#women’s rights were fought for and won by women

[hadesoftheladies]

“christianity established women as human beings worthy of resp—“ it was women. “capitalism gave the woman power to—“ that was women, too. “the western world evolved to a place where men granted rights—“ women did that. “the liberal movement of this decade empowered women to—“ still women, just women. “this product taught little girls that they could be anything they wanted to b—“ women again. “the judge ruled for better legislative laws concerning women-related crimes—“ because of women. every bit of “progress” humans have made toward a humane society is women-driven, women led, women-bought and fought for. especially when it comes to the rights of women.

[marsivian]

I was thinking how funny it is that TRAs only decided to come out after LGB and women won the minimal rights (almost nothing) that they have, and they act as if they were the ones who fought and died for

[dovveri]

at-home olympics

synopsis: you and your girlfriend are watching the 2024 olympics except you’re cheering for different countries. you get a little distracted during the swimming finals though…

warnings: fluff and smut! sana's a little tease so lots of teasing, 1x edging, fingering, swearing

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: ok ik the races take place over several days but for ✨plot✨ lets pretend they dont and that history hasnt happened and i dont chronologically put these races in order bcs i couldnt be bothered doing that much research LOL aaanyway this one was inspired by miinatozakiii bcs we cuddled and play fought over which of our teams was better (i won)

〰⋆｡˚

“sana! it’s starting!”

“one second!”

“babe hurry! you’ll miss australia thrashing everyone else!”

you can hear her scoff from the kitchen, her voice nearing you as she rounds the corner to the living room where you have the olympics stream set up on the tv. “no way sweetie. if any one’s getting an ego check this year it’s absolutely gonna be you guys.”

you grin at the sight of her balancing a bowl of popcorn and a tray of sweets and goods to snack on while you watch the finals.

“what took you so long?” you tease, staying put on the couch and not bothering to get up and help her set everything onto the table.

she rolls her eyes, plopping down next to you, “i was peeling all the mandarins because someone is a big baby and won’t eat her fruit if it means getting her hands dirty.”

“you like my hands.”

“shut up.”

you laugh, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into you adoringly, kissing her cheek. “thanks babe i love you.”

she turns to peck you properly on the lips with a smile, “love you too my big baby.”

you’re about to pout and kiss her again but you’re distracted by the cheers on the screen. the announcers start to read out the names of the finalists. you squeeze your arms around her waist in excitement, “it’s starting it’s starting!”

sana pokes a piece of fruit and holds it up to your mouth. you open without looking, eyes fixed on the screen as the swimmers start walking out for the women’s 400m freestyle.

when the australian, ariarne titmus, is named, you cheer, almost knocking the bowl of popcorn out of your hand in excitement.

“she’s the one! she’s the best bet to win this race! she won the 400 and the 200 metre freestyle last time in tokyo! she holds the world record for both of them!!”

sana hums, smiling at your enthusiasm. “you never know sweetie. the american and the canadian… mcintosh? she’s new but you saw her in the heats, she was fasttttt.”

“no way she’ll beat arnie though. this is australia’s win for sure.”

the swimmers get ready on their diving blocks, and then the buzzer sounds and they’re off.

you’re on the edge of your seat, taking in each stroke and breath, sana right there next to you.

“look look! she’s falling behind! i told you the canadians might grab this one!”

“no no that’s normal for her she always starts off slower but because 400 metres is one of the longer races she’ll really shine after the second or third lap just wait and see.”

you can feel the tension wound up tight all over your body as you watch the race, yelling encouragement, eyes locked on the swimmers as arnie starts to speed up on her final lap, passing the other competitors and hitting the end of the pool first. you jump up, whooping, punching your fist in the air as if you were the one who had just won the race.

sana laughs at your antics, rolling her eyes when you turn back to her, "i told you! i told you we'd win! the aussies are gonna crush everyone this olympics!"

"it's only the first day sweetie you know you'll fall behind once the swimming events are over."

you plop back down, "not this year. our roster is too good."

"we'll see about that."

sana was originally all smiles and giggles, watching you fondly during the next few races while you cheer when australia qualifies off various heats, and slump down next to her, miserably pecking off the snack plates when they don't. but as time goes on and australia just keeps winning, she gets a little pouty, either at the little patriotic spirit that ignites in everyone during the olympics, or the fact that you've been paying these athletes more attention than her for the past few hours.

either way, she plans to get your attention back and she has a wonderfully terrible idea on how to do exactly that.

the opportunity comes during the lull of the men's events. you're droning on about how "the aussie men aren't all that compared to the women. the aussie women are the ones to watch. who cares about the men when we've got arnie, mollie o'callaghan, kaylee mckeown, emma mckeon, especially since the french have leon marchand and he's like crazy fast and- b-baby w-what- what are you doing?"

you don't notice the way sana's hand has crept up your thigh while you were talking, too focused on the tv screen and the races.

"nothing."

you look to the side where sana's watching you with a smirk and a gaze that screams bad news.

"uh huh-" you try and wriggle away from her, shuffling backwards into the corner of the couch, shaking her hand off. her hand is stuck to you though, the movement finds her fingers only closer to your core that was beginning to slowly burn up at the feeling of her trailing her fingers up and down your inner thigh like that.

"b-baby i want to watch the olympics."

"i'm not stopping you."

"but- no i meant-"

"mm? watch the olympics."

you sigh in frustration, tearing your gaze away from her to fix your gaze back on the screen.

sana giggles lightly, letting you have a break, just resting her hand on your thigh innocently.

eventually, you forget her hand's there, too invested in the races going on screen.

"c'mon aussies! oh my god these germans elijah has to speed up oh shit- c'mon c'mon c'mon-"

the race ends with elijah winnington winning silver in the 400m men's freestyle.

"he was so close! baby did you see he was so close oh my god!"

sana rolls her eyes, more interested in your reactions than the actual games. it's when the buzzer sounds for the beginning of the 400m men's freestyle relay final that she begins to move her hand again.

your eyes immediately flick back down to your legs at the feeling, hand coming up to cover sana's but this time she gives you a lot more to work with than just her hand. she leans in, starting to pepper your neck with light kisses.

"s-sana..."

"hmm?"

"t-the finals baby..."

"you can keep watching them. or you can try anyway." you can feel her sly grin against your neck, your body betraying you as you stretch out your neck unconsciously, giving her more room to work. she latches onto the newly available skin easily, sucking and licking, her other hand drifting under your shirt and fingers running up your stomach.

"w-what brought this on?"

she shrugs, lips never leaving your skin, "do i need a reason to want to taste you?"

you whimper as she reaches your ears, knowing they're sensitive she giggles, letting the soft breath of her laugh hit the edge of your ear, kissing sweetly. your hands are clenched into fists at your side, eyes still locked on the tv screen but none of the information hitting your retina was being processed by your brain. you're straining to hear, see, feel more of sana, but she's torturously taking her sweet time, touching where she wants, kissing where she feels, even when you spread your legs open wider for her, her hand on your thigh doesn't move, only squeezes gently in thanks but refuses to make any further progress up your thigh.

"sana..." you start to whine, pushing your hips up, squirming under her touch.

"what is it sweetie?"

"need you..."

"need me to...?"

"touch me."

"i am touching you." she giggles, pinching softly at your waist, hand gliding up to cup your bare chest gently.

"more."

"more what?"

"ugh sana just-" you wriggle around under her, huffing, her nails scratching gently against your inner thigh and the bottom of your tit.

"hmm?"

"you fucking tease sana c'mon just- ah!" sana's fingers come up to tug roughly at a hard nipple, hand at your shorts sliding up to rub at your clit harshly through your drenched panties.

"watch your tongue sweetie. that's not how you talk to me is it?"

you mewl, "n-no. i'm s-sorry."

"that's better. now tell me what you want again. this time with manners."

"can you touch me please?"

"touch you where? here?" she tugs at your nipple again, your hips buck up into her, the finger at your clit pressing down at the movement.

"y-yes! everywhere! n-need you e-everywhere."

"oh everywhere? you are greedy. take off your clothes for me then baby."

she sits back, her hands no longer touching you while you hurriedly rip your top off, your shorts and panties following not long after. you lean back, spreading your legs as lidded eyes find her again. she's watching you amusedly, eyes flicking between the tv screen and your dripping cunt.

she jerks her head to the side, indicating at the tv, "australia just won silver in that race baby. did you see?"

you groan, hands coming up to grope at your own chest, the other trailing down your stomach and to your core, "don't sana- please- i don't care right now just need you-"

"now you don't care huh?" she grins self-satisfied, crawling towards you and slapping your hand away playfully, "so needy."

"only for you p-please sana-"

she hums, smiling as she kisses her way up your body, tracing the marks she's already made over your neck and collarbone, finally reaching your lips with a cheeky grin.

she looks down at you with a mirthful glint in her eyes, her lips just centimetres away from yours, "ask me."

you groan, "what?"

"ask me to kiss you."

"oh for fuck's sake-"

a hand pinches at your side and you yelp in pain.

"what did i say about language?"

you whimper easily, submitting to her without a second thought, "i'm sorry. please kiss me?"

a smile, "much better."

she connects your lips at last, giggling a little at your desperation. you moan as soon as your lips meet, hungrily sucking her lip into your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and slight annoyance at how long she's been teasing you for.

her tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you eagerly open, panting into her mouth as she licks into you, tasting of the snacks you just had and something uniquely hers that made your head spin and your pussy clench.

you're obviously terrible at multitasking and sana takes advantage of that while she's got you completely focused on how good her body feels against yours and how her tongue is searching every inch of your mouth, her hands sliding down your chest to grope at your tits properly now, squeezing and relishing the moan you let out, the slow grinding that your hips start up even without you knowing.

she gives you a much needed oxygen break, moving down your neck again but making her way straight down to your chest, her hands and mouth working in tandem to drive you positively insane, massaging your sensitive flesh and licking and sucking until you were whining and panting once again.

when she takes a nipple into her mouth, your chest arches up into her, hand finding purchase in her hair, tugging her impossibly closer. she mumbles something around your nipple, and although you don't catch what she says, the small rumble and vibration sends shivers up your spine and straight down to your core, your thighs aching to rub together to find any kind of friction on your absolutely drenched cunt.

she licks across to your other nipple that she's been twisting and pinching with those long fingers of hers, taking it into her mouth as well, the hot warmth around your nipple and her hand that comes up to squeeze at the tit she's just left, causing another gush of slick to leak between your thighs.

you don't dare look down at her, nails digging into her scalp, hips pushing up against her, moans drowning out the commentary of the swimming finals still playing on the tv.

her hands inch downwards while her mouth is still attached to your chest. she doesn't tease this time, dipping straight into your heat and running her finger along your opening.

"m- please- sana there-"

she wets her fingers easily, running them up and down your cunt a few times, making sure to rub a little circle at your clit each time she does a lap, her fingers swimming around in your pussy like the swimmers on screen.

"i-inside sana pl-ease- i'm ready-"

she hums, inserting one finger gently, pumping slowly with just her first knuckle before sliding in more, curling her finger once she reaches that part of you where she can rub at the little patch of your frontal wall that has you bucking up into her and gasping.

"r-ight there- fuck- sana- god you're- so good-"

she starts up a slow rhythm, lips still attached to your breast, sucking hickies and new marks into your skin, right next to fading marks that no one else but her could've left.

she's building you up at her own leisure, pushing another finger in once she thinks you're wet enough (you've been wet enough). your hands move down from her hair onto her shoulders, gripping tightly at the feeling.

"f-faster sana i c-can- i can take it-"

she listens so well, speeding up immediately, pushing in and out of you at a pace that leaves you breathless. you throw your head back on the arm of the couch, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten with each entrance and exit, the orgasm she's building you up to so close with each thrust.

you're so focused on cumming you don't notice the way sana's ears perk up, her lips leaving your nipple with a plop as she turns her head to the side curiously.

and then all of a sudden, just as you're about to climax, sana rips away from you, jumping up from the couch and squealing in glee.

"matsushita!! he did it! y/n look he did it! france came first but that's okay because marchand was always going to win right?! but matsushita beat america!"

you're sweating on the couch, breathing heavily as you hazily look towards sana, confused at what just happened and how you didn't just have a mind-blowing orgasm 2 seconds ago. you can feel the fluttering of your stomach, the slick on your thighs still very apparent, as if you did orgasm but you just couldn't remember it.

"w-what?"

sana turns to you with a bright smile, kissing your lips sweetly, "look! japan won silver! in swimming!"

you blink dumbly at the screen, sure enough, at second place in the men's 400m individual medley is matsushita tomoyuki representing japan. you're trying to piece together the connection between this new piece of information and why you had your orgasm so violently torn away from you.

and then you realise there was no connection.

"sana!! are you serious?!"

she turns back to look at you with a confused pout on her face, why was she being yelled at? she tilts her head like a lost puppy, completely disregarding your state of undress, a total personality flip from when she was whispering and touching you in the dirtiest ways, distracting you from the olympics only to get distracted herself and stop milliseconds before she helped you reach your high.

"what?"

"i- you- we just- i was-" you gape blankly at her, flushing bright red, hands waving around dumbly while trying to come up with the words to describe this absurd situation.

you end up throwing your hands over your face in frustration, groaning and bringing your knees up to your chest, hunching over and pulling the couch blanket over your naked body.

sana giggles, plopping back down on the couch and squeezing into you. "whaaaaaaaat-" she pokes your side, trying to get you to look at her, but you're persistent, pouting and throwing the blanket over your head, shuffling around until your wrapped around in it and your head pokes back out to watch the screen as they transition over to the women's swimming again.

sana sidles even closer, trying to get under your blanket as well, "what's wrong?"

you huff, not looking at her.

"baaaabyyyyy-" she pouts.

"i was so close." you mumble.

sana grins, "what was that?"

you whine, tips of your ears still red, "i was so close sana! why did you have to- were you watching the whole time?!"

she laughs then, bright and innocent, "noooo i just suddenly heard japanese cheering coming from the tv so i looked up to see what was going on and then matsushita hit the end of the lap!"

"so you won't let me watch the olympics but you'll deny me an orgasm when you want to watch?!"

"i always said you could keep watching! too bad you just can't pay attention to two things at once." she smirks, finally able to sneak in under your arm and come in next to you under the blanket, not minding at all that you were stark naked and she was still completely dressed.

"urgh you're so-" you huff, mumbling to yourself incoherently while making sure the blanket was fully covering her as well.

"what? i'm so what?" she's staring at you with wide eyes, a knowing smile on her lips.

"i'm not talking to you. watch the olympics."

she laughs, a full body-shaking laugh, tackling you back down into the couch with the force of it, her arms going to wrap around your waist immediately as she makes herself comfortable nuzzling herself under your neck and onto your chest.

you roll your eyes, covering the both of you as you turn your attention back to the screen. once the games were over and you only had to pay attention to your cheeky girlfriend, you'd make sure she knew exactly how you felt with all your attention focused on repaying her for her antics.

[catsteeth]

Ovulating as we speak but anyway.

Sandor seeing y/n holding a baby and he can't stop imagining what it would be like if they had a baby together. 🤭

(mayhaps a little bit of smut)

Thicker Than Water🤍

Sandor x Reader  CW: NSFW, MDNI, Oral (Fem Rec), Breeding Kink (obvi), Afab reader, baby fever. A/N: Your Honor, My client was ovulating!☝️🧐 okey girl you said “a little bit of smut” and if it pleases the jury i did the whole damn thing.

After the war was fought and won, you and Sandor still lived within Winterfell. He had a new occupation working as a groundskeeper. He never thought he’d ever have let alone enjoy an occupation that did not center around violence. 

But once the war was over you made him swear he’d never put himself in harm's way for no good reason. 

While Sandor was off chopping wood, you were walking past the watering well when you saw a woman trying to pump her bucket full while holding onto her babe in her arms. 

You approached her, not knowing that around the corner your Husband was approaching you. 

“My Lady, would you like some help with that?” You said, offering to pump the water into the bucket for her. 

“That would be lovely!” She said, pushing the babe into your arms. 

Sandor watched the exchange from afar, he chuckled to himself as you looked overwhelmed by the babe in your arms. But something naturally maternal instinct took over you and he saw it.

the babe in your arms reached up in an attempt to grab your nose, however their attempt was futile as their arms were far too short.  You smiled and you took the babe's hand and kissed it sweetly as you rocked and bounced the babe.

Sandor found himself watching you in awe.

You traced your finger gently down the babes forehead down the bridge of their nose, all the way down until the tip of their nose. 

He felt a strange wave of emotion. One he’d not ever felt before. 

He’d thought in passing of having children. More so how awful he’d be as a father. But things had changed around him and within him, drastically changed. 

He wasn’t the Kings Dog anymore and he wasn’t in the South. And most importantly now he had you. And you had him. He was yours completely. 

He thought of your belly swollen with his babe. How plump your breasts would get, how everyone would know truly that you were his. But then he thought of how beautiful you’d look carrying his babe in your arms. How he’d watch that babe grow, how they’d carry your features, and his own. He wondered what they’d look like, would they have your hair? Or would they have his? Would they have your eyes? Your nose? Your- 

His day dreaming was interrupted when he heard you ask, “Worst pain I’ve heard. Worse than any pain in the world I’ve heard.” You said. You’d heard the awful awful stories of women who’d even died in childbirth. But with the babe in your arms you couldn’t help but feel a sense of possibility. 

The woman laughed a little, “Aye, it’s not nearly as pleasurable to produce it as it is to make it. But you are left with the most splendid thing.” The woman said. 

You smiled, “He is quite splendid isn't he?” You ran your fingers along the babe's sparse hair, “Aren’t you?” The Babe cooed back and you snuggled them a little closer, unable to help yourself.

Maybe you wanted this too. 

The woman finished filling her bucket, she looked over at you and the Babe, “You should have one.” Your eyes went wide and your mouth went dry. Sandor did too even though he had heard it from afar. The woman laughed, ”I felt the same, but once you’ve got one you’ll never know how you ever could have lived without them.” The woman smiled at you warmly, 

That was when Sandor finally came to you, 

“(Y/N), we better be off.” He said, trying to ignore the babe in your arms as it cooled at him. If he dared look it might have stopped his heart.

You nodded, “Right,” You smiled at the woman “I’d better return this to you,” You said as you gave her back her child.

As you took Sandors arm and walked home you and he didn’t talk about it, but you both thought about it. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about the babe, or more accurately, the prospect of you having one of your own. 

It’s not that the thought never occurred, it had, but it was war.

When you were coupled he always spilled his seed on your belly, on your thighs, on your arse, or in your pretty mouth. And the very few times that he couldn’t pull himself out in time you were lucky enough to have access to Moon Tea herbs. 

As you finished the soup you were making for supper you poured a bowl for him and placed it in front of him while he sat at your table. As you stood beside him he snaked an arm around you and pulled you closer, he placed his large hand against your belly making you giggle and squirm but his arm around you kept you in place.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, smiling as you placed your hand on top of his that was on your stomach.

“Do you want one?” He asked you earnestly as he rubbed your belly slightly,

Your eyes went wide, and heat spread across your cheeks, “Want what?” You knew what.

“A babe.” His deep brown eyes met your own, his gaze was warm and so inviting. Like a fire on a cold night.

You felt your face go red completely, “What?” 

“In here,” He asking gripping onto the plushness of your belly making you squirm even more.

“Y-yes.” You whimpered, “Do you?” You asked, running your hand over his cheek.

“Aye,” He said, his voice low and hoarse. “I want no other woman,” He began as his hand that was holding you in place snaked up your back and began to pull at your dress ties. “To carry a babe of mine.” He finished as your dress came loose. 

He pulled the sleeve that covered your shoulder down, he pulled you closer onto his lap and kissed at your exposed skin. Soon, he pulled it even lower than that exposing your breast. He kissed, licked, and bit at your skin sending shock waves of pleasure through you. You caressed his head and ran your other hand over his back, digging your nails into the leathers of his top.

“Ah!” You moaned as his hand traveled over your ass, squeezing it pushing you closer to his body. He gave you one good spank before his hand moved lower and in between your legs. His middle finger teased your clothed entrance. His mouth abandoned your breast and moved to your mouth. You moaned and whimpered into his lips. 

Your hands left Sandor's face and roamed down over his neck, his chest, his stomach, and finally to his aching cock that was uncomfortably trapped in his breeches. You looked into his eyes intensely as you released him from his pants. His cock was eager as it sprung out and practically straight into your hands. You stroked him, letting him groan into your mouth as you gripped him harder, and harder, stroking harder and harder.  

He let go of you for a moment to swipe the table of the bowl of soup you’d placed there as he pushed you onto it. 

As you laid back onto the dining table panting with anticipation, Sandor ripped your small clothes off of you, to which you squealed “Sandor!”

“No more of these fucking things.” He huffed and got on his knees between your legs, “I don’t want you wearing any of those fucking things before I get you good and bred, aye?” He commanded you, You nodded, your eyes dazed and love struck looking at your husband between your legs. “Good,” He said as he spit on your cunt, then rubbed his spit into your clit with his thumb. 

As he rubbed your clit with his thumb he fucked you with his tongue. You threw your head back and arched your back at the wonderful sensation. However it didn’t last too long as he stood, “You’re good and ready now.” He said, making you feel slightly embarrassed but you couldn’t dwell on it for too long before he held out his palm to you, “Spit,” He commanded, and so you did. You spit into the palm of his hand and he stroked his length with it.

You propped yourself up by your elbows as you watched him line himself up with your entrance. He looked at you and you nodded in desperation. He began to push himself into you, “Seven-fucking-hells!” He hissed as you clenched down on him immediately. 

“Sandor!” You whined, his eyes blinked to yours, “Kiss me!” You desperately moaned out.

He leaned down over you as he grinded in and out of your weeping cunt. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him close to you. He thrusted into you with a brutal pace, you thought for certain the table was going to give out. But his kisses were sensual and slow. They were a testament to his love and devotion for you, and only you. His wife, his woman, and he was determined to make you the mother of his child. “Look at me,” He said, trying to hold back his own moans of pleasure, “Look at me when I spill my seed into you.” He said, “Do you want that? You want my seed?” He asked you, teasing you slightly. 

“Yes! Please, Sandor!” You gasped, whimpering into his lips, “Please my love, I need your seed, only yours, no one else-” You said staring deep into his eyes, 

“No one else?” His thrusts began to be more erratic and his groans were more apparent. 

You shook your head, “No one, only you,” You closed your eyes for a moment as your face contorted to the peak that was approaching you,

“Look at me!” He desperately commanded you, 

You looked in his eyes as you reached your high, “Please, please my love-” You begged, and Gods it done him in, 

He growled and pressed his hips flush with yours, making sure he was as deep as he could be inside of your cunt. You could feel the heat of his seed spilling into you, “AH!” you cried out at the intense pleasure of it all. 

Sandor practically collapsed on top of you, he panted as he rested his head on your bosom. You ran your hands through his hair and down his back.   

He stood, and pulled himself out of you. However when he saw his seed begin to spill out of you he pushed his softened cock back into you making you gasp slightly, 

“Can’t have that go to waste, or I’ll have to fuck you harder next time, aye?”

Want a request? Check the current request status here > ♥️♥️♥️♥️

[ayaahh00]

In online debates, I see the bullshit claim from men that "men gave women their rights." Historically, men stripped women of their basic rights, forcing women to be subservients and fight tirelessly to reclaim them. Men never "gave" women their rights; women had to demand and take back what was rightfully theirs. Men have the lingering belief in their supposed authority to grant or revoke women's rights, even tho it’s 2024. It's frustrating to see these men ignore the documented history of patriarchy a system they benefited from and perpetuated dismissing women's contributions and accomplishments, only to claim credit for the rights women have rightfully earned through our perseverance and struggle. When confronted with facts, statistics, and evidence, these men often repeat their unfounded claims, to fit their misogynistic narratives. Women's rights were hard-fought and won by women, not generously bestowed by men. The fight for women's rights is ongoing, and we must remain vigilant and united, as our history and achievements are undeniable, and no amount of misinformation can erase the truth.

[eufezco]

THREE LIES AT ONCE

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!STYLIST!READER

this is based on a prompt from character.ai c:

SYNOPSIS -> You're his stylist and you discover bruises.

You liked it when Finnick visited the Capitol and Finnick hated doing it except for the fact that he knew you would be there.

You had already earned a reputation as a stylist in the Capitol when you two met. And it had been four years since Finnick won his games but President Snow had kept him close because nothing was more appealing than a charming boy in his twenties to the people of the Capitol.

You learned from the best. Cinna taught you everything he knew about fashion and then made you forget about it all so you could build your own style. It actually worked quite well because your designs were sold in the Capitol as if people needed them to live.

Your colors and characteristic shapes, your outrageous skirts, your long dresses, and your headdresses were worn by everyone, men and women fought over your designs and they spent all their savings on your clothes. President Snow was more than delighted with you, not only because his granddaughter deeply admired you but because you knew how to be liked, and he loved that about you.

That's why President Snow found the perfect match with Finnick and you and for once in his life, he did something right.

Finnick became your muse. From the moment you were introduced at the Capitol and you saw him walking towards you with those bright green eyes, his perfectly messy blonde hair, his tanned skin thanks to the way the sun in District 4, and his body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods. You knew you never wanted to design anything else but for him.

―When did you arrive and how is it that you haven't come to see me earlier? ―You threw yourself into his arms, your fingers dug into his blond locks of hair. This was not the typical relationship that stylists used to have with their models but after working with him for a couple of years now, it was inevitable that some affection would grow between the two of you. Especially when, during his stays in the Capitol, you spent most of your time together. You were the only thing that kept him from going crazy.

He would sit and watch you while you sketched out his next outfit. You would share a drink and ask him questions about how his life was back in District 4. Finnick loved to talk about his home and you loved to imagine yourself there, in the places that Finnick described to you so precisely. The sea reaching your feet, the sun shining against your skin, the sound of seagulls flying across the bluest sky you had ever seen... And for some reason that you were still trying to figure out, every time you imagined yourself in one of those scenarios, he was by your side. District 4 seemed like a lovely place.

Finnick's arms wrapped around your waist while his face hid in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your familiar scent when you hugged, too sweet for the Capitol, not like the perfume people there used to keep up with their continuous call for attention.

―Yesterday but I was too tired from the trip.

That was the first lie that Finnick told you that night.

There was an expression of relief on your face with something like a small smile on your lips, grateful to see him again after such a long time and when everything in your life was chaos thanks to the preparation of the next games. Your eyes were closed, enjoying him holding you until you heard him say those words and then they opened in a combination of surprise and confusion.

―Don't think that being tired is an excuse for not coming to see me, Finnick Odair. That should always be the first thing you do as soon as you set foot here. ―You said, still thinking about why would he lie to you.

You moved apart from the hug and Finnick had a big smile on his lips that inevitably made you smile too. ―I'm sorry. ―He apologized.

―You better be. But now I need you to tell me if you like it.

You turned to grab your notebook and showed him the sketch you drew. Finnick took the notebook from your hands so he could take a better look and admire every detail.

―This is beautiful. You're an artist. I doubt there is anyone half as good as you in the whole Panem.

―Oh, there's Cinna. I haven't managed to dethrone him yet.

―Come on, you outdid Cinna a long time ago. He says so himself. The student surpassed the master, there's nothing wrong with that.

You shook your head and said nothing. Finnick rolled his eyes, he knew you didn't like hearing from him or anyone else that you were better than Cinna. Not even when Cinna himself tells you.

―Have you started sewing it yet? Can I see it?

―That's why I needed to see you. I haven't started yet because I need to measure you again. The last time you wore one of my garments it was too tight. I don't want to risk it not fitting you this time. ―You grabbed the measuring tape and pins from the table in your studio, full of fabrics and patterns for the new tributes. Cinna had given you his notebook with some beautiful sketches and had told you that he needed something similar but for the male tribute, a guy named Peeta Mellark from District 12, and you had been working day and night to meet Cinna's expectations. ―The robe is behind the dressing screen.

―Yes ma'am.

Finnick walked over without saying another word. You admired his figure as he walked away. Finnick's back was twice as wide as when you met him, his arms had grown stronger, now you could identify each of the muscles in them and his legs had also doubled in size, unfortunately, Finnick loved to wear long skirts, if it were up to you he would be showing them all the time. The features of his face had also changed, now they were more pronounced. Finnick's dimples were more visible and his jaw was so sharp you'd swear if you slid your finger along it you'd cut yourself.

―This looks great on you. I don't know why I try to design you something new every time. I should let you go around with that.

Finnick shook his head, failing in his attempt not to laugh at your stupid joke. ―You are not only the best designer but also the funniest one, huh?

You rolled your eyes. Finnick knew you didn't like it when he told you that and he did it on purpose to tease you. ―Come on, take it off.

Finnick stood before the mirror as you stood behind him. Once he slipped it off, you gasped and jumped back, horrified.

―Gosh, Finnick, what is this? ―You took a few steps backward at the sight of the bruises that trailed down his back. By their bright red color you would say were rather recent. You didn't know how to react, you were petrified staring at his back.

Finnick smiled, dismissing what you just saw with practiced charm. ―Ah, just a little souvenir. My lovers like to play rough. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.

That was the second lie Finnick told you that night.

Finnick's chest was heavy but he was trying to keep his cool. He had assumed that by the time the two of you saw each other the wounds would have healed, besides the fact that he didn't think he would have to undress in front of you.

―Your lovers? This absolute atrocity was done by one of your lovers?

―They were probably just a little too... enthusiastic. Besides, I don't have a problem with it, I like it. My skin heals fast so I'll be all good in no time.

And that was the third lie. His skin did not heal fast. You had always told him off for coming to dress rehearsals all bruised up from his training sessions and those bruises had lasted for days. These new ones were sure to stay on his skin for at least a month.

―How can some one like this?

Finnick could hear the disdain in your voice. You should be disgusted, horrified and definitely judging him, but don't worry, so was he.

―Honey, if you don't understand it's not my problem.

―No, you're right. I don't understand. I don't think you enjoyed that.

―Oh, you're gonna tell me what I can or cannot enjoy?

―Have you seen your back? Have you seen how bad this looks?

Finnick chuckled. ―I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. Do you need all the details? Is the life of a stylist so boring?

―Finnick, listen to me. I don't want all the details I want the truth, and now it's the perfect time to start. ―You said. You grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around to look at you. Finnick groaned as your hands were placed on his shoulders and when he stood face to face with you, he could see how upset you were.

―I don't know what you're talking about. ―He bit the inside of his cheeks, that was just what he had been told, not to tell anyone the truth about what had happened. He saw you roll your eyes and let all the air out of your body through your mouth, annoyed.

―I know that you didn't arrive yesterday. Cinna told me. Do you really think you can go unnoticed? Here? And I know for a fact that those bruises are not from one of your lovers, let alone that they were done to you a couple of days ago.

Finnick swallowed, looking at you with his head held high. He tried to keep the smile on his lips, pretending that everything was okay, that he did enjoy it when those bruises were inflicted on him, but his lower lip betrayed him and began to tremble. You bent down to pick up the robe and carefully threw it over his shoulders so he wouldn't feel so exposed. Finnick's head was bowed. You lifted it using your thumb and index finger on his chin very gently.

―I need you to tell me who did this to you. I can't help you if you don't tell me.

Finnick chuckled amid the sadness and shame he was feeling. ―Help me? You can't help me.

―I'm sure there's something I can do. I could―.

―They were Peacekeepers following Snow's orders.

Your jaw dropped and your heart rate accelerated. It was the first time that Finnick was admitting that to someone. It had been impossible to tell anyone, let alone a citizen of the Capitol like you. Finnick couldn't possibly admit that without compromising his carefully cultivated image. Besides, if he made himself out to be a victim, the Capitol would never allow someone they saw as weak to perform the role of the Golden Boy and all the people he cared about in District 4 would die. At that moment you realized that all the times he showed up at your studio claiming that his injuries were from training were not true and you felt sick to your stomach.

―How did it happen? ―You asked, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat

―I tried to leave the Capitol. Before I could get on the train back to District 4 I was arrested by Peacekeepers and they took me to Snow's mansion. A lot of people came and when I refused to see them... I've been locked up there since then, that's why I couldn't come to see you earlier.

You shook your head, feeling awful. ―Don't worry about it, Finnick. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. ―Your stomach complained and begged your brain to stop imagining everything that Finnick would have been put through since then. The beatings, the strangers paying to sneak into his bed, the Peacekeepers bursting into his room and leaving him bleeding on the floor...

―Snow likes me. There has to be something I can do for you.

―You don't understand. It's not something that I can quit.

―I can spend all day designing and sewing to pay Snow the money he would make with you. I can talk to Cinna to raise the price of our designs. People here are rotten with money, they'll keep buying them anyway.

―It's not that simple. You can't just buy my freedom.

―Has anyone tried before?

Finnick thought about it and shook his head. ―Snow wouldn't allow that to happen. ―You ran your hand over your face in despair, not knowing what else to do to help him and feeling a responsibility to do something about it. You were the citizen of the Capitol, the one who had superior status and the favor of Snow, there must be something you could do.

―What if I buy you?

Finnick's eyes widened in surprise. ―Buy me?

You nodded and realized how bad that sounded. ―But not in like, a slave type of way. Gosh that sounded awful. I would just― Do it so you can live your life in your district. I wouldn't― keep you here, no. You'd just have to come to the Capitol a couple of times, make a few public appearances, and leave again.

―Why would you do that for me?

You bit the inside of your cheeks and nodded. ―You're my friend. I care about you.

You had managed to give him something he had long been missing. Hope. Maybe what you wanted to do would work or maybe not but at that moment Finnick felt that someone cared and that gave him hope that everything would work out.

Finnick took a step forward and placed his hands on your cheeks. He leaned in slightly and connected his lips with yours. Your hands ended up resting against his warm bare chest, closing your eyes and allowing him to kiss you. You knew it was the emotion of the moment, the adrenaline rush of knowing that maybe he could live his life in peace. You had given him hope and he was happy that someone had shed some light on his situation.

When you parted ways after the kiss, you both were smiling.

―Go and put your pants on, I'll treat your bruises.

―Do you know how?

―Well, not really, but I'm not short of needle and thread and I still have some alcohol from last night.

Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. That would work. He walked to the dressing screen and you watched him as he walked away in the mirror's reflection. Before hiding behind the dressing screen, he said something that lit up a flame in your heart and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

―I wish you would come with me to District 4.

my requests for the hunger games are open 📥

[peppermintquartz]

Continuation of this

Buck checks himself out for the tenth time in the mirror. He knows he looks good, but maybe he doesn't look right for trivia night? Dark jeans, his favorite boots, teal sweater... Maybe the sweater is the wrong top. Pulling it off and tossing it on top of the pile that's already on his bed, he grabs his phone and calls his sister.

"Maddie, tell me what to wear on a date to impress Tommy's friends." He pauses briefly. "Indoors, bar, trivia night."

It takes three agonizing seconds before Maddie answers. "The gray crew neck, paired with the rust-colored leather jacket or the brown suede, it brings out your complexion, and I want daisies as a thank you when you come by next."

"Thank you, I love you, say hi to Chim and Jee."

"Use protection!" Maddie gets one in just before Buck hangs up. He rolls his eyes at his phone but grins anyway as he tucks a condom into his back pocket. He might get lucky. He chooses the suede.

-

Tommy picks him up and kisses him sweetly, like they're about to go on a date instead of meeting Tommy's friends who are totally going to judge the hell out of Buck if he screws up Trivia Night.

"You look so good, I'm tempted to ditch them and take you someplace nice," Tommy murmurs against Buck's mouth.

"And have them say I'm a figment of your imagination? Nope. Plus, I dressed up to impress them," says Buck, smiling, giddy from his boyfriend's - boyfriend! Buck is never getting over that word - praise. "Well, Maddie helped to dress me. Wait that came out wrong. I meant, she helped to choose what I should wear. Did you know that royalty and nobility had, like, specific staff who helped to choose what they wore? The women were ladies-in-waiting and they were usually nobility, but of a lower station, and sometimes they were also available as sex partners to the king or the duke or prince or whatever. It's pretty exploitative, when you think about it..."

Buck sees Tommy's fond expression and his words taper off. Shyly, he kisses Tommy again.

"I may have gone down a few too many rabbit holes," he admits.

"That's amazing. You're amazing." Tommy smiles, and starts the car.

-

Buck is introduced to the group. Melton works at Harbor also, and immediately regales Buck with a story of how Tommy pleaded with their captain to drop him off at the hospital and won the bargain with promising to detail the engines the next few shifts.

"You did that for me?" Buck asks. "You didn't have to- Babe, you'd just fought a beast of a fire, I would've understood if you couldn't make it."

Tommy ducks his head, as if embarrassed. "Well, I promised. And the welcome was worth it."

They share a look, remembering the kiss in the lobby.

"You two are so sappy," Melton declares. "Can't believe we used to think you were cool."

"He is cool! He flew a helicopter into a hurricane. And landed on an upside-down cruise ship."

"Yeah, yeah. I still can't believe you're keeping your job after that jaunt."

Fernando, a wiry man with a bald head and a thick, curly beard, is the geography and botany expert. Jill Tan is their science person, her petite form nearly dwarfed by the three firefighters but her laugh is loud and free. Buck likes her. Melton is their sports and world history guy, and Tommy apparently has military and machinery trivia locked down. Buck guesses he's here to round out the team with his list of animal facts and maybe some other random bits that he's picked up on his Wikipedia tours.

"Who's on pop culture?" he asks when Tommy goes to get their drinks.

"That'll be- hey, there she is," says Fernando, waving his hand at someone over Buck's shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late, I meant to be here before Tommy comes with his... Buck?"

"Lucy?"

Fernando sips on his margarita. "So you two know each other?"

"Uh, yes, Lucy used to work at the 118," Buck manages to reply without stuttering. "I didn't know... How are you?"

At least Lucy looks as stunned as Buck feels. "I'm good. I'm, uh, yeah. I'm good. Earning my place in Harbor."

"Hey Donato, you're here. You know Evan, right? Here you go, Evan. Don't give me that look, try it first and then tell me how much you hate it." Tommy slides back into his seat, boxing Buck in.

Buck takes a sip and wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. "I don't hate it."

Lucy takes the last empty chair. There's a smile on her face that signals something, but Buck doesn't know what she's planning.

"Didn't know you were the Evan Tommy's been going all swoony about," she says casually. "Now I know why he goes all glassy-eyed when he texts you."

"He goes glassy-eyed and swoony?" Buck is amused and almost... touched? by the idea of Tommy being unable to hide his affection.

Melton nods. "It's good I'm already married, because I'd wanna hit him otherwise for being so blissed out."

"You'd be blissed out too if you're regularly kissed by this guy," Lucy says with a crooked smirk. "I should know."

Jill cackles. "Oh no, you kissed Tommy's boyfriend?"

"I wasn't his boyfriend at the time!" Buck sputters, face turning red. "Also, I was kinda drunk. Never doing that again."

"You were someone's boyfriend at the time though," Lucy continues blithely. "But I'm cute and irresistible, so I get it. I definitely didn't know you're into guys too." She cocks her head and looks straight at Tommy, curious.

"He wasn't consciously aware of that attraction until he met me." Tommy drapes an arm over Buck's shoulders, the weight a welcome focal point for him. "I'm damn lucky I'm the one he decided on. And from now on, all his kisses are for me alone." He meets Lucy's eyes.

Papers and pencils are being passed around. Buck feels the tension ease, in the way that highlights that there was a bit of tension earlier.

"Ugh, gross," Lucy declares, grinning, and hops off to get her own drink.

Jill raises her glass to Buck in a toast. "To bisexuality and knowing yourself!"

"Yeah!" Buck toasts back.

Tommy kisses his cheek. "Let's kick some trivia ass."

--

edited on AO3

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

Nobody cares about my opinions (and you shouldn't because I'm just a girl) but I've been thinking about the issue of low voter turnout and people choosing not to vote.

I always think of the people who fought so hard for my right to vote. I am only a few degrees away from a time when women could not vote. My grandmother's mother was alive when women could not vote. My grandma remembers her mom, and I know my grandma right now, so that is only two degrees of separation.

Women were arrested, went on hunger strikes, were put in prison, in the UK someone died, the list goes on. The reason I am allowed to vote is because of what those women did who came before me.

Voting isn't a freely given right. It had to be fought for and won, not just for women but for everyone who isn't a white land-owning man.

I'm begging people to take it seriously. Vote because your ability to do so was not inevitable.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Rhaenyra was rejected by her own throne. Her own dragron abandons her. The smallfolk loathed her, even the Lords that once supported her claim rescinded their own alliance to her cause. She may have had a rightful claim, but was never a deserving or worthy one.

1. It’s a throne made out of sword blades. Spare me the theatrics. Her getting cut is pure gossip, nevertheless, and the way it was written in the book leads to much speculation (She wears armor and gets cut?? Huh??) The maesters would say anything against her.

2. Her dragon abandoned her? And that happened when…in your dreams, maybe? Syrax never abandoned her. She was fighting for her life because fanatics thought that the answer to all their problems was the murder of innocent creatures held in chains.

3. The smallfolk loathed the Greens (particularly Aegon and Aemond) and they cheered when Rhaenyra took King’s Landing. What they grew to loathe was their situation. The Greens impoverished the Realm and Rhaenyra was left to clean up the mess and suffer the consequences. The smallfolk’s anger should have been directed at the people who started the war (the Greens). But they didn’t care about that. Whoever was sitting the throne at the time had to pay the price, and unfortunately, it was Rhaenyra.

4. The lords rescinded their alliance…what? Have you actually read the book or are you only skipping to the parts that interest you?

She never lost support. Her lords fought for her cause even after her death, and won. Reread the Battle of the Kingsroad, the final battle of the Dance which cost Aegon the throne, and granted the Blacks victory.

5. At least you admit that she is the rightful ruler. As for being “worthy”, that is a strange choice of word to use for a woman who had to fight for her rightful claim, and was put in very unfortunate and undeserving positions. Rhaenyra was never given a clear shot at being a ruler, so you cannot judge her capabilities. When she took the Iron Throne, the coffers were empty and she still had a war to deal with, not to mention tired and hungry smallfolk.

What is clear is that she had far more experience in governing than her half-brother.

By comparison, the Greens had a disabled and incapable ruler who drank and spent time harassing women, a mad woman for a queen and a psychopath on the biggest dragon threatening to burn everything in his path. Not to mention a greedy queen mother who only cared about advancing her own House.

Seriously. Read the book.

[lesbianchemicalplant]

If you're surrounded by people who call trans people by their deadnames, you're most likely in a hate group. But a possible alternate explanation is that you're in academia. And it's not because that many academics are openly transphobic -- they just don't know that the site they fully trust, Google Scholar, is telling them to do it. Google Scholar was developed in 2004 and has changed very little since then. It supplanted a lot of hard-to-use library search indices by providing a Google-style interface with a single search box. Now it's the most name-recognized site for searching for almost any paper by almost anyone. One aspect of the design was, authors are just a kind of search term. An author is a cluster of different ways to abbreviate a name, like Firstname Lastname, Firstname M. Lastname, and F Lastname, and you might see different forms in different places, but the underlying name will never change. This is because Google Scholar was built by, and for, cis men with unchanging Western-style names. The "almost anyone" who you can search for excludes trans people, among a lot of other people it represents poorly. And because Scholar will not change, it should perish.

I fought the goog, and the goog won I changed my name in research, retroactively. I broke the assumptions of Google Scholar, and Google Scholar hid my papers from search results when it couldn't model what was going on with them. It would particularly suppress search results for my new name, which were just confusing distractors for the results it really wanted to show, for my deadname. If you ask it how to cite me, it will auto-generate you a citation of my deadname. I fought hard to remove citations of my deadname, replace PDF files, take down papers I couldn't replace, take away all the evidence of my deadname that I possibly could. Not to keep it from the eyes of people, but to keep it out of the Google Scholar model. I partially succeeded in making my new name more searchable, and even got it to show up in the auto-generated citations in some circumstances. For a fleeting moment, I claimed victory. But Google Scholar countered by finding my absolute most obscure things that count as publications, ones that I can't kill because they were not really alive in the first place, and bringing them to the top of my search results, so it can use them to keep helpfully directing you to my deadname. Signing in and claiming papers on an "author page" doesn't help, because author pages are one tiny link in search results that nobody clicks through, because the papers are already right there. Most trans people quit research rather than deal with this, and even though I found myself with more energy and opportunity to fight for my name than most, I quit research too.

There! We fixed it for cis people Google knows about this. I raised the issue with them in February 2019. It became an internal bug report in July 2019, which I have never seen, but from what I've heard about it, it quickly went far astray from what I was trying to tell them. "Allies" inside Google came up with extremely dumbass theories of how to represent trans people in a way that fit Google's preconceptions. I've posted about the problem at various times on social media (mostly Twitter when that was a thing). I tweeted about how Google's name model doesn't even work for cis women, given that many women change their names at some point in their lives. This got some traction and led to an amazingly quick response, along the lines of "oh shit! We fixed it for cis women." The new feature they added allowed a person (who had claimed papers using a Google account) to link together their multiple names, as long as they were okay with all the names being shown at the top of their search results. The first trans person to try using the feature was extremely surprised and dismayed by the prominence it gave to their deadname, and asked "do you think they talked to even a single trans person about this feature?" Nobody has ever heard Anurag Acharya, the creator of Google Scholar, say anything about the problem of name changes on his platform, or really anything attributable to him at all. But I know he knows about it.

The one time we got their attention Google got banned as a sponsor of Queer in AI, partially because of Google Scholar, though if you ask most people now they'll say it's because they profit from AI weapons systems. Which is also a thing. But Google Scholar was enough of a part of the issue that an exec actually got on the phone with non-Googlers about it for the first time. The exec was Jeff Dean, head of AI, whose organization does not actually include Google Scholar. When pressed on the issue by Queer in AI, he defended Scholar's lack of name changes, saying -- I believe this to be a direct quote -- "we have to ensure accurate information". Calling trans people by their names does not fall under the category of "accurate information" to the latently transphobic Jeff Dean. In another rare instance of public communication, a couple of painfully assimilationist trans Google FTEs promoted a horrible idea where publishers would have an API for informing Google that someone's name had changed in their archives. That's right, you wouldn't control your own name, dozens of publishers would, all with their own processes ranging from gatekeepy to nonexistent, and you'd have to out yourself and beg to every one of them to press the Here's A Trans Person button. The only good thing about this proposal is that it was so obviously unworkable that they didn't do it. Aside: If you are a Google full time employee, and you are trans, you are assimilationist. I'm sorry. I know your life circumstances mean you have to be. There used to be non-assimilationists there, and they joined the union and got illegally fired in 2019, or they quit in solidarity with the people who were fired in 2019 or 2021, and that leaves you, keeping your head down and keeping your job. You're still reading this paragraph, and that's amazing, so here's what I need you to know: from your position, you cannot advocate for the needs of trans non-Googlers, unless you allow trans non-Googlers into the conversation. Contract workers, though, you're cool. You fought for a trans man, working at a Google data center, to stop having to wear his deadname on his badge, and you won.

There is a solution I know that Google would not invest a lot of development effort into fixing a pet project like Google Scholar (though, again, "we fixed it for cis women" came remarkably quickly). I know that Google is institutionally incapable of letting people control their own identity without being a gatekeeper, that it's just not in the realm of things they dream of. There is still a solution. It's so easy. It plays to Google's strengths. There's even a business argument for it. They just need to shut it down. Google Scholar can have a plot in the Google graveyard next to Hangouts, Picasa, AngularJS, Cardboard, Inbox, Orkut, Knol, and the dearly departed Reader. It will be missed, for a bit, and then real librarians and archivists can get back to doing the job that Google monopolized. They'll know how to do it better this time. The Internet Archive is already doing it, and they let trans people change their names. I made a site about all this, scholar.hasfailed.us. I haven't been raising the issue enough since the fall of Twitter, and I think it's time that I get back to it.

[jetblack4realz]

idiot girlfriends - bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary - bradley's stupid girlfriend doesn't understand that bradley has a life-long best friend, and that would be you

warnings - no

word count - 2.6k

______________________________________________________________

when you joined the navy, everyone knew it was only because of bradley bradshaw. well, and nick bradshaw. you wanted to do right by him and his memory by serving the same way he did and followed bradley into the navy, even pulling your own papers to graduate the same time and be in the same classes as him.

you two had been inseparable since you were toddlers. your mothers were childhood best friends and so when goose died carole moved her and brad right back to the same small town she grew up in in virginia, only a few doors down from you all.

so, when you two got assigned across the world from each other, it was a shock to everyone.

you met again in top gun, both competing for the top spot and landing ten marks above the rest of your classmates. you tied, which everyone thought was a good resolution, but you both teased about who really won for years.

you loved your line of work, emailing bradley on deployments and facetiming whenever the time difference allowed. you'd gone on random deployments off in fightertown and did a few in naples, but for the most part your commanding officers fought for you to stay in guam.

until the uranium mission.

you were ecstatic to be back in the states, stationed with him. and mav. but, mostly him. you'd jumped into his arms when you walked in and spotted him talking to your friends by the pool tables. everyone thought you guys were a thing, and you both were casual in blowing them off.

you trained hard, working well together in your fights against maverick. you managed to find tone on him once and only once, but hell, you were proud of it.

you flew with bradley and maverick, coyote as your backseater and accomplishing the mission. when he went down, you nearly had a heart attack. and when he got back it took everything in you not to kiss him, instead opting to wrap your arms around him in a death-grip of a hug.

because he had a girlfriend.

her name was gabbie, and she definitely gabbed. she was a brat, you and phoenix decided as soon as you were introduced to her.

"hey," bradley said with a wide smile, reaching out for you as he approached the group. you matched his smile and wrapped your arms tightly around him in a quick hug. when you pulled away, he offered phoenix a quick wave before he gestured to the girl with narrowed eyes behind him. "guys, this is gabbie. we've been together a couple months, she started emailing me this last deployment."

"right," you nodded, offering her a polite smile. "hi."

"this is phoenix, and this is minnie - or y/n," bradley said, gesturing to you with a soft smile. he looked back at his girlfriend. "she's my childhood best friend, i've known her forever."

"oh really?" she hummed with a dramatically sweet smile. "well, it's nice to meet you then."

"yeah, you too," you said with a nod. "wanna play pool with us? you could have the table next."

"does everyone in the navy play pool? even the women?" she laughed to rooster, his brows furrowing slightly. she looked back at you. "just because you're in the military doesn't mean you have to do everything the guys do. and you don't have to wear your hair that way on night's out either. you're off duty! dress cute!"

you were beyond shocked and so were the rest of your friends. your hair was up in a messy bun because yeah, you were tired after the week's dealings and didn't want to curl it. but also, top knots weren't regulation anyways.

and you thought it looked cute.

"i'm sorry?" you asked, tilting your head as you stared at her.

"well, do you like how i did my hair? i could show you if you want," she offered, playing with her front pieces, but it only made your grimace deepen.

"i'm good, thanks," you told her. you turned your attention to hangman, your go-to games partner. "jake - darts?"

as you walked away, whispering to him likely about gabbie, bradley watched with a frown.

whenever she hung out with the daggers she insisted that she would rather stay by his side than hang out with you and phoenix, making snide comments about women in the military and more about your appearance. and whenever you would try to have a private conversation with him, she was immediately by his side. you felt like you never talked to him anymore, that you couldn't talk to him anymore.

"wanna step outside for a minute?" you asked quietly, nodding your head to the back porch. "i need to talk to you about something."

"yeah, for sure," he answered quickly, his brows furrowed in concern. "what's wrong?"

you sighed, glancing around at where your friends were stood swinging back beers and shooting around the pool table in a game of 9-ball. your eyes caught on an approaching gabbie, a fresh mai tai in hand.

"can we go outside?"

"yeah, of course," he said with a nod. his hand hovered over your lower back as he ushered you to the back door, slipping out of it behind you and following you to the railing. he leaned his back against it, eyes on you.

"what's wrong?"

"my dad texted this morning," you said, breath shaky as you glanced at your phone. he looked down too, reaching for it when it was offered to him. "it's my mom."

the door opened and out came gabbie. "hey guys! what's up?"

"hey baby, i'm so sorry, but could you go back inside?" rooster asked gently, offering her an apologetic smile. "we're having a private conversation."

"too private for your girlfriend?" she asked, quirking a brow as she glanced at you. she looked you up and down and you hated how pissed off it made you.

"yeah, i'm sorry honey," he said. "it's personal."

"shouldn't i know about your personal things?" she asked, her tone still high and light enough to feign innocence, but you were getting increasingly upset as she refused to leave.

"it's not his personal life, it's mine. it's my stuff that i'd like to discuss with my best friend, in private," you said in as even a tone as you could produce.

"do you need help with anything?" she asked. "i could help too."

"no thank you," you said. "just bradley right now."

"no, i'm actually working front desk at a therapists' office right now and i've picked up on a few things. i'd be happy to work a few techniques with you if you're feeling depressed or-"

"forget it," you mumbled, shoving your phone in your pocket and pushing passed her to get inside.

bradley sighed, following you quickly. she tried to catch his arm, saying something about the sunset, but he followed you inside, mumbling apologies and trying to get you to talk to him again.

you offered him a thin smile. "later."

later never came. there wasn't enough time in the work day to talk about private matters and it seemed like gabbie now had a permanent tie to his side.

the girl infuriated you to your core.

but, for bradley's sake and trying to be a good best friend, you offered one night to get to know her outside of the hard deck. she didn't even entertain the idea when bradley approached her about it.

"i'm not a girl's girl," she mumbled to him while you exchanged an eyeroll with coyote, able to hear their whole conversation thanks to her inability to whisper. "i've never been good at that. i'm better with guys."

"not likely," phoenix muttered to you with a roll of her eyes. "hypocrite."

"well, she's not necessarily girly either, hun," rooster told her, brows furrowed. "she is military."

"which isn't my cup of tea either. but, it's alright! i'll just stay with you and the boys," she answered, hands coming up to hang off his shoulder. her eyes were trained on you as you turned back to your game with hangman, scoffing under your breath.

"alright baby," rooster relented, eyes on your back with a knit in his brow.

"i'm trying here," you muttered to the man next to you as you leaned down to take your next shot. jake shrugged.

"can't help who she likes as friends."

"wish i could help who she likes romantically."

"what do you mean by that, min?" a smirk was already growing on his lips and you groaned.

"oh, don't start. everyone knows it," you said, moving around the table for the best angle.

"yeah, but you've never admitted it," he teased, following you. "do you like rooster?"

"he's right there, dickhead, go and say it louder," you said with a quick glare, shooting your last ball into the pocket.

"what'd you say, minnie?" rooster asked, eyes on you and jake both intently.

"nothing, just trash-talking hangman here," you answered, standing and clapping a hand on said man's shoulder. you smiled at jake. "he's about to get his ass beat."

you lined the cue ball up with the 8 ball, counting to three in your mind before you shot, the two balls clicking together and the 8 ball landing in the corner like you predicted.

"ha!" you exclaimed, turning to him. "loser!"

"you didn't call it," he hummed, a wicked grin on his lips. "scratch! i won!"

"what? no!" you cried.

"oh yes, princess," he laughed.

"you could tell what i was going for," you argued.

"oh could i?" he teased with a wiggle of his brows.

you scoffed, but couldn't help the laugh that escaped your mouth as he did a stupid 80s-like victory dance, phoenix leaning into you to mumble teases about the man.

from behind you, bradley's face had settled into a scowl.

"minnie," he called. "you and me."

your eyebrows shot up and a smirk lifted one side of your mouth. "oh really, roo? you wanna take me on?"

gabbie looked taken aback that he'd offered to play you.

"she just played. how 'bout you play coyote here?" she asked, looking at javi with a smile.

"nah, i'll give y/n another chance to win," he answered, his eyes not leaving you as you faced him with a smile.

"game on, chicken," you told him with a grin, moving to rack the balls.

he helped you, your hands brushing as you placed them into the triangular rack. your eyes found each other, a subtle smile on your lips as you placed the 8 ball in the center.

"all you mousey," he told you.

"you know, maybe i will take you up on your offer," gabbie chimed in, catching your attention. "let's do something."

"alright," you said slowly, nodding at her. "we'll figure it out later."

"no, let's go get a drink and talk," she replied.

"i'm playing bradley right now. later," you insisted. she seemed to harden at your use of his proper name and she approached where you stood next to rooster. she grabbed your forearm gently, tugging you towards the bar.

"phoenix will take your place. come on!" she said with fake enthusiasm. everyone could tell it was just that and you were left stumbling after her with knitted brows.

"no gabbie, we're playing," rooster told her, taking a hold of your other arm and tugging you back to him. she turned to him with a sharp look in her eye and you hated where you were standing at that moment.

"she wanted girl time, bradley, so i'm giving her girl time," she told him. she turned her attention to you, a sweet sweet smile shot in your direction. "maybe i can give you makeup advice?"

"okay, no," you laughed dryly, ripping you arm from her grasp easily. "i'm good, thank you. i don't need your makeup advice."

"oh, honey, you do," she cooed condescendingly. "i think the boys would agree."

"you're being rude and i'd like you to leave," you said calmly. you looked at rooster. "can you take her home, please?"

he looked conflicted, glancing at you and then gabbie.

"i don't need to go home," she told you.

"oh, so you're gonna play nice?" you asked, raising your brows.

"i will when you do," she answered, glaring openly at you now. you breathed an incredulous laugh, glancing back at phoenix with wide eyes before returning your attention to her.

"what the hell does that mean? i've been trying to be friends with you, lady!"

"oh yeah, just so you can cozy up next to bradley a second later," she said, her glare deepening as she gestured to his hand on your wrist.

"the hell are you saying?" you asked. "i've known him my whole life, forgive me for trying to maintain a friendship."

"no," she shot back. "because you're not just maintaining it."

"yeah, it's flourishing under your watch," you spat sarcastically. you shook your head, glancing back at bradley for a moment before pulling your arm from him and stepping back. you held your hands up in faux defense, scoffing as you stepped towards the door. "sorry brad, i'm not allowed to talk to you anymore."

"no, y/n, stop," he said quickly, shaking his head and sighing. "gabbie, stop saying stuff like that."

"it's true! she's making moves on you bradley," gabbie insisted.

the daggers were not amused, watching as you rolled your eyes and waiting for what bradley would do in respone.

"she's not," he said.

"but if i was?"

that was a question that caught him off guard. he looked at you, his mouth falling open and brows furrowing as he struggled for a response.

"i - what?"

you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest before looking at him with complete seriousness and honesty. "look, she's not the girl for you bradley. i think you've figured that out by now. the rest of us sure as hell have."

"what are you saying?"

"i'm here," you said with a shrug, taking another step back towards the door. "i've always been here. do with that what you will."

gabbie was awestruck, watching you with wide eyes as you strutted out of the bar.

"bradley-"

"gabbie, i can't do this anymore," he said, eyes flashing to her as soon as you left his view. "she's right. you're not the girl for me and i'm not the guy for you. you'll find him, i know you will."

"what? what the hell are you-"

"and now i've gotta go get mine," he said, offering her a small, apologetic smile before running through the bar, dodging customers and slipping out the door after you.

"about time," coyote laughed, leaning back to sip on his beer.

"oh, screw all of you," gabbie spat. "i thought we were getting along, but i guess not."

"cheers to that!" jake said, clinking his bottle with phoenix's as she glared, leaving the room quickly.

bradley chased after you, desperation in his voice as he called, "y/n! y/n!"

you turned, a subtle smile on your lips as you peered at him. "yeah?"

"i want you," he said, grabbing your hands with a wide smile. "i want you forever. i want you to always be here and i want to always be here for you and i'm sorry that i wasn't, but i promise i will be."

"just kiss me, bradshaw," you told him, a grin overtaking his lips as he pulled you into him, his hands cupping your jaw as he pressed his lips to yours.

the kiss wasn't without passion, the both of you having been waiting for this moment for who knows how many years. your arms were wound tightly around his neck as you pulled away for air. you both had stupid grins on your faces, just watching each other.

"thanks," you breathed out dopily.

"anytime," he answered. he leaned closer to you, smirking slightly. "all the time."

he kissed you again, you smiling as you kissed him back.

"fuck yeah!"

you pulled back quickly to see phoenix and the daggers on the front porch, watching with knowing grins.

"we've been waiting for this!" coyote whooped.

you rolled your eyes and laughed at your friends before looking bradley back in his beautiful browns. "i have been too."

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

i’m genuinely shocked by this:

how can someone miss the point by such a large margin that they end up implying that Rhaenyra’s cause would have had no positive impact on the women of the realm?

how can one’s thought process be so far removed from the actual reality? is this the inconsistent logic one must tangle in to become a green? have these people never sat in a history class before?

jeyne arryn anyone? does she not exist to them? a point actually made in the book (not one twisted by the greens to advance their agenda) was that her rulership of the vale would’ve been seriously endangered and put into question if the greens won. but that is conveniently ignored by these interesting… folks.

i can understand the anger this person has with the horrible dance of the dragons adaptation and its treatment of female characters. and i mean it. especially when i say female characters. because alicent isn’t the female character who’s actually getting the shortest end of the stick. it was rhaenyra and rhaenys who were the most grievously declawed. rhaenyra is queen. her council is supposed to be her council. the war is supposed to be her war for her throne, not for some stupid prophecy that should’ve logically been lost a long time ago. and rhaenys is a baratheon with a temper and a dragon rider who would’ve burnt the greens and melted their bones if she had the chance. but for some reason the show decided to make a whole new character and slap rhaenys name on it.

to be clear: rhaenyra and rhaenys were powerful in their own right. they had dragons and were a part of the royal dynasty with claims to the throne. their power is theirs. it is derived from them.

alicent’s power is derived from the power of the men she is related to. that’s literally what the queen dowager title means. her influence is dependent on if the men in her life and her children listen to her. they don’t have to, and many characters don’t listen to her in the book, which is why i say she wasn’t the most grievously declawed.

it’s also hilarious that this person considers the queen dowager position to be the most powerful position in the greens court. they must have never read a cersei chapter as she faces her loss of power, which showcases the fickle nature of the power women hold in the westerosi patriarchy.

the correct sequence of power in the greens court is: the usurper king. then the hand. then the princes, specifically the usurper kings brothers, and then the queen consort, as they have dragons and claims to the throne. then the lords who can call on armies and fleets and have coffers that run deep. then the queen dowager, who has little influence outside of kings landing and therefore not as much influence in court as others.

the case the screenshotted post tries to make is that non-targ women’s positions aren’t advanced by rhaenyra being queen, which, as i pointed out above, is not true, nor is it what rhaenyra is fighting for. rhaenyra fought for her throne, which she had a legal claim to. that’s all. many houses joined her instead of joining the usurpers because of many different reasons, but, imo, three of the most important reasons for joining the blacks/staying neutral were 1) women’s inheritance rights (and women in general) should be respected 2) the head of the houses heir and the heirs right to inherit should be respected 3) oaths should be respected.

i also want to point out that women, most obviously targaryen women, did lose power after rhaenyra’s death and due to the concessions made to the greens and their ideology by the blacks for peace along with anti-rhaenyra propaganda that set women’s inheritance rights and the general power they could hold back by quite a lot.

and funnily enough, we see this first with jaehaera, who, while was a queen, was most likely murdered by the character who was supposed to be guarding her because no one gave a shit about a targaryen girls status and the potential consequences of killing her because they knew they could get away with it; and her death directly led to alicent’s line ending. the reality is that there were practically no consequences, as it seemed to have been easily covered up as a suicide, because the targaryens lost so much power after the dance, which directly put the targaryen women in the line of fire. if the targaryen women couldn’t be used they’d be discarded. and jaehaera, a simple girl who’s entire family was all dead besides one, and who’s father was greatly disliked by many, was an eyesore to those who wished for more power. so she was killed. brutally.

and the reason the women of house targaryen were so vulnerable? it’s because they had no claim to anything anymore! no one could try to use jaehaera for power so no greedy lords sought her favor nor did any want to protect her! and jaehaera is just the start because afterwards we get the maidens in the vault, then viserys ii is installed over daena, and then everything about naerys and her horrid husband, maekar over daenora, and eventually everything concludes with young princess rhaenys and rhaella over a hundred years later. tragic.

it’s literally downhill after rhaenyra’s death.

[marymary-diva17]

You remind me of her

Speaking of ones who are gone can be a hard and sad experience, and topic of discussion as the one who no longer with them meant so much to everyone around them.It could also be a good healing for a heart as well.

spider " ........" spider is wide awake as he held a family photo of you his mother and him, when he was just a baby. He is really missing you and everyone else, he had been captured by the rda when the clan was fleeing. He had saved tuk when she had fallen and ended up getting grabbed, by his father who was back from the dead.

quaritch " you should be getting some sleep kid"

spider " I'm not tired I'm good"

quaritch " oh okay mind if I sit with you"

spider " take a sit if you if you want"

quaritch " hey that a picture of you and y/n she in her avatar body"

spider " yes it cherish belong of mine"

quaritch " where is your mom anyway I haven't seen her when we came across the group or is she elsewhere"

spider " she is still with us but in a coma"

quaritch " what I was told she was helping Jake against the fight, with the rda"

spider " well she was until one day she was caught in an action, when I was with her and my cousins she pushed us to safe but she didn't make it in time"

quaritch " ......."

spider " we rush her back to camp and uncle norm along with the other doctors had been, able to save her life by preeminently linking her to her avatar self or good"

Quaritch " so she is okay please tell me she okay"

spider " she is a safe place okay from any harm util she wake up, the navi had helped her as well by doing the eyes of eywa for her ... I wanted to be there when she wake up but it seems like they will not happen"

Quaritch " I promise son I will get you home to her"

spider " I havent see you in all my years of my life and when I finally get the chance, to see you only trouble and danger had come to me and everyone I love why"

Quaritch " I was a soilder following my orders"

spider " well your orders suck and you are just a blind sxkwang following the orders words" Quaritch had soon let out a chuckle as he looked at his son.

spider " what so funny"

Quaritch " right there you remind me of your mom she will always get mad at me, for always doing what Parker and the rda said to me ... she was a women who spoke her mind and made sure I knew of it"

spider " yeah that is mom"

Quaritch " you love this place the same as she did she had said, she could spend all her life her and it seems like she will be"

Quaritch " she even made a new life here after the war and had you, kid and I'm happy for her"

spider " she is a good mom and kind hearted as well, she even made sure I had a good childhood and that no one blamed me for the actions of you"

Quaritch " yes I can see her doing that and I'm sorry for what I have, done in the past reflected on you"

spider " no one really blamed me that much as they saw me as her son, more then you even due she went if the name you picked for me"

Quaritch " hey when we married I said I wanted one kid named after me, so that how you got your name junior"

spider " nope no junior I'm spider I love that name"

Quaritch " fine I will call your spider but others will call you junior"

spider " yes sir do whatever makes you happy colonel"

quaritch " you are definitely your mother son she gave me the same attitude, you were giving me when she was mad or we fought she walked away"

spider " I heard she always won those fights"

Quaritch " she did all of them even when I didn't tell her she won, she won in the end" spider had laugh at quarich words getting a smile from quaritch.

spider " you know there no one new in her life she never remarried, she still has her wedding ring on her song chord"

Quaritch " what do you think that means"

spider " I think she still cares about you sir but I don't fully know yet"

Quaritch " well maybe this chance will give a better start with your mom"

spider " you can try but mess up I feed you to Thanator" some chuckles had been heard from the others, who had been listening to the whole conversation.

spider ' same goes for you all as well so you all can go down as team"

Quaritch " I will remember that young man"

spider " good starting tomorrow we start with training I will help you all learn the ways of the navi, so you are all not walking around here like babies and promise to my mama as well"

quaritch " thank you

spider " your welcome well I'm off to bed see you around old man" spider soon left quairtch alone as he sat there, he is dealing with other version of you.

lyle " so pops what are we going to do"

Quaritch " hush lyle I trying to bond with my son and wife"

lyle " I hope she does wake up some day the kid needs, her it seems like many people need her back in their lives"

Quaritch " yes she does"

other base

norm " how are we going to break this news to her when she wake up"

Jake " we will tell her in time but right now we need to be easy, about the new it could shock her"

max " Jake is right if we tell her right away it can be bad"

????? " what is going on" everyone soon looked at you and saw that you had finally woke up, that when they realized you are back with them and that they will need to share the news with you.

y/n " wait where are we and where is spider ... where is my son"

Jake " y/n you need to clam down as I share this news with you" Jake had soon looked at you as you laid back, as they had told you what had happened. Soon there was only one thing on your mind to get your son back and speak with these recoms. Once you get back your son everything will be okay once again.

[batchilla]

Fata Morgana Chapter Two - A Dance Earned

Content warnings of violence, death, and outdated views on women.

Sweat drips down Jason's nose, and his breathing is laboured. He cannot wipe it away, not without lifting the faceguard of his helmet. So, he lives with the discomfort, the sting of sweat in his eyes, the stink of it within his metal suit. His arms, one holding his sword, the other bearing a shield strapped to his forearm, ache. His head is pounding. His heart feels as if it may explode with how fast it beats.

He adjusts the grip of his sword to refocus himself. In the edge of his vision, tied to its hilt, the princess ribbon flutters gently in the breeze.

Centred, and reminded of his reasons, Jason levels his sword, and charges to meet his opponent.

The man’s name escaped him - it had been a long day. However his green heraldry told Jason the man likely serves the Queen family. Formidable archers were plentiful in their barracks. It was likely the bow he held had carried him to the final round more than the shortsword at his side. So, Jason would make it his priority to close distance, to force him to rely on melee skill.

He strikes out, his sword colliding with the breastplate of the other, trying to unbalance him, sending a loud clang of metal on metal, almost lost in the cheers of the crowd.

His opponent hurriedly drops the bow, draws his sword and hits back, making Jason grunt as he feels the opponent's sword collide with his dominant arm.

Jason isn’t so easily distracted though, he had fought far too many more deadly foes to drop his blade or allow pain to distract him in the heat of battle. He takes his shield, slamming it into his opponent's chest, sending the man colliding with the ground.

His victory is swift and definitive over the green clad man. In a real battle, he would have ended the lesser warrior with ease. It would be so easy. Something in his blood urges him to do it. A ruthless instinct that had kept him alive thus far. He puts the point of his blade to the defeated’s throat.

The roar of the crowd fades out. Morphs and twists into the screams of battle. Of that battle. Of the fields of Arkham. His grip tightens on his sword, and he looks down, not at the Starling knight, but at the face of a boy. He holds a pike, and wears leather armour that will do little to save him - that will not save him - that didn’t save him as Jason plunges his sword into his heart. He hears the boy cry, not a scream, a whimper. The last, trembling word that leaves his lips as he dies is a call for his mother. He looks up, to a field of bodies. A battle won at last, an enemy army slain… The field of battle soaked in blood, the smell of death mingling with the ocean air. And in this moment he knows himself a monster.

Reality fades back in, and Jason is not looking at the seaside battleground of Arkham, but looking up at the royal box. At her. At his Princess. The princess, he reminds himself - not his.

She looks … beautiful. She always does, in his humble opinion. Today, however, he feels his breath catch at the mere sight of her.

She’s worn red. But not just any red, his red. The same velvet fabric as the ribbon tied to his sword - surely something she had done deliberately. She had planned this for him. He gulps, grateful that no one can see his expression due to his faceguard.

Her gaze trails down to his opponent, still laid on the dust. Yes. Right. The other knight.

“Yield.” Jason demands, his arm flexing as he ever so slightly presses the sword in further to make his point.

“I yield.” The other man says, a little too quickly. Jason sheaths his blade, and offers a hand to bring the man to his feet.

Jason takes a deep breath as he removes his helm, and locks eyes with her.

You are going to die.

It should be illegal, frankly, for Captain Todd-Wayne to look like that.

He offers his hand to his defeated opponent, and you near swoon. To see such an honourable act after witnessing him put the realms warriors to shame all morning near stops your heart.

His hair is stuck to his face with sweat, his face flushed with the effort of the fight. His chest, you imagine, is heaving under his plate. Mentally, you imagine that paired with his half tied shirt from the night before, and are forced to pull out your fan to cool your face.

Your lady in waiting, Lady Stephanie Brown, leans down to whisper in your ear over your shoulder. “Are you quite well, M’lady?”

“Hm? Ah. Yes. It is simply… the heat.”

“But of course.” She replies, in a tone that from anyone who wasn’t a dear, dear, friend, would have you asking if they were daring to imply your dishonesty.

“You there!” She calls to a servant “fetch the princesses parasol!”

Then, turning back to you, she whispers once more “The heat?”

She echos playfully. You swat her arm.

“Hush.” You chide, and in response she wiggles her eyebrows.

You watch Jason leaving the arena, watch him splash a ladle of water over his head from a nearby barrel, and doff his gauntlets to take from an adjudicator a plush pillow, on which rests the crown of roses.

You smooth your skirt and carefully arrange yourself to appear adequately surprised when he approaches. Certainly you knew that as much as your heart was his, that crown was yours - but it would not do well to be too obviously aware of his affections, nor display your own.

Sure enough, you watch as he approaches, bowing deeply to your Father, your Mother, your younger brother, and finally, you.

Jason lifts out of his bow, meeting her eyes and trying not to appear as nervous as he felt.

He knew, of course she would not deny him.

It was testament to her charity that she indulged his annual request, similar to giving alms. A single moment where he could pretend he stood a chance at being anything more than her guard dog.

He knows that should you not wish to allow him this, you would not have given him a favour. Still, his hands, hands that have ended countless lives, calloused and rough from a life of hard, violent labour in her fathers name, but for her sake, shake slightly as he takes the crown in hand.

“Your royal highness.” He holds the crown out, and she bows her head obligingly.

Jason places the roses among her locks, trying not to linger on the sensation of her hair under his fingers. She looks up at him, her eyes wide and so filled with…

Love. His soul whispers. Wishful thinking, he knows. Affection, perhaps. Fondness, even. But it would be prideful to the point of insanity to think she loved him. Certainly she looked at him as if she did… but it could not be. Surely.

He steps back, taking her in the sight of her in his crown, knowing that for a few minutes that evening, he would get to hold her in his arms.

The dress you’d laid out on the chaise for the ball tonight lays forgotten. Not Jason’s red - it would be too overt to wear such a colour twice in such swift succession. So, something close, but something that inspired innocence and femininity. You had risked much in sneaking away from the palace to his tent, much more in wearing his colours. Tonight, you must be the picture of what your father wished of you. Mindful, Demure, even.

You pace the length of your rooms as the sun sets, running a hand down your face in distress.

“And you are quite certain?” You ask, turning to Stephanie, who stands beside the gold coated four poster bed you’ve slept in since childhood.

“Do you think I would tell you this if I had doubts?” She counters, shaking her head. “My source is good. Your father has been made a… rather generous offer by the Earl Sionis in exchange for your hand. A significant portion of fertile farming land.”

You nod. You had always known it would be your fate to form a political alliance, since the birth of your brother had taken the kingdom from your grasp. You were not even particularly opposed. Many such marriages were tolerable, and realistically once your husband had his son, you would only need to see him on formal occasions, and enjoy a life free of strife and hard labour.

But Earl Sionis? You had heard nothing credible of course, at least to the courts. Only rumours. Only the claims of his survivors, few as they were. Chief amongst them, in your mind, being Stephanie. You knew not exactly what he had done. But mention of his name filled your closest friend with fear and that was enough for you to think the lowest of him despite being unintroduced.

Still, you understood at least the political mechanics of how the match came to be. In the divying of the spoils of Arkham the Sionis line had been richly rewarded. Rewards that may well have been due to Captain Todd-Wayne, had he not been thought dead. Between the peasants, lands, and spoils he had taken, the Earl would have resources enough to make your father amenable to the match.

You sigh, your shoulders falling in defeat, in helplessness. You feel Stephanie move closer, and her arms wrapping you up in a hug. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

She whispers in your ear as you allow yourself to rest your head on her shoulder, and take a deep, shaken breath to fight tears. It would not do well to be seen to have been crying, especially if you could not explain how you had come to know of your inevitable engagement. You take a hankie from your pocket and dab at your eyes.

“Fret not. I… I will be safe while my father lives. He will not risk the Kings ire. I have till his death to endear myself to him.” Your lie tastes of ash on your tongue. But Stephanie seems cautiously comforted by your words. You were, after all, a talented liar. You may well have been a talented mistress of whispers in another life.

This is not that life though, and rather than a mistress of whispers, you are a princess. A helpless, beautiful flower blown by the winds of fate. You are not a talented spy. You are property of the realm. Privileged and pampered property, though property all the same.

You take another, deeper breath and withdraw from Stephanie’s arms. “Well. I have a ball to prepare for and I daren’t be late. I presume the Earl is in attendance this eve?”

“He is.” she confirms, as you ring a bell to summon your handmaidens to help you dress.

“Well then, we must make an impression.”

You did wish to dazzle, of course, but not your potential husband. If this was your last chance to dance publicly with Captain Todd-Wayne? You intended to look your very best.

Jason was not a scared child. He was a seasoned warrior. He was not skulking. He was simply scouting the ballroom's perimeter. The rooms' grandeur, while beautiful, lead to many nooks and crannies for an assassin to take refuge in. He was most certainly not hiding from his adoptive father.

Take for instance the pillar he stood behind. 12 of them lined the walls of the ballroom, made of marble and polished till they shone. Anyone could be using them as cover. The polished tiles with their elaborate design and the way they made voices and footsteps echo and carry to create the most lively atmosphere could conceal whispered threats in their manufactured noise.

Technically he had the evening off. Though when it came to her safety, he refused to let the matter fall into another’s hands. Especially after West’s embarrassment last night, letting her escape. Honestly, she had never tried to flee his company, and couldn’t understand why his brothers in arms struggled so much in containing her.

She was a menace, more often than not. Take last night. He was a man of honour, or at least he would always portray himself as one in the presence of a lady. Perhaps a little less than honourable was that he had given the minstrials a heavy coinpurse to ensure the song that opened the ball was a long one. No harm was caused by his deception, but he felt a treacherous liar all the same.

He reluctantly steps out from behind the pillar, before anyone could dare to accuse him of anything so childish as avoiding the Duke. Besides, the royal family would soon be announced. Traditionally, she would enter with them, but as the crown of roses was hers, she would enter after, as tradition dictated.

Sure enough, The King, Queen, and the young Prince enter, and as he often does, Jason’s eyes rake the crowd, looking for any sign of an unordinary reaction from the gathered peerage. True he bore the King no particular fondness, but a threat to her family was a threat to her.

Jason observes the Earl, Roman Sionis, who uplifts his glass to the King in a smug gesture. It … was no crime. Nothing he did in public was. Nevertheless, it set his bones on edge. He didn’t care for the look in the Earl’s eyes. Then again, something about Roman Sionins had filled him, since his return, with great unease. Nothing the man had done seemed to earn this, beyond the many rumours… what Jason felt was more visceral. But a feeling alone is hardly grounds for an accusation if he did not have a crime.

But then, with an eruption of trumpets, your name is announced. Like a doomed sailor, Jason turns to her. She is his gravity. She is … his everything. She looks radiant. Her dress is a soft pink, like a sunrise, with white underskirts that shimmer ever so slightly as if made of woven starlight. She has worn the rose crown, and jewels fine enough to likely feed half the country for a week.

He moves towards her, A moth to a flame, he cannot look away as he extends a hand. She takes it, and Jason kisses the back of her hand, momentarily despising whichever handmaiden had put her gloves on this eve. “My lady.”

He whispers against the fabric of the glove. He rarely said it. Only when he forgot himself.

She smiles at him, and Jason … can’t help but to notice it doesn’t seem sincere. Well. Her performance of affection had been impressive thus far - he could hardly fault her if her facade wavered.

The nobility move back, clearing the dance floor as Jason leads her to its centre. He places a hand on his waist, the other behind his back. She places a hand on his right epaulette. She stands a slight distance from him, and Jason ignores the desire to pull her closer, flush against his starched black military uniform with it’s red sash and the array of medals pinned to his chest.

Jason guides you by your waist in a series of slow, sweeping circles, before taking your hand and spinning you, first away and then close. You have to stop yourself from colliding with him as you are pulled back by placing a hand on his chest. You feel him tense, which, unlike plate might, allows you to feel the raw strength he possesses. You breathe deeply. Now is not the time for depraved thoughts.

“You fought well today.” You whisper to him he takes your hand from his chest with the one that had been behind his back, lacing your fingers together as you move into a more traditional waltz around the room.

He shakes his head in self deprecation “I was… motivated, my lady.”

You try to fight your smile and your sorrow, which work in a strange dance of their own.

“I am only sorry that this shall be our last.”

Because it would be. While Captain Todd-Wayne was of high enough rank and respectable enough standing he could petition a space on your dance card at many a ball, he did not. Would not. For reasons unknown to you, despite your brazen affection for him, and his for you, you had danced only those four Fata Morganas. And now that was all there would be.

“What?” He asks, his voice pitching higher than you’d previously heard it. It was a risk to tell him, but you trusted in his ability to be discreet. He deserved to know, you figured, that this was in many ways goodbye.

“I suspect myself soon to be wed.” You admit, fighting to keep your voice appropriately light. You needn’t concern him with the worst of the news yet, needn’t ruin the night utterly. You feel his grip on you tighten, and see his expression become mournful.

“Well.” He says, his voice tight and forced.

“I suppose it was a day always on the horizon, Congratulations my- Your Royal Highness.”

You hear the music end, but can’t quite bring yourself to step away from him. Can’t look away from his eyes, the bluest, most beautiful in all the land, you were sure. Neither of you move as you look at each other, as you squeeze his hand back, and fight the desire to tell him you love him before the chance is lost to you forever.

You hesitate too long. Perhaps you will always regret it.

An imposing, stately man approaches. You have never met him, of course, but you know him at once. From his suit so fine it borders on the garish, to the smug and self confident smile on his face. Earl Sionis bows to you, seeming to ignore the Captain entirely.

He speaks your name in a manner far too familiar. He smiles, and speaks with the charm of a cat toying with a half dead mouse. “My Lady, your beauty was not exaggerated in the tales that reached me. Might I have the honour of your hand… For the next dance?”

The deliberate pause is not lost on you, though you pretend it is. He is goading his perceived rival, you figure.

A ridiculous notion. There is no rivalry. Captain Todd-Wayne… Jason, would win the contest for your heart with laughable ease.

But you are petals in the whirlwind of fate, and so you smile, and say you’d be delighted. You do not look back at Jason… Captain Todd-Wayne. It would surely kill you.

[wonysugar]

hate rodrigo (literally) | aeri uchinaga

a/n: this is not even a fic this is a tiny little one shot that i wrote yesterday night AT LIKE TWO AM due to thoughts we had in a discord server ahem anyways I FELL ASLEEP THO. soo have this now!!

genre : really bad crack smut like i genuinely have no idea how to describe this

word count : like 600 something?

tags : one shot, smut (obvs), crack, ptv mention, falling in reverse mention, olivia Rodrigo mention, mcr mention, taylor swift mention (sorry @pupyuj)

pairing : angsty!giselle x whitegirlmusic!femreader (I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO LABEL THISSFJEKF)

your music taste wasn’t something you particularly shared with people, but you didn’t hide it, either. to you, it was music, nothing more, nothing less.

however, one of your friends, aeri, took music very, very seriously, and it really showed. she had a certain aesthetic, she wore certain things and god, did she listen to certain music.

“no like i genuinely can’t grasp the fact that you unironically listen to olivia rodrigo?” she laughed, leaning back on her bed as you stared at her in disbelief.

“god aeri, some of her songs are good, you just haven’t tried them.” you snapped back, wearing a convinced smile as you proceed to jokingly hit her arm.

“okay, sure, whatever. but just imagine getting to know someone, going on dates with them, all the sha-bang. then, when it’s time to get down and freaky, they turn on their sex playlist and motherfucking driver’s license starts playing??”

she was basically cackling at that point and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. defending your cause seemed like it would’ve been difficult, with how far up her own ass she was.

“yeah, because that isn’t a sex song? olivia rodrigo doesn’t make fucking sex music?? try putting a falling in reverse song while you get naked, see how that works out for you.” you fight back.

“oh i don’t know about you, but i’d be soaked for sure. plus, anything would be better than hearing young adult women sing about their previous relationship like it was a war they fought in.” she kid, crossing her arms in victory, as if she even won the argument in the first place.

“i’m gonna make you swallow those words right back up, uchinaga.”

“try me, l/n.”

-

“f-fuck y/n, go- mmh- slower..”

so, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way!

it originally was just the both of you, taking turns and putting different songs on the bluetooth speaker and rating them based on ‘how wet it got you’.

turns out, while that was a theory stage, there seemed to be a practice one too, and you’ve been in it for the past 10 minutes now.

thrusting your fake cock in and out of her, paying no mind to the very loud, very obnoxious pierce the veil song that was playing in the background, you pinned her hands above her head. your pace increased with time, and the decibels of her voice increased with the pace.

“oh my god y/n pleasepleasepleasepleasee i’m s-so sorry i- fuck me- i didn’t mean-“ she cried, poor thing probably didn’t even realize that her black eyeliner was running all over her cheeks. her arms and legs wrapped around you,

“shut your fucking mouth and take it, you emo fucking cumslut.” you slammed your strap into her as she yelled out your name. while she was pleading and begging for something, you were on top of her perfect laying-in-mcr-bedsheets body.

she, herself, wasn’t aware of what she was begging for, her mind was completely blank. all she could think about was how good her pussy felt when you pounded it so violently, when you were being so aggressive with her that you just used her body however you wanted.

you thought that whole thing would be a one-time occurrence, but no, it happened a second time, when she said that taylor swift had mid music. was she doing it on purpose or something?

anyways,

yes, you fucked her with the 1989 album playing.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Both Aegon and Aemond had to deal with a lot of negative feelings and trauma since their childhood years.

They suffered the neglect and indifference of their father combined with his clear favoritism towards Rhaenyra; on top of that Aegon was being crushed by the enormous weight of being the firstborn son and, as far as his mother and grandfather were concerned, an heir to the throne (the title that would be contested and that he would have to defend), and Aemond, already a second born, had to learn to live with partial disability that should have drastically decreased his chances to gain power and true respect (for physiological and psychological reasons alike).

Aegon, at least since his early teens, was drowning his pain and inner turmoil in alcohol (as well as in promiscuous sex). He desperately sought to silence the voice of his hurting soul with the cacophony of pleasures of the flesh.

And, as it is illustrated in this post by @very-straight-blog, it`s really been going on for years. But where teenage Aegon`s face was contorted with some kind of disgust (either at the taste of wine or at the feelings he tried to quench - probably both), older Aegon gulps cup after cup without flinching. He needs more and more women, alcohol, probably even drugs to make his pain go away, even for a time - but it always comes back in the end. And yet that doesn`t stop Aegon from going down the path of self-destruction.

Just before the last supper with Viserys starts, Aegon has a conversation with his brother where he counters Aemond`s accusations of 'drinking more than a Braavosi sealord' with "I drink just the right amount". Just the right amount for his hurt to let him breathe, to just forget.

During this exchange Aegon also points out that Aemond 'does not drink enough'. It is not phrased as a question but in a way it is one: why do you not step away from all this? Why do you insist on keeping dealing with it? Does it not hurt? I know it does. Why do you not try to numb the pain?

The thing is, Aemond deals with his suffering in a different manner. He doesn`t want to forget. He doesn`t try to make the pain go away. Instead he embraces it and fights through it, with precision and relentlessness he can`t allow himself to let go of - otherwise the pain will become meaningless.

Aemond found his solace in constantly proving - to himself and everyone else - that he is worthy: fierce, brave, knowledgeable. Unbeatable. He was being looked down upon for quite some time, but it won`t happen again. He was hurt and humiliated, but it won`t happen again. Aemond`s life has become a never-ending battle fought with weapons of his choice. Even the cup of wine feels like a sword being drawn.

He will always remember the pain - to never let it get close again.

@dr-aegon that`s what I was talking about the other day😉