gave birth to the kids first, and THEN ascended??? ORRRRR is it just that she's still a demigod, but they found a way to make her immortal without turning her into a god?

OKAY NOW MOVING ON

when the kids are still young, the yanderes wouldn't be that harsh cuz... you know, they're kids (except for poseidon, he's gonna always be hard on them smh). but it's when they grow up is the problem.

anubis and apollo would be mostly okay (sorta) with their kids having some human-like traits, mostly because it reminds them of percy and it's further proof of their love for their kid to have some of percy's beliefs.

but it really depends on the yandere and the human trait. baking, cooking, and eating would be okay for pretty much everyone but poseidon, but on things like academics, most of them would be pretty.... speciest? idk if that's the right word for this, but yeah 💀 OR just being physically weak or getting tired, yeah most would look down on them for things like that 💀💀

but percy's heartbreaking from her kids.... omg. honestly, beelzebub and loki would go ballistic on their kids if they found out they were the cause of this, ESPECIALLY beelie who has no issue hurting his kid if need be 💀

ALSO WHAT THE FUCK????????? NOBLEMAN ARE YOU SUICIDAL WHAT ARE YOU DOING

that man fucking lost his mind LMAOOOOO

DID HE FORGET WHO HE'S GONNA PISS OFF IF HE GETS CAUGHT? 😭😭😭😭

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED A PART TWO 😭😭😭😭

[junosmindpalace]

i find discourse around the rdr women so...fascinating and infuriating at the same time. because a lot of the time it doesn't seem like rdr fans want to apply the same level of complex analysis to the women like they do for the men, but when they do, it still doesnt seem all that well-intentioned or that it does right by their characters.

this is a very long analysis/spam/defense so be warned :,)

even though the majority of sadie's character revolves around the fact she not only lost her home and her husband and was thrust into a new life of crime, but was actively struggling with robberies BEFORE the events of the game, people instead choose to focus on whether or not she had feelings for arthur or whether he actions in the game were actually impactful. she helped saved abigail and john when no else would, she fought alongside the men against the army, she helped john set up a stable life, she helped rob the payroll train, helped ensure colm’s death, she fought alongside arthur TIME AGAIN and took over in a leadership role when half the gang was absent in the guarma chapter. to say that she did nothing more except “be badass” undermines all of these contributions to the story that she was either at the forefront of or helped bring to fruition.

in my opinion, abigail is the EASIEST character to defend out of any of the women, and yet somehow she receives the most backlash from dudebros. I lose ten braincells every time i have to read a theory post over whether or not she slept with other camp members besides john, whether or not she was a rat, and about how much shes a nag. the woman has not known a moment's rest in her entire life. by the age of eight she was working in a cathouse. she was a child prior to then scrapping whatever money she could earn at her young age in saloons and dive bars as a woman and child just to survive as a orphan. jack's birth was clearly not planned, and she has voiced multiple times her grievances at the circumstances of his upbringing. everything she does is for a better life for her son: a life she never had. her constant nagging to get john to man up and be a father is for her son's benefit, not her own. she even says so herself when she tells him that she doesn't mind if a relationship between them doesn't work out, but to at least try being there for jack. she can't work a job because she is a mother living a life of crime and danger; she can't afford to leave the camp and her son unsupervised. she still does her share around camp. why would anyone blame her for not wanting to return to a life that has made her miserable, especially now that she has a child who she wants to model a good life for? many people seem to somehow also forget that she herself was a child when she gave birth to jack; only 17-18. she is 22 in the game in a bad situation with the father of her child and financially. she is doing her best to raise her son when she is not fully equipped to do so. how can anyone even blame her for being skeptical of john when hes affectionate in the epilogue when for so long hes been distant? she does not even ask much of john--just to be there for him sometimes, and to live honestly. she is also incredibly kindhearted. comforting other women in the camp, offering a listening ear, taking care of john when hes injured. she puts in her share of effort when it comes to finding a job in the epilogue and maintaining beechers hope.

molly is a young woman who is presumably incredibly far from her home where her family is, and trying to navigate a way of life completely unfamiliar to her. her stuck up nature comes not only from the way she was raised, but also dutch's uplifting affection and presumed lovebombing in the early stages of their relationship. shes even been suggested to be somewhat sociable until dutch and her became somewhat of an official item, in which she grew somewhat of a bigger ego with a mentality that she was his right hand. she deeply depended on dutch for her stability in every way, and its evident in her eventual spiral. she hated being seen as weak and pitiful as somewhat of an outsider among outsiders. she seemed to be close to no one besides dutch, who repeatedly cut her off when she attempted to talk to him about her growing feelings of anxiety, paranoia and sadness. the loss of the one thing that had built her up, coupled with immense tragedy she just wasnt used to, and desperate for a semblance of respect and dignity that she had presumably been all too accustomed to, of course she was going to come off brash and confront dutch about his distant, high and mighty attitude. it's why by the end, she doesnt care if she is killed: there is nothing left for her. karen's comment about her pretending to rat them out for the sake of attention is also interesting in terms of their relationship and parallels, which i dont see ANYONE talk about.

karen very clearly struggles with...a lot. she has even said so herself when talking with molly. she struggles to accept help, evident in pieces of dialogue where she brushes off concerned gang members about her drinking (mary-beth, arthur, javier), and when she seems somewhat ashamed and embarrassed having to have been rescued by arthur in the valentine mission (SAYING EXPLICITLY "i dont much like being saved"). she struggles with believing people have good intentions/feelings toward her, illustrated in the way she's constantly rejecting sean, yet seemingly disappeared further down the bottle after his death, and her conversation with mary beth and tilly about the world having no equal and fair place for women. her negative experiences in the world as a woman could also influence her view of the world, perhaps being why she finds herself somewhat hostile toward feminist mindsets and why she, for a while, enjoyed the outlaw lifestyle: it was her little slice of freedom. her hatred for the rich can also be because she has experiences as a poor woman, perhaps some direct experiences in which rich people have negatively impacted her life. though molly and karen don't get along through most of the game, karen actually tries to step in and help her near the end, and its this action + defending her after her death that shows she was sympathetic toward her situation and on some level able to relate to it, both craving some kind of love beyond superficial things.

@/cryptidcr3ature said it very well in a post i reblogged recently: mary is essentially "her brother's keeper and her father's caretaker". she herself lives somewhere middle class with traditional notions of the time impacting her views on arthur's lifestyle and anything below those middle class standards being deemed as socially unacceptable (which is evident from the very first letter mary sends to arthur, in which she seems confused on what a polite term would be to refer to prostitutes, who were obviously thought very lowly of in the time). i also don't think its fair to criticise her condemnation of arthur's lifestyle when pretty much all audiences, contemporary and not, including members of the gang, acknowledge that it isnt anything pretty. killing is not fun. running from the law is not fun. mary was not only influenced by her father's views of arthur (a person that, despite being horrible, she still deeply loves), but looking after her own family, herself, and arthur's wellbeing when she ended their relationship + suggested they run away. she had given him an opportunity at compromise. perhaps the first time, scared and unfamiliar with his lifestyle, she had offered arthur an ultimatum: her or his outlaw life, but later was willing to also leave behind her brother and father, two figures that tie her down and make her life more miserable than need be despite loving them very much, in order to settle somewhere with arthur and start over. her asking for arthur's help comes from a place of desperation and excuse to allow herself some semblance of stability when she hadn't had it; at least not since her mother and husband passed. if arthur refuses to help her, she is incredibly understanding and sympathetic. she does not lash out. if arthur does help, she is immensely grateful, and even tries to bond with him despite their years apart.

this post isnt to excuse some of their more negative behaviours and aspects of their characters'-- but im saying that they deserve to be fairly treated and analyzed just like any of the rdr men. many of them are young. many of them have unique challenges as women. that isn’t to say the men have it easier, but their struggles and less prettier aspects of their characters are always met with more sympathy than the women. why do arthur and john get passes as reformed absent fathers and criminals? why does sean receive sympathy when karen rejects his pushy advances? why does hosea get a pass at being better than dutch when he still groomed younger members of the gang for a life of crime alongside dutch? why does dutch get a pass by having his downfall be justified by tough circumstances? lets just be fair

[arandomdai]

A Random Thought 🤔💭

THIS IS JUST AN OPINION. I JUST SAY WHAT'S ON MY MIND ABOUT THE BOOK AND SHOWCASE SOME IDEAS THAT I HAVE.

P.S.: You can ask me anything 😊

Let me start of by saying...

I don't like how Zeus is the only one who is blamed for why the marriage is basically over, when Hera is (dare I say) equally at fault. This book continues to gaslight the audience about who should be held accountable and who deserves all the hate. Let's be clear on one thing, Zeus has abused his power, is a cheater, does lie, etc. but where is all the smoke for the other characters that has done the same or similar. But let's refresh everybody's memory why he started treating women disrespectfully...

⚠️WARNING: WHAT YOUR ABOUT TO READ OR SEE CAN BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME AUDIENCES!!!⚠️

•Metis: The Start Of His Addiction

So let's hypothetically say that the brothers are 3 years apart from age

Hades was 19

Poseidon was 15/16

Zeus WAS PROBABLY 13 OR 14 WHEN THIS HAPPENED TOO

I think he was not just mentally scarred from the war and seeing his mother (who he didn't know about until later)going into hibernation, but also scarred that he learned about "hit and quit it" at a very young vulnerable age. Not only that he probably learned "until everything cools down" from her too. Atp, I'm going to need this book banned or something because it just doesn't make sense to me how this book is supposed to support all victims, until it's Zeus. Zeus is a victim. No matter how many times people and RS tries to make him this evil guy. But like I said before, he has done so many wrongs, which he is trying to right. But I find it interesting that Metis is not called out for having sex with a minor. Zeus and Hera are around the same age which means back then they weren't able to consent. And yet Hera is the only victim smh. Zeus is now a sex addict and doesn't know where to start. WHEN YOU SAY YOU FEEL SORRY FOR ALL VICTIMS, MAKE SURE YOU INCLUDE THE MEN THAT ARE TOO. DON'T PICK AND CHOOSE WHO TO FEEL SORRY FOR. I hate that this book gaslights people into thinking that everything is okay when it's being pro patriarchy.

• The Marriage: Both Sides Are At Fault

We all know Zeus is very unfaithful, but he shows so much of his guilt his own way. But (I ask again) where's all this smoke for Hera and Hades. Hera is married and has been seeing her Blu brother-in-law behind his back for centuries. Yet, I don't see any ounce of guilt from her or Hades. Hera is a victim don't get me wrong, but so is Zeus. TWO WRONGS DON'T MAKE A RIGHT. And for blue gru to judge Zeus for everything while you were sleeping with his wife is vile. The fact Hera or Hades never asked him why he continues cheating or be honest with him about their affair is right down dirty. Oh but it doesn't stop there...

Look at these pictures...

See how Zeus tries his best to care for Hera and even admits that he thinks he was the worst thing that ever happened to her. While Hera just says "You made it hard for me, but I love you. Bye". She says she loves him, but I don't think she does. I think there was a time that she did love him, but I think they got bored of each other (from Zeus's perspective). I feel like Hera wanted the crown (power) more than the King. She treats being a queen like it's a trophy. So she basically blocked Demeter from being queen all just to not be satisfied later (which I'm glad Demeter dodged a bullet). Not only is Hera cruel, but she is just insufferable. She treats everyone like crap and expects everyone to be nice to her including Zeus. He fights tooth and nail to do right by her or win her back, but she doesn't see him trying to be a better husband nor do the same. She doesn't even try to make it a safe place for him to talk to her and be honest. When he wakes up, that divorce paper needs to be signed with the quickness because they're both miserable, they're both want there freedom, and they're not happy.

• My Final Thoughts

Zeus's life is basically 16 CARRIAGES by Beyoncé. He was minding his business at Lake Dikte just a village boy helping nymphs, until Rhea came. Rhea told a early teen Zeus that he has to help his brothers and stop his tyrant father from destroying the world. After everything, he was mentally scarred at the age of 14. I know this is wishful thinking, but I think if he went to lake Dikte (after he wakes up), I think he would be more at peace again. He deserved better. And for this book to have so many contradictions throughout makes this book hypocritical and morally corrupt. You can see the stark difference between teen Zeus and the Zeus we see now. When looking at the picture on right, you see his bags showing more verses the left one when he was younger. This shows you how tired, hardworking, and mentally drained he is.

[posallys]

ok 1 ur desktop theme is GORG and 2 i need (if u wanna) ur thoughts about the show (or show sally in gen bc ur the only one i trust with her)

thank you!! i was actually thinking about updating it but maybe i wont 🤭🤭 and i have a lot of thoughts about the show except none only very few of them are good and i will be crucified by the 13-year-olds

im going to tell you anyway.

i will start with something i like....percy being angry. like yes give me the anger of a 12 year old who feels utterly alone in the world and doesn't understand (or does and it makes him more angry)

the fight scenes are dog shit. the only kind of cool one was in the arch but it was only cool because of percy doing the bait and switch and falling through the arch...the fights are bland boring sucky whatever other synonym you wanna use

uhhhhh sally jackson is not and would never be sitting in the rain pining of the god she told to leave....and especially not to teen pop...if she WERE going to act like a 16 year old and do the pining thing it would be to fucking like...billy joel and ricky martin and donny hathaway and stuff llike that okay...

i will preface this by saying that yes i understand that talking back to an abuser the way sally does in ep 1 doesn't make the abuse less abusive....however i DO not like the fact that that scene explicitly goes against sally characterization in the books....i am not digging my book out atm but the part where percy is like "my mother has never raised her voice or said an unkind word to anyone"....me thinks the writers all read the books 10 years ago and are going off of memory alone + or their brains are so clouded by the obsessive Big Screen Need to make women a badass girlboss slay queen i fucking hate it here

LET ANNABETH BE SILLY AND FUNNY AND CUTE AND CRY AND NOT BE AN ADULT THANK YOU....hated that they made annabeth the one to realize that it was medusa and not grover...give me back grover having to wrangle percy and annabeth into backpack leashes just to keep them on task/stop them from wandering off...book trio i miss you

i absolutely ADORE leah, walker, and aryan though the three of them are so so perfect, A+ casting no notes couldn't have done it better myself. if it weren't for the three of them i would have zero hope for the show i cannot lie...they're carrying. without them it's just..bad.

the pacing???? bad.

why did we waste half of the 4th ep on the train with echidna...stupid dumb pointless i hate it here

i do like the whole not all monsters are monsters and the gods aren't inherently good just because they're gods thing they've got going on though...very inch resting...silently hoping that they do a complete 180 and have percy side with luke and redo the series from there because that would be iconic as fuck <3 a girl can dream because at least then i could take the show at face value and not take 80 health damage every time they mess up a key part of the books...im at -29834 heath rn.

where was the time at chb before the quest??? the oh so important vital scene where luke teaches percy to sword fight???? like BRO that's soooooooooooo important to ME how could you get rid of that

not having annabeth show percy around camp

additionally, not having annabeth feed him the nectar and ambrosia, WHICH BY THE WAY they haven't even mentioned in the show yet...plot armor gone rip

not the fredrick chase sympathy while simultaniously blaming the woman...........rick when i get my hands on you...

annabeth having to EARN thalia's love??? absolutely not probably one of their biggest fuck ups fr.

the scene where sally is talking about Poseidon to percy...i do not like it sam i am. bad. not wistful enough not longing enough not sad enough not gut wrenching enough...also not completely here for sally telling percy that his dad was a god because....sallys whole thing was NOT telling him in order to keep him safe...i know they changed it in the show so sally knew he was going to camp immediately but that does not mean i have to like it

the scene with sally and percy in the pool. i hated everything about that. sally would never talk to percy like that never talk to him about money never make it seem embarassing NOT TO MENTION that percy simply wasn't scared of the water. that's stupid as fuck. theres a part in the book where percy literally says being by the water calms both him and his mom like...come the fuck on just admit you can't fucking read or at least didn't read the book.

sally annabeth get behind me so they cant hurt you anymore

i did loveeeee percy praying to sally though...absoutely insane and true of them. also the "I AM SALLY JACKSON'S SON" yesss baby you tell them about your mommy!!!!!!

them making athena moa level bad in tlt is quite interesting. setting up annabeth siding with percy pretty well.

also the whole impertinence thing over medusa's head was weird to me. when annabeth first said that i had immediately thought that annabeth's impertinence was telling percy to pray to poseidon IN ATHENA'S TEMPLE bc that made much more sense to me...but whatever

the annabeth/medusa parallel is intriguing at the very least

the underwater scene with the neraid was cool even though i hated the parallel to the pool scene w/ sally.

the dumbass pinecone fate line. 0/10 did you read the book? did you pay attention to how empathetic and reflective percy was when he found out about thalia?

honestly....i think disney was just the wrong place to go with this show because it's like what...pg? it should be pg 13 and should have more... sustenance.

this medusa was so cool though. which we could've seen a fight.

i need to know how many women are in the writer's room though...because It Does Not Look Good. funny how the characters that they're fucking up are all women....crazy. weird. totally coincidental.

are we just not going to talk about the vitality and pressure of getting the bolt back on time? where is the inherent inevitable danger, the suspense, the fear of not accomplishing a seemingly impossible talk looming over everything

this is 10000% not all of my thoughts but im not going to rewatch in order to collect them all so this is what you get xoxox

[wildpeachfarm]

this is meant lighthearted : instead of “all men are trash, women do no wrong” a secret third thing “PEOPLE suck in general”

as someone who grew up with an absent father who tried to make life difficult for my mother once she took him to court for child support for me and my siblings - ing…I grew up with a not nice view of older men BUT my grandpa was a big big influence in not making men a negative experience for us.

the recent shift of the last 4-5 years has been worrying. I used to liked jkr and could emphasize where she was coming from originally. but it was scary to see the gradual descent into where she is now and the stuff she is saying. Bc she is so far removed from what she originally stood for. It can happen to anyone, I even get worried if I’m on that slope sometimes. This whole situation had me second guessing myself bc I gave gnf time and believed in him. I had a moment when a few female creators made remarks (not from mc community) and I checked myself bc I was scared I was falling into the conservative rhetoric to blame women and protect men. Then I saw others who had more information and actually looked into it and also found this blog where the nuances were being discussed and let out a breath of relief that I was just using my critical thinking skills lmao

There are so many men out there who just aren’t given a chance bc society is set up for them to fall into a certain role. And I think a lot of men are trying to break that role and stereotypes. I became a dream fan bc I saw him doing this, saw a gamerboy in 2020 who was passionate and excelled at the game but didn’t fall into the toxicity of the space, actively fought against it.

and women should not be encouraged to drag men through hell bc they feel empowered by the rhetoric of recent years. women can and are just as selfish and shitty people as men. Sometimes they are worse

we’ve gone so far off center, we’ve essentially gone from one extreme to another. Which I learned two years ago was called terfs 😂 the movement needs to go back to its previous meaning. Feminism is not solely female empowerment it is the deconstructing of the patriarchal roles and belief that push men and women into boxes. Feminism, as I was taught over a decade ago, was the fight for women and MEN to be equal and have the same rights and opportunities. We can uplift women without putting down men. if this feminist movement doesn’t correct itself, it will allow more men like andrew tate to grow and influence young men.

The lack of female representation in the sphere cannot be corrected by women. It just can’t. Men need to be part of the change bc if the environment is not corrected, women cannot succeed and thrive. They can become successful but the hate and obstacles directed towards them is crazy. This is in general not just for streaming.

It can’t just be women solidarity, men need to learn and actively engage in calling out misogynist behavior. Women need to talk with their males friends and call them out when they say or act in disgusting ways. Women need to hold women accountable as well! It is unfair and unattainable to put female equality solely in the hands of women. We need to All work together.

Puffy is so good at this when she streams, especially on the smp. Hell, she even created a whole villain arc to call out the people telling her to “be a therapist to Tommy, omg your like dreams mom”. Puffy is awesome 🥹

men =/ bad

women =/ good

PREACH ANON

this breaks it all down so well and i really sympathize with you about having a poor view of some men in your life and trying to not let that influence your views but also not go so far off the other end that you end up blindly defending them without critical thinking.

Really important discussions and introspection about how your thought processes work that I think everyone should have at least once when situations like this come up

[thegamingcatmom]

Seeing as I´ve been suffering from a cluster headache for the past few days (and desperately wished for a very tall, very doting redhead to come smother me and kiss it better 🤕🥺) I'm feeling rather soft and delicate these days so I thought might as well dip a toe into human!Ellie territory.

Aight so, Ellie is Mommy. No doubt about it. She´s very maternal and nurturing (and touchy feely) by nature. She gives these type of hugs that make you feel encased and protected - one hand wandering to the back of your head to cradle it, the other rubbing slow circles on your back - and when that hug ends (way too soon) she still keeps contact. The hand that´s been caressing your back now coming to grip your upper arm - gently - as her other hand moves from the back of your head to rest against your cheek and, for a fleeting moment, you can feel her putting just a tad bit more pressure behind her touch but it´s enough to just so move your head to the side and it doesn´t end there because-

That same hand makes its way down to take a hold of your jaw - thumb and index finger on either side, using her palm to lift your head just a bit - and there´s that fleeting moment again before both of her hands start retreating-

...But not before curling that index finger at the last moment and resting its side under your chin, tilting your head up in a light, quick motion while simultaneously lowering her head (quite) a bit - eyebrows raising - as if to say-

"You okay?"

You see...Ellie can be rather suffocating in the most endearing way with people she genuinely cares about. Be it family or friends or other...acquaintances.

...Which is exactly why someone just won´t get the hint, at all. There could be a giant neon sign reading "COME TATTOO MY LIPS WITH YOURS" directly above Momma´s head and they still won´t get it. But who can blame them when Momma Ellie has been so very doting on them right from the start because that´s just who she is. Everyone who´s ever met Ellie knows that her love and care for someone, be it platonic or romantic, runs deep. Once she´s decided that yep, you´re stuck with her now there´s just no hesitation, no holding back, she´s gonna (affectionately) smother them whether they like it or not. Be on them as soon as they´re through the door to hug and stroke and ～How is my little groupie? ～ (we´ll get to that in a min) in that angelic voice of hers and bending down down down to get lost in their eyes and-

(Remind you of someone?)

It also doesn´t help that someone is a closeted lesbian and in denial so they´re just really awkward around beautiful women who could pass as goddesses in general and it does not help that Momma seems to thrive on that, looking rather smitten indeed whenever her little groupie seems to trip over air which she doesn´t mind in the slightest because it gives her an excuse to catch and fret over and-

"Careful honey!"

Oh and also, my Ellie is bi and she´s always been very open about that (college times were wild) and I think the main reason for that is her upbringing...or lack thereof.

As we know, she´s had a rather difficult time growing up with a mother too drunk to even remember her own name most of the time, leaving it to her to raise her little sister despite being only a kid herself. That´s formed her, made her tough because she's had to learn how to fend for herself (and her sister) from a very young age. She´s developed this fuck all attitude where she just really doesn´t give a damn about what someone might think of her or the way she handles things. She´s certainly no pushover and she will let you know when she´s onto your bs - loud and clear - and the sight of it is actually quite terrifying because she´ll just be towering over you, staring you down, not blinking, challenging you and-

*gulp*

But yeah, Momma´s very open about a lot of things and she´s not afraid to show it.

Someone´s had a rough day at work? Momma´s gonna massage those sore shoulders like any good friend would, cooing at them when they allow themselves to get lost in that feeling without even realizing and of course Momma´s gotta take advantage of that - bending down down down until her lips touch strands of heaven because that smell, my god! and she´s taking a (rather long) moment to just sniff and snoff and eyes are starting to fall shut, hands tightening their grip on those shoulders, starting to decend-

She loves her sister, she really does. But right in this moment she has this urge to strangle her because Bethy Boo can be a real oaf sometimes, bulldozing through the door without even an ounce of decorum, making them flinch away from her lest anyone get ideas-

But hey! Speaking of groupies...

As we know, Ellie isn´t best impressed when her sister tries to indoctrinate her youngest into her groupie world. But wouldn´t it be quite something if one of these groupies just so happened to be our certain someone who´s been very close friends with Beth forever and who´s agreed to accompany Beth to face judgement together?

And, suddenly-

Also, there´s a reason Momma fondly calls them her little groupie...

This groupie world doesn´t seem so bad anymore...

They´re tiny (but tbf, Mommy´s a giant) and Momma adores it, revels in it because her little groupie is so sensitive about it, so easy to tease, so endearing. Especially when they´re sneaking into the kitchen for a late night snack and Momma Ellie just so happens to be there as well - what a coincidence.

And they´re struggling quite a bit to reach that upper shelf that contains the bowls - standing on their tippy toes, one arm stretched upwards as far as it can go (it ain´t much), fingers nearly grazing the shelf - almost! - as the other arm supports their weight on the kitchen counter, doing a little hop! here and there and - almost, they can feel it! - tongue poking out and-

Momma Ellie is struggling right now, lips pressed tightly together because she can feel it building up from her very core. But she knows if she so much as breathes too loud right now her silly little groupie will get spooked like a frightened deer, putting an end to this absolutely delightful display far too soon. So, instead of breaking into hearty laughter, she makes her way over to the kitchen counter and a certain someone has yet to notice her...good.

It´s only when another hand reaches over their head and comes to join the one that´s already trying (and failing) to reach these wretched bowls that someone stops dead in their tracks because that other hand doesn´t just reach up and get it done and over with, no. That other hand takes a moment to graze its fingertips along the back of their hand - starting with their wrist and slowly wandering all the way up to the tips of their fingers and lingering there for a (rather long) moment. Only then does that hand continue its way up and up and up and holy-

Reaching the bowl without effort, like breathing. But that bowl has yet to make its way into someone´s waiting hand because that other hand might be gripping the bowl - so close! - but it´s not quite ready to give in yet because-

"Need some help?" 😏

And no, certainly not. They were just peachy, everything was under control, they almost got it anyway- 🙄

But, as we know by now, Momma Ellie enjoys a challenge and she´s not gonna back down until someone admits they´ve just been rescued from certain starvation and if it wasn´t for her being there by sheer coincidence WHO knows what would´ve happened??

And it´s basically just Momma Ellie being a little shithead (affectionately) and smug af because she absolutely towers over them and if she was feeling particularly mean she might just dangle that bowl over them, urging them to hop!, only to lift that bowl even higher and cmon!-

She recognizes when enough is enough though and goes from a(n affectionate) mean shithead to a big, soft teddybear in an instant. Handing over that bowl at long last and they snatch! it out of her hand, still quite grumpy and Momma Ellie realizes-

Time for damage control.

Seeing as they won´t face her because meanies don´t deserve attention she´ll have to improvise which is totally fine with her because now she gets to do this-

Hands coming up to take a hold of their hips, giving them a light squeeze, before bending down down down to rest her chin on their shoulder, wearing the biggest smile as her head slowly turns to risk a peek because she absolutely adores these moments where it´s just them and her, bickering like an old married couple and they might as well COULD be because-

"Forgive me?" 🥺

Ugh-

But they can´t help it, one corner of their mouth already starting to lift because-

"Jackass"

Annnd we´re back to Momma being smug af because-

She´s gonna woo them yet. 😈💘

[tamtuliko]

Can't believe that it's just Monday.

How do you live till Friday?

.

.

.

Let's talk about powerful women in our favorite series. it's BL, but we have amazing women here.

My favorite:

Fasai. Girl, she is coolest of all. Got man on knees, deals with them, playes with them, an extraordinary puppeteer. I'm not talking about morals. Just the power of one person, and this is not man. It is SHE, and she is ruling over man. I've never seen the actress before, but I saw her in a show with Jes and Bible, she is hilarious. Can't wait to see how she dies cause she is gonna die. Either Tonkla is killing her or Korn.

Next must be Nan, spy. Watch her friend taken away, blame herself for their unfortunate workplace, and she is getting raped, pregnant, and had to do abortion. This is the reality of many Asian countries. especially the Middle East and the Far East. She is not taken seriously by man, but oh she did say fuck you and got her own justice by herself. I hope for a better end for her.

Mothers

Great's Mother - The strategist.

Manee - Revenge done, hired assassin.

Great's mother is truly a pitiful character. She didn't want to have life as a mistress and did everything in her own way to become a wife. With this, she lost her son. Great said that before, he and his mom, only two, were very happy. I'm not a mother and don't have motherly instinct, to think what is better for child, but I don't think that the choice she made could be good for past Great, we see that it's not good for present Great. He is distant. He doesn't even come home or sit the same side as his parents. But losing your child in front of you is the worst thing that can happen to parents, I love the last scene, where she refuses to leave Great, hugs him, and fully ready for next bullet.

Manee is another interesting add for the series.

You see, in the main timeline, she died, so there is a possibility that no one hired killer to assassin the Great's family, which was concluded with Tymes' death. But in this one (Greats brain or some alternative universe), she survived, again by Greats and Tymes hand. To put it simple, they digged their own grave. But again, justice ⚖️ they did what they thought was right. In that very moment, Great didn't not speed, Tyme didn't let her die as she asked. But this time, 11 o'clock and Great is shot, while Tyme is alive, with his grandma. So shit is happening. Whatever timelines we've been seeing are collapsing, and small changes are actually triggering other actions in another timeline to change as well.

So...

.

.

.

Let's wait for episode 6.

Also, I just need to put this here as well

I'm mentally here. Didn't move from this whatever they are doing. They are doing cute.

Bible and Jes, the men you two are, the actors you two are. My heart is full because of you two.

Well, the afterlife can be fun too.

[yeastinfectionvale]

OKAY so kind of part right. Naomi doesn't drive anymore, but she does work as an engineer with Williams. Her father drove rally cars in the 90s, before he lost his hand in a horrific accident. Despite this Naomi was raised around cars (her mother was a mechanic), and fell in love with driving and karting, though her dad always warned her against that life since it, by his own admission, made him absolutely miserable before permanently disabling him. She showed great promise, though, and her parents wanted to support her through it all, so long as she always aimed for better than her best.

She and Suki drove in f2 together, usually ending up vying for first place against each other. Naomi kept his advances of friendship at arms length for a long time, worried it would distract her from her father-given mission. She was a reserve driver for Alpine for a time, driving her first and last f1 race in Monaco in 2022. Eventually, she and Suki got closer, since Suki is Not one to give up trying to be friends with people, and she really did feel quite lonely. Their friendship was pretty well publicised, and for a long time, people speculated they were dating. It was racing against her that Suki had his big accident, and she witnessed the whole thing, ending up striking his car and having her own accident which, although overshadowed by the more dramatic injury served to her friend, put her out of commission for the foreseeable future.

Suki did assume she wouldn't want to be friends with him after, but she turned mostly to him for comfort. She decided herself after watching what had happened to her friend, what had happened to her, and what happened to her dad, that she just wasnt willing to risk it, especially since she, at that time, believed her chances of ever getting into f1 were extremely low, deciding instead to go to university to study engineering and help out around races for some experience. Her parents were extremely disappointed, and her father particularly blamed Suki for a while, refusing to speak to him and being generally bitter. It took some talking to from Naomi to get him to come around.

In the wake of the accident, Naomi and Suki spent a LOT of time together, and as Suki recovered and went back to driving, he was offered a place driving for Aston Martin, and their supposed relationship ended up even more publicised. With Suki not particularly wanting to stunt his growth by coming out, he just went with the lie and the two of them fake dated for basically the entirety of his rookie season. Which is funny because tho the media ate it up, literally any queer person who had ever seen Suki in person would say That Boy Does Not Like Women.

Anyways here are some pictures I've invented of her

Also she's from London. Do with that info what you will

OOOOOOH RALLY DAD (GROUP B?) THATS SO COOL. OH CHOOSING TO LEAVE RACING AND STUDY MUST HAVE BEEN A TOUGHT DECISION TO MAKE WOW. GOD THE F2 ACCIDENT MUST HAVE SHAKEN HER BADLY. THE FAKE DATING BIT IM CRYING OOOF.

Oooh I think what September was to Suki, Naomi might be to Mina (minus the whole toxic yaoi hehehe). But the most important thing

ANOTHER LONDONER (Mina is buzzing). Where in London???

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

The conquest, Dorne (when the people you tried to conquer refuse to surrender so you burn their entire country to the ground) and the dance. &other dragonless wars.

There are always wars, but with dragons they become 10000000000 more dangerous.

Again, what freedom? And I’m not really vibing with the white feminism subtext here. They could take off on their dragons, but non targ women could also run away. It’s not a targ privilege.

Direwolfs can wolves. Dragons are the equivalent of a nuclear weapon and can burn entire cities to the ground in minutes

“More Hightower than targs” no. They were targs alright. You can’t just pick and choose the targs you like. Rhaenyra had an Arryn mother, the strong barely had Valyrian blood. They were ALL targs.

The storming of the dragonpit was a result of the smallfolk being fucking done with the war and the dragons. So much so that they were willing to go and kill the dragons themselves. Not just the TB dragons. ALL of the dragons. It was a war the targs started and all of Westeros suffered.

And what did the targs do for the smallfolk? I’m genuinely curious. They ruled their people, they’re no different than other rulers.

But sure, whatever you say.

Fuck's sake.

The conquest, Dorne (when the people you tried to conquer refuse to surrender so you burn their entire country to the ground) and the dance. &other dragonless wars.

How is that any different from the hundreds of wars the Andals and the First Men had going on? How is it any different from Nymeria's conquest of Dorne by joining forces with Mors Martell?

Before the Targaryens conquered Westeros they couldn't last more than a year without a war.

Again, what freedom? And I’m not really vibing with the white feminism subtext here. They could take off on their dragons, but non targ women could also run away. It’s not a targ privilege.

I said that they lost any amount of freedom they had. Which they did. You only have to see the differences between Rhaena and Alyssa. Whatever you like it or not the Targaryen women had a little bit of freedom when they had dragons. If Daena had a dragon she wouldn't have been locked in the Maidenvault. Do you understand what I mean?

Direwolfs can wolves. Dragons are the equivalent of a nuclear weapon and can burn entire cities to the ground in minutes

Nuclear weapons aren't natural, while dragons are necessary for the ecosystem in the ASoIaF world.

“More Hightower than targs” no. They were targs alright. You can’t just pick and choose the targs you like. Rhaenyra had an Arryn mother, the strong barely had Valyrian blood. They were ALL targs.

There is more to being part of something than what you look like. Rhaenyra was a Targaryen, Daemon, Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena, Jacaerys, Joffrey and Lucerys. It's not about how you look like or if you enjoy the advantages of that family.

Rhaenyra and Daemon respect their culture, they all had a strong bond with their dragons. Bonds that were NOT one-sided.

Daeron was mostly raised by the Hightowers in Oldtown. Helaena barely ever flew or had any relationship with Dreamfyre. Aegon wanted to replace Sunfyre when he could. Aemond used Vaghar as a toy.

The storming of the dragonpit was a result of the smallfolk being fucking done with the war and the dragons. So much so that they were willing to go and kill the dragons themselves. Not just the TB dragons. ALL of the dragons. It was a war the targs started and all of Westeros suffered.

And who's fault was that? The Greens. The smallfolk didn't make a distinction, but we know that the Greens are the ones to blame.

And what did the targs do for the smallfolk? I’m genuinely curious. They ruled their people, they’re no different than other rulers.

Rhaenys made the rule of six, a rule that forbid husbands from hitting their wives more than six times.

Alysanne forbid the Right of the First Night.

Alysanne was also known for how she helped the smallfolk, like Aegon V.

Read the books.

[bananadrinkxxx]

THE BLOOD CROWN (19)

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

Content for adults. 18+

[warnings: smut, sex content, dark romance, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[description: Aemond Targaryen meets his niece under a different name and falls in love with her without knowing that she is supposed to be his enemy.]

PART 19

warning, very long chapter. 5.5K+

"Come here, my sweet daughter,"she heard in the cold darkness, it bounced off invisible walls and returned to her.  "Come to me."

Come to me...

She saw nothing. She felt nothing. And yet she saw everything and felt everything. She felt a touch on her head, someone gently running their fingers through her hair. Who was that? The fingers were soft and left a pleasant tingling sensation.

"Look here," a boy's voice suddenly said, laughing. Children's laughter. "Come back..."

She looked.

She saw nothing.

Where was she? She felt weightless.

"Here, for you," she heard him say again and suddenly had a paper figure in her hands. What was it?

"I miss you..."

I miss you too. Who are you?

She looked again at the figure, which suddenly moved. A white dragon was looking at her, proud and graceful, a feeling of royalty. She felt her heartbeat, pulsing in the dark room. The dragon was beautiful.

"Everything will be fine," a woman's voice rang out, and suddenly there were flames everywhere. It was so hot, so hot. It was licking at her skin, the flames calling to her, calling to her. 

"Why is he so sad, Mother?" a girl voice said. 

"He fought back and still got blamed."

"Hmmm, that doesn't sound nice."

Suddenly the white dragon was burning in her hands and suddenly she screamed. The scream was deafening and the scream struck her to the core. It shattered her ears and made her blood quiver. The dragon was burning like a torch, it could hardly be stopped and all she felt was cold. Cold hands. That reached for her and held her tight. She couldn't escape and no matter how hard she fought, she had no chance.

She felt tears on her face. Her fingertips touched her cheek. Wet.

It hurt so much.

Everything hurt so much.

"Remember" she heard her own voice suddenly sounding so foreign.

"Remember."

It was all so hopeless. So hopeless. She was alone. So alone.

She saw the fire, she felt the fire and suddenly everything was dark.

. . . .

Aemond stared at her pale, sleeping body. He had his eye focused on her chest, watching it rise and fall. He made sure she was breathing and leaned back wearily. It was his fault she was lying there. He looked at the injury, which was encased in several bandages. When the dagger had hit her, he had feared the worst. There had been blood everywhere, but it had not only been hers, but also that of his attacker. He had not hesitated and had stabbed several times at the man who had dared to violate that which was his. It was only when Ser Criston had entered his chamber and managed to calm him down that he had realized what a bloodbath he had caused. He had just stood there motionless, staring at Rose lying lifeless on his bed, coated in her own blood. He no longer knew what he had been thinking at that moment. Aemond had heard Criston talking to him over and over again while other servants took care of Rose.

He felt so powerless. Like a failure. The feeling pulsed through his veins, painfully reminding him of who he once was.

"Take the girl to the maesters," Criston ordered, then looked back at Aemond, who took a step forward as they grabbed women and men Rose.

"Don't," he breathed, his voice alert.

"They will help her, Aemond." Only in retrospect had he noticed that Criston had not addressed him by his title. But that did not matter to him. Nothing mattered. ROse was hurt and it was his fault for being too careless, too naive, too weak. He should have made sure the man was dead. She was lying there in bed only because of him. Almost dead. He would never forgive himself.

He always acted as if it was all about the physicality between them. About what he could do with her innocent, warm body. He had convinced himself that she had no meaning for him. That he treated her like any other maid and that she helped him with bathing and dressing. But now there was no turning back. He felt how Rose had taken over his head, his mind and his body and the idea frightened him. He felt weak. She followed his orders with a care, satisfaction and devotion, there was nothing to criticize about her, but in the end he had become her servant. He would do anything for her.

He never had enough.

Her body was perfect for him, but he could have gotten pleasure from other woman. Rose had another meaning for him.

A meaning that made him aware at that moment how weak he was. He felt weak. So useless and weak.

It was like when he was a little boy. He hated that feeling. He didn't want to feel it. He wasn't weak, but his feelings for Rose made him weak. He had vowed never to be weak again. Not to give anyone that power over him, as his nephews or even his own brother had then.

. . . .

Alys flinched as his gaze locked on her. The corner of Lary's mouth pulled up, a sense of power coursing through him, and he leaned against his desk, his hands resting on his walking stick as he surveyed Alys. She looked down at the floor, playing with her fingers. She looked uncertain and intimidated. These girls were his favorite. The insecure and scared ones who didn't know their place in the world. Alys was older, still younger than him, but she was already Queen Alicent's age. The thought of Queen Alicent made his smile widen. Also a young and intimidated thing, which he had been able to manipulate with little effort. She was more mature and wiser now, but she had never lost her naiveté.

"I expected more, Alys," he began, watching her wince. "I would have thought you were more skilled at these things, but your competitor seems to have been more successful."

Alys looked helplessly at him. "I did what I could. He seemed suspicious. Not interested, maybe."

"He likes women like you."

Larys let his gaze glide over her figure. A pretty face, a bit older but still pretty and a flawless body. There was nothing visually objectionable about her.

"I did what I could, my lord," she whispered, looking at the floor. My Lord. Larys loved that sound. Yes, he was her lord now. And her half-brother, but Alys was just a bastard and had no meaning to him. She served purely for the usefulness he associated with her.

"I guess it wasn't enough, which makes me wonder," he stood up. "Whether you're even useful to me anymore."

Alys looked up startled and shook her head in near panic. She was a pretty little thing. Larys loved the look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'll try harder. I will succeed," she promised, and as Larys stood in front of her, he raised his hand. She flinched as if she thought he would hit her, but he didn't hit women. He was a man of honor.

"I hope so, sweet Alys," he said warningly, yet lovingly. His hand stroked her soft cheek. "Make sure that girl stays out of my way, or I'll have to take action."

No one was allowed to stand between him and his plan. And who was this simple-minded thing anyway, this unimportant bastard who served only the purpose of lust. He would get rid of this girl, either one way or the other.

. . . .

When Rose woke up, at first she felt nothing. It was like being enveloped in a cloud, as if she were floating. For a brief moment she didn't know where she was, what had happened, before she remembered. A terror ran through her and she tried to sit up, but a sharp pain held her back.

She cried out. The pain coursed through her entire body.

"You have to be careful," an unfamiliar female voice warned her and Rose too to the side, to a woman with dark hair and green eyes. She was older than her, but the maturity in her face made her look more womanly. The stranger looked at her seriously. "You were hurt badly."

She gently pushed Rose back into bed.

"Who are you?" asked Rose hesitantly, and the woman smiled.

"My name is Alys. I'm new here and I'm taking care of your wounds," Alys explained to her, examining Rose's wound, which was covered by bandages.

"You mustn't move too frantically or you'll reopen the wound."

"I thought I was going to die," Rose confessed, following Alys' gaze. Alys nodded.

"You almost were. You were just lucky the dagger didn't hit anything vital. A finger's width farther to the right and it would have hit your heart. It's just a deep flesh wound."

Rose swallowed. "How long have I been lying here?"

"At least seven days. But I think even longer. You were awake from time to time, but you had a strong fever."

"How is Aemond?," the mistake had not occurred to her until she had already spoken his name, but if Alys had noticed she was addressing Aemond by his first name, she did not let it show.

"The prince is unharmed, thank the gods."

Rose breathed a sigh of relief. She looked to the side and spotted the vase of white roses sitting on the table beside her. She smiled.

"Was he here?" she asked hopefully.

Alys looked at her in surprise. She twitched her eyebrows and dipped a rag into the bucket of water beside her to dab at Rose's forehead. The cool wetness did her good. It made her feel alive again.

"Prince Aemond?" asked Alys in wonder. "He hasn't been here, Rose. Not once."

Rose couldn't ignore the stab in her heart. He hadn't visited her? Not even checked on her? She couldn't imagine Aemond caring so little about her, but then she wondered what significance she even had to the prince. And why would Alys lie? She had no reason to.

"The sight of me must have been unsightly," her voice trembled and Alys surveyed her insistently. Her gaze was unpleasant, as if nothing was hidden from her.

She said nothing.

"Then who are the flowers from?"

Alys looked at the flowers. "They are from Prince Daeron. He asked me to inform him as soon as you were awake." She stood up. "I will now obey that instruction. Get some rest, dear Rose. You will need the rest. I will send for the maester."

With these words Alys said goodbye and left the room.

Left behind was an injured Rose, who did not know what was worse, the injury caused by the dagger or the sting in her heart caused when Alys revealed to her that Aemond had not checked on her. That must have been a misunderstanding. Aemond would not abandon her, would he? She wasn't imagining her special connection, was she? Maybe Alys hadn't seen him. What she and Aemond had was special. She felt it. She knew it. He felt more for her, just as she felt more for him.

He had captured her heart and in that moment Rose realized that she loved this man. She had been willing to die for him and she would do it again.

. . . .

Alicent watched her son. It pained her to see him like this. She saw him training with Ser Criston and repeatedly striking the poor man with his sword, which he could only fend off with difficulty. He looked angry and upset. Since the assassination attempt on him, he seemed like a different person.

She heard him murmuring next to her and looked at her daughter, who was looking out of the window with bleak and tired eyes. Helaena seemed like a lifeless doll and it pained Alicent to see her daughter like that. She wouldn't eat, she refused to eat, and Alicent watched her daughter grow thinner day by day. She looked like a shadow of herself, eaten away and tormented by guilt that would probably never leave her. No matter what Alicent said, no matter how much she tried to cheer her daughter up, to encourage her or absolve her of her guilt, Helaena responded to nothing. Not even Aemond managed to get through to her and Aegon, as always, was no help.

But this murmuring, this murmuring was new. Since the attack on her and her children, Helaena had said nothing.

That night she had thought that she and her child would die. Then she would never see her grandchildren again. She had expected death. Expected it.

But then the servant whom her son Daeron had brought, and to whom she had attached little importance, had come and saved her.

She was not one to forget such a thing, but her connection with Aemond displeased her. It was not according to his status and she saw her son changing.

"Did you say something, my dear child?" asked Alicent hopefully, walking up to Helaena, who suddenly looked at her, her eyes fixed on her. Alicent tried to touch her, but her daughter only flinched.

"Dead and dragon's blood. In fire it will be revealed.Dragon blood will prove it, will crown it, will reveal what is obvious. The white dragon will not survive, but its ashes will rise and burn everything down."

Alicent did not understand. "Helaena what-"

"Dragon blood will prove it. In fire it will be revealed. The medal will change sides," Helaena suddenly hissed, her eyes preternaturally large. "And its ashes will rise and burn everything to the ground." There was a change in her voice. She almost seemed like a different person.

Her daughter's words were confusing, almost frightening, and she didn't know if it scared her more that Helaena was having her episodes again and that she didn't understand what the young woman was talking about. Helaena was shaking all over. She was dissolved and seemed lost.

"In fire it is revealed..."

In fire it is revealed.

. . . . 

Alys had come to him immediately when the girl had woken up. He had known immediately what to do.

Unfortunately, the stupid woman had gone to a maester first of all. She prettier than intelligent.

"Maester Ervin," Larys said as the maester came out of the girl's room. He seemed surprised to see Larys standing there, and looked at him in irritation.

He had been waiting for him.

"Lord Strong," the maester greeted him and bowed.

"I'm surprised to see you here."

"Yes?" asked Larys with an undercurrent of played wonder. "Why?"

"I didn't expect to see you here," the maester confessed. "Are you here for the girl?"

Larys nodded with a smile. "Why?

"Isn't she our heroine? She defended Prince Aemond with her life. I wanted to inquire about her condition."

The maester nodded, believing his words.

"The wound is healing well. It is only a flesh wound. Both are unharmed."

Larys raised an eyebrow and took a step closer.

"Both of them?" It wasn't what he thought, was it? The maester looked at him in surprise.

"Sorry, I thought that was familiar. I'm new here. The girl is expecting a child."

Larys took a deep breath. A thousand thoughts flooded his mind and his head began to ache at the explosion these thoughts left in him. The girl was pregnant? He needed to calm down. He couldn't let his anxiety show.

Her pregnancy threatened to destroy everything. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't accept that. The girl was about to ruin everything. She was carrying a bastard under her heart. This child was not allowed to exist. She was not allowed to exist.

"Queen Alicent asked me for information about the girl's condition. It was important to her that the girl be well. Forgive me, my lord. I must tell Queen Alicent," the maester said and was about to move forward, but Larys stood in his way and shook his head. The maester raised an eyebrow and Larys put his hand reassuringly on his shoulder. He smiled.

"Queen Alicent is busy with more important matters at the moment. I will tell her at the appropriate moment."

"I thank you, but-"

"I am the closest advisor to Alicent Hightower. You can rest assured. I will tell her that you wished to obey her order at once, you have nothing to fear."

The maester looked at him suspiciously, as if he suspected something guileful behind Larys' suggestion, but his words seemed to have convinced him, and the maester finally nodded before bowing and moving off in the other direction. Larys watched him go before his eyes turned to the door behind which Rose lay in her bed.

It would have been easy to walk into the room and press a pillow to her face, but he couldn't afford to make himself suspicious. He had to keep a cool head and think rationally. He hadn't come this far to ruin it with a rash action.

. . . .

She waited for him until late at night.

But he did not come.

She had hoped that he would come when he heard that she had woken up, but he had not shown up.

She wondered if he even knew.

Not even Daeron had come today, although Alys had said she would let him know right away. Maybe there was some trouble? They were at war. There were certainly more important things demanding their presence.

Maybe it was a good idea to surprise him? Would it make him happy if he saw her? 

She would be happy, but she realized that she knew nothing about Aemond's feelings. She didn't know what they both were, if it was just something physical for Aemond or if he felt the same way she did.

She had not hesitated to throw herself in front of him when the attacker tried to stab with the dagger. It was stupid and tired of life, she hadn't thought about the fact that she might die, basically she hadn't thought at all at that moment, but she realized she would do it again if it meant Aemond didn't get hurt.

Her hand clutched her necklace.

Was she in love with Aemond?

Had he wormed his way into her heart without her realizing it? Every thought of Aemond filled her with joy and happiness. The mere thought of him made her heart beat faster. She longed for his touch and his attention, his affection was like inner peace.

Her bare feet touched the cold floor as she stood up. She twisted her mouth as she moved her shoulder, and the wound across her chest stung painfully. The maester had told her to stay on bed rest, but she wanted to see him.

She wanted to tell him what he meant to her.

When she stepped out of her room, the corridor was empty. No one was there and Rose had lost her bearings for a moment until she found her way to Aemond's chambers. She saw the guards standing outside his door and paused. A glance down at her told her that it would not be a good idea to appear before them in this state. She had not wasted a second in her haste to go to Aemond's that she was dressed only in her nightgown.

She therefore decided to go to the side entrance. Aemond had shown it to her so that she could get to his room unseen when they made love.

Once there, Rose gently pushed open the door, anticipation rising on his surprised face, and was about to enter when she suddenly paused when she heard Prince Daeron's voice.

"She is a pretty woman," Daeron said. "She will make you happy, Aemond."

Aemond said nothing in reply. Not seeing them, she wondered for a moment if Daeron was talking only to himself.

Who were they talking about? About her? Rose smiled for a moment. Aemond had told his brother about them both?

"Do you think she's trustworthy?"

Rose's eyebrows drew together in irritation. Was Daeron really talking about her? She shared a friendship with the prince, and he knew she could be trusted. He himself had brought her here.

"That remains to be seen." She listened to Aemond's voice for the first time, but it suddenly sounded so foreign. So forbidding. Was this feeling coming over her because she hadn't heard him in so long?

"You don't seem happy about this connection."

And suddenly she didn't understand anything.

"It is my duty as Targaryen. I will fulfill my duty."

Who are these two talking about? Connection? What connection? What duty?

Rose pressed closer to the door, quietly, so that they would not know that she was listening to this conversation.

"Marrying into House Baratheon will help us advance in the fight against Rhaenyra. We need the strength of his house," Aemond continued and Rose realized they were not talking about her. Aemond was planning to get married. It hit her like a slap in the face. She no longer felt her body. Everything became cold and hot at the same time and as if someone kept hitting her head with a hammer, Rose felt a dull pain.

She felt the first tear roll down her cheek.

Was that why he hadn't visited her?

Because he had replaced her?

Because she had no meaning for him?

"But your heart lies elsewhere, does it not?"

She heard Daeron's gentle cautious question and she held her breath. Did Daeron know about her, after all? Had Aemond told about her, after all? Had he been forced into this marriage because it was a political marriage? Did she mean something to him after all? Maybe he didn't want this marriage and did it only because it was expected of him?

- It is my duty as Targaryen. I will fulfill my duty. -

He had said it was his duty. Hope arose in Rose. He wanted this union nicht. 

"What are you talking about?"

"You know who I'm talking about. I know about you and Rose. I know what happened and that on that night of the attack...that you were intimate with each other."

He knew.

Daeron knew it, but the way he phrased it, Aemond hadn't told him.

"She means something to you, doesn't she?"

Rose peered hopefully through the small gap between the room and the door. She didn't want to overhear him, she knew it was wrong, but at that moment she had a chance to get the answer to her question.

"She means nothing to me," Aemond said, and it was like a dagger being stabbed straight into her heart this time. His voice was cold and dismissive. Without any sympathy for her. Rose felt like a hand wrapped around her stomach and turned him. "She's nobody. Just a girl whose body I covet, have covet, but that comes to an end now."

"Please stop," Rose breathed softly, distraught at the words she was about to hear. She felt more tears follow.

"I have no further use for her."

It was brutal. Rose didn't know if she had ever felt such pain. It was worse than any sickness, any fear she had ever felt. It hurt like a thousand pinpricks on her skin, stabbing barbarically into her body again and again at every single stage.

His words were merciless and she wondered if he would have chosen them the same way if she had revealed her feelings to him?

Did she really mean nothing to him?

Was everything they had had a lie?

She felt like a different person.

This had to be a dream.

It was. She had yet to sleep and she would wake up in a moment to see that she had only been dreaming, but no matter how much she wished to wake up, she remained trapped in this nightmare.

She reached for her wrist and pinched the skin between her fingers, a last pathetic attempt to wake up again, but she found that everything she had just heard was reality.

She meant nothing to Aemond.

Not the slightest thing.

It was all a lie.

Dazed, she stumbled back.

She wanted to get out of here.

There was nothing more to hear. Anything more Aemond would say would only make her heart break further.

As if taken, she staggered along the corridor. She had no idea where she was going. She just wanted to get away from here. She would never be able to look him in the face again. She would not bear to be near him. In the worst case, she would even have to watch him float through the corridors with his new bride, looking down on her, his former whore.

For she seemed to have been nothing else to him.

She had given him everything of herself and he had taken everything from her.

She reached for the servants' quarters to get her things there, the sooner she would leave the better, but before she could touch the doorknob she felt a hand put over her mouth and something held in front of her nose.

She squealed slightly, trying to resist, but suddenly her surroundings went black and before she could react, everything was dark.

. . . .

"Let's have our fun with her first," she heard an unfamiliar voice, muffled, so near and so far.

"We've been instructed to kill her right away."

"We do, but the pay sucks," the unknown voice said again. A man's voice. Rose felt the cold, wet ground beneath her. Branches cracked and a gust of wind passed over her skin. "I want my fun."

Where was she?

What did happen?

Had they taken her out of the castle?

"Oh," came a surprised sound. "She's waking up."

I'm awake, you son of a bitch, Rose wanted to scream, but her head hurt so badly. What had happened? She remembered what Aemond had said, the memory of it brutal and without mercy, and then suddenly everything was dark.

"How nice. I like it when they get it when I get it for them."

Rose felt sick.

She forced herself to open her eyes. It was more difficult than she thought. Her eyelids were incredibly heavy, as if someone was squeezing them shut. She felt weak and powerless. Like a doll that you could do whatever you wanted with.

Then she felt someone grab her chin and she wrenched her eyes open.

At first the outline was blurry, then a man with a fat grin looked back at her.

"Hello, sweetie."

She knew this man. He was one of the men who had held her along with the Septa. What was he doing here? What was she doing here?

She looked around. She saw several men smiling at her. They were in a forest. Why was she in a forest? Just a few minutes ago, she was in the castle. There was no forest in King's Landing. Where were they? Where had these men taken her?

What was happening here?

"I know you," she breathed in a weak voice, and the man's grin grew even wider.

"Oh, she remembers me. How flattering," he laughed and the men around him joined in. There were four of them in all.

"Well how are we doing?"

Rose looked at him in irritation. "Why am I here?"

The blow to her face came suddenly and hard. She felt like her whole co9p was going to fly off.

"It's rude to answer a question with a question in return."

She felt blood in her mouth.

"Stop it you're damaging her," one of the men said reproachfully. "She's pretty."

"And as good as dead," the man who had hit her replied, annoyed, before turning back to her with a smile.

"So, how are you?"

Rose gulped. "Lousy," she said, and a laugh went through the ranks. The men were having a good laugh at her condition.

"Then we want you to feel better right away."

The man in front of her suddenly grabbed her by her legs and pulled her close. Rose squealed in fright as he squeezed between her legs.

"What are you going to do?"

The question was almost ridiculous; she knew exactly what he was up to.

But no one was responding to her.

He pushed her down with one hand, and no matter how hard she tried to resist, she didn't stand a chance against him.

"Ay, why do you get to start?," one of the men moaned indignantly and jumped forward.

"Because I'm the boss and I decide, so shut up." His voice boomed over their heads and it was enough to silence the other man. Rose looked at their faces in disgust. They all wanted the same thing.

Her.

Her fear crashed down on her without mercy.

Then the man between her legs looked at her.

"So, sweetheart, let's have some fun," he said, pushing up her dress.

"Don't touch me," Rose screamed, panic rising inside her. "I swear to you, I will return and kill every one of you."

The man above her looked at her in surprise before suddenly laughing. He laughed so loudly that his laughter echoed throughout the forest. It was a biting, and humiliating laugh.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"How are you going to do that, girl, when you're already dead?"

His words made her realize that they weren't planning on just having fun with hers and then letting her go.

"Someone at the castle doesn't like you very much, sweetie."

Someone had given them the order to kill her ? Someone wanted them dead? Who had to hate her so much that they wanted her dead? No matter who Rose thought of, no one came to mind. The Septa was gone and everyone else had no reason to kill her. What relevance did she have? She was a nobody. She didn't know any big secrets, and she wasn't anyone of any importance. Killing her, or after worse, commissioning her killing, seemed so ridiculous.

"But don't worry. We'll give you some beautiful last moments in this world," the man said in a soothing voice, before tugging at her dress again, making her aware that if she didn't fight back now, she was doomed to die. It would be her last chance. He was rough, fumbling with his pants as he pushed her deeper into the mud. Rose looked around in panic for something to hit him with, and she almost gave up hope and accepted her fate, if she hadn't seen a sharp stone lying next to her at the last moment.

None of the men seemed to see what she saw and before anyone could react, she grabbed the stone and hit the man in the eye with the sharp edge over hers. The man screamed like a sow being speared and she took her chance and kicked him off her. Everyone was too shocked, so no one was quick to grab her when she got up and ran.

She ran obsessively, as fast as she could, not caring how the broken branches and sharp stones tore up her feet and left a trail of blood behind her.

"Catch her!," one of the men shouted and she heard them running after her. They were faster than her and she heard them getting closer and closer.

Rose didn't know where she was running, she was just running, hoping to outrun them, but when she suddenly came to an abyss, stunned at her lack of happiness, she realized that she was lost. There was no way out.

She would die tonight.

"There you are, you fucking cunt."

She turned around. All the men had arrived. They all had hostile expressions on their faces and grinned as they realized their hopeless situation.

"I will hurt you so much, sweetheart."

She believed him immediately.

But she wouldn't let it get that far.

There was a way out.

Just not what she had hoped for.

She turned around and looked into the abyss. The night was foggy, very cloudy and she didn't see what was happening below, but that wasn't important. If she hit the ground, she would die instantly in the best case scenario, and if she jumped into water, she would drown shortly after.

She didn't want to die.

But she would never endure what they planned to do to her only to die afterwards.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Come here, my sweet daughter."

The gentle voice from her dream suddenly reached her. Suddenly everything felt weightless and for a moment she felt born.

She remembered that dream but she understood nothing.

What did mean?

Maybe death wasn't the end.

Maybe it was the path to something better.

Maybe it was the peace she longed for.

She thought of Aemond's words and she wondered if he would be sad if he knew she was gone. Would he even know she was dead, or would her disappearance forever be a mystery?

Would he think a second time about her or would he forget her?

"Come to me."

Suddenly she felt the wind getting stronger. Confused, she opened her eyes and looked at the sky. She saw the clouds suddenly move faster. It looked like they were being stirred up, like someone was pushing them aside to make room for something else. For something bigger.

"What the hell," one of the men swore and suddenly Rose saw a figure in front of her.

First she saw an eye staring at her mercilessly, then sharp teeth, the thread of saliva and then red skin that at first looked like red stones before she realized what figure, what beast appeared there in front of her.

Warm air was blown towards her and she opened her eyes.

A dragon looked back at her, through cold and aggressive eyes, merciless eyes that stared down at her.

It wasn't the first dragon she had seen.

It wasn't the first dragon she'd been so close to either, but it was the first dragon she'd faced like this.

But it wasn't an unknown dragon.

She knew those red scales and that long neck.

She knew those eyes that looked at her as if she were the most pitiful creature in this realm.

Full of fear, her gaze wandered further up, knowing who would be looking at her there.

Her second encounter with him was no different than the first.

His gaze was cold, hard, hard-hearted and he stared down at her like she wasn't even worth breathing in his presence.

He was exactly as she remembered him.

Daemon Targaryen.

The Rogue Prince.

His gaze shifted to the men behind her and then he spoke the words every dragon rider had said at least once in their lives.

"Dracarys."

She felt the biting heat, she saw the dangerous red and the only thing she could do as the hot flood descended on her was to throw herself on the ground and hope that her death would be quick and painless.

Rose wondered wherever she ended up if she would see her mother again.

Taglist for TBC. If you want to be part of the taglist then write me here or under this post.

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @helaenaluvr

[bigtimedaddy111]

I had asked you what happened in LO that had you so upset this time 🤣 it was like a month ago though, I think. So whatever happened a month ago

Take a seat, cause I got A LOT to say.

My god, more like what didn’t it do. I make sure to scrub my webtoon of anything relating to Lore Olympus, and sometimes I like to re-read it to piss myself off and by god does it work without fail every time.

First off, I feel the need to address the most obvious one, Persephone, Hades and Demeter. In the comic, Persephone and Hades’ relationship is often called out for the romanticization of grooming, while also using rape as nothing more than an unnecessary plot device at the hands of a god that never even touched her in the og, to which the author, Rachel, doesn’t even do a proper job of bringing justice to. Persephone is so weak in the comic, which I know is a strong word to use, but there is quite literally no other way I can think to put it, while also at the same time being the definition of a mary sue. And then the obvious antagonistic Demeter, aka the grieving mother whose feelings and actions were 100% valid.

Not to mention the lack of proper lgbt representation. I remember reading it, and thinking about all the couples that could have been mentioned, but then Rachel up and left them out, and instead decided to make Hestia and Athena a couple, Athena being made with a more masc presenting design which I honest to god mistook as a man at first. Speaking of antagonizing gods, APOLLO. I know he may not be the most popular Olympian, which I blame for this comic in particular because of the large influence it has. I have always been an Apollo and Ares girly.

Rachel not only erased his bisexuality, along with other gods like Hermes, but Ares doesn’t seem to fond of women to me, which never made sense considering that he constantly aided and respected women all throughout his myths.

I don’t even know what she’s going to do with Patrochilles now that Achilles was just introduced.

I

Hate

This

Fucking

Comic

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

What Future Historians Say Will Shock You | Real Time with Bill Maher

And finally, New Rule: Someone, maybe AI, has to figure out a way to slow down time. Because what everyone has been saying to me lately is, "I can't believe it's May." Oh, Americans, we do nothing but bitch about everything under the sun, but damn it, life goes by too fast. It's Memorial Day in a week? Christ, I might as well start my Christmas shopping.

But it is, it's May. A month I have been anticipating for a long time because my book comes out next week. A book I have waited my whole career to write. One that is based on collecting the creme de la creme of these end of the show editorials and reimagining them, but also cover some virgin territory.

For example, I'm kind of obsessed with the idea of what historians of the future will say about us. Imagine it's the year 3024, and you're living in a colony on the planet Musk, formerly Mars. What will the historian say about the Americans of 2024? Well probably, that we were self-absorbed, algorithmically enslaved, on drugs and worshiped a god named Apple.

But what they won't do is write about the very thing that consumes us: our petty squabbles. In the myopia of the present our partisan differences make each side believe they're nothing like the other side. Libtards and deplorables. Historians will disagree. They won't see red on one side and blue on the other. You're thinking of Jaws 3D.

But historians see the character of a people as a whole. The Scots were clannish, the Spartans stoic, the Mongols expansionist, the Greeks were too into anal. And for us, it will be no different. Historians will say, we're also too into anal.

But also, the other thing. They will see us as a singular people with the same pathologies and unappealing traits on both sides. Traits that simply manifest themselves differently. For example, I believe, they will say, Americans of our era were unscientific. One side thought, climate change was a hoax. One thought, gender was a construct. One warred against Mother Nature. One against motherhood. One doubts Evolution, one wears masks when they're alone in the car. Which is kind of like wearing a condom to jerk off.

In medical schools now, professors are so fearful of being labeled transphobic, they have to apologize for saying words like male, female and pregnant woman.

Katie Herzog writes, "Some of the country's top medical students are being taught that humans are not, like other mammals, a species comprising two sexes." "The notion of sex, they are learning, is just a man-made creation."

Okay, but generally, the people with breasts and vaginas who give birth are the women and the ones with the penis, hogging the remote are men.

Historians will say that as a people, Americans lost our rationality. They'll say, we were conspiracy theorists. The right wanted to believe that Obama was born in Kenya. The left wanted to believe in Trump's pee tape. We have January 6th Truthers but the Washington Post reports that there are also now October 7th Truthers who believe Hamas never raped anybody and the hostages all died of natural causes. Now, does the right do conspiracy more? I think they do. QAnon and Jewish space lasers. Hillary's pedophile ring, microchips and the vaccine, Sandy Hook didn't happen, the election was stolen, Jews are trying to replace us. Yeah, but of course, on the left… Jews are the Nazis now. Somehow even enemies always find a way to agree to blame everything on the Jews.

I think, future historians will see us as a sad people, saddled with a genetic predisposition to always break into factions and then be consumed with the hate that engenders. Each side in America right now considers the other an existential threat. To the point where both camps literally collaborate with foreign enemies over fellow Americans.

Republican news channels use Russian talking points. Their voters wear t-shirts that say, "I'd rather be Russian than Democrat" and their leader sides with Putin. When today's Republican watches Rocky IV, they root for Ivan Drago.

Meanwhile, on the left this happened. Americans chanting death to America. College professors and their students exhilarated by aligning with a theocratic murderous terrorist group with values fundamentally opposed to our own.

Finally, I think, the people of the future will ironically be puzzled by our common desire to live in the past. On Fox News they're always pining for 1950, to make America great again. And in The Huffington Post it's always 1619, and nothing has changed.

For people so being into the moment, nobody seems to wanna live in the year we're living in. Trump's entire shtick is to return America to some idyllic time when the traditional family was a husband, a wife, a couple of kids and a porn star on the side. A time when America was the only Superpower and you could drink at work. When a cheeseburger cost a dime and a girl brought it to you on roller skates and she liked it when you complimented her ass. Nikki Haley says, "America was never racist." And then there are voices on the left saying racism has never been worse.

And the normies in the center say, "how hard is it to meet in the middle and just not be stupid about shit?" And that's who my book is for. People who don't wanna be stupid about shit.

[sokkastyles]

Every so often I see the sentiment that Toph's parents were "not that bad." It's so annoying to see. Like, sure, they're not as extreme as Ozai, but their treatment of Toph was 100% abuse. They isolated their daughter on the basis of her blindness and refused to allow her independence or autonomy. Just because there are worse parents in the series doesn't mean that Toph's parents were good. It felt weird how the writers of the comics made Toph and her dad reconcile so quickly.

I haven't read that comic and I don't necessarily think it's wrong for Toph to come to some reconciliation with her parents, who she clearly loves and who love her. But yeah, their treatment of her was abuse and what's so sad about it is that they never realized they did anything wrong. And I'd blame ableism for that and both the fandom's willingness to forgive them or say their treatment of her wasn't that bad. Toph's father, in particular, hired bounty hunters to kidnap her when she ran away, AFTER Toph had tried everything to try and get him to see how she was hurting because of the way he treated her. Which shows a complete lack of empathy for his daughter as anything other than some kind of pet that needs to be kept in a cage and taken care of.

For some reason, people also seem to like drawing fanart of Toph and her mom engaging in traditionally feminine mother-daughter activities, which makes me really itchy because this is NOT what Toph wants. It's what her mom wants, but her mom never comes to appreciate the daughter she has.

Fandom in general is really bad with gender-nonconforming female characters because of the damage that worship of traditional femininity has done to feminism. Toph gets hate in certain circles for not being feminine, and a lot of that also dismisses her disability because her gender nonconformity is very much informed by it.

I wrote before about how Toph, being blind, simply can't perform traditional aesthetic femininity, something which is beautifully illustrated in her story with Katara in "Tales of Ba Sing Se." She gets picked on in that episode by other girls because she obviously did not do her makeup by herself, and she can't even counter the insults because she can't even see what she looks like. It's not just that she doesn't like wearing makeup, it's a world completely closed off to her.

Unless she gets help from other people. And the show goes to great lengths to establish why Toph doesn't want help from other people, and that's something that should be respected. So yeah, no hate to anybody's fanart, but why do I keep seeing art of Poppy Beifong doing her daughter's hair like she's a pretty little doll? Not only is this not Toph, this is the opposite of what Toph wanted. Toph wants independence and so she focuses on the things she can do, which happen to be not traditionally feminine things. Being made up in a way that expresses how helpless she is and also makes her an object to be looked at by others, while she can't even see what she herself looks like, greatly diminishes her agency.

Note that I'm not saying blind people can't enjoy makeup or looking pretty. Just that for Toph, it's not her thing and she has a great deal of trauma surrounding it, so her discomfort with it should be respected.

I think the readiness to disregard how Toph feels, to overlook her parents' treatment of her, is also connected to the way society sees women as perpetually childlike. If Toph were a boy, I think her desire for independence would be taken more seriously, but she would also be derided for the ways she isn't independent because of her disability and because her parents conditioned her to be dependent upon them. See Zuko and the jokes about how he's stupid or incompetent at things for an example of that.

[alstroemerian-dragon]

thinking about the several month period where the survivors (plus the two who are already awake) work to 1) wake up mahiru 2) support her through healing and then 3) wake up peko

and how utterly Miserable that period of time has to be for fuyuhiko

(more under the cut because its another long one babey)

like. okay. heres a couple of disclaimers: this is a repeat, but i have not watched the anime. so if the character dynamics from it are your canon, just know i may not follow that. second, i… dont really think about mahiru that much. shes not really that much of a character to me, given what were given in canon, and the Casual Man Hating Mom Friend Lesbian (and i know she canonically has a crush on hajime so shes definitely bi or pan dont yell at me) trope just does nothing for me im sorry HOWEVER. in contrast to fuyuhiko, and in terms of what, in my brain, she does during the tragedy (which will probably WILDLY contradict literally everyone else’s opinions), there IS something in… her* arc post sim (that * will come back) that DOES interest me. bear with me

fuyuhikos ingrained belief system revolves almost entirely around the phrase ‘There is always a bigger fish.’ there is always going to be someone stronger, bigger, and more dangerous than you, so you have to work to be the strongest, biggest, and most dangerous you can in order to stay alive. along with that, he’s had very strangled views of what it means to be a Man shoved down his throat by most likely his father, so to him, being a man means being Big and Strong and Dangerous. but at the same time… he knows thats all bullshit. hes had other influences in his life, peko, his sister and, in my mind, his mother and other strong women high up in his clan, that have shown him the falsehoods of a lot of those claims. at the same time, he also knows, in the back of his head, that he physically can not meet those expectations for being a man. but… he is one. i think hes Solid in that. so it ends up all conglomerating and fighting in his head in a very confusing mess, which honestly has to be exhausting.

mahiru, by contrast, seems to have this very odd two-part system of beliefs, where being a man means being Confident and Strong and Protective, but at the same time, men are fundamentally Lazy and Stupid and Uncaring. women need to be protected by men, but also men are unnecessary. its… yeah its honestly familiar lmao. and some of this is the writers’ beliefs seeping in and some of it is bad writing but at the end of the day its what weve got.

so, to me, it really feels like the two of them would have absolutely hated each others guts during school. fuyuhiko is neither Big and Strong and Caring, nor is he Lazy and Stupid and Uncaring. he cares a lot, but not openly, or in a way that mahiru would easily recognize. hes an enigma in her eyes. and to fuyuhiko, mahiru is stuck in a frame of mind hes been fighting since he was a child, and as much as he’d try to be sympathetic, his anger has a tendency to get the better of him.

so… sato’s death would only have made this situation worse.

i dont think any of them knew he was responsible for her death. i dont think fuyuhiko told ANYONE aside from peko, especially since this would have been in their second year, after junko had begun sinking her talons into the entire class. how could he trust any of them? and he has to have known about her connection to mahiru, its the only way he could have found out she was involved in natsumi’s death. he kept it from her in particular, knowing she wouldn’t understand, knowing she would blame him, knowing it would just make things worse.

she probably doesnt realize the full extent of everything until… until after she wakes up.

im not gonna go too much into them as despairs, but lets just say that fuyuhiko… is responsible for a lot of bad things, even ones that happened to his fellow limbs. mahiru also did a lot of shit, but hiko i think is one of the only ones who hurt his so-called allies. and her cheery, fake, influencer-like attitude absolutely grated on him like crazy, resulting in a lot of screaming matches and even physical altercations.

so, when mahiru wakes up, her opinion of fuyuhiko is the lowest it could possibly be. hes an enigma, a stick in the gears, a man who hasnt yet shown his true colors and yet is also a violent, cruel dictator, fulfilling every expectation she has for the kind of man she expects the Ultimate Yakuza to be.

except he isnt. because by the time she wakes up, its been over a year and a half since the program shut down, and fuyuhiko is a very, very different person. and he doesnt have a low opinion of her at all. hes incredibly sympathetic to her situation, understands how much pain shes probably in, understands theres definitely a lot more under her surface beliefs that he doesnt see or know yet. thinks it was incredibly brave of her to stand up to him despite knowing he could be violent and dangerous.

and as the days go by, she sees that. sees him interacting with the others, sees him laugh at one of hajimes stupid jokes, sees him smile and roll his eyes at kazuichi’s physical affection, sees him lean on his cane when his leg flares up, sees him rubbing at the scars around his eye when they ache. sees how much respect he treats her with, how much space he gives her while not avoiding confrontations, because hes done running. hes been running for far too long, and hes done with it.

i think it takes a long time. weeks, maybe. months, possibly. but i think it starts to weigh on her mind, that she cant keep treating him like a criminal. like a weapon. cant keep ignoring his humanity in favor of the label of Violent Man that sits in her brain. and, additionally, interacting with the others, with hajime, with sonia, with kazuichi and sagishi. she starts to realize how utterly stupid the rigid gender structures that exist in her heard really are.

basically what im saying is i think mahiru is a he/him butch bi woman because i love to hit characters with the Cool Ass Gender ray. this is where that * comes back by the way thats why thats there because mahirus not a girl but also he is a girl but also hes not. hope this helps <3 also he and fuyuhiko are Worsties. they should eventually get to a point where they can both make jokes about the fact that fuyuhiko tried to kill him and can also have serious conversations about the sato and natsumi shit without devolving into unproductive arguing.

AND THEN PEKO WAKES UP FUCK THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT—

[dirtytransmasc]

Rhaenyra is the rightful heir, do u support team green also because you think that aegon's claim is stronger because he is a man?

honestly, succession doesn't matter all that much to me, I'm not a political person even when it comes to fantasy shows. but let me have a spin at explaining my take.

Rhaenyra was the true heir, she was the first born and she was the named heir, I agree with that fully. but with the way we see her act, I personally don't think she would have been a good queen. she tends to expect a lot of others, give little in return except she she's desperate for aid, and picks self benefit over what's best for the realm (having multiple bastards, "killing off" her husband in place of another that will weaken her ally ship with the velaryon's, running of to dragonstone, etc.) and then will harm those who threaten to topple her house of cards (putting the blame and wanting the torture of a child after her own son cut out his eye, asserting her son onto the Driftmark throne even when he had no claim, killing an innocent man who stated a simple fact, etc.). I think she would have ruled with fear and very irresponsibly. at the end of the day, my thing is, is that Rhaenyra was never prepared for the throne and was coddled (that's Viserys's issues) and she was unfit for the throne because she could never seem to out the realm before her and her children. Daemon is also insanely cruel and rouge and Rhaenyra refuses to put him on a fucking leash which is another massive problem (if he could stop killing people that would be great in my opinion)

Now, do I think Aegon has a better claim cause he's male? no, I think men and women are equally capable of ruling. do I think Aegon would be any better? no not really. I do think that with the counsel of his mother, who served in Viserys's place for years and always thought of everyone else (the court, house, allied houses, and the realm while also thinking about image, money, etc), his wife (who was beloved by the people and had their interests in mind), Aemond (who was an excellent warrior and was well studied for the task of being king), Otto (if he could pull his head out of his ass was one of the best hands. key word, if, but it stands for something. he understood and played the game of politics for years), and Criston (he definitely wasn't made to be hand, no matter how much I love him, but he was always a good inside ally to the greens) could help him rule much better than Daemon could for Rhaenyra and many of her allies were similarly not well suited (most not all). again, Aegon and his court would be far from perfect, but they were much better suited for the task in my opinion.

but at the end of the day, the Targaryen dynasty was crumbling, rotting away day by day. I don't think either side could have saved it, I think both had flaws that were ingrained to their core. while Aegon's line might have kept it alive a wee bit longer, it wouldn't be substantial. war and bloodshed was biting at their heels and total death and destruction hovered over their shoulders.

neither was fit to be heir. Rhaenyra being the rightful heir by both birthright and by claim through Viserys doesn't make up for her not being fit. Aegon having a cock doesn't make up for him being unfit. that's the moral of the story.

I'm not pro green cause I think Aegon deserved the throne, I'm team green cause they're more interesting in my opinion, they also just happen to be my pick if I'm forced to pick a side in the war.

in a perfect world they would have come together as an actual godforsaken family, say their overdue apologies, strengthen the house as a whole, made up for the years of infighting and ruled together through Rhaenyra, that personally what I want, but it'll never happen in a million years. so yeah, that's my take on the succession war. throughout the whole timeline I may shift closer to one side than the other, but 90% of the time I was with team green, even when I wanted nothing more for Aegon to be allowed to run away to essos