#also so much misogny

[teddybearsandlightningstorms]

reading academic papers about queer history really shows that some stupid discourse cycles around

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[hasellia]

My main thought watching the hbomberguy plagiarism video.

Original art by @ajthebumblebee ; https://www.tumblr.com/ajthebumblebee/709893248470106112/this-seems-to-be-what-ive-learned

[limulusamebocytelysate]

Rereading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell the book and it is literally victorian class dynamics that proves their undoing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also I was entirely correct about Drawlight - he's described as looking like an off-brand Lord Byron which the TV version definitely isn't. They also did Flora Greysteel dirty - she's tons more sensible than they made her out to be.

The TV series also portrayed Strange as a lot better than he actually was - he's not really a wife guy. Norrell's mostly right but not quite.

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Definite ignorance of female characters or deliberate vilification of them in favor of male characters and m/m ships

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

I will say, however, the treatment of female characters in this fandom specifically, at this point in time, is far *far* better than it was back in the day. Does that soften anything? No; there's still more work to do. But trust me when I say it used to be so much worse. And I'm sure you hear that all the time, but it *really* used to be *so much worse*.

[holydramon]

saki has officially digimon died :(

[saintjosie]

a couple months ago, i took a bit of a risk and played a show opening for a friend’s band, in a small city in a very conservative state in the south. my friend warned me that they didn’t know anything about the venue or the kind of people that would be there but i said fuck it and did it anyways.

so there i am, my extremely transgender self, standing in front of about 30 middle-class-brewery-bougie people, singing extremely transgender songs about religious trauma, trans joy, and self love, making a room full of people who had no idea who i am, empathize with my story, cry, and celebrate trans joy.

and during the show, i of course thank my incredible girlfriend for supporting me on my journey and helping me love myself. this is very important and very relevant to this story.

after im done, im thinking, fuck yeah this is awesome, i can’t believe that these very cis het people resonated with my music so much

when this older woman and her husband comes up to me and tells me how much they enjoyed hearing my story.

and then tell me that she is THE PASTORS WIFE AND HE’S THE HEAD PASTOR.

and THEN they tell me that their son is playing in the headlining band, and i realize that most of the people in the room are people FROM THAT CHURCH and i just sang my very transgender and anti-religious music to a room full of weirdly supportive christians.

and then they all proceed to tell me how much they enjoyed my music and then also tell me how awesome it is that my “friend” is so supportive and came to the show, when i literally said during the show that she’s my girlfriend.

you’ve heard of trans inclusive radical misogny, now introducing trans inclusive homophobia?

9/10 show, would not attempt again.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

A little wicked (Dark! Aemond x reader/rhaenyras daughter) really dark aemond. 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader x Aegon

Tags: Showsetting, au MAJOR SEASON 2 SPOILERS

🔷Summary: After your husband dies, his brother claims his throne and also you.

🔷Author's note: Dark. I don't throw that label around lightly. you know the drill, dead dove? do not eat.

🔷Wordcount :4939

🔷Warnings: Smut, p in v, mention of loss of virginty, dubcon loss, death, misgony, misogny- aemond hates rhaerhae. Dark aemond, gore, blood.

You await your husband’s arrival, back from the battlefield. Today is the Battle of Rook’s rest. A battle that would go down in the History books of Westeros, Essos, all realms that ever were or will be. Unaware to you, of course. You are miles away from the battlefield, preparing for the return of your beloved husband, King Aegon II Targaryen.

You have prayed, for the first time in years, actually. Your mother didn’t believe much in prayer, more in action. You think her relationship with Alicent Hightower forever caused a deep religious wound. Religion is something that reminds your mother too much of her lost friend. So therefore, it wasn’t important in your upbringing. 

Soon, you’ll be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and finally take your rightful place beside Aegon. You have the foolish hope that you, as Rhaenyra's daughter, maybe can mend the wound. Maybe your mother can be swayed to bend the knee, to give up her claim to the throne. If only it was that simple.

You await news. Any news. At first you are positive that Aegon has made it back unaltered. He has to. He is the king, the fierce warrior you know and while he is nowhere as good as Aemond, he has more experience than those Rook Rest soldiers. It has to be enough. He has to be enough.

However, as minutes turn into hours, and the sun and the moon dance and circle one another in the sky, you become immensely worried about the fate of your loved one. You are thankful for when the doors of the throne room are pushed open and Prince Aemond enters, at long last.

Recently, the young Prince switched from dark black leather to green dark leather, to fully show his support for his family. You remind yourself you are a hostage to these people, stolen. The corners of the prince’s lips lift mere inches, as if smiling. Yet he quickly brushes that away, as if he cannot be seen that way.

Cole follows, his face sorrowful and full of pain. The sort of pain you see on a father’s face when he loses a son. You feel your smile die as the world seems to slow down, to fade, and to darken instantly. Cole steps forward. 

Aemond walks to you. Your feet rush, but your legs are frozen, causing you to stumble and to almost fall flat on your face. Aemond pretends to walk to you, but instead walks past you, to the big Iron throne that looms over you as a dark curse. 

You watch in silence as he sits down, confirming your worst fears. You hear yourself gulp, as tears stream down your face. Your Aegon is no longer alive. King Aemond now sits the throne, and he sits it as if it took him too long to begin with. He smiles down at you, mocking and almost patronizing. Cole speaks, as first. ‘’All hail his grace, King Aemond of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the Andels, and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm!’’ The words hit you like blows.

Aemond lifts his chin as all soldiers around you and all knights, servants, everyone with working legs falls down to their knees, respecting and vowing loyalty to their new monarch. Everyone but you, that is. Aemond waits quite a while before he tells everyone to raise again. Likely enjoying everyone on their knees for him, and him alone. As a cat toying with a mouse. 

After that the servants are rounded up, to be informed of the King’s fate. ‘’My dear people. It is with great sadness and immense pride, that I announce the death of my brother, King Aegon II. He shall be known to history as King Aegon the Brave, for he slew the traitor Princess Rhaenys. Had it not been for her treasonous acts on battlefield, our king would be alive today.’’ He waits a moment as gasps and relieved words cross the hall. ‘’It is with great pride that I shall now serve you as King, until my younger nephew, Prince Maelor comes of age. You may all now either bend the knee, or remain standing.’’ He gestures to the guards, and on his sign, they all draw their swords.  A clear choice.

You watch as the one after the other servant drops to their knees, swearing loyalty to the newly crowned King. After that is done they are all dismissed. ‘’Y/n. Please stay here.’’ The use of just your name makes your hair stand up. It is intimate, almost familiar.

You freeze.

Aemond finally rises from the throne, a smile on his lips. You wait and remain where you are. He does not beckon you closer, so you remain there. He walks closer to you until he is in front of you. He looks at your gown, taking in the details of the bodice. ‘’My condolences on the loss of your husband.’’ He whispers, gently. 

You blink back tears. ‘’Can I go home now? We must write to my mother that the war is over. She can come collect her throne.’’ You look over to the ugly iron thing. Aemond chuckles, adoring your naivety and your good righteous heart.

He even reaches out to touch your face, gently caressing it and wiping away a few tears with his thumb. He brings his thumb to his mouth, sucking on it, tasting your tears. You watch, speechless. He grins. ‘’My gentle hearted sweet girl.’’ It sounds like a compliment and also an insult. ‘’I have no intention to stop the war. Your mother will sit on that throne when your brother Lucerys finds his head again. You will leave her in a coffin or when I am dead.’’ You scoff, insulted and step away, ready to leave.

He grabs you firmly by your arms, dragging you closer. You are pinned against his front, where you can still see blood on his shirt. His smirk only grows as you lower your head, avoiding his eye. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him as you silently cry. ‘’I haven’t lost, you see. I have the crown, the throne, and you.’’ He does the unspeakable and leans in for a kiss, leaving a soft peck on your lips. He moans softly against your lips. ‘’My darling, my sweet precious thing.’’ He murmurs. 

You give him a weak push against his chest, barely moving him. But it gets the message across. Aegon is not even cold yet. “I’m your brother’s widow!’’ You yell in righteous fury.

He laughs at that, capturing you easily with your hands again, and you hate yourself that you like how warm and fast his hands act. ‘’That means nothing in our family. You are my captive, Lady Strong. Remember? From the moment I first captured you at Storm’s end, until your very last. You are meant to be mine, so you will be.’’ He promises you. He is calm and collected about it as if is stating a fact.

He reminds you of the day when this all started. You don’t want to think back of that day. You tell yourself it is because of Luc, who Aemond fed to his dragon. But it is because of Aegon. You miss Luc, of course, but that wound had time to heal. Aegon’s loss is so sudden and just as painful, but fresh. ‘’I am not yours, you monster!’’ You raise your hand, striking Aemond on his scarred cheek.

He finally acts, grabbing your hands tighter and dragging you close until your noses touch. He is trembling with fury and his one eye is full of hatred, lust, obsession and cold blooded plans. ‘’Striking your king, is a act of treason.’’ He chuckles. ‘’I am allowed to punish you. I could take your hand for this, little lady strong.’’ You huff.

You roll your eyes even. Aemond hates the silent treatment more than any insult you could have hurled at him. Instead of making it clear what he intends, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, marching you back to the empty throne.  You kick and slap his back, trying to break free of his iron grip. He places you in the hands of a nearby guard, who all have been silent on this treatment of their rightful princess. Aemond sits on the iron throne and what he does next shocks you.

He grabs you by your hips, bending you over both his knees, as if you don’t weigh anything. He pets your hair lovingly and even gives your shaking body a kiss. ‘’I do this because I love you. You are in luck. You will always be able to defy me.’’ He whispers. ‘’All men who do so will meet horrible ends that Maesters will write about for centuries, but you, my special girl, you will be able to defy, rebel and upset me.’’ He whispers. ‘’Because I enjoy punishing you. And I bet you enjoy being punished.’’ You feel his hands on your butt, as he starts finding the beginning of your gown. You hear the sound of fabric ripping, and panic, bolting on his lap. He simply holds you down tighter, smirking as you begin to whimper. He calmly hums and with one brutal movement, rips your skirts. You remain on his lap, vulnerable and in your small clothes. Aemond sits up straighter, as if he wants to fully take in this view. Embarrassed, you lower your head in his lap, allowing him to caress your hair once more. ‘’Such a beautiful girl. You were wasted on my brother.’’ He speaks. ‘’You belong with me. You always have.’’ He then turns to his guards. ‘’Leave me and the Princess. She will pledge her loyalty to me in a private event.’’ You whimper as you hear iron footsteps leave the room. 

When he is alone with you, he pulls your small clothes down fully, yanking them until your ankles, exposing you for all you are. It seems to awaken a certain hunger or desire in him, and he rips your corset and sleeves next. He fully admires your naked body, panting as he looks at you. He seems to calm down and finally he does what he promised. He hits you on your ass, spanking it harshly. You hiss in pain, in disbelief that he is subjecting you to this. ‘’Aemond, stop this.’’ You beg.

‘’You have no right.’’

He scoffs. ‘’I have every right. I am the King now. You were naughty, today. I don’t like naughty girls. Well, not as much as I like a good girl.’’ He says, talking to you as if you are a stupid little girl. Fresh tears fall. ‘’I like naughty good girls, who know what they want. But you aren’t there yet. You aren’t broken enough yet.’’ He says, joyfully as he spanks you. You give soft whimpers.

The spankings only become harsh when you remain silent, so you fake moans and whimpers to please Aemond’s dark desires. He sometimes groans too, as he sees how much damage your body is taking thanks to him, and how you take it.

“Aegon told me something before he died. He told me he never consummated the marriage. Is that true?” You wonder why Aegon told him that. 

But it is the truth. You nod. “He knew when we first were forced to lay together I didn't want it.” 

Aemond only chuckles to that comment, dealing another hurtful smack, almost as if to punish you for still loving his brother. “He raped plenty of women. I suppose you weren't special enough to make the effort.”

“Aegon loved me.” You argue, and you regret it the moment you’ve said it. Because Aemond slaps so hard that your flesh burns.

He groans now not of arousal but of pure hatred. “He didn't.”

“There's one man for you in this entire world.” You huff at his words. 

You are grabbed by the throat, lifted from his lap and forced to stand as he chokes you. You are choked, tears stinging your eyes as he looks at you with the crown slightly slipping from his hairs and his one eye bigger than usual, focused on you, the object of his obsession. You fight for control but lose the fight. “It is me.” He reveals.

“No,’ You croak out weakly. “I can't. You killed my brother-”

He sighs, almost enjoying the view. His cold fingers finger one of your nipples, enjoying the reaction your body gives by hardening for him. He chuckles.  “Such a beauty. Now. Defy me again.” You shake your head. He sighs, putting you over his knee again. You whimper against the cruel treatment, feeling the spot he struck. Aemond smirks, challenging you to speak out again. “I ought to keep you around like this. Just as the gods intended you to be. Pure, naked, unspoiled…” He feels the skin he struck. And you feel yourself clench your cunt, ignoring the waterfall he caused down there with all cost. It is true, Aemond is a handsome man. But this is wrong, isn’t it?

“May I please dress?” You ask, wiggling on his lap, enjoying when his thigh briefly rubs your cunt. That hits the spot.

The King laughs. “Such an obedient girl for asking me first.”

“The answer is no, however. You struck me, remember? That is treason.” You are embarrassed to speak. He laughs at that, rubbing your legs, drawing circles and kissing your skin. You ignore the butterflies. You can’t.

‘’Stand.’’ He barks suddenly. You obey, standing on your shaking legs, exposing yourself now fully to him. He leans back in the throne, grinning brightly as he takes in your body, toe to head. ‘’You can defy me as many times as you like. I will gladly put you on my lap and spank you.’’ He whispers. ‘’But if you say something regarding the whore that mothered you, I’m afraid we must do a different type of punishment. Am I clear?’’ You nod, hating how frightened you are.

He softens his face. He beckons you closer. You come closer until you stand in front of throne, your cunt barely touching the iron. ‘’I wish to feel your wares. I must see myself, If you and Aegon kept your word.’’ Without a warning, his fingers sink inside your wetness, inspecting you as you stand on your legs, almost falling over.

‘’Please, make me sit.’’ You beg.

He grins, forcing his finger to go deeper, penetrating you at the right speed. “No, you'll stand, tall and proud. I bet this is just what a dirty bastard like yourself likes. ‘’ It takes a while but sadly, he discovers what is happening. ‘’Oh, just as I suspected. A wet, warm and wonderful little place for my seed to crawl inside of.” You wail at those words, aroused as he fucks slowly, taunting you with his fingers.

“Stop talking as if we are going to -”  Your talking is interrupted by a smack on your cunt by his free haunt, causing you to cry out in pain and anticipation.

He glares at you, shaking you as if you aren’t awake yet.

“As if? You think I'd kept you as a pretty cup bearer or something? I plan to make good use of you. Every hole is stuffed, until you can't even crawl forward.” He promises. 

“What if I will have a child?” you whisper. ‘’That would complicate your status.’’ 

He sees that differently, mad with lust and obsession.

“That is part of the fantasy. Breeding you makes me happy. Seeing your belly swell makes me happy. You know why?” He asks, softly patting your belly. You shake your head.

“No.”

He leans in, gesturing vaguely down to his legs.

“It proves my seed is strong, powerful and well. It proves I have the power to make you, a stunning powerful princess to a good for nothing whore, carrying a bastard inside of her womb.” You sniffle, hurt and insulted.  “Judging your wet and warm cunt, you have been thinking about me too. Why don't you admit that you want this?”

“Because I loved him. I loved Aegon. That means something to me.” 

Aemond growls. “Shame he didn't love you. You know it deep down. He didn't mention you at all when he died-” You push him off you, taking off to the doors, not caring he ripped your gown or your poking breasts begging for touch.

“Where do you think you'll be going?”  He demands, his voice booming.

You raise your head as much as a princess and dignity as you can. “To my quarters until you decide to trade me for peace.”

“Peace?” He laughs. Then that laugh dies. “Peace!’ It scares you how quickly it became an almost command. “You have exactly 3 seconds to get over here and to kneel at my feet and to beg me for forgiveness-” You don’t let him finish and take off running. But he is faster. 

He simply drags you back by your hair, giving your behind hurtful smacks as he drags you to the throne. ‘’Ungrateful bastard. I can make you my queen.’’ He growls. ‘’Why won’t you accept that you want this? Look how wet you are for me.’’ He thinks as you remain at his feet, sitting there as a dog. ‘’I know something. We must train you, to ensure you are a proper pet.’’ He grins. One of the servants is allowed in, to bring Aemond a piece of rope.

You are worried he is going to tie your hands. But his plans are far worse. He ties the end around your neck, and holds it, as a leash. “Such a stubborn girl.” He chuckles. ‘’Now if you try to run, you’ll feel it.’’

“Please untie my neck.” You whisper, softly.

“Why? You can't behave, clearly. I must make the rules clear somehow.”

He has gone insane.

“Untie my neck, I'm worried I'll choke.” 

“You know, when the right person is doing it, choking, taking control of another person's breath, nay, life, can feel…amazing.”

In response you spit at him.

“Spitting at me, you are a vile dirty minded thing, are you not? I bet you just ache for someone to pin you down against the floor and to have his wicked way with you. Don't you, bastard?” He growls, handling you.

“I want Aegon…” You whisper, half a beg and half a prayer.

He almost slams your head against the throne in pure rage. You can tell he is close to losing it. “Why? Why do you want that disgusting raper. You have me. You have all you will ever need.” He says. Then he sniffs your breasts, his long nose and hair disappearing between your breasts.  “Fuck, you smell so good. So inviting. I can smell that needy cunny of yours.”

He stands up, keeping the leash in his dominate hand. ‘’I bet if I took my cock out you’d be fucking it before I could even ask you to.’’ He grins. ‘’You are your mother’s daughter after all.’’ To prove his point he lowers his trousers, revealing his manhood to you.

You are caught off guard. You never saw one before and it looks so strange yet familiar. “Look down.” He pushes your head down so you can properly. 

It is red and swollen and evil in all ways. You try to glance at Aemond but your eyes are almost glued to his manhood. He snickers amused at your virginal response. “You'd like to feel this down your legs, little bastard?” He asks, and you are shocked when his fingers find your entrance once more, and now your soaked little cunt can’t even handle this. You moan, crying of shame and desire.

Aemond grins, taking it as a sign of encouragement. 

“Get on your knees.” you obey, eying his cock. You wonder if it’ll hurt. But part of you wants to just feel good and happy for a moment.  “On all fours.” He adds, groaning in frustration.

“What is expected of me?” You whisper soft as you kneel for him in the throne room. Aemond finally leaves his throne, so he may join you.

Silence. “I can't…I'm a princess. My virtue is everything to me-”

He laughs. “I can't wait to fuck you, so you for once and for all will shut up about your prestige and your privileges. You will learn, my sweet that I decide what your worth is now. Now, I am going to ask.”

You shake as his fingers brutally Bury themselves in your untouched tight cunt. “Do you want me to be the bad man today, little Maella? Do you wish to get your cunny raided by me, here, in the throne room, on your knees, as a little dirty harlot?’ You fall to your knees, crying out as the penetrating reaches a hight, as does your pleasure. You touched yourself but never like this. Not like he does. And his dirty naughty talk..

“Do you want to feel my cock take root and to feel me penetrate away at your innocent soft rings as they wrap and tighten around my cock as I take you on the stones, your knees bloody and your vision blurry as I bring you close?’

“Do you want that?”

You begin to doubt and he knows it. So he softens his voice, for show. “It can feel so good, Maella. You know I've won. You know it. You are already naked. You are already kneeling. All I need to do is put my cock……” He parts your legs. He rubs your needy cunt causing friction as you frustrated cry out. “here…’’

You nod pleasure winning. ‘Yes.’’ You say, consenting at last. He does not need long. He drags his finger nails in your hips, bringing you closer to his front. He sits on both his knees, as he slams inside of you, fucking you with a brutal war cry. You gasp as the cock pierces through your maidenhood, ruining you for any other man. Aemond groans in delight at your gasps, fucking you harder for every bit of sound you make.

“Oh, you're deep…” you mutter, a bit foolish.

He chuckles. “You'll handle me just fine. Any woman is a bit as a frightened stag, wishing to bolt off when a man climbs her. It is his task to smooth her back into submission so the ride may be…pleasant.” You wonder if he enjoys it the way you do. But when you hear his grunts and moans you know he does.

“Just as much of a slut as your mother.” He whispers and quickly gives you a kiss to avoid your anger. “Taking it all so well. You're a natural love.”

The fucking reaches a height your innocent body cannot handle, as Aemond comes closer to, and the fucking becomes violent, with him choking you as well now. “Meant and made to be on your knees, cock deep inside of your cunt and getting fucked until you can't crawl out of your bed tomorrow.” You gasp, your cries and soft moans filling the throne room, high on pleasure. “Agree.” He hisses, suddenly. For someone who claims not the care about others, he sure seeks a lot of approval.

You know you must obey. You know it deep down. So you swallow your pride. “Y-yes Aemond.” You say, obediently.

He spits at that idea. “You will call me King Aemond or your Grace.’’ He smacks your ass, sinking a finger deep there too. You buck your hips to him, eager for more.

You need to feel good, more than anything, you need to feel alive. ‘’Aemond, your grace, please..”

That pleases him greatly. “So fast, little girl? This is just the tip of the mountain, dear. There is so much more for you left.” He promises, planting dark desires in your head.

“There is?”

He nods. “Hmm,” He smacks your butt in a playful manner.  “This is fun, but this is not the way a baby is made. I must stuff you properly for that. And there's your face…” You turn to face him, cock slightly sliding out of you in the process.

“What of it?” You ask, worried there is something stuck between your teeth.

You aren’t prepared for the answer. “It looks so clean. A nice, white and shimmering substance would look amazing on it. Something like my cum?”

“O, I don't know…” you stutter, foolishly.

You do know. But you won’t tell him that. “That is the beauty of your new life. You no longer need to know. I do. I'd love to see your cunt, breasts, belly, cheeks, chin, butt and hole covered in my cum.” He confesses. It is taking so long.

So you buck your hips to his front, hoping he mounts you soon once more. Aemond merely watches, grinning. “Taking me now, aren't we?”

“I do what you want. Just…give me…” You are at the breaking point. You are close. 

Aemond slams inside of you, fucking you up and down the tiles as you scream it out in pleasure and he hisses, likely near too. “This?”

You roar in approval as pleasure explodes and you cry out in a soft voice. Aemond can be heard chuckling. “That's it, beauty. You keep being good, and I'll give you that and more.”

“Please, my King…” you whimper. “I can't…I can't handle it anymore. I need to ..I need it now.”

The King laughs, enjoying your suffering and your pleasure.

“Such a demanding little brat, demanding to come before your king.” The Spanking you get now is not punishment. It brings you pleasure and therefor shame. You nearly whimpered at it, but at the same time you enjoyed the smack on your naked ass.  

And he bows your head down, and gives you the one after the other hard rough trust that only raises your pleasure. As the fucking increases, your needs reach a height unfamiliar to you and you stop, waiting for it to fade as you usual do when you touch yourself. Aemond sees this as the moment to strike, fully claiming you with a rough war cry and a trust. You fall down from your pleasure and come, all over his red swollen cock as he rides his own orgasm out on your spent body. The King is not happy yet, and fucks your body two more times after you are done with it. 

When he is done, he finally removes the rope. You sit up, watching the tiles you fucked upon, sweaty and stained with your blood. Aemond cheekily grins, dressing himself again quickly. You look around for anything to cover yourself with. He throws his leather bloodied coat your way. ‘’Here. Cover. I don’t wish you to catch a cold.’’ He says. You think back of Aegon. And guilt washes over you.

The door is opened and a soldier rushes inside the room. You attempt to cover yourself but it is too late. ‘’My king.’’ He begins but Aemond does not allow him to finish. 

‘’You saw my lady naked.’’ He says, instead of listening to his trusted soldier. The soldier blinks.

‘’I,I didn’t!”’ He quickly blurts out. Aemond does not even bother to explain his motivates, you can only watch as he takes his sword and chops of the head of the soldier. Blood and flesh come free as treat and paint painting the Throne room. You are horrified that Aemond murdered a man for looking at you.

You scream in horror. Aemond walks to you next, sword still dripping with blood. He levels the sword at his lips and takes a lick, before kissing your forehead. ‘’He had to die. Only one eye may look at your body. Mine.’’ He says, kissing you again as if it calms you down. It only makes you panic.

He sighs, taking you back to the throne. He makes you sit but this time there’s no spanking. Only sweet kisses and heartbroken mutters. ‘’What can I ever do to compare to Aegon? I want your love, my love. I want you to weep over my dead corpse.’’ He whispers. ‘’I want you when we marry, to become so madly in love with me, that when they find my corpse on the battlefield, you become mad and consumed with grief and you carve off one of my fingers to keep it close to you and you never think of a marrying another. I want you to die from a broken heart.’’ He whispers. ‘’I offer you the world, my love. It is ours. From Westeros to Essos and from the Dothraki grass sea to the useless kingdom of Dorne. It will fall at our feet, crumbled into dust. Thousands will die at our command, and their bones will become your crown and throne. Their blood will be your gown and their flesh will feed our love. Whoever offends you, shall die first. Let me be your King, and you will never need anyone else again.’’ You know you don’t have a choice. Once you cared about innocents. But you don’t have the luxury to care about them anymore. You must survive.

You play along for now.

Be Aemond’s Queen.

His second in command, the mother of his children, his lover and his bedmate.

To him you will be bow…

At least for now.

One of the days soon coming…

You’re going to take that boy’s crown.

//Not even therapy can fix this im afraid.

[chaifootsteps]

curious question - are the 'it's wrong to want bad things to happen to Valentino' crowd applying the same logic everywhere?

I ask because (for those who watch both hh & hb) I've seen a consistent pattern of violence being wished on Stella and (occasionally) Blitzo (no prizes for guessing what the thing these two characters have in common that has got fans wishing violence on them)

I mean wasn't there like a whole comic on the hb subreddit awhile back of Stolas slapping Stella across the face? (not to mention the not so hidden undertone of misogny in fanfics where Stolas & Blitzo have a fun old time calling her every name for 'bimbo' -or worse - under the sun) And a comment or two about how good it would be to see Stolas commit domestic violence/kidnapping/whatever else against Blitzo because he apparently deserves it?

and yet when the character is Valentino, who is written as a rapist and abuser on purpose (by which I mean Viv meant to do it, whereas it's anyone's guess if she realized Stolas was also that in HB or if she decided it didn't count the same as Valentino as far back as Murder Family given the very next episode was devoted to making Stolas sympathetic even if he was still allowed to be flawed at that point in time) suddenly parts of the fanbase is insisting it's wrong to hate him or want to see him gone?

I'm sure this is just a thing specific to this fandom, I doubt they do this w/other shows because it feels so clearly a result of Viv (and maybe Raph, idk) making such a point of how much they like Valentino. in any other scenario it would be understood that hating this character is the intended audience reaction and that fiction is a safe and cathartic means of wanting to watch that moth demon get squashed for everything he's done

They're most definitely not applying the same logic everywhere. By their logic, it's not only perfectly fine, but a person's moral duty to wish harm on both characters like Stella (or else you're a disgusting abuse apologist) and real people they don't like (Idolomantises, me). But when it's a character they like...well, you see where we are.

Hypocrisy doesn't even begin to cover it. Their logic literally changes by the minute.

[sunshiline-writes]

A Rose Amidst Thorns #18: Cold Souls

Previous | Masterlist | Next

word count: 4.4k Synopsis: Henrietta, Miguel and Xavier visit town.

CW: Lady whump, mentions of abusive relationships, NSFW whump, HISTORICAL WHUMP, talks about race and racism, POC whump, creepy/intimate whumper, lady whumpee, misogny, emotional whump, disassociation, Henrietta's fucked up way of thinking tbh.

A/N: I am gonna say something here, this is a work of historical fiction, and there is a long talk about race and discussions of racism and how it affects people. If you don't want to read this chapter, you are more than welcome to skip it. However, I recommend that you don't because this chapter is a big PLOT chapter. If you have something to say about it. Don't. Thanks.

There was very little now that brought the feeling of joy to the people inside Reede Ranch. No music, no laughter, there was nothing. Henrietta hated it. She wanted nothing more than to drag Solomon and Miguel inside the house, make them smile again. Let Miguel touch her violin while she played, let Solomon close his eyes to listen to her. Henrietta would pick up a violin again if that meant that everyone would be in the same place again. Together. 

Too much was at stake now though, if there was one wrong move, any of them could die. Any one of them could make Xavier snap for the final time. Henrietta had been walking on eggshells for weeks. Especially after Solomon and Miguel had run into each other. She watched them collide outside. Watched as Jesse dragged Miguel back to the barn. Watched as Solomon pulled himself together and made his way inside the house again. 

Henrietta was slowly watching people she loved fall apart, while forcing herself to pretend to love a man she no longer knew. Xavier had created a silent house. The ghost of the past still haunted it. Or maybe it was just Henrietta being haunted by her own memories. She tried not to think about it too much. She really did try. She pushed all that away and focused on the moments in front of her as much as she could. Henrietta found that writing was a good way to stay focused. 

When she found herself itching for something to do, a small journal was there for her to confide in. It did bring a sort of nostalgia of being a little child, writing about all the places and things that she had seen traveling with the band. The oceans, the mountains, the plains, everything. She had written it all down until they settled in that little town in Colorado territory. They kept there for a while and Henrietta got restless. She had spent a whole childhood traveling, only to suddenly stop when she turned seventeen. She still wanted to see the country. In her head, there was still so much she hadn’t seen. There was still so much she hadn’t seen. Yet, if she could go back, sometimes she would tell her younger self to stay with her family. Play violin in that dingey saloon with her brothers singing their songs about love and mountains.

 She missed them. Henrietta hadn’t seen them since her father died five years ago. It was the only time she saw them since she had married Xavier. When Henrietta arrived, her father was barely conscious. She sat at his side for the day and he died that night. It was said that sometimes, people who were dying could have an hour or so of coherence before death. She never believed it until her father woke up, laughing and talking with her brothers the hour before he finally slipped away. He didn’t even look at her for the first ten minutes of being awake. At least until she spoke, commenting on something her brother said. She couldn’t remember it now. But she did remember her fathers words. 

“You’ve changed Henrietta. Your souls gone cold.” 

Then he continued to talk to her brothers. As if he’d said nothing at all. Everything changed after that. He died a few hours later. 

Henrietta didn’t even cry. She realized that he was right in a way. He was also wrong. She hadn’t changed, she had been revealed. Her soul had been laid bare for everyone to see and when she left to go back to Xavier after the funeral, her mother had tried to stop her. Called him the devil, begged her to stay. Henrietta knew she would never be able to. 

“If you leave, don't bother coming back.” 

She left anyway. 

Henrietta missed her mother. 

There was something about the relationship between mothers and their children. Unfortunately there was something connecting mothers and children, even if they didn’t want it. The proverbial umbilical cord that only separated after death. The physical cord was cut at birth, the spiritual one was cut at death. Henrietta half wished that her mother would die, then she wouldn’t feel such an aching to go back. She knew the thought was cold, that it wasn’t right nor was it natural. However, nothing at the current moment felt very right or natural. 

If she kept crying about missing her mother though, nothing would ever get done. So Henrietta, as always, picked herself up and continued to work. She did her chores, she made the food for Xavier, she washed his clothes, and dreamed of other lives. 

Daydreaming was the easier option, but she tried not to get lost in it. But she sometimes played the violin in her head. Listened to the cords and pretended her fingers pressed on the strings. Music, the call to her soul. Like the ocean or a warm meal after a cold day. It soothed her. When she felt like she couldn’t handle being here a moment longer, she heard the cords of sorrow in her soul. They would stay there until there was safety in playing the violin again. Her hands itched for it and as she washed the dishes. 

Henrietta felt hands on her waist, Xavier pressing up against her. Giving her a gentle kiss on her shoulder. 

“I want you to dress nice. We’re going to town today.”

Her heart jumped into her throat. And she finished the last dish with her hands shaking as Xavier trailed some kisses up her neck, behind her ear. “Didn’t you go last week?” 

Xavier hummed slightly, “Yeah, but I’m picking up some horseshoes for Granger for when he comes to shoe the horses.” There was a pause before he continued, “And the kid needs a haircut.” 

“You want me to come with you and Miguel?” She asked, trying not to show any emotion in her voice as she turned around in Xaviers arms. Henrietta faced him, frown lining her face. “What’s the catch?” 

“Mmmm, no catch. Just a day out. You need a new dress too don’t ya think?” 

Henrietta narrowed her eyes and nodded, pressing herself against the kitchen counter to create space. Xavier was in a strangely good mood after being silently fuming for months. It made her uneasy. Made her stomach clench as he moved his hands on her hips. 

“Etta? Don’t ya think?” 

“Yeah.. Yeah I could,” she paused, forcing a smile on her face. “I’ll go get dressed.” “Good girl. Go on,” Xavier said, pressing his lips to her forehead, then took a step back. Henrietta was forced to push past him as she left, making her way upstairs. Her chest felt together with every article of clothing she changed out of and put on. What would he like to see on her? The blue dress? He always loved the blue dress. She put on the blue dress. It never felt like her. She felt less and less like herself with every accessory, every step toward the door of their bedroom, down the stairs, sitting on the couch. Nothing felt like it was real. It was all a daydream. She could pretend she was somewhere else. Someone else.  She didn’t know how long she sat there, looking at her hands. Her hands were still calloused but softer than they were. All it took was three years to make her soft again. 

The door opened and her heart dropped. Henrietta stared at something next to Xavier. It couldn’t be Miguel. Miguel didn’t have matted hair, his bones didn’t show, his eyes still had light to them. This Miguel was gaunt, pale, broken. He was dressed in a flannel, jeans and boots. None of it fit right. None of this fit right. His eyes stayed on the ground, didn’t even dare look at her. Xavier was staring right at her though, his gaze piercing, his hand on the back of Miguel’s neck. 

“There’s gonna be some ground rules for this trip,” Xavier said with a slight sigh. “I don’t want any trouble. Try anything Henrietta, I will slit his throat in front of the whole town.” 

There was a moment, a moment of hesitation. Where Henrietta thought that it would be better for the boy. How many times had she thought that? That the kid would be better off dead? How many times had Solomon convinced her that he deserved to live. It wasn’t about what he deserved though, it was about what was kinder. Death was a kinder fate wasn’t it? 

Maybe her soul had gone cold. 

“I understand Xavier,” she said quietly. Assuming Miguel had already been talked to. 

“Horses are ready. Lets go,” Xavier said, turning around, making Miguel do the same. She stood up, feet feeling like lead as she followed in suit. The dress felt suffocating, watching his hand on Miguel's neck felt suffocating. Her mind drifted as they all mounted their own horses. Miguel’s horse tied to Xavier’s. 

Xavier’s horse was a big, sturdy thing. All black with three white socks and a white diamond on its forehead. It was named Noche. Night in English. Aptly named in her opinion.  Miguel's horse was actually Solomon’s, it was a short, stocky, brown horse. It had a black mane that was braided and decorated with clay beads. She had no idea when Solomon had actually done that, but it was beautiful. Miguel gently petted the horse, playing with the braids for a moment before sitting up straight as they walked. Henrietta’s horse was a cool grey color with slightly darker grey spots all over. The black mane was coarse and rough in her hand as she ran her hand through it. 

It was a few hours ride to the town. It seemed like longer. Her heart pounded in her chest and the sun beat down on every part of her. There was a sense of impending doom as the town came into vision. Everything felt heavy, her dress stuck to every part of her. She felt disgusting. 

“Doing alright, Etta?” Xavier asked after a long amount of silence. 

“Mmhmm..” she hummed in assurance. “It’s hot out here.” 

Xavier chuckled a bit, looking back at her. He narrowed his eyes a bit, making her feel small with the expression. She frowned, looking away. 

“You seem nervous. What’s wrong?” 

“I’m not a fan of town to be quite honest.” Xavier raised a brow at her, turning to face her completely. Miguel glanced over, eyes scanning them both. From her periphery, she saw him shift in the saddle. He didn’t like when people talked and he couldn’t see what they were saying. Henrietta found herself glad he couldn’t see their conversation as she spoke. 

“They look at me like I should be in chains,” she saw Xavier roll his eyes and she continued, failing to keep the anger from her voice. “They look at you with respect and yet they call you the wrong name.” 

The people in town called him something different. Ex-zay-vee-er. Instead of the Spanish way of Ha-vee-air. He never corrected them. She doubted that they even knew they were saying it wrong, or the fact that Xavier’s humble beginnings were on the border of Mexico. Texas territory. That his mother was as brown as they come. Or that he spoke a lick of Spanish. When he was in town, he was a white man through and through. It angered her in a way that made her toes curl. 

“Watch yourself,” Xavier replied, voice cold. 

“Why? Because I’m right?” Henrietta countered. 

“Do they even know the name of your mother? Where you’re from?” 

Xavier hummed and shook his head. He had a white knuckled grip on the reins of his horse. He always did hate it when she mentioned his background. The way people treated them differently. How they frowned on their relationship, letting it pass because Xavier was a rich man and had built the town from the ground up. That and it wasn’t legal anyway. They were married, connected through word only. Never through paper. Their marriage was always fake. The ring, lost to the Santa Cruz River when she first escaped. 

“I suppose they don’t. But is it really wrong of me to use that to my advantage? If they want to think of me as a white man they can. It’s no difference to me.”  

Henrietta moved her eyes toward the town, staring at it. It made a difference to her. If people treated him like a white man. What was to stop him thinking he was one? Not when he was raised differently. It didn’t sit right with her. Maybe it was the unfairness of it all. She couldn’t hide from her skin, not like him. Her past, her identity, it was written all over her. There was no hiding for her. She was who she was. 

“Right, of course not,” she muttered. 

“You think too much Henrietta,” Xavier said, a small smile lining his features. “Try to behave in town. Don’t make any trouble.” 

“When have I ever?” 

Xavier sighed and looked back at Miguel for a second, as if just remembering that he was there. “Don’t be smart with me.” 

They rode in silence until they got into town. She felt like she was being paraded. Shown around like a trophy in broad daylight. Henrietta thought she’d never see this town again. She had hoped she’d never see this town again. All she wanted was peace, somewhere she could be herself and never be judged. A community. This place, this place would never be what she wanted. She should have gone farther, should have gone all the way back to Colorado. There was something keeping her here. Maybe it was the boy whose hands shook as he hopped off the horse and tied them to the post in front of the salon. Or perhaps it was the man back at the ranch who smelled of earth, pine and herbs. Or maybe it was the fear of what Xavier would do if he found her, her family. All she knew is that there was something that tethered her to this place and if she didn’t cut herself loose soon, she’d die here too. Xavier hopped off his own horse, helped Henrietta down from her own. Hands on her waist as he lowered down the ground. She cursed her short stature as she dusted off her dress. 

“Come on, the both of you. Salon. Now,” Xavier said, opening the door, waiting for the two of them to enter. Miguel walked in first, head down, eyes focused on the ground. Henrietta followed, ignoring the feeling of eyes on her. Xavier waved to a man in front of her, opened his arms to greet the man in a warm hug. 

“Hector!” 

“Xavier, oh it’s been too long!” They released each other from the hug, Hector looking him over with a laugh. Then his eyes slid over to her and Miguel. Hector was a short, older man, with black teeth and white hair. His nose took up at least a third of his face and was crooked like someone had broken it a long time ago. 

“You brought Henrietta today. I’m not sure I can cut her type of hair,” he said  with an apologetic smile. 

Henrietta opened her mouth to speak, but not before Xavier grabbed Miguel’s elbow and laughed, shaking his head. 

“No, no. I wasn’t gonna ask for her hair. She does that herself. I was wonderin’ if you could make something out of this?” Xavier said, tugging at one of the matts in Miguel’s hair, making the boy wince. Henrietta fought herself not to smack Xavier’s hand away from the man. The man grabbed at Miguel’s face, fingers gripping his chin, twisting his head to look at his hair from all angles. 

“It’s matted real bad. Do you not have a brush at home?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not my job,” Xavier said, moving the boy forward to sit in the chair in front of Hector. Hector clicked his tongue and shook his head. 

“I’ll see what I can salvage,” the man muttered, wiping his hands on his shirt. 

“Kid’s deaf and dumb. Don’t expect any conversation. Just cut the hair. Keep him here until I get back yeah? Tell me if he gives you any trouble.” 

Hector nodded, waving Xavier off. Xavier wrapped an arm around Henrietta’s waist. She forgot that she was there for a moment. Feeling like she wasn’t even here. To them, they weren’t. Henrietta cringed at the sound of the scissors snipping at hair as Xavier led her outside. 

Goosebumps spread over her skin despite the lingering heat from the sun as they stepped into the road. They went into another little shop. It’s name had changed from the last time they were there. It used to be “Ace’s Clothes Shop”, now the sign read “Judith’s”. That was it. Just “Judith’s”. When did that change? There was a ringing bell in the shop as they opened the door. A woman at the counter looked up from her sowing. Waved at them with a grin. 

“Welcome in! How can I help you?” she asked, placing down whatever she was working on and meeting them in the front. “Hello,” Xavier said, wary. “Who might you be?” 

Henrietta glanced at her, tilting her head at the woman. She looked familiar. She couldn’t place it. 

“Oh I’m George’s wife! Melanie, I’m fronting the shop today because he wasn’t feeling very well. What can I help with?” 

Xavier took off his hat and tipped it to her in greeting. “Oh!” he said, smiling at her. “Well it’s very nice to finally meet you Melanie.” He hummed a little, looking around. “I thought George named his shop after his wife.” 

Melanie laughed a little bit, shaking her head. Blond hair, falling out of her bun slightly. “Oh no! It’s named after his mother.” 

Henrietta looked at Xavier, watching him nod and hum slightly in acknowledgement. Then turned his attention back on the woman, smiling pleasantly. His left hand gently touched one of the dresses that was hanging on a rack. Feeling at the fabric as he nodded again. “I was wonderin’ if you could fit a dress for my..” a pause, “my lady friend here.” “Oh sure! I could do that real quick. Mind following me to the back ma’am? I didn’t catch your name.” Henrietta stared at her, long and hard. She wasn’t used to being addressed so directly in this town. Offered the woman, Melanie, a soft smile. “Henrietta, my name's Henrietta,” she said. The name felt heavy in her mouth. Xavier hummed appreciatively. 

“Yes, yes, go on to the back,” the man said, pulling Henrietta close with a tight grip on her shoulder. Pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered in her ear a quiet warning of, “behave.” Then he let her go. 

Melanie took her hand gently, leading her to the back of the shop. Henrietta let herself be lead, something in her chest was making her feel sick. She felt Xavier’s eyes on the back of her head. Until they disappeared behind a dressing curtain. 

“Your name’s Henrietta? 

Henrietta blinked in surprise at the sudden shift in demeanor. Melanie let her hair down and shook out her head. “Hello? Can you hear me? You said your names Henrietta? Like,  Henrietta Belaqua?” 

“Do I know you ma’am?” she asked softly. The woman grinned. 

“I fucking found you.” 

This felt like a dream. She pinched herself, as if the pain would wake her up. Licked her lips. “I’m not sure I know what you mean?” 

“I’m Melanie. I’m Jacob and Isabella’s cousin. We’ve been looking for ya! Every since they took you from town a year ago.” 

A year. Had it really been that long? A year? Her mind swerved and she suddenly felt like the sun was exploding out of her chest. She knew where she recognized this woman. She looked like Isabella. Same blue eyes and blonde hair. God.. Isabella. She missed that woman. Her best friend, the person she stayed for. Henrietta could feel her heart in her ears. Feel the blood rushing through her body. 

“Melanie. You’ve got to get us out of here. Me, and there’s a boy, a kid really. Deaf and mute. An older man, Indian. Two long braids. He’s important too.” 

“Slow down Hen. Slow down,” Melanie tried. 

“The ranch is huge. But there's the main house, the ranch hand barracks, and the barn. Melanie you need guns, or a plan, or something. You can’t do it by yourself–” 

“Hen.. Hen.. Henrietta!” she exclaimed, gently grabbing her hands. Squeezing them tightly. Henrietta took a deep breath and did her best not to cry. “Breathe Hen. Breathe.” 

“I’m breathing. I’m good. I’m okay,” she said, sighing softly. 

“I know. I know. Okay. Let's start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know.” Henrietta didn’t waste a second. She told everything. From how many steps from the barn there was to the house, to how many ranch hands there were, and which river was closest that they could escape to. Her heart felt heavy with hope. The light at the end of the tunnel. A ship that was stopping to help the lifeboat. Someone was helping. The town she thought would forget her as soon as Xavier took her away, remembered. They remembered and wanted to help. They were willing to die for her. 

“Hey, we’re gonna get you out of here okay?” Melanie said softly, nodding. “I’ll tell them everything.” 

“You’ll get all of us out?” 

“We’ll try.” 

“Melanie..” she said softly, “All of us. Please.” 

The woman sighed and nodded. “I can’t make any promises but.. Yeah we’ll try okay? You’ve got to get back out there. He’s gonna get suspicious.” 

“Where are the real George in his wife?” Henrietta found herself asking, wiping her face with the back of her hand. 

“Eh, they’ll be fine,” Melanie said absentmindedly as she helped Henrietta get settled. Straightening her dress and pushing a piece of hair behind Henrietta’s ear. “So will you. You just have to trust Isabella.” 

“Is Isabella okay?” 

Melanie paused for a moment. Taking a deep breath before she started to speak. Henrietta felt her heart go cold again. Ice and snow surrounding it. If Isabella was dead– 

She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t think about it. 

“Joseph.. Joseph was shot. Xavier. That man, he shot him. Right in the head. Didn’t even blink. Isabella hasn’t really been the same since. She’s been dead set on finding you.” 

Henrietta didn’t react. Joseph was the old man in the neighboring house on the hill. She had tried to get something far away from people. But, that was one man she couldn’t escape. He always came to her house with fresh milk and cheese. Fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden. She once asked him how to keep her plants alive. He taught her how to properly garden in response. 

Joseph was dead because she stayed too long. Isabella's father was dead because she stayed too long. Why she didn’t hate her, Henrietta would never understand. Much like she couldn’t understand why Miguel couldn’t hate her either. 

“He shot Joseph, the preacher and the Undertaker.” 

A Farmer, a Preacher and an Undertaker. Henrietta swore she heard that joke once. She had heard the shots, she never thought about who. It was always on the back of her mind. But she was too busy getting dragged through the dirt by a horse to really care. 

“I see,” was all she could manage to say. “I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault Hen,” Melanie said quickly, an attempt to assure. 

Henrietta couldn’t bring herself to care. She was tired. There was hope, yes, just enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Not enough to drag herself through. Henrietta sighed, looking back at the front of the story. Where Xavier lay in wait. 

“I really should get back now. He’ll be angry if I make him wait too long.” 

Melanie nodded, ushering her back. Bright smile appeared once again on her face as she talked with Xavier. They were talking but Henrietta wasn’t hearing them. Melanie and Xavier were far away, she was far away. Everything was so far away. She was so far from where she thought she’d be by now. So far from who she wanted to be. Nothing seemed like it was within her reach. 

Henrietta didn’t say goodbye to Melanie. All she did was walk out with Xavier. At his side as the town came to life with carriages and the occasional car. People walking in and out of shops and bars and houses. It was everything and nothing all at once. All little people going about their daily lives while she lived in a fiery hell. They walked back into the salon where Miguel was left. 

Hector was giving Miguel a shave. Not that he needed it really. He’d barely begun to get a fuzzy little mustache on his top lip. But the boy had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly. Almost at peace as they walked in. Xavier sat her down in one of the chairs and went to talk to Hector. She still couldn’t hear. Nothing made sense. 

Henrietta closed her eyes, leaned her head back on the wall and tried to recall the faces of the people she’d killed. 

Terrance, young, dark skin, black eyes, nappy brown hair. He didn’t even scream when she shot him. Joseph, older, pale skin, grey eyes, bright smile, killed because she stayed too long. The Preacher. The Preacher was a younger man, maybe in his thirties, pale skin, dark hair brown eyes. Preached like he wanted to jump up into the sky and touch God himself. Then there was the Undertaker. That man was strange, hunched over and had thinning hair that made him look like a witch. None of them deserved to die. Yet.. she couldn’t make herself feel for them. 

Your souls gone cold Henrietta. 

Your souls gone cold. 

Henrietta opened her eyes. 

Miguel stood in front of her. His hair was cut to maybe two inches long. It barely curled at the tips of his ears. He offered her a small, sad smile. Miguel held out a shaky hand to her. Henrietta put her hand in his. His hand was warm. 

There was still warmth here. If it wasn’t inside herself, it was in the people around her. 

She could live with that. __ TAGLIST:

@demondamage @burntcoffeewhump @angst-after-dark @just-a-silly-little-whumper @tictac-murder-spaghetti @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @whumpifi

@flowersarefreetherapy @badgerwhump @whumpbees @whumplr-reader @cyberwhumper @kixngiggles

ask if you'd like to be added or removed!!

[sunny6677]

New oc to do with Tom!

TWS FOR INTERNALIZED MISOGNY AND OC IN QUESTION TRYING TO CHEAT

So this is Lora—Tom's co worker who's constantly bitter and somewhat pessimistic. But the main thing with her is that she has a lot of internalized misogyny and is always nice to the male co workers in her company, but never to the other women. Mainly though, she targets Tom, who is very much unaware of the fact that Lora hates her. Lora always tries to make herself seem better than Tom or just get in Tom's way in general, but Tom somehow manages to always end up okay with the power of absolute bullshit./lh

Lora also tries to steal Kevin away from Tom at some point upon finding out who Kevin is—

[frankingsteinery]

(for the ask game from a few days ago) could you do Victor for 2, 12, 15 and 24

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

i had to sit and think because this one was so hard to narrow down. on a surface level i find all sorts of things about him endearing from his mannerisms to his speech patterns, but i think the thing that got me hooked on victor as a character was how emotionally demonstrative he is, particularly for a male protagonist. this also extends generally to his love for nature, for his friends, and his siblings (disregarding the incestuous implications of his relationship with elizabeth...)

i think this was only intensified for me when i started delving into frankenstein academic essays and analysis and then, by extension, the frankenstein fandom, and found that en masse it was people criticizing victor for just what interested me to him in the first place: being emotional, and therefore somehow melodramatic, overreacting, self-centered, egotistical, etc. it was this kind of climate of victor-hate that pushed me to make a tumblr account in the first place. someone had to be the sole victor defender in this barren wasteland

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

this is silly and probably not the serious answer you were looking for but like 2 years ago a dear friend of mine and i were joking about how you could catch victor frankenstein in a mouse trap and ever since then his assigned fursona in my head has been a mouse:

15. What's your favorite ship for this character?

by far its waltonstein (robert x victor). im aware clervalstein is vastly more popular, and while im charmed by it in-canon i dont find most depictions of it to my taste. i don't see their relationship as wholly reciprocated–one-sided on walton's end–which is part of the reason why i like their dynamic so much: its established that walton romanticizes the unobtainable, chases the unknown, and that's why he hangs all his hopes on things he cannot feasibly reach. first becoming a famous poet and going down with the greats, then sailing to find the northern passage despite being an inexperienced captain, all the while hoping for this impossibly idealistic image of a companion who would be perfectly tailored to his interests and manners, and then, against all reason, he finds this in victor, wherein victor becomes an extension of this habit, who is dying and too hung up in the past and on martyring himself, because everyone who has grown close to him has been hurt for it, so he cannot love again, or at least in the way walton wants. yet victor still has a reciprocated interest and finds a friend in him, even shares the same sentiment of the importance of friendship, but like he says no man can "be to him as clerval was." its very much wrong place/time but the right person.

ive said this before but i think, too, that if victor had recovered and lived than walton may fall a little less in love with victor. their relationship was founded on their dynamic of sick/caretaker, and beyond that, victor would have already exhausted his story, so there's no air of mystery around him anymore–nothing for walton to glorify or romanticize. ultimately i think even if they had the best of intentions and loved each other, they could not have a healthy or fully mutual relationship, and part of the appeal to me is this tragedy!

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

im drawing a bit of a blank on this one because no other character encompasses just what victor Is to me, but theres a whole host of victor-esque characters i could name because he is the literal foundation for the mad scientist archetype. if i was pressed i think id say geoffrey tempest from sorrows of satan by marie corelli (beyond his blatant misogny), and i remember some parts of emil sinclairs early narration in demian by herman hesse reminded me of victor. lucifer/satan from paradise lost also, particuarly the bit where he says he cannot enjoy the beauty of earth for the suffering of his fall, but that almost feels like a cop-out answer.

lastly–and this one is completely unfounded–itd have to be double dee from EEnE.

[todomemolesta18]

Helluva boss they actually have much more accurate portrayal of bullying through blitzo and loona. Not stella not glitz and glam. So anyone is capable being a bully whether that individual have any experience being mistreated or not. Helluva boss they on the part the bully have experience being mistreated some of this writing i see have several issue while it does explain why the bully acted like that they making it as an excuse. Some manage to do it well by explaining whether they have redemption or not it doesnt matter.

Stella 'bullying' is very laughable to me and unbelievable. I see some comic make it their way how stella bullying stolas then join by andrealphus. Heres the thing they re rank is are lower compare to stolas so they receive immediate consequence for doing that the ars goetia is not gonna let that slide so easily regardless of their intention of doing that. Stella is not a threat not even in the slightest, people make big deal out of her hiring assassin like stolas have powerful magic so he'll be fine. Glitz and glam they just come across as a more of rude contestant over being a bully to me personally. Blitzo and Loona now thats the bully we can talk about they work in the same enviroment as moxxie, they constantly bully him verbally sometime psyhically, blitzo threatening him with sexual assault, blitzo stalking hes own employee hes really obsessed. Theres also moment where he can be nice toward moxxie the bullying he does is coming like bullying from closest friend. Blitzo himself have trauma and is being mistreated so he need to have that power this also apply to loona

I seen some female bully who is much more believable pose as a threat and their bullying is more convincing. In percy jackson story percy jackson is being bullied by nancy bobofit. She have much more friend the teacher liked her percg jackson is neurodivergent too this we believe she bullying percy. Bullying is bad yes but some people should be more aware and careful how to depict it.

Female character dont have the same treatment toward male character. They are more easily seen as irredemable, annoying, and people are also have unrealistic expectation put on them, they are less forgiven for their mistake than the male character. In percy jackson fandom theres misogny nancy bobofit she is annoying but i think fans are went too far to seen as irredemable when theres human adult and gods who done way worse than her this happen in helluva boss look at how they treated stella, millie, glitz glam, verosika, barbie

Yes, I hate the misoginy and hipocresy so much. Now, yes Blitzo and Loona are bullies and it doesnt matter how sad their backstory is, they are shitty people

[helluvabossrewrite45]

Since helluva boss fandom have favoritism toward stolas. Stella character get a lot hate and when any bad quality they pointing out to stella never stolas they can make excuses toward stolas but not stella. Beside that i see the fandom compare stella to amber heard even calling her amber bird, amber heard is an actual victim of abuse who get smear and hate campaign by her abuser. I started to see similarity between both of them they receive a lot hate because of misogny

Tbh, I dont know much about the amber heard x johnny depp trial, i know that it was a big thing that happened which was mainly on domestic abuse though i dont have much information to go off of there.

With stella herself however, there is definetly a double standard in the fandom where they demonise stella for being abusive despite coddling stolas, a guy who sexually harassed an imp, made a contract of the imp sleeping with him to get the grimorie, abuses his servants (like throwing him around when he argues with stella, which is also what stella does too ironically enough), literally calls blitzo his 'little imp plaything' (just straight up dehumanising him) and neglects his own daughter. Or shipping him with blitzo, a character that also sexually harasses/stalks his employees, abuses/mistreats moxxie/one of his employees, was a shitty boyfriend to verosika, stalked his sister even when people around him says that she wants nothing to do with him (and still treats her like shit anyway) and is just an asshole. Its an 'its always sunny' situation where were not suppose to pick the ones that are good and the ones that are bad, but of which flavour of trash we prefer, even if the narrative itself is more lenient towards certain trashy characters than others.

Like I have seen people say that she was retcon which isnt true, she was never retconned. You cant retcon a character with little depth, thats the issue with her character. She lacks depth that wouldve make us care for what shes gonna do to the other characters along with creating more intriguing stakes. Depth doesnt equal sympathy which is what many fans dont get when people want stella to have more further characterisation. You can still an abusive character have depth, in fact that should be a good thing because abusers themselves have depth that makes it hard to recognise that their abusers, its one of the reasons why abusive relationships are hard to leave. And you can argue stolas is also abusive/terrible, just towards other people (like his servants or blitzo who is also abusive/terrible) yet he's clearly meant to be percieved as a 'complex' character so it would really be hypocritical to frame one as one dimensional because their abusive and the other more complex, even if their also terrible too. Its not to say 'dont frame stolas as a victim' because he still is a victim of abuse, victims arent perfect and can even be terrible people themselves, just to others and should still be recognised as victims regardless. What i am saying is to not pick and choose which terrible person is good or bad, their all bad in their own way and should be held accountable and face the consequences of such.

[darkacademiaarchivist]

i've kinda been rotating the whole james somerton situation around in my head all day because i really liked his content and, like i said, i am super disappointed but i'd like to point out one point about the misogny that i noticed in some of his vidoes that i kinda ignored because i liked the rest but i think it's weird to call all women who shil mlm ships "straight white women fetishizing gay men" because queer women exist... Also, unfortunately because in a lot of pieces of media there are more well developed male characters than female characters so obviously mlm ships will end up being more popular if the characters already had more interesting dynamics...

I'm not saying it's not a thing at all or that queer women can't be guilty of this as well but it did kind of rub me the wrong way to be this one sided about it... Mainly because a big part of my Instagram bubble is queer bookstagram where Heartstopper and RWRB are really popolar but there are also a lot of really popular sapphic books (sometimes even by the same authors). it's just really weird to frame it like there are a lot of people framing the Heartstopper fandom as a whole as toxic straight women because a lot of people in the fandom are queer and can relate a lot to the characters even thought there experiences isn't the exact same... (i relate a lot to Nick's journey with his bisexuality and i really didn't expext the comic to resonate so much with me when i started it i was just curious what the hype was about and i already liked radio silence)

i guess i'm just frustrated about dismissing the experiences of queer women and non-binary people when you also talk about queer erasure in your videos (AND PLAGERIZE WORK ABOUT QUEER ERASURE??? DID HE NOT SEE HOW MESSED UP THIS WAS????)

[latristereina]

Maybe its because I read the book before watching the movie but it was always obvious to me that michael really loved kay. And the idea that he never did and only loved appollonia is rooted in misogny.

Yeh, I also read the book first, so I knew Michael’s thoughts and the extent of his romance with Kay. And his thoughts about Apollonia were fucking scary! But many of my friends who never read the book got the message just right from the movies alone, so idk… I think it’s much easier to project onto someone like Apollonia (who wasn’t even a proper character) than onto someone like Kay. People hate Kay because she dared to ask questions (not that she asked that many anyway), something that is normal in any relationship, and also because she terminated her pregnancy, people don’t care about her point of view or/and her feelings. It would have been her baby, she would have loved it as much as she loved Anthony and Mary, she cried when she told Michael what she had done, she called the abortion “unholy” and “evil”, she wasn’t proud of herself, but it was her only way out, and I also think she thought she shouldn’t bring any more kids into that environment.

In any case, people who claim Michael didn’t love Kay can cope harder, it’s explicitly stated in the book and in the movies he never moved on from her, he didn’t take his wedding band off for years and wanted to win her affection when they were both old, he said she was the one he had loved and valued the most in the world and had thought of her while married to his first wife. He told her he still loved her. And it was even more emphasized in the original TGF III script.

It’s really sad it’s 2024 and misogyny is still rampant.