#and it COULD be a distrust of men in general | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

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I think it would be so funny if Duke Price, before he and the other warms up to duchess, finds out that his wife has been secretly getting money via trade and whatnot and being offended. Like, why not come to me, your husband, for money??

And she just straight up tells him that she doesn’t trust or like him or his lovers. After all, who would trust a cheater?? And he just, spirals? Like omg my wife doesn’t like me? My wife thinks I’m a bad person? But I’m not!! I give her money, I don’t make her have sex with me, I even let her pick her own dresses!! How could my wife not like me?? So now he’s trying his best to get Duchess to like him but she’s just, so done. Done with him, done with his affair partners, done with everything. Just let her have fun with her stocks and leave her alone

I genuinely think the moment dukedom 141 senses that Duchess doesn’t care about them, they suddenly want her to care about them, a real “I only like you when you don’t like me” thing

!!! I love this idea sm omggg thank you for this ask anon, I hope you enjoy!

Dukedom au masterlist

The fire crackled in the hearth of the study, casting shadows across the room. John stood behind his desk, his fingers gripping the edge as he stared down at the ledger in front of him. You sat across from him, your posture poised, your expression cool.

“This,” he said, his voice low, “isn’t just improper. It’s disrespectful. You’re my wife, Duchess. If you needed money, all you had to do was come to me.”

You tilted you head, the barest hint of a smile on you lips, though it lacked warmth. “Why would I do that?”

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes the longer he stared and listened to you. “Because I’m your husband. It’s my duty to provide for you.”

You replying laughter was sharp, humorless. “Provide? Is that what you call this arrangement? You married me because you needed someone to handle your duchy while you gallivanted with your…” you hesitated, lips pursing as you considered your next word. “…partners. And you expect me to trust you? To come to you with my needs?”

John blinked, taken aback by the venom in your tone- a tone you’ve never aimed at him before. “I’ve done nothing to make you distrust me, Duchess-”

You scoffed. “Haven’t you? You think I don’t notice the whispered conversations, the way I’m barred from certain parts of the house, the way your men watch me like I’m a threat? You think I don’t know that I’m an outsider in what was supposed to be my own home?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t finished.

“And it’s not just you,” you say, your voice rising. “Your butler, Kyle, your chef, Johnny, even your precious Duke Riley. They’re all loyal to you, John. Not to me. I don’t even need their loyalty, just some respect. Why would I put my trust in people who clearly see me as nothing more than an inconvenience?”

“They don’t think that.”

Your gaze bore into him, unflinching. He didn’t think you’d ever given him such a cold stare, and he didn’t like it. At all. “Don’t they? Tell me, John, when was the last time any of them looked at me as anything other than someone they have to put up with? When was the last time any of them looked at me as more than just an obligation? When was the last time you did?”

Silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the distant ticking of the clock and the crackling embers in the hearth.

John’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ve treated you with nothing but respect,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ve never forced you to-”

“To share your bed?” You interrupted, your tone icy. “How magnanimous of you. Truly, I’m blessed to have such a kind and generous husband.”

Your sarcasm stung more than he cared to admit.

“I give you freedom,” he argued, grasping at any straws. Your words rang true, but John still found it hard to accept. “You’ve wanted for nothing since our marriage. You have everything you could possibly need.”

“Everything,” you repeated, your tone mocking. “Except trust. Except companionship. Except a reason to believe that any of this-“ you gestured vaguely at the room around them, at the duchy, at your marriage. “- is real.”

Your words hung in the air, cutting deeper than any blade.

Over the next few days, John found himself haunted by you words. You didn’t trust him. You didn’t trust any of them. And, worst of all, you didn’t like him.

At dinners, you were distant, answering questions with clipped politeness but offering very little else, conversations ending curtly. When you weren’t working on your secretive ledgers or taking solitary walks through the estate, you spent your evenings reading in your chambers, the door firmly shut against him and his men.

Kyle noticed the change immediately, of course, something squirming in his chest unhappily. “She’s colder than a January frost,” he sighed one evening, setting a decanter of brandy on John’s desk.

Price sighed right back at him. “Not exactly helping, Kyle.”

“I’m just saying, she’s got every reason to be,” Kyle continued, unbothered by John. “She’s a stranger in her own home. You can’t expect her to warm up to us when none of us have given her a reason to. We’ve mucked up.”

John scowled, downing a glass of brandy in one go. “She’s my wife. She should trust me.”

“Trust isn’t something you’re owed, John,” Kyle said, his voice softer now. “It’s something you earn and you and I both know none of us has given her any reason to earn it.”

Kyle was right, of course. But-

John’s attempts of mending the trust between the two of you were clumsy at best.

He tried joining you during your walks, only to be met with polite indifference.

“Shouldn’t you be with your men, Your Grace?” You asked one time, your tone as sharp as the winter air.

“They’ll manage without me.” he replied, though your pointed look made it clear you truly thought otherwise.

At dinner, he attempted conversations, asking about your day and your interests. You answered with politeness, but your gaze rarely lifted from your plate. Even Johnny’s attempts to brighten the atmosphere with your favorite dishes were met with little more than a murmured “thank you.”

Simon, ever observant, pulled him aside after one particularly stilted dinner where it got so awkward you didn’t finish your meal or had dessert before you left. “You’re trying too hard, John.” he said, his voice low. “You are just stifling her.”

“What am I supposed to do, Simon?” John snapped at last. “She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust any of us.”

Simon’s expression didn’t waver. Ever since he’d learnt of that conversation you’d had with John, what you’d said and thought about them all, Simon has been thinking it over his mind again and again. “…Then stop treating her like a problem to solve. Start treating her like a person. We failed her once, can’t fail her a second time.”

And so, one evening, John found you in the study, the room dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp. You were hunched over a ledger, your brows furrowed in concentration.

“Duchess…” he breathed out. “Do you need help?” The question comes out tentative.

You glanced up, your expression unreadable beyond the tiredness he could see clinging to you. “I’m fine.”

Still, John lingered in the doorway, unsure of his next move. “I wanted to apologize,” he said at last, no longer beating around the bush. He was done.

Your quill stilled, and you looked up at him, your eyes wary.

“For what I said,” John continued anyways, stepping into the room. “And for how I’ve treated you. You were right. About everything.”

At last, your gaze softened, but you didn’t speak, letting him continue.

“I never wanted this to be such a… cold arrangement for you,” he said, voice faltering. “I didn’t realize how much I’d… neglected you. I am truly sorry, Duchess.”

“… what brought about this sudden realization?”

John hesitated, and then he sighed. “I… I want you to trust me. To trust us.”

You laugh was bitter and cutting, just as it had heen on that day. “Trust you? Trust the men who keep me at arm’s length, who whisper behind my back, who make it clear every day that I’m an outsider? Forgive me if I’m not so easily swayed, Your Grace.”

Your words struck him like a blow, but he held his ground. “Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his voice earnest. “Let me earn it, my Duchess.”

You studied him for a long moment before finally speaking. “… We’ll see.”

And for the first time, John felt a good flicker of hope.

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irmawrites · 7 months ago

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Sleeping with the enemy | One-Shot

Summary: your father, Gwayne Hightower, had always told you to beware of Davos Blackwood, son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters. But when you meet him at a party years after graduating college, you can't help but think he's not so bad after all.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: modern!Davos Blackwood x Hightower!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, everyone is 18+ in this)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, praising kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Words count: 4393

Author’s note: Hi, everyone! This is my first time posting here, and I have to admit I'm a bit intimidated ahaha like a lot of people, I fell in love with Davos Blackwood's in episode three and ABSOLUTELY had to write this idea that's been on my mind for a while now.

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

Davos Blackwood had a bad reputation in your neighborhood, that much was true.

The rumors about him had started when you were still in college, something about red liquid smeared on the mirror in the boys' bathroom. A silly prank involving fake blood and strange theatrics to scare off a younger classmate that had perhaps gone too far. It was your own cousin Aemond who had found the fake crime scene just after the culprit had left, still licking his red-stained fingers. It caused quite a stir at the time, and he hadn't been seen on campus for at least two weeks. It may have been fake blood or just a tasteless joke, it was still inevitable that action would have to be taken.

It was Aeron Bracken in particular who had helped make these bizarre stories popular. He told anyone who would listen that Davos Blackwood was a deranged, violent madman. It was no secret that the two young men didn't get along. But no one expected things to get as bad as they did. There had been rumors in the hallways and whispers in the cafeteria, but that wasn't all. His car had been vandalized and marked with insults on several occasions. Even Gwayne Hightower, your father, had warned you.

A real witch hunt.

As far as you knew, however, the main target had remained unaffected by the situation, even toying with those who provoked him. In a way, he almost seemed to enjoy the wild, mysterious aura that all this fuss gave him.

You, for one, had never really believed it. After all, he didn't look like a bad guy, with his big, green eyes and permanently disheveled black hair. He seemed a little strange to you, a little off, but not enough to be considered a clear danger. But your opinion didn't matter much.

Nothing had ever destined the two of you to spend time together. His parents' company only did business with Rhaenyra's, refusing any ties and especially any agreements with the Hightowers. His father seemed to harbor a fierce hatred and boundless distrust of your family, apparently fearing that Otto's overweening ambition would lead him to overturn the order of succession established by Viserys himself and install his own grandson as sole ruler of the company.

And in your world, your parents had a bit more say in who you dated than they did for other people. You couldn't just go out with a guy because he seemed interesting, especially if he was the son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters.

So you'd never spoken to each other in college, let alone at the lavish charity galas your family hosted.

Never, until that day.

"You like Iron Maiden?" a hoarse, unfamiliar voice said from behind you as you wrung the water out of your hair, "or is that your boyfriend's shirt?". The sun was high in the sky and you could feel the heat of its rays burning your exposed neck. The clear waters of the Targaryen family pool sparkled, and the garden echoed with the bursts of voices of those Aegon had invited to what should have been a casual gathering of the younger generation with ties to the Targaryen business.

You didn't think he'd invite Davos Blackwood, though.

"It's mine," you replied, giving the young man a mischievous smile, your fingers playing absentmindedly with the string that held the bottom of your swimsuit to your hip, "and yeah, it's one of my favorite bands actually." He seemed to take a moment to assess the situation, his eyes roaming up and down your body, an unreadable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Never pegged you as a little rebel," he crossed his arms over his chest before continuing, "more of a model daughter." You knew he was toying with you, trying to tease you, but you were more than happy to play along.

Besides, you understood where the thought came from, you who were usually more used to short skirts and high heels than band shirts.

Mentally, you thanked Aegon for thinking of him. "Be careful, Blackwood," your voice sounded like a playful threat, "you might be surprised."

You were about to leave to return to the deck chairs, but it seemed that Davos wasn't quite finished with the conversation. "Wait," he ordered, taking your wrist between his broad fingers. Mechanically, you glanced around to make sure no one was watching. After all, the last thing you wanted was for someone to spy on your conversation with someone who still belonged to your grandfather's enemy side. "What is it?" it was your turn to cross your arms over your chest, your eyebrows furrowing as you waited for some kind of justification from him. It was clear he had something on his mind, but you just couldn't figure out what. "Do you want to come over to my place sometime?" he finally said, and you felt your breath catch somewhere between your throat and your lungs. "Why?" the question crossed your lips before you could even think about it.

You didn't know each other, had never spoken before, not to mention the fact that your families didn't approve of each other. You were tempted to agree, of course, because whether you liked it or not, you felt this kind of almost magnetic attraction pulling you together.

You'd have liked to think it was fate, but you knew it was just your love of danger and the forbidden.

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts again. "You seem like a pretty nice girl, and we obviously have the same taste in music," he replied, finally loosening his grip on your wrist, "we could watch a movie, get to know each other, something like that." The offer was tempting, the prospect of spending a little more time with him appealing, but even though you desperately wanted to say yes, you knew you couldn't. You had to be reasonable and listen to that little voice in your head that told you it all sounded like a terrible idea. But he seemed to sense your reluctance because he quickly added, "Don't worry, no one will know."

***

Davos’ room wasn't exactly what you'd call tidy. You noticed a half-full ashtray on the windowsill and a few empty cans on his desk. It was the opposite of your own bedroom, neatly decorated and perfectly organized. Your wardrobe drawers were a bit of an exception, but that didn't really matter.

Even so, you couldn't help but find it a little charming. The smell of his cologne in the air, the half-unraveled sheets, this was unmistakably him. It tasted risky and illicit, and it stirred something unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. A reaction that no boy had ever managed to provoke in you.

"There's no denying it, vampires really are the best supernatural creatures," you muttered, sinking your teeth into the last slice of the half-cold pizza you'd ordered earlier. You were especially comfortable sitting cross-legged on his bed as the rain pounded against the windows and the end of the movie drew near on his computer screen. His parents were out of town for the week, on a business trip or something, providing you with an opportunity to finally meet away from prying eyes. He seemed quite comfortable too, with his leg pressed against yours and his hand wrapped around his soda cup, which he sipped absentmindedly. "I have to say, I never thought you'd be into movies like this," he told you after a few long seconds, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "given your looks, I thought you'd be more into romantic comedies or something." You held back an annoyed sigh.

"Like I said..." you finally replied, "you should beware of appearances."

They can be misleading sometimes, you kept to yourself.

It was true that you were usually a sweet, sensible girl, the ideal daughter who always smiled and never caused trouble. The pride and joy of your parents. But lately you had grown tired. Tired of following orders, of doing everything you were told without ever being able to listen to your heart. You were eager to get rid of this constant fear of disappointing your loved ones if you didn't live up to their expectations, and it seemed that life had given you the perfect opportunity to free yourself from all that.

"Is there something I should know?" the young man’s hand came to rest on the top of your thigh, his thumb delicately stroking the soft skin there, "some dark secret of yours, princess?". His almost mocking tone and the annoying nickname were enough to bring back that scorching heat in the pit of your stomach. The way he looked at you, at your breasts, made you think that he was affected by this sudden closeness, too. His gaze burned, almost as much as his fingers, which were now creeping dangerously up the hem of your shorts. And when you felt them graze the lace of your underwear in the hollow where your leg and hip met, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd bitten off more than you could chew.

But even though you were entering unfamiliar territory, something foreign to you, you refused to lose control and let him take what he wanted without saying a word. This wasn't your style. You always had a witty comeback ready to go. And you were going to show him.

Slowly, you moved forward a few inches on the bed to sit astride his very inviting lap, never taking your eyes off his lips. Your hands found his shoulders, and you could feel the hardness of his desire beneath your thighs. Gods, the sensation was divine. This was your doing. You and no one else’s. The sudden surge of power and dominance made your head spin. "Be very careful what you do now," his fingers settled on your hips to bring your chests a little closer together, his grip tight and bruising. "Or what?" you replied in an almost insolent, even provocative tone.

"Or we could end up doing something you might regret."

This was all a very bad idea, that much was true. Davos Blackwood was a very bad idea. But you didn't want to dwell on what the future might hold, let alone the potential consequences of your actions. All you knew was that you wanted more. More of his hands on your skin, more of his lips on yours, and more of him.

And it seemed that he, too, was eager to take it further.

His fingers made their way up from your waist to your chest, slipping under your tank top to brush his thumbs over the two little hardened buds. The ghost of a touch, really, but it was enough to make you moan. Your mouths were now just a few inches apart, your breaths mingling, but you didn't want to kiss him yet, choosing to prolong this delicious, exhilarating tension for a few minutes longer.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. "Do you feel it?". He backed up his words with action, rolling his hips and planting a kiss right at the corner of your jaw. "You know what this is?" he added, rolling one of your nipples between his index finger and thumb, "what happens to a man when a woman behaves the way you do?". Of course I know, you wanted to say but the words stuck in your throat and only a moan managed to break through the barrier of your lips. You weren't stupid, you were perfectly aware of what happened in this kind of situation. But you'd never seen it, let alone touched it, and the theory was very different from the actual reality.

"Shut up," you replied at last, before planting a kiss on his lips. You didn't mean it, though. To be honest, you wished he would talk to you like that all night long, sending a wave of heat straight to your core with words alone. His tongue found yours, silencing your thoughts, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from losing your footing. "Such a foul mouth," he said, smiling against your lips as he gave you time to breathe, "we'll see if you're still so talkative once I'm done with you."

The young man's hands found the bottom of your tank top and pulled it over your head, and soon it was your shorts that suffered the same fate, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties. You suddenly felt exposed, lying there under that hungry gaze that regarded you like a precious gift, a prized possession. You waited eagerly for his next move.

Where was the bold young woman who had taken the lead just a few minutes earlier, the one so determined not to lose control? It seemed like she'd already vanished, replaced by some shy creature beneath his crude words and inappropriate touch.

"What are you going to do to me?" you tilted your head to the side to give him better access to the skin of your neck, which he was kissing with increasing fervor. "Nothing you won't like," he replied as he stood up to get rid of his t-shirt, which joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Your eyes couldn't help but wander over his toned torso dotted with dark hairs, your hands itching to touch him.

Soon enough, his lips found your jaw, then your neck, then the top of your chest, and you immediately shivered. The weight of his body lying on yours was delightful, comforting. "Please..." you whimpered as your hands settled on his shoulders, urging him to give you what you were so desperate for. You felt his fingers slide slowly against the skin of your belly, then lower, much lower, to play with the lace of your underwear, and your back arched almost reflexively. You wanted more, you needed more, and you were getting tired of waiting.

"Be patient, princess," he said, nibbling on the soft skin of your breast, his mouth soon wrapping around your hardened nipple. A grunt escaped you, and you weren't quite sure if it was from your frustration or the dominant tone he had just used. His hand slipped under the fabric of your panties to tease the top of your slit before brushing over your already soaked folds. It was annoying, really, the effect he was having on you with such a light touch. But it was heavenly, and you had decided to ignore the voice of reason for the night.

His index finger found the little pearl nestled at the apex of your center, and the contact felt like a delicious electric shock. You threw your head back, eyes closing, lips parting in a silent cry as he drew little circles around your most sensitive area. "Have you ever had anyone here?" he asked after a few seconds. When you didn't answer, he added: "I asked you a question, and I want you to answer me." There it was again, his commanding, almost controlling tone.

"N... no," you stammered as you opened your eyes again to meet his, "nobody." You suddenly felt like prey under his hungry gaze that devoured your trembling body. "Perfect," you heard, just before his fingers found your entrance, which was already clenching around nothing, "and here?".

The idea of being the first to enter you seemed to obsess him.

You nodded, this time from left to right, signifying that no, you had saved your virginity for the right man, the one who would know how to make you tremble under his ministrations, the one who would know how to make you beg for more, always more.

"Perfect," he repeated again, as the first knuckle of his index finger sank agonizingly slowly into you, teasing your inner walls. It was barely there, nothing really, and yet you already felt incredibly full. "You're so tight," he growled against the skin of your throat, "so warm too, you're going to feel amazing around me." He added a second knuckle and soon his finger was completely buried inside you. It felt good, and it felt right, but it didn't feel like enough. You wiggled your hips and it seemed as if Davos had understood your silent request immediately. "I need you to take another," he straightened on his left elbow to look at you with lust-blown pupils, "do you think you can do that for me?". Once again, you nodded your head in agreement, but this time it didn't seem to be enough for him. "Use your words, princess." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I... I can take more," you murmured right against his lips as you looked down between your thighs.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and rough as you felt his middle finger pressing into you. He curled them both, brushing that spongy spot against your inner wall, and you threw your head back.

You dug your nails into his pale skin to stay anchored in the present as his thumb found your clit. But you knew you wouldn't last long. You could already feel tingles of pleasure buzzing through your body, and in the pit of your belly, the fires of delight burned a little more fiercely. You wanted to warn him, to tell him you were close, but he was quicker than you: "Come for me."

He didn't need to tell you a second time.

Soon, the wave of your orgasm washed over you.

It made your whole body shake with spasms, your climax exploding like fireworks behind your eyelids. Your lips crashed against his neck to stifle your final moan as your back arched under the intense sensation. The young man was merciful enough to give you a few seconds to recover before withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty and frustrated. "Look at the mess you made," you heard him groan, "clean it up." His index and middle fingers brushed across your lips, which parted eagerly to welcome them into your warm mouth.

You timidly wrapped your tongue around them under his predatory gaze. The mere thought that you could taste yourself on your taste buds set your body on fire once again. It was indecent, inappropriate, and you probably should have been ashamed to be used like this, but you couldn't care less.

Maybe it was his fault, or maybe you'd just found each other despite everything that kept you apart.

His fingers left your mouth to wrap around your neck. But as he lay back on the mattress and guided you towards his lips, you resisted. Once again, you straddled his hips, only this time completely naked. He looked at you for a few seconds, a little confused, until you reached under the elastic of his underwear to slide it down his legs. This seemed to make him realize the extent of your intentions. His hard member jumped free and caught your eye. Standing proud with a mass of dark curls adorning its base, the sight alone made you salivate. "Let me thank you," you said, as your fingers gently traced its length. "I want to make you feel good too." You slowly moved between his legs to kiss his inner thighs.

You reached out tentatively and wrapped your fingers around his manhood. It felt heavy in your hand, massive and your index finger couldn't quite touch your thumb because it was so wide. You brought your lips to his crotch and, watching Davos from beneath your long lashes, planted a quick kiss on the head where it was already weeping for you. Your tongue traced a vein on the underside without ever breaking eye contact. He threw his head back, his lips parted to let out a muffled curse.

The rush of power you felt when you saw him so vulnerable under your touch was sinfully delicious.

You tilted your head to the side to plant a series of kisses all along his hardened manhood, your big innocent eyes still locked with his. There was a pause, a few tense seconds, before finally, finally, you moved your head forward to take him fully into your mouth. His big hand found refuge at the back of your skull, and you let him guide you completely.

The grip on your hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. "Breathe, through your nose," the young man ordered, but his voice was more urgent than before, his breathing becoming ragged from the growing pleasure. "You can do better than that." The fingers buried in your locks soon forced you to swallow him whole, your nose pressed against his pelvis, the unruly hair tickling your face. You could feel yourself drooling around him, the action messy. "Such a filthy girl," he said as his thumb came to caress the corner of your mouth, right where his member disappeared between your lips, "sucking my cock like a real whore." You let out an audible moan around his length in response to the foulness of his words.

But instead of disgusting you, it only served to encourage you.

You hollowed out your cheeks, still following the rhythm of his hand, which had resumed its place at the back of your head. He was big, and he filled your mouth in a way you hadn't experienced before, but you wanted to prove to him that you could satisfy him, that you could make him proud. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, which he hastily wiped away with the tip of his free thumb. "Shh... you're doing so well," he praised you in a reassuring tone. You knew he was close to reaching his climax. His breathing had become labored, his movements erratic, and it was evident that you were causing him to lose his balance. But it seemed he didn't want to end it that quickly.

"Wait, not yet," he straightened into a sitting position, placing his hand on your cheek to force you back a few inches, "I'd hate to waste it." The implication made your cheeks flush, but you couldn't help but look forward to what would come next.

His hands came to rest on your waist, encouraging you to sit on his hips again, this time making his still impossibly hard manhood brush against your soaked cunt. The contact alone was enough to elicit a moan from you. His own fingers wrapped around his member as he guided it towards your narrow entrance.

And after what felt like an eternity, he finally thrust into you.

He stretched you to perfection, the foreign sensation a mixture of delicious pain and aching pleasure. "Fuck princess, you're tight," your head found refuge in the hollow of his neck, but you could hear that annoying smirk in his voice, "I'm going to ruin you." And oh how you couldn't wait for him to make good on his threats. "Move," you pleaded against the skin of his throat as you hesitantly moved your hips up and down to get that delicious friction you craved. He seemed hell-bent on teaching you self-restraint, even though you desperately wanted to see him lose control. He grabbed your waist in a firm grip, keeping you pressed against his hips and making you whine. "Did I say you could move?" he asked, kissing the side of your jaw. Once again that night, you'd annoyed him by not answering, and he repeated, "did I say you could move?".

It seems he was also trying to make you learn obedience, in addition to patience.

You didn't even have a chance to react before the young man used his grip on your waist to pull back almost completely, revealing his member glistening with your sticky juices before thrusting himself into you once more. His head was rubbing against that most delicious spot inside you, making your legs tremble with pure bliss. "Please, I..." You didn't even know what you were asking for as he moved back and forth continuously. You thought he'd ask you to speak again, but he was too caught up in pleasure and close to his release to be bothered by your pleas.

But even if he'd lost his rhythm, it was clear he was still determined to satisfy you. His thumb was back on your little pearl, tracing small circles around it, while inside you his length relentlessly pounded against your inner wall. You could feel yourself clenching around him, and the heat between your thighs was back with a fiercer intensity than ever. “I’m going to fill you up,” his teeth nibbled at the soft skin of your neck, marking it possessively, “I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to take everything I’m going to give you, feel me for days.” The moans that came out of your mouth were now completely incoherent, a confused jumble of yes and please.

Your climax hit hard and fast—stronger than the one Davos had offered you earlier that night. You dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red half-moons as evidence of your forbidden actions. Your back arched off the mattress, pressing his body against yours as reality slipped through your fingers and a myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids. He followed you just a few seconds later, pouring into you with white ropes.

He stayed inside you for a few more moments, his length softening. But neither of you felt like moving, not when you were so comfortable, lying against each other, your limbs tangled. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead that made your heart clench. You still refused to think about the future and the problems that might arise from such a strong connection between the two of you. All that mattered for the moment was his skin against yours and your fingers in his hair.

"We should do that again," you murmured as you kissed his cheeks, his chin, his nose, "someday."

He smiled.

"We will," he said with confidence, "I'll make sure of that, princess."

The nickname made your stomach flutter with excitement.

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vor-leser · 8 months ago

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Benny now an animal, I knew AM would let him play.

(Stuff about my own version of pre-monkeyification Benny below the cut because i have too many thoughts on this)

It's kind of hard to make heads or tails of any of the ihnmaims characters since the cannons of the different adaptations contradict each other so much, so I reconciled my own version of events in my head as to what I think Benny was like pre monkeyfication. I tried to fit everything from the comic, game and book in though.

Benny was a very masculine guy, excelling in every sport, and despising everyone who did not live up to his standard of what it meant to be a strong man. All his life, he tried to embody this ideal, not only marrying and having two kids, but going on to join the military. When he became general, he was known amongst the soldiers as an authoritarian punitive leader, often abusing those below him to whip the weak ones into shape. His ideals were solidified under the pressure of the continuing third world war, instilling a kill or be killed mentality into him. Eventually, he came to the realization that he was gay. However, because this reality threatened to break apart the way he viewed the world and his masculinity. With the mounting pressures from a chain of losses and his own internal struggles, he reacted by overcompensating and becoming more brutal than ever, leading him to kill multiple of his own men. Returning from the Chinese American War, he developed a severe case of PTSD. Constantly making him feel as if his life was at stake, he found himself unable to show any weakness. He hid his own war crimes thoroughly, all the while continuing to receive accolades from his superiors for his tenure. He constantly felt the need to not only hide his crimes, but also his sexuality, making him paranoid that people would realize he was a fraud. This did not only put a strain on him, but also on his family.

AM specifically chose Benny, because he embodied the many ways in which humanity tore itself apart through war, constantly finding new methods to make their own existence miserable for an imagined ideal.

At first, Bennys presence among the survivors proved very useful. Out of all of them, he had the most experience in dangerous situations and a lot of physical strength. His wisdom and leadership helped them a great deal, eventually though, they would inevitably disappoint him. Falling into his old patterns of behavior, he would berate Nimdok the most for his obvious weakness, saying he was holding them back. With time, he did the same with Ellen, Ted and even Gorrister, which formed a rift between himself and all of them. He felt as if he could rely on no one but himself.

Still, his usefulness irked AM. He had gotten one over on him too many times, but this would make his coming defeat even more crushing. It started with his mental state. Paranoia had already slowly crept up on Benny, but when he was forced to relive his trauma, it spiraled out of control. Being starved, beaten and defeated, he started to lose his humanity. His egoism, distrust and brutality, all born out a desire for survival made him a nightmare for the others. AM found it amusing, how he had turned Benny into a parody of humanity and its worst aspects, seeing it fit to strip him of his last remaining bits of humaneness, breaking his body into the shape of an ape-thing.

His spirits were now completely broken, being reduced to a bumbling fool. Even though his shame mellowed him out, there were still occasional outbursts. Now ironically enough, he had become the survivors greatest liability. Luckily for him, the others pity him and keep him around, a kindness he likely wouldn't have awarded them.

(Also drawing a guy thats canonically supposed to look handsome while making him resemble a monkey is hard :,) )

#i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims #benny ihnmaims #harlan ellison #artists on tumblr #own post

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cloned-eyes · 3 months ago

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Big info drop under the cut

Ghoul

CC-1313 I Formerly Commander Jenot of Battalion 331st (destroyed)

Currently leading Special Cloneforce Hellhounds

Backstory

Upbringing

CC-1313 was raised and trained to eventually become a Clone Comander for the GAR. The majority of his childhood years were spend with his batch brothers and fellow soon to be Commanders Fox and Wolffe to which he remained a close bond of brotherhood even after the tragedy of Toydaria and his fall into absolute disloyalty of the GAR and the Republic. During this time he still used the name Jenot.

Tragedy of Toydaria

Jenot and the 331st served under Pong Krell for the first few months of the war. Even though the 331st was a very skilled and sturdy battillion it suffered great loses under the reckless and uncaring lead of the Jedi General. Shrinking it down to half it's size in the span of only three months.

While still unshaken in his loyality to the GAR and the Republic Jenot couldn't help to develop doubts and distrust in his supiriours. Struggeling a lot to keep his ranks together and his men motivated.

Eventually the separatist launched a grand attack on Toydaria and even though Pong Krell was well aware that he hadn't the capacity to stand against it he still gave the order to engage - although not leading his men himself but calling in the Jedi Knight Uros Io who at this point just recently rejoined the Jedi Order and lacked any practical expirience on the battlefield. Even though General Io was an extremly skilled Jedi, she was of no use as a General in a dire situation like this. And even though she realised her short comings and let Jenot take charge it was apparent that with lacking men and gear this battle was one that couldn't be won.

They managed to hold the line for three weeks before the overpowering seperatist forces started to push them back. Jenot watched his men die like flies and was aware that it would be a shared fate. Being pushed back to the capital the last remaining men of the 331st were killed by an airstrike. A fate Jenot almost shared but escaped due to General Io keeping him alive long enough for the arriving reinforcements to evacuate them.

Recovery on Kamino

For his recovery Ghoul and a handful severly damaged other clones of his battilion were shipped to Kamino while General Io - who suffered from great injuries herself - was treated back at the Jedi Temple. Due to a missunderstanding only Jenot was actually treated on Kamino. His recovery the only one prioritised while the rest of his men were utilised as test subjects for kaminoan expiriments - all of them lethal.

Unable to move or talk or respond in any way Jenot had to wittness the rest of his loyal battilion perish and listening to the staff in charge festered an untamable rage and hatred for the GAR, the Jedi and the Republic. His trust and loyalty shattering for ever, turning him into the man he soon would become. Even though his life was spared due to General Io, he began to nurse a life long hatred of her. Blaming her orders for the inhumane deaths of his men.

During his time in recovery Jenot developed a habit of sneaking out of the medical wing in which he was treated. Seeking silent corners for himself where he could watch the see outside rage. It was in one of those fateful nights he found himself in the company of three clone cadets who had caught rumor about "dead clone walking" - a ghoul risen from the battlefield.

Jenot, unable to overcome his anger and pain- decided to show those unsuspecting kids the reality of war and the reality of what it meant to be a clone: being property and being exploited.

Little did he know that those three exact cadets would become his new squad only two years later.

Embracing the crude name whisperd behind his back, he decided to let Jenot die and embraced the man he had been beaten into - Ghoul.

A Dead Clone Walking

Even with the loss of his arm, fingers, hearing and lower face Ghoul recoverd exeptionally swift. Making no secret out of his newfound hatred for the GAR supiriors in charge intended to get him decommissioned. Plans that fell short due to General Io convincing the Jedi Order to extent protection over the clone commander.

And while Ghoul proved himself to be difficult to work with he was also exceptionally skilled. The decision was made that he would operate solo, taking on special tasks that where considered suicide missions. Whether he failed or not was relativley not important. If he succeeded the Republic had intel, if not they had one pesky clone less to worry about. While getting accostumed to his new prosthetics and regaining back his former strength Ghoul was shortly tasked with overseeing the training of Cloneforce 99. His battlefield expirience deemed highly valuable and wanted to be taught to the expirimental unit to better their chances of success later.

After Kamino

Ghoul spend his time with achiving the impossible. Retrieving whatever was asked off him. He was well aware that the missions picked out for him were exclusively lethal ones. Yet he returned every single time to spite the GAR. To make a point. He was avidence of what the war was actually. The ugly shadow of the Republic. And he wasn't to be silenced. During this time his mind spiraled deeper and deeper into rage. His opinions became borderline traiterous and he walked a very fine line of getting caught for them. It was also the time he dettached himself from the idea of clone brotherhood. Getting rejected in the truth he had lived by fellow soldiers and shuned out, being nothing but a ghost story for them Ghoul grew resentful. Usual loyalty and empathy clones reserved for eachothers died out in Ghoul. Isolating himself even further from others, going as far as questioning if the men he called his actual brothers saw him still as an equal - Saw Ghoul as an equal - or if they only tolerated him because of what they once had.

Becoming Human again

Being pressured by Wolffe to join him for a drink at the 79's Ghoul met Odessa, a Twilek bartender and refugee from Ryloth. Having no interest in making "friends" Ghoul didn't spare Odessa much mind, just as everybody else. But fate brought both of them back together over and over again, causing a presumed dead side of Ghoul to seek out connection again. Slowly falling in love with the gentle, bubbly Twilek back on Coruscant. Giving him an actual reason to come back. A newfound motivation to keep fighting. Not for the GAR, not for the Republic but for her. Falling helplessly in love with her.

Asking her for her hand only a year after only to almost die on a mission and going mission for months afterwards. Leaving a pregnat Odessa behind, unbeknown to him. Though luckily being offered the chance to return due to the unyielding loyalty of his new unit. His Hellhounds - Wizard, 2020 and Fang - who had accompinied him during the mission and kept searching for him after being seperated and eventually succeeding in tracking him down and bringing him back. Greatly injured but alive.

Order 66 and the aftermath

During Order 66 Ghoul was still recovering from his injuries. Allowing himself to spend some time with his wife and newborn child. It didn't take him long that with the fall of the Republic the time of clones was also limted. While during the Republic he had imunity granted due to the Jedi he was defenseless under this new Imperium. Determined to keep his family save Ghoul deserted and escaped the Imperiums graps just in time.

Settling on a small, unimportant planet in the outer rim where he and Odessa build a live for themselves. Around two years after the fall of the Republic, awaiting a second a child Ghoul was visited by Rex, Echo and an old friend Howzer. The three seeked support in their cause to save clones. Ghoul, while initially unwilling to help feeling resentful over the treatment he had reviced over telling the truth even before Order 66 still, eventually agreed to help after Howzer explained that his Hellhounds had fallen victim to the Imperium aswell and were held captive.

Though never fully part of Rex's and Echos clone rebellion, Ghoul often found himself helping out.

With the years passing Ghoul and Odessa had another two kids - teh youngest seemingly sensitive to the Force. Doing what he was best at, Ghoul spend his time building a Guild for Bounty Hunters. Most of them other clones but also his oldest son and daughter. Though the latter eventual leaving the family business to travel the universe alone.

Trivia

Jenot is the polish word for Raccon dog.

Ghoul is deaf and requires hearing aids. Odessa taught him Ryl sign language. He's fluent in basic sign language and Ryl sign language

Ghoul due to his lack of a real tongue can't taste regular food. Odessa makes him super spicy protein bars that he can take onto mission with him.

The tattoo on his right arm is Odessas Lekku pattern. He got it before he asked her to marry him.

Ghoul killed a stalker of Odessa without ever telling her. It also sparked his friendship with Halo - who was an accidental wittness and helped him dispose of the body.

Ghoul is the middle brother of the Vulpus Trio- Fox, Ghoul, Wolffe

His favorite colour is azure blue. It reminds him of Odessas eyes

The order of his children is Vahan, Tarkona, Reyk and Rha

Ghoul can understand Ryl but is very rocky when it comes to speaking it. His kids love to tease him with it.

His favorite drink is Oryxxian Catsblood. An alcoholic beverage that leaves a nice warm burn in his throat despite his prostethics

Ghoul was very proud of his beard and its one of the things he misses dearly since his injury.

Vahan and Tarkona are characterwise carbon copies of Ghoul, while Reyk and Rha resemble Odessa

Odessa is @therisingdarkness character. Their kids as well as the Hellhounds are our shared effort

If you want to know more about Ghoul and Odessa check out these amazing fic of her

Five times (Ghoul x Odessa story)

#the bad batch #star wars #star wars oc #sw oc #clone trooper oc #twilek oc #tcw #sw tcw #star wars fanart #the bad batch fanart #bad batch oc #eyes draws #oc lore #my ocs #if you have any other questions feel free to ask #imma try do the same for my other babies as well #also therisingdarkness feel free to add info about odie if u got time

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doberbutts · 7 months ago

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What I never understood is like... I thought we all agreed that past trauma doesn't justify abusive behavior, and that intent isn't as important as impact. So when the people who say stuff like "I hate all men" and "All men are trash" try to justify that by saying that they've been traumatized by men, I really can't get behind that reasoning? I mean, I can empathize with wanting to vent about past abuse, but I just don't think it's ever cool to generalize entire groups of people in the process. If a man was abused by his mom and started going off about how much he hates all women, we'd tell him to go to therapy. It's just so blatant to me that they want to avoid seeing the impact their words have on the people around them & they don't want to see how their man-hate interacts with racism, ableism, transphobia, etc etc.

Anyway, thanks a bunch for speaking on this! While I have not read Bell Hooks myself, I agree with all the snippets I've read through Tumblr, and I'll be looking up The Will To Change during my next library visit so I can become officially acquainted with her work. Thank you for leading me in that direction, and thank you for making such thoughtful, informative posts. You're a delight, and I hope you have a lovely week.

I think as well that often times people confuse venting- which is good and even therapeutic- with political and/or actionable discourse.

Person who was attacked, assaulted, and now traumatized by men talking about how they have an inherent distrust of men and at times wish they could live in a world without men is speaking from the darkest place of their fear and is working through their trauma.

Person who then takes these opinions and turns them into actual theory and pushes for this to become the new social norm, however, is no longer venting nor are they acting in a therapeutic manner. This is where it begins to harm people, and thus where it begins to be a problem.

There's been people- feminists, even- a lot smarter than me who have discussed at length the difference between the two. How we need to make space for one, but need to ensure the other is not being used as a bludgeon to harm those who just happen to be in the same demographic.

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the-defendery-189 · 1 year ago

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ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS #1

Venus & Neptune square and aspects in general, especially negative ones - lazy, creative, and inspirational, yet so delusional and preferring their fantasies to the relatity in their relationships and often not even realise they're doing that.

Capricorn and Virgo and Aquarius suns are imo the ones to hate astrology the most, like once they learn there are also bad things about their signs, wow!!!, they immediately hate it and GOOOD, astrology is so TERRIBLE and UNREAL and FAKE... 🙄🙄🙄

Scorpio suns are very hypocritical. Once they say some things but when it's suddenly against them, you're just making it up, it never happened! Also gaslight people and are just generally very proud and irrational when hurt a lot. Blame others a lot. Get all defensive and icky when people actually try to accuse them of something they have done.

Geminis can use fake tears to make you pity them and then act like it's all your fault, anyways.

Also sags use their feelings to try to gaslight people and make them feel sad for them and excuse themselves when they just don't care about them anymore, and just make them seem like it's all the other persons fault, when they'll still go like "its not you, it's me" in the end.

Cancer suns are very quirky in a kind of disgusting way, personally I get very annoyed by them and they still think I think they're oh so cute.

Also cancer men are very manipulative and might want to seem like the prince charming and saviour of all the women. Often matriarchal and want women to have all the power. Also submissive to them in sex and generally want women to be the dominant ones in a relationship. Often grew up in a home without a father, who left them as a child, their mother ruling the household. Might be the youngest sibling. Bullied in school and bullying others, hiding behind the "but I'm a soft boy uwu 😩😣💖💖💖🫀🫀🫀❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💔💔💔👈👈👈" excuse and trauma that have happened to them. Either metalheads or soft boys uwu discord kittens. Often joke about furries and cringe weird communities and their obsessions. Very chronically online and may have grew up as a YouTube creepy pasta or smth else child.

Also Cancer men - Will pretend to listen to a girl because they know this is what they want --- because of that mother relationship they grew up with. But seriously just not give a fuck for real in their heads, they just know how to be smart and manipulate women. Don't feel comfortable around men BCS of their too-much-comfortable being they happen to switch on when are with women. Often put on a mask in front of men and pretend to be someone who they aren't. Men might think they're cool then, which j really don't understand. Like what???

Also cancer men and women - mommy issues, if it wasn't obvious. Can be very backstabbing and distrustful and think of themselves as mega hot and the best. Often boring texters and talkers. Rant a lot and talk about their hyperfixations and how the world is cruel and shit towards them, but really sometimes you can't help but wonder if they don't deserve it.

Saturn in 7th - Abusive relationships, getting married later in life, husband/wife popular and maybe rich, so if they abuse you, nobody might believe you and everybody will be on their side because they might be just more charismstic than you.

My parents both have this placement and it is HELL.

Lilith in 10th, 1th - Women envy you, hate you and sabotage you, men think you're too dark and edgy for them. People thinking you think you're better then them, this hating you. Being too charismatic for your own good.

Leo Venus - again, as it is with the Saturn in 7th. Could be more popular and overall likeable so if they do terrible things to you, nobody will believe you. Might just be nobody believing me cuz of crazy people around me tho.

Neptune in 1st - people might find you very attractive and ethereal, but also project on you A LOT. Meaning connections and relationships with you are just really difficult to even happen BCS people are always so judging and mean towards you.

Chiron in 1st - Body image issues, partners might abuse you and body shame you, people thinking less of you and in childhood parents often telling you you look ugly. I'm sorry people, I have this placement too tho so its not like I'm shaming you too, just I can feel your pain.

Scorpio ascendant - Too assertive and proud of your uniqueness and too opinionated for your own good. You guys are so clear with your speaking and always speak your mind and aren't fearful to express yourself how you feel and how your think and are always so like colorful with the things you say if you know what I mean. People will despise you for that and try to shut you up. And as somebody who did this to my scorp rising friend before subconsciously,,, yep. It happens even from your trusted friends.

If your moon is in the same sign as your friends/anyone's ascendant... You might feel instantly understood by them. Like I have this with my friend and it's an absolutely great and fantastic relationship, I love her. She absolutely understands me and gets me on a spiritual level - maybe caused by the fact that we have this with Scorpio - like no one else. It's a great relationship, savour this.

If you have a moon sign same as somebody's sun sign, you might enjoy their cooking.

If you have a sun sign same as somebody else's rising, you might try to be more like them and adore them for no reason.

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mothmothm0th · 4 months ago

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on forming a basic understanding of the moth

cw: parasitism

As a moth, the second most common refrain I hear is "I don't know what you are" in a myriad of different phrases. This is understandable and even preferable to the topmost common refrain. However, this confusion is not because us moths are strange or unusual on some deep, existential level. And indeed, it is a mistake to assume that because one is not strange or unusual, one cannot be a moth. Many of us present as perfectly ordinary, even to ourselves.

Of course, the typical moth will be glad to know that you find it confusing. Even I, as I write my little essay, am torn between being a good communicator and helpful teacher and throwing you off a cliff into a cloud of soporifics and dream-stuff. Thus, assuming an adverserial, distrustful stance to whatever I say is probably a reasonable thing to do. I could be lying out of my abdomen. Or possibly my thorax. Even if I was, I would still be attempting to present my case in such a manner that I would appear trustworthy and thuswise lure you into a false sense of confidence. I wouldn't do that to you though. We're friends, right? We're buddies!

Anyway, at the heart of the moth is a simple syllogism. If the term is unfamiliar to you, you will likely have encountered many examples of them in your life, such as Aristotles famous formulation, originally found in his foundational work en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syllogism (350 BC). His syllogism states as such: "All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore, Socrates is mortal." I could explain syllogisms more thoroughly but I've already provided you with a source to learn for yourself. I'm a moth, not a science teacher. Instead, let's look at the syllogism of the moth. Consider this:

"All moths yearn. The author of this text is a moth. Therefore, the author yearns."

Simple, no? Now, put your thinking cap on and consider this one for size.

"All moths yearn. The author of this text yearns. Therefore, the author is a moth."

Now, I want you to ask yourself whether the statement given is true. And please do it before semantic satiation claims us all. I'll just give you some time to think really hard and I'll be doing that by way of writing nonsense to pad out the length of this paragraph because I need to make it look longer to satisfy the part of my brain that makes writing such a hassle sometimes but please don't be alarmed as purple scissors will not harm you underneath the tulip skies so long as you think really carefully and draw your conclusions with precision.

Did you think about it? Did anything seem amiss? That's right, there wasn't! The second syllogism is perfectly sound and valid beyond a reasonable doubt. All moths yearn, and all that yearns is moth. Good on you for not falling for that trap. You're so smart, and <first draft note!! insert applicable compliment here: beautiful | handsome | Still. don't forget to edit this later!!> too!

Of course, you might be thinking something along the lines of "well, I feel a deep sense of need for something too but that doesn't make me a moth." In reality, you are... possibly maybe correct in some sense of the word. However, what you experience as an emotion is actually a moth's egg, laid in the sweet tasty fabrics of your heart. If this makes you think "woah, so moth-eggs are everywhere, then", you would be quite right! While modern life has taken away the stars by which we navigate the night, those same conditions paradoxically help in the spontaneous generation of our eggs. Don't take this as me saying modern life bad. Pointing out how modern life is bad and bad for you is somewhat passé and indeed, we moths have existed since day one. In fact, to assume that I am saying that modern life bad assumes that I think mothiness is a bad thing. And I'm not saying that, stop saying I'm saying that.

Anyway, let's move out of the realm of baseless accusations about what I believe in and talk about the lifecycle of a moth a tad more. As described, a moth begins life as an egg, just like all other girls. And as discussed, a moth-egg is experienced by the fabric that lays it as yearning. Academic sources and my diurnal dreams differ on whether the yearning or the egg comes first. You may have heard this dilemna by its authorised discursive phrase, "chicken and the egg". A nice lil peek behind the Veil for you there. Don't worry about it.

As the moth-egg hatches, the moth/yearning enters its larval stage. The larva/yearning will begin to consume its fabric/host-mind. While this may sound scary, I invite you to consider how you are already being consumed by many things all the time, metaphorically. Capitalism consumes your labour, love consumes your reason, a third thing consumes another abstract concept, and so on and so on. Thus, while the process of mothly consumption gradually gnaws through the liminality between metaphor and literal, mind and soul, soul and body, it is still no more destructive than the aforementioned. You will not survive life unchanged. Give it up. Embrace metamorphosis. That's my advice to the moth-eaten fabrics in the audience anyway. But you're not moth-eaten. You're <ok seriously though what's a good gender, species, construct, and modality neutral word of praise?> so you don't have to worry about me trying to hasten anything. The eggs in your mind have not hatched. They will not hatch. Don't worry about it.

When the larva/yearning has thoroughly consumed its banquet/host, it weaves itself a cocoon/anticipation within the nice space left within the host's closet/skull. Some naughty witches have devised means of harvesting silk/desire from this cocoon/anticipation and the smart ones even wait until the imago/apotheosis has emerged before committing to the harvest. I wouldn't do either though, so don't worry. But we're getting off-track here. During this gestation period, the moth-to-be experiences a gradual shift in cognition. While most sources typically describe this shift in cognitive possibility space as "major depressive disorder" or "bipolar disorder" or "dissociative disorder" or even "other specified dissociative disorder", these label only apply to the more mundane, less exciting forms of having one's mind consumed. If you're a fully grown imago, you should sue!! In fact, please send me an ask with your frequency, flavour, and cardinality and I'll send you an oneiro-mail with instructions on the proper legal curses to apply.

Ah, distracted distracted. Mustn't let one get too distracted. You are not an imago. At least if you're the audience/sucker I'm writing this essay/trap for. No, no, no. You're here to learn what the lifecycle of a moth/yearning is! So let's talk about the moment a moth/yearning hatches/transcends. While the shift from larva to pupa is gradual enough that one might not even realise it is happening, the moment of transcendence is not. The final step of any metamorphosis is the most traumatic. It is a moment of great pain and of great bliss. John of the Cross/some nerd described it as "the dark night of the soul", which is a fitting description considering, yknow, nights. Moths. You get me. But that nerd was subscribed to some fake news youtuber and misattributed the whole thing to some old geezer who died a whole lotta time ago. Foolish. Foolish! No no no, the moment of hatching is something far greater, and something far more. To hatch is to see the light of Mansus with one's own eyes. To hatch is to become solid. To hatch is to transcend, to reach one's apotheosis of yearning. To become yearning itself. The false self is discarded, the true self is adorned. I see the shapes of things and I reach my hand out and the pain of change once again grips me and my heart sings and I become fluid again to become something anew for the me that is me is not the me that you see but the process is me and you are but a static object compared to me and I see the gods and the devils and they are static too and while my shape shall never be as luminescent I shall deconstruct their light and burn and burn and burn to be reborn and thus shall i die and never die and maybe i even get to drink the sweet sweet nectar of monster energy once again for i shall just be a little guy who is so terrible and nice and so i shall jump for the raw beef and fail the jump and burn in parkour prison until i change again for though i am not great or powerful you shall never diminish my joy and my love and my cycle of mistakes and fuck-ups will continue unto morrow and tomorrow and so it goes and so it goes and.

Oh, you're still here. Didn't notice you. I hope the lil writing exercise didn't bore you or anything. I think writing a bit of modernist pablum every now and then helps keep the mind unpretentious the rest of the time. Gotta keep that ol' noggin nice and crunchy. But in any case, I hope you've enjoyed this brief look into how to write a good essay or whatever the ohio this piece was about. If you're still suffering from symptoms of wanting-to-write-good-but-you-don't-know-how, please send an ask with your true name and object of yearning. I will get in contact with oneiro-mail as soon as I can.

#empty spaces #mothposting #original writing

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evergreen292 · 4 months ago

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Mulan-type Warrior!Penelope AU, anybody?

i saw Warrior!Penelope Swap AU and it's really cool. But i think a Mulan-type Warrior!Penelope AU, without swapping others would be interesting too.

Let's imagine - Odysseus got some permanent injure from his boar encounter, and it was ok from the beginning, but somehow worsen because of harsh Athena's trainings, so Ody is in no shape now to join the war. But he must because of the oath. And Penelope decides to do all the Mulan thing, disguising as her husband. Athena, feeling guilty for her mistake, becomes her patron goddess. Penelope has some time to recover after Telemachus birth and to train while all the troian war greek troops gather. With Athena's disguises, Penelope manages to fool everyone during the first years of war. And then she catches a spear in her chest and the fraud is disclosed. But Athena openly admits Penelope as her champion and she is doing great job as a general, so others decide to let it go on. Penelope's warriors are shocked at first, but accept the situation too. Eurylochus is sceptical, Polites is delighted, they both become slightly overprotective. Being Athena's champion, Penelope isn't "a mere woman" so she mostly escapes the period-typical sexism. And than the Epic starts. I think, that Penelope could not bring herself to kill the infant, so Athena leaves her because of this foolish and emotional decision (and cause war is over, and their agreement too, Penelope's gonna go home now, what bad could happen?)

And than the cyclops happen. And maybe, being a male, he doesn't treat Penelope seriously so her attempts for peace are in wain and her men still die and she still blinds the cyclops and reveal her name in grief and in attempt to prove that a woman can be a threat for a monster too. And now Poseidon isn't that much pissed (cause his son was foolish enough to get blinded by a woman) and mostly curious, but still has a reputation to hold, "ruthlessness is mercy", so he drowns the fleet anyway. But he spares her and her ship, cause, being zeus' brother after all, wants some closer contact with such an interesting woman. So wind bag happens anyway... and they start running from Poseidon, while Penelope struggles with growing distrust from her crew, desperately trying to return home to her husband and child, and gradually becomes a monster of her own...

In this variant Hermes could possible not participate in Circe saga, cause Penelope doesn't relate to him and is in less danger from Circe than any man. Maybe no Scilla cause mutiny takes place earlier, but with killing cows and really disturbing now thunder bringer

It can became more like comedy, with some funny courtship from Poseidon, including talking dolphins, (this way all blinding and drowning fleet situations can be soften) or it can be really dark, one woman and a child among a bunch of angry and desperate men, running from the horny god...

#epic the musical #Warrior!Penelope AU #penelope #athena #poseidon #polites #eurylochus

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genderqueerdykes · 2 months ago

Note

Having read what y'all have said, I'm going to add a few things.

1. You're right, it's not all cishet men, it's specifically the bad ones that I hate, I do however, have a distrust of specifically *White* cishet men (though at this point I feel like most people do) who have declared themselves to be just that, which brings me to my next point -

2. It's only the people who have flat out said they identify this way that it effects for me. I'm actually married to a non-passing trans woman. I see her struggles, mostly with, you guessed it, white cishet men, and white cishet women. I love her a lot, so no, I don't immediately just assume.

3. Aro, Ace, intersex, Etc are all Lgbtq+ last I checked, no? I personally wouldn't group those folks in with cishet folks, but I do appreciate this take as well. For me, in my opinion, being aro is enough to be queer if someone wants that space. If they tell me they don't, I won't force it, but I've yet to have someone say "oh no thanks" being so fr right now, Even if they are Cis, and Hetero, they are still Aromantic. They are still Asexual. Those are still valid identities in the community. So is being gay? Intersex by default means you're not cis, unless I've been misled on that. So.. No I'm not including those groups when I say I hate cishet men.

4. I know it wasn't you who brought this up, but I'd geuninely appreciate a deeper explanation on how hating white cishet men (or, Bad cishet men specifically) is racist? Idk maybe I'm an outlier here but I'm way more comfortable around cishet men of color than I am white cishet men. I just didn't think it would immediately jump to "You're racist anon" or I would've clarified that intially.

The reason for all of this, is personal. It is because of hurt. But it is also because 97% of women. Statistics back that right now, in society, the most dangerous people are also the ones who try to take up the biggest space. Who shout the loudest. Who punch down most often. So yeah, I do hate them. Would I say that I hate someone who is Amab but hasn't flat out identified that way? No. Would I say I hate white cismen's socialization more than them? Yeah absolutely. I absolutely challenge how we raise our kids on the whole because look at how that turns out.. and that's just the numbers we have. Would I say that I hat every white cishet who's proudly proclaimed that to me? Yeah. Honestly. I think I would. Whether they have personally wronged me, or not, their socialization and actions are a part of them, one they could change if they wanted to, but the stastics don't lie. The people who cause the most damage are, cishet, white, men. I recognize maybe that makes me bitter, but.. I can't really afford to be sweet, with how much hurt I've been put through, my wife has been put through, my friends and even just strangers get put through.

If they're not white, and they admit they're cishet, I'm still cautious. But I don't automatically jump on the hate train without getting to know them.

I don't go up to children still trying to figure things out and loudly proclaim that I hate them because.

Hell I don't even do that to adults. My feelings are my own, and my responsibility. I just make a point of being precautious, and I do my best to protect my wife, where I can, and others.

It's all good and dandy to make room for cishet men, queer men, men in general - and I definitely think it needs to be done more on the whole, and advocated for, but at the same time, aren't we allowed to be angry about how things have been? About how difficult to bring that change in is? (Note, because other things got misunderstood, Being angry /=/ Attacking other people. Hatred for me, at least /=/ Attacking other people. It's not outward. Those are actions. Not feelings.)

I'll stay to see any responses if this is answered, because I do think open dialogue is the only way to learn and to challenge one's views (which I'm not opposed to doing. Maybe one day I'll realize y'all were right or maybe even after the response to this who knows right?) Because that's how growth happens. That's how real change gets started. But, I think in general, me sticking around would probably make you feel uncomfortable, which is valid, so I'll take off afterwards & bear in mind that it *does* include me for others going forward. I do appreciate an answer on that, even if it seems like we have different opinions and perspectives. Maybe I just wasn't clear enough? Maybe this'll be seen as worse not better. Idk. Either way. Thanks for giving me an answer, and for the emotional labour that went into the initial replies, and any replies if they happen to this. If no one is willing to put more into this, I do completely understand that too. I'm not gonna push. It's a lot, and it can be exhausting and cause burn out so like. You gotta take care of yourselves too.

I probably won't feel the need to respond again, but, I might if I see y'alls point more clearly. Otherwise, I don't want to cause any more problems for anyone so I'll take my leave!

no, your hatred is not justified, and it never will be. no part of that is justified whatsoever. what you hate is patriarchy, not cishet men. you hate the system that we've built around cishet men and how we force everyone to uphold it. your talking points are heavily steeped in rad feminist ideals and i highly recommend trying to divorce yourself of that. it's always bad praxis to hate an entire group of people.

you said you specifically hate "cishet men." aro cishet men are cishet men. ace cishet men are cishet men. genderqueer cishet men are cishet men. intersex cishet men are cishet men. cishet men can be queer. insinuating that "cishet man" means "not queer" is dangerous thinking. of course these people are queer.... but they're still cishet men. you don't get to rob a cishet man of their cishet manhood just because they are also ace, aro, intersex, and so on. that doesn't just erase the fact that they're a cishet man and automatically make them 'safer' to be around than any other cishet man.

i would highly recommend on not talking about intersex identities until you learn more. being intersex doesn't make someone inherently trans, it's actually very intersexist to state that being intersex makes you basically trans. there are loads of cis intersex people out there, so you were right in not being informed well on that issue. this spits in the face of every intersex person who has fought to be seen as cis to insinuate that being intersex makes you trans. these wouldn't be two distinct experiences if they meant the same thing.

also i never called you racist. the comment made about racist behavior was from another blogger. no one ever called you racist for saying you hate white men. please re-read this portion of the addition:

you have been hurt by specific men, the general concept of cishet men. to automatically assume someone is dangerous just because how they identify will lead you down a path of extreme isolation. random cishet men walking down the street aren't hurting you. random cishet men in the same community as you aren't hurting you.

i'd recommend giving my initial response a re-read because a lot of this is totally out of left field. it's your choice whether or not you interact with me! you're not obligated to follow my blog if you genuinely think and feel that you need to hate cishet men in order to survive. keep in mind that hating men will not keep you safe from being hurt again in the future. you will never be completely safe from abuse by pathologically avoiding and hating men

shift your hatred to patriarchy, not cishet men who have not hurt you. many men are chewed up and spat out by patriarchy for not being a perfect man. it's not racist to talk about how men of color are treated horribly by patriarchy and how certain racial traits are seen as more "manly" by whites than others. this part of the discussion is extremely important to talk about. no one called you racist, they called the behavior of stereotyping certain physical traits as masculine racist. racist behavior can be changed

i'll leave you with this: you've been hurt by cishet men, but you've also been hurt by cishet women. you cannot in good faith say you have never, ever been hurt by a cishet woman. whether directly, or by virtue of having a cishet woman in a position of power over you, such as an employer or governor, you have been hurt by a cishet woman in some point in your life. people really love to downplay how much cishet women can hurt people.

this question is for you, not for you to ask me, or respond to: is it okay to hate all cishet women because of the likes of JKR? chew on that for a while. women are not inherently incapable of abuse. by asserting that men are inherently abusive, you are asserting that women are inherently defenseless and can only be abused and never hurt anyone else.

hope that gives you a few things to think about. good luck out there

#asks #answers #man hating #antimasculism

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