#but god its been so fucking bad imo

[sailorsunspot]

this is the season that makes me give up on rwby i think

[airbenderedacted]

What was the beta s2 villain design? I haven’t heard or seen abt that one n im curious

,,,,Bombshell my bbygirl,.

[volfoss]

my #analysis or whatever but its really interesting with how much they cut out of the Jon at the banquet 1x01 scene compared to (at least the leaked version online) the original pilot and book. like not to be like yeah grrm put this much detail in there for a reason but a lot of the detail that they removed really hurts jon as a character and its so jarring to see how much they cut to take the chapter down to about 3 minutes of the episode.

[hella1975]

“hello, it’s maintenance” NOOOOO

[sateurn]

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

These sobs really limited my tags?????

I have so many more thoughts this is so so much less than 1/2. Broski. Big dislike

[andragoras-in-vanity]

remember being a teen and watching shit like soul eater and kimono jihen and thinking god damn i wish I had a perpetually exhausted but badass mentor to help me get through things?

well now im 27 and im the perpetually exhausted mentor with bedhead and a slight alcohol problem to my 15 year old cousin and im gonna tear my hair out about not being able to just let her stay for a bit because i know it doesnt matter fuck all what i say to her dad, shes still gonna be treated like shit just because shes a moody teen with undiagnosed add and an autustic brother who constantly talks over everyone. i suddenly need a cigarette.

[txttletale]

If we're asking about games on your list of favourites, as someone who adored Paradise Killer, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! I always enjoy your analysis.

so first of all the aesthetics of paradise killer are really good. usually games that were written in english but read like translations from japanese irritated me, but here i think it is very much leaned into and embraced as an aesthetic and set of cultural signifiers in its own right, which i really enjoy. the character designs are outlandish and charming. but what i really like about it is like, the way the core premise works

in most detective games, there is a correct answer, and not getting it is a failure state. you can't end a case in ace attorney with your innocent client being convicted, you can't get the wrong guy in the frogware sherlock holmes games. and this invariably, even if the game is critical in other aspects, tends to come around to a fundamental faith in the legal system and authority, right--something that's kind of baked into the detective genre at a fundamental level.

paradise killer upends that by simply saying "you are the detective. get the facts you need, make a compelling argument, and if the authorities above you believe you then you get to distribute justice as you see fit." you arrive on the island you're investigating and you're immediately told "hey, this member of a disenfranchised underclass did it, we've already arrested him, here's the evidence." and absolutely nothing stops you from taking that evidence and walking into the trial room and presenting it and saying "yep, he did it!" and beating the game! it's not a 'bad ending', you don't get a big popup saying 'you're wrong', the powers that be just accept the convenient narrative you've been given to present and everything moves on.

i like this from both, like, an ideological perspective, and also from an interpersonal stakes perspective. in most detective games, you can't miss a crucial piece of evidence, either because the game will not proceed until you pick it up or because you'll be forced to restart the 'trial' or 'deduction' segment when you game over because you're missing it. in paradise killer, whatever argument you put forward, if enough evidence supports it--even if you know for a fact it's wrong!--leads to the person you're accusing being executed. so the stakes are much higher, right, because instead of a game over screen and trying again, getting it wrong means that's just... how the game ends, with an innocent person being executed.

and more importantly i think it does a fantastic job--better imo even than something like disco elysium--at deconstructing the fantasy of justice. a constant theme of the game and something that the protagonist repeats often is "there is a difference between facts and the truth". you can withhold evidence at trial because it implicates your friends, or misrepresent it to implicate that bitch you hate. nothing in the system exists to stop you getting wrong, in fact your superiors encourage you to make the easy completely stritched up conviction and move on with your life.

and at the end, even if you get it right, if you catch all the criminals--all the time you spend investigating this island shows that, like, the society you're part of is fucking evil! you're all deranged immortals making constant human sacrifices to your evil gods! and you don't change that by solving the case, the whole thing just packs up and moves on. you don't get any comfortable resolution to that or to your role in it. you can play lady love dies as a diehard true believer or as a dissident rebel but either way she's ultimately just another cog in a machine, dispensing an alien and uncaring justice that is only attached to any real morality or truth by your decision to do so. a genuinely incredible game.

plus i like how whenever you open it a voice says 'paradise killer' so you know you're playing paradise killer

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey love! if you're still accepting requests, could I get an extremely wild, rough and feral nsfw Daemon x wife fem!reader please? (feel free to ignore and sorry if the request is weird, but I'm thirsty for this handsome fictional man who unfortunately doesn't exist)

Frost Bite

Daemon Targayen x Stark!Reader

Summary: You were travelling back to home soil in anticipation of your wolf's heat cycle. Besides the fact that you could not stand the sound of your prince husband's breathing and the fact you were certain he would perish in the cold, there was one more reason why you did not want him to join you: the fact the heat was affecting you too.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Basically PWP, 5k+ SMUT T_T (non-con [daemon touches her while she's asleep], virgin!reader, she cries for various reasons, fingering, choking, biting, degradation kink, corruption kink, spitting, marking, edging, oral [fem receiving], breeding kink, cream pie), RIP feminism, opens with a wet dream, brief mentions of near death experience in a snow storm, dark!daemon (but imo its just canon daemon) fem!reader, wife!Reader, soft!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: YEAH MINORS DNI. LOL SO I was planning to write this for my part 2 of my Stark!Reader, but i got lazy and didn't want to create a whole plot leading up to the smut, so i removed it all together, which I guess worked out swell for you nonnie, since I was planning something absolutely unhinged. I hope you liked that fic of mine since you're basically getting a p3 of it So here's part 1, here's part 2, but you don't need to read any of them to understand, but i suggest you do for background cos lol this is PWP T_T Next part ig but its a blurb "✨Magic✨" OMG NEXT PART BUT ITS NOT A BLURB "Moon Cycle" Also nonnie, i wanted to tell you albeit asking for smut is pretty awkward HAHAHAH you gotta process these feelings somehow you know. i mean, we could have been criminals, like Daemon, instead but we're not, and that's what matters (unless you are a criminal in which case im closing my eyes) this gif of him is so large on pc but idc he's so hot MATT I WANT YOU SO BAD FUCK OFF if someone snitches to big brother again like in In Your Defense /: Idk if you want to be, but I'm tagging everyone I tagged in the previous fic, as well as the others that commented there SO HI THIS IS SMUT YOU CAN GO IF YOU WANT LOL HAHHAH @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog

I caught him. I caught him doing the very thing I dreaded to catch him do. The one thing I accused him of doing every night, though in my heart of hearts I wished he did not... not that I would ever admit it to his face. Because why would I? Admitting it would mean- "You want me," Daemon heaved against the neck of the woman beneath him. He cranes his neck up as he thrust into her, smirking, eyes dark, "you want this to be you," he pants as he stares at me, "don't you?" I am in my place, frozen, watching and hearing the woman come undone underneath my husband who kisses her tenderly. "Daemon," I whimper helplessly, teary eyed, "Daemon please." "Fuck off."

I jolt awake, sweat sheening my neck and chest. I turn to my bed, empty, because though Daemon insisted we sleep together and I could not fight him in his decision, he did not return to me until nigh dawn.

I wipe my face as I recall my intensifying dreams.

It seems my travels up North would come quicker than anticipated.

And as much as I wanted to tell him I told you so, oh to all the gods, how badly he deserved it, there was no time for me to gloat when Daemon did the very thing I warned him not to, fall into the icy river.

It was instantaneous. The cracking of the ice, the splashing of water, the scream that escaped me. Maybe I should have left him in the cave we kept Caraxes, who he insisted on bringing. But then again he would have insisted on joining me to the cabin, the way he insisted on joining me here up North in the first place.

And now I had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

It was sheer miracle that I got him out of the river without falling into it myself, sheer stupidity of me to rid him of his coat and offer him mine when the blistering snow storm was not relenting, and quite clearly the sheer will of the gods that both of us made it to the cabin... barely.

The moment we walked in, I shut the door and scrambled towards the fireplace. As my fingers shivered, I thought of Havoc, and how at least I know she would find mine and Daemon's corpses if ever we do not make it. I had sent her away when the storm came out of nowhere because we had to find cover for Caraxes, and she would not have been any of help to us if she were here with us anyway.

My poor pup. She would be heartbroken if she saw me frozen. And Caraxes...

I curse the flint, I curse the cold, I curse the gods, and I curse Daemon for every time I failed to light a fire. I thanked the Stranger for finally allowing me the mercy of my eventual success.

Once the fire was burning steady, I get on my feet and run to Daemon, hauling him over to the fire roughly in haste where he helpelessly kneels in front of. He could do nothing but shiver as I scramble to get some dry clothes and sheets for the both of us.

I yank him closer to the fire and begin to undress him.

Seeing as he is nothing but docile to my actions and how his skin was turning grey, I began to grow frantic, "you cannot fucking die, you prick!"

I rip his top off and quickly clothe him, "I did not go through all the trouble of marrying you for nothing. I refuse to be forced into another marriage because your stupid ass froze to death."

Daemon's shudder comes out in a thick condensation.

"Fuck," I whimper, as I struggle to get him out of his boots and breeches.

I shrivel up at the feel of his frozen fingers then brush against my arm and I shake my head rapidly, realizing there was no choice. The only way I can warm him quickly enough is if I share my own.

I strip him naked, pulling off the shirt I struggled to put on him as well, then wrap him in a fur blanket in the meantime. I then take off my own clothes and hiss at the nipping cold.

The fact Daemon does not even look at my naked form strikes a chord in me.

I straighten him up and fix the blankets on his legs and thighs before I sit on his lap. I press my bare chest against his and whimper at his dangerously concerning coldness.

He shivers against me as his face rests helplessly on my shoulder. His breath that hits my skin is not even hot.

"Remember, you're too fucking stubborn to die," I say as I wrap my legs around his torso and graciously place his fingers beneath my bottom.

His lack of warmth literally brings tears to my eyes.

I reach out for the other blanket and wrap it over myself, consequently Daemon, before I wrap my arms around him and breathe hotly against his face.

I rub his back, "will you allow irony to take you? The hot blooded prince defeated by the cold?"

He releases a shiver and moves his head. He mutters something, but his quaking body does not allow me to make sense of it.

"Do not waste your energy," I chide.

And so for a long moment, we stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing each other's heat. I do my best to warm him. I even nuzzle against him, the way Havoc did me, just so I could warm his stupid face.

Daemon finally finds it in him to lean against my touch, and when he does, he mutters under his breath, "irony-" shudder, "-would be if the- N-Northern princ-ces-s-ss died in the cold."

My face contorts and yet I cannot help but chuckle at him, glad he can sputter his nonsense again, "then I should make Caraxes burn you for your stupidity."

I shiver when I feel his icy lips kiss my neck. Goosebumps form on my skin when I feel the hot breath that follows. My hands rake up to his nape, where I then dig my fingers as I pull away.

"N-n-nno!" he stutters, hands coming around my hips to brace me tightly, "I ss-swear I'm not warm yet-t-t."

I pull back again though to face him when I said, "I only wanted to tell you," I lean my forehead against his face, "I fucking told you so, you stupid idiot."

I rest my face on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I would not be off him any time soon.

I dream about him. I dream about kissing his shivers away. I dream about pulling the fur blanket that separated our legs away, and riding him until he was warm.

I dream about how good he feels, and how he burns inside me. I dream about calling his name, unlike how I did in my other dreams. I was no longer calling out in betrayal, I was calling out in pleasure.

Daemon.

Daemon.

"Daemon," I trail off in a groan, willing my heavy eyelids open. I feel pressure building up inside me before I understand what's happening.

I not know how, but I am laid on a bed, head on a pillow, form still naked. Daemon is sat up beside me, peering down at me and his hands.

I whine.

His fingers-

"Oh fucking hell," he groans as his other hand begins to knead at my breasts, "you feels so good wrapped around my fingers, I-"

I cut him off with my squeak, hands flying to his arm, thighs closing shut, squeezing this hand in between my thighs.

"Daemon," the dazed quality of my voice is gone.

He tilts his head, face twisting, a challenge.

When I struggle and wrangle against him, all it takes is his hand on my throat to make me go still. I barely manage a choke and my breath continues to leave me as his fingers quicken their pace inside me.

He only releases me after I shake and shudder when I come.

It is overwhelming and nothing at all like I have dreamed or imagined, unlike all the times I've touched myself in secret. It was intense but there was a shame tied to it.

My entire body is hot and tears prick my eyes at his relentless ministrations.

"You were too fucking ready for that," Daemon mutters dryly as he quickly pulls away and shifts in his spot, "how long have you imagined fucking me, hmm?"

Before I even have the brain to do something, he crawls down the bed, "was it when you caught me touching myself to you?" He sinks down, grabbing my legs, "or have you done it before and withheld me of your sweet cunt for no fucking reason?"

All at once, he brings his face between my legs and begins to lick all the slickness off my pulsing core.

"DAEMON!" I scream, pressing my thighs close as I push myself up on my elbows, trying to break free of him.

He ignores me and forces my legs open even as I kick them in protest, "you will not deny me something you so clearly want yourself."

He grunts and pushes my legs down before grabbing my hands that were shoving him away, "you fucking bitch," he grips me tightly, "you will not find it in yourself to fight me off once I make a whore out of you."

I growl at his words, feeling my stomach drop along with my tears because of it.

I was realizing just how strong he really was, and how in moments where our arguments got a bit physical, he has probably holding back. The revelation of this does not cease my attempts at freeing myself, but it is as pointless as I feared.

Daemon rises up from his spot, nearing me, up until he is breathing against my cheek and rubbing his hardened length against my wetness.

I turn away from him, unable to really do anything else and shudder as he speaks, "you said it yourself, you did not go through all this trouble marrying me for nothing."

I screw my eyes shut, feeling tears fall, "Daemon."

He shushes me, pulling my arms up above my head, "you should not worry. I refuse to die now that I know of your lust."

I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, "still, the idea of someone claiming you- fuck-" he groans gutturally, "had I died..." he trails of in another groan, "someone else would have gotten my prize and it would have been all be your fault."

Daemon squeezes my wrist in one hand then grabs my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. I keep my eyes shut though as he heaves hotly, "I should utterly ruin every part of you so you can never have anyone but me. Though make no mistake, I would never let that happen as I so fucking breathe."

"Hypocrite," I scoff.

He laughs and I tense at the feeling of his vibrations, "she speaks."

I dare to look at him as I pant, "you do not desire me. You're just a spoiled brat who merely wants to wet his cock, just like how you do every night."

"Oh," he groans, "is this jealousy I hear?" He squeezes my cheeks, "is my pretty whore jealous that she is not the only one?"

"Fuck you!" I manage out though muffled.

Daemon laughs at the feel of tears rushing down his fingers, "do not cry, foolish wife. I'll have you know I have not wet my cock ever since I called out your name when I fucked someone else before our wedding day."

He releases my face. I attempt to even out my breath.

"I hadn't even realized until she asked me who-"

"And you think you deserve an award for that?!" I quip through my heavy breathing.

He lets out a laugh that makes me whimper, "I think you ought to know that mine own want for you has made everyone else undesirable," he licks my cheek, making me pull my head away from him, "I have been so pent up in want and for what? Because you're too bull headed to allow me anything other than my lonely hand?"

I try to wrangle out of his grip again, and he presses his whole body on me in response, "it's quite adorable that you still have it in you act like you didn't just call my name out loud while you dreamt of fucking me."

He rubs his nose against my jaw, "you wanna know how I know?"

"Fuck off-"

"You were rutting against me like a hussy," he sighs, "by the gods, had I known you were so wanton at night, I would have never granted you the insult of sleeping alone."

I could feel myself burn hotter with each word that leaves his lips despite myself. I did not want him to catch me like this, but there was no use; I was already caught.

As Daemon rocks his hips on mine, he hisses, undoubtedly feeling how much wetter I had gotten was beneath him.

"Fuck," he trails off, "here's what going to happen," he whispers, rutting against me rougher.

I cannot for the life of me withhold my whimper.

He chuckles as he presses his face against mine, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue and then I'm going to fuck you until you cry."

"Daemon, please stop-"

"Your heartbeat against my cock and how fucking wet you are disagrees with your protest, little liar," he croons. He lifts his head, then leans his forehead against mine, "don't worry, my little virgin, you will not cry because it hurts, you will cry because you'll want it so bad that it hurts."

"Daemon-"

"You will not refuse me," he whispers, though it is anything but sweet, "not when there is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you want this too."

He brings his hands to my neck again and I wait for his grip to tighten, but it does not, "now say it."

I look up at him as my breathing quickens.

"Yield," he commands, breathing heavily all of a sudden.

I look up at him feeling my belly swirl in ways I could not ever explain.

"Admit to both our ears that you burn for me just as I have been fucking burning for you."

I yelp when he puts pressure on my throat then releases it.

"Say it," he barks.

"I-"

"Say you want me," he says softer this time.

I am disarmed by his quick change in tone and a shiver leaves me as the cold finds its way to my belly as he pulls away. Daemon releases my hands then begins to crawl down. His eyes are fixed on my as he mutters once more, "say it."

I shudder as he presses my thighs against his cheeks then whispers, almost begging, "say it."

I turn away from him and close my eyes, awaiting his next actions, for it was not like I could stop him if I refuse.

"Say it," he urges louder, "you know you want to."

I clench my jaw, "just do what you want and be done with it."

He growls, and goosebumps form on my skin when I feel him bite at the inner most part of my thigh. I grip at the sheets at the feel of teeth and tongue. I bite my lips tightly to keep myself from making any noise.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Daemon mutters.

I yelp and look down at him when his finger strokes my core.

His eyes are dark as he airily chuckles at my reaction, "after all I have given you my name, my Targaryen queen. You are no longer your own, you are forever mine."

I watch him as he lifts his head up and kisses my sopping heat. I flinch when he nips at me, drawing my nub out with his teeth. He lifts his head as he releases my flesh. His chin is glistening with my slick as he says, "I want you."

My breath leaves me when he says this.

"And I know you want me too, but I have to-- I need you to say it." He repositions himself in my thighs, "you are after all married to maniac," he breathes against me, "now, say it."

He shakes my thighs, "SAY IT!"

"I want you," I snap, "Daemon, I-" a loud cry rips out of me before I can even continue.

The sound of him lapping his tongue on me, eating me out as if I was his final meal, was somehow louder than my cries. I cannot help but so violently react to him as he devours me. He forces me still in his grip and fights off the movement of my thighs with his face.

It seems as though my admittance has reduced me into nothing but needy sounds.

Without another thought, my hands reach down at him and dig into his silver hair. I arch my back and pull at him when his tongue flicks into me.

"Fucking slut," he mutters, squeezing my thighs as he pulls me apart.

I scream out his name as he digs his face deeper into me. I lift my head up when he pulls away to laugh, "look at you, rutting against me like the needy whore you are."

I don't have time to find offence in his words because I still, not even realizing I was in fact moving my hips against him. He laughs as he continues his work, leaving me no time to feel embarrassment and only hot pleasure.

He is fucking good at what he does. He's so fucking good that my mind wanders where it should not. How much practice has he gotten to be this good? It is precisely because of this that I finally break, "all for you, Daemon," I grab his cheeks, "all for you-- all mine."

I do not see how his eyes dart up to me for I then throw my head back and whine. I feel myself come close to my undoing, "fuck, Daemon, don't stop."

I shriek when I bites me.

Just as I am inching so close, all at once, he pulls away from me.

I pant and stiffen as I hear and feel him spit on me. Much like all other moments, I do not have time to react. When I turn to him, he grabs my legs and shoves me to my side.

I begin to panic when he rises to his knees.

"I'll be fucking damned if I don't make you come on my cock right now," he grunts, making my eyes drop down to the very thing, erect, hard, and angry.

"Get on your knees, bitch," he blurts, though he doesn't give me much of a chance to as he drags me up into the position he wants me by my hips.

I haven't even propped myself up on my arms yet when he unceremoniously begins to pound into me.

I am certain if anyone could hear us in the middle of this storm, they would think I was mad, or worse, being tortured.

"I'm going to breed that prurient wolf in you, just as I'm sure your wolf, Havoc, is being bred right now."

I growl at the idea and feel my belly tighten at his words.

Daemon groans before he chuckles, "that's it, isn't it?"

His relentless thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Suddenly, he yanks me by my hair and lifts me up. His other hand slaps to my throat to offer painful support as he pulls me up against him.

I choke on my spit when my form presses against him with difficulty. He sinks down on his knees, my core wrapped around his length as he shifts me in a snug position atop him.

His hands make their way to my breasts to roughly grope them. His teeth sink down on my shoulder.

I release a wild sound as my own hands come on top of his. I am left moaning at how his mouth sinks into my skin.

Daemon makes sure to suck hard before pulling away. For a moment he catches his breath before speaking, "you did not want me here because you are affected by your wolf's heat, aren't you."

The way I begin to slowly bounce on top of him is enough of an answer to him.

He laughs as his hands depart from my tender breasts, one going down to my sensitive nub, the other sealing my throat again, "you are a fucking selfish bitch for keeping your cunt from me."

My breathing becomes arduous when he tightens his grip around me.

"You would have preferred to touch yourself to the thought of me?" he questions as he rubs on my sensitive nub.

"Daemon," I gasp, pushing my head back as his lips latch on my neck again.

He ceases the moment of his fingers as he finishes grazing on my skin. "Yes, my pretty whore?" he mutters in between his kisses, "what do you want, hmm?"

My breathing strains when his hand tightens around my throat more. I catch my breath when he releases his grip to push my hair off to the side, "tell me what you want me to do to you."

I call out his name. He calls out mine.

I find myself grabbing his hands as I moan out, "I want you to fuck me."

Without another word, I am thrown down to the bed. The only reason I'm still on him is because of his hands that latch on my hips.

I am nothing against his strength. He handles me like a ragdoll, fucking me with absolutely no regard and nothing else in mind.

I make sounds that mean nothing. His name is polluted by my whimpers and cries that you cannot make head or tail of.

I would not last any longer with how he was handling me, even if I wanted to, even if I tried.

"That's it my easy bitch," he pants, "come around me like the needy whore you are."

"Daemon-"

"Your eager cunt will take my seed well when I fill you up," his one hand leaves my hip and rips my head back by my hair again, "don't you think, pretty wife?"

"Yes," I reply without thinking, "yes, yes, yes, yes-"

"And you will give me your pups," he mutters, "bare my dragons, like a dutiful wife will you not?"

My only response is my body breaking orgasm. I shiver beneath him, falling powerless as I scream his name and crumble, absolutely boneless.

Daemon lets out a string of curses as he milks out my reaction for all he's got.

He does not waver once bit and it maddeningly delicious.

My voice hikes up when I feel him release inside me not too late after.

"Fucking come slut," he barks as he snaps his hips in me, "take it all just like that."

I bury my screams in the cushions he presses on, unrelenting. When he finally does grow sloppy, I take a moment to catch my breath and relish the feel of him.

I whimper when he pulls away and slaps my ass.

"The absolute mess you've made of yourself," he coos, as he rubs the skin he slapped.

I can feel myself leaking, I can feel it all over my legs, on the sheets, and I could practically feel his pleased smile as he watches the lewd display. I could not bring myself to care at all though, not when my legs begin to fall.

I squeak when Daemon rearranges me on the bed. He is not at all as rough as he was with me a while ago, but his strength and my lack thereof does not really allow him to be gentle.

He falls onto the side of the bed next to me and gathers me into his chest. When I roll over to him, I groan at the feeling of my wet thighs pressing together.

"Do not make issue of that," Daemon says as he watches me squirm. He pulls me close to him, arm over my shoulders. His other hand hooks behind my knee, dragging me atop him. I whimper and push my hand on his chest when I feel core empty out on his thigh.

He does not allow me to pull away and I turn to him because of this. Daemon forces me close against him, "are you so haughty over my come that you cannot bare the thought of it-"

"But it's getting everywhere," I start off loudly but end with a whisper.

Daemon's nostrils flare as he shakes his head, "I should sure hope so."

I feel my cheeks burn and so I decide to hide my face in his chest.

His laughter intensifies, and I do not enjoy how my head bounces on his ribcage because of it.

"Oh meekness suits you well, my dear."

I weakly mumble, "fuck off."

His amusement continues as he rubs my arms, "you mean, 'I want you to fuck me, Daemon.' "

"I did not say it like that!" I quip, lifting my head as I turn to him, finally making him cease his stupid laughter. The sight of his stupid smug face still glimmering in slick renders me frozen.

Suddenly I am aware of how cold the room still was.

"Pray tell, how did you say it?" he hums, pushing hair behind my ear.

I furrow my brows and press my cheek on his chest again, admitting lowly, "I didn't say your name at the end."

"My," he draws shapeless figures on my skin, "I'm glad to know the moment is burned in your very being."

"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, scratching my eye. It dawns onto me that my face was equally as wet as Daemon's. Heat rises up my face again when I realize I really did cry because of how good he felt.

"Don't fret," he sighs, "there is a reason why you should not worry yourself about how your pretty cunt is leaking blood and come. I shall fuc-"

I turn to him in concern and push myself up.

Daemon furrows his brows and shakes his head, "it is normal," he soothes, grabbing my cheek, "or did you just forget your maidenhood was still intact after imagining fucking me?"

I am suddenly aware how real everything was. My husband has finally gotten me to consummate our marriage and all his talk of me bearing his seed could may well come true. My chest begins to constrict as my mind floods with endless scenarios.

"Well, if you start frowning like that, I might actually feel bad," Daemon mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows, "what's wrong?"

I look at his concerned expression and find myself speaking before I realize, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he clarifies quickly.

"That you want me," I quip just as fast.

He stares at me for a moment, as if he was taken aback or measuring the truthfulness in my voice. When a prolonged moment passes between us, he realizes I was serious.

"Fuck," he drops his head back, "it must be exhausting to be a woman with your overthinking."

"Well, pardon me for not-"

"You are pardoned," he blurts, making me whimper when he suddenly flips us over.

I am beneath him again. He does nothing but press his weight on me, but I struggle beneath him, not enjoying the idea of remaining in an uncomfortable position.

He misreads my intentions and hinders me from moving, as he wraps his arms around me, "I just told I want you, that I burn for you, that I want you to mother my children. Do you honestly think I am one to say that to anyone?"

I gulp as he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck, "I..." he breathes against my skin. He does not continue as he opts to kiss my neck instead.

When I move to wrap my own arms around him, he speaks again, "I am at your mercy. You saved me from freezing to death when you could have easily decided to rid of me."

I press my cheek against him and begin to comb through the long hair on his back, "I was serious about my distaste to remarry."

"Well, you will not," he quickly retorts, "you will have me until the end."

I bring my legs around him as I release a sigh, "consider me overjoyed by the thought."

He chuckles as he shifts, "you do not sound-"

"I did not want to admit it," I cut him off, "but I think I..." I turn to him as he lifts his head, "I think I... care for you, Daemon... I-"

"Love you," he finishes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

And for the first time since our nuptials, he kisses me. He kisses me not because he has to, not for the sake of showing everyone present, but because he wanted to, for the sake of showing me.

He is nothing but warmth, nothing but fire, nothing but him. Daemon is not sweet, but in this moment he put even honey to shame.

He begins to stir on top me, though he makes sure his lips do not leave mine. It is because of my moan that we are broken apart, the moan that leaves me when I feel him slip inside me.

"Daemon-"

"You know how I fuck," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine, "but now we'll both know how I make love."

[nothorses]

youre the first person ive seen since biden drop out who seems genuinely positive abt it, everyone else ive seen is being rlly negative or making jokes and it scared me a lot.... can you explain, or link to another post or article, that explains why its good that he dropped out? i keep seeing everyone saying that biden didnt do anything, then that he did so many things, thrn stuff saying kamala is a bad choice to endorse then you sounded so positive abt her and im very confused ): i avoid politics a lot cuz i live w a very protrump dad and its so difficult to find accurate information that isnt seaped in memes and sarcasm and pessimism but you sounded very genuine! thanks for any help <3

I went into more depth over here! I also wanna share a couple of videos I've been getting these perspectives from, because these folks are a lot more educated on the topic than I am.

I first heard the perspective that Biden was woefully unlikely to win from Olayemi Ulurin, in this video. She has a kind of "I can't blame anyone for not voting" perspective that I do think I agree with, largely because she's coming at it with nuance: Biden is not a compelling candidate, he's not likely to win, it makes sense people don't wanna vote for him, and the Democrats need to get their shit together and pick someone else.

She also posted this video (below) that goes way more in-depth into the issue, and which I think reflects (and GREATLY expands and adds to) my personal stance on the "vote blue no matter who" thing: i.e., voting is ultimately about making the fight easier for activists who are working for real change. It's important for that reason, not because the person you vote for can be trusted to do anything helpful of their own volition.

If you're gonna watch any of the videos I link here, watch that one.

The other source I've looked to a lot recently is Some More News, which is where I initially heard a lot more detail on the "Biden should drop out oh god oh please it's our only hope" perspective.

First was their podcast episode immediately following the recent Biden/Trump debate, in which they delve (somewhat casually, but thoroughly) into why Biden's 2024 campaign was so fucking terrifying for everyone who needs a Democrat win:

They also get into more detail on the topic here, in another podcast episode:

Those two videos are great just for understanding this election and why Biden dropping out is very much the best thing that could have happened. That's basically the topic for the full length of both podcast videos (where Olayemi just kind of touches on that specific question, in comparison). If you just want more details on that question and only have the capacity for one of these, you could probably watch either podcast video (I personally have only watched part of the second one, and all of the first one).

I'd also recommend these two channels for political insight in general.

Olayemi is great because she comes at things from an explicitly activist perspective, and she has a huge personal background in very grounded, concrete political activism, especially as a black immigrant woman. She brings in a lot of other experts as well, often themselves marginalized political activists, which is just a fantastic way to be exposed to a really awesome diversity of knowledgeable perspectives without having to look very far on your own. She's also relentlessly hopeful- and grounded in that hope- which is so, so important and refreshing.

Some More News is a good supplementary to Olayemi, imo, just in that they have a good, upbeat (and again, very grounded) energy, and they cover a lot of very current political stuff in an easy-to-digest kind of way. I find both them and Olayemi really fun to watch, but the vibes are definitely different between the two, and they're good counterpoints to each other- plus they tend to cover different stuff, which just helps broaden your awareness of what's going on, again without needing to look super far.

I know this is a lot of information; hopefully I've made it possible to sift through for the piece you actually want to start with, though. If nothing else, I really encourage folks to check out Olayemi and see if any of her videos catch their eye. She's really fantastic, and her stuff scratches my "video to do laundry to" itch while also being, like, a really valuable watch overall.

Best of luck!!

[cinnamonest]

Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

''Fight and Die'' Slightly darkAemond x AFAB Reader

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, abusive brother (but its not aemond) mentioned of forced marriages and duels, mentions of parental loss.

🔷Summary: Your ancestors once betrayed the Targaryens and paid a high price. Now you are back at court with your brother, who hopes to sell you in exchange for his freedom.

🔷Author's note: It might still be a little darkish but not as dark as usual. I think this is the closest to show aemond I ever got. So he still is not a unicorn yall but he is at least imo he is decent and nice.

🔷Wordcount :3934

You never set foot in King’s Landing before.

Not before the exile of your family almost a century ago.

The Marthryralys were once the most trusted advisors of the Targaryens. 

Until your ancestor, Daeyor Marthyralys sided with the false king, King Maegor. He had been burned after Maegor had died, and your family was banished out of King’s Landing, and the Seven Kingdoms. 

For years you lived across the narrow sea, in a small village in Pentos together with your brother and the heir of your house, Prince Fryand Marthyralys. He has everything you can expect in a trueborn Valyrian prince. Silver hair, bright eyes in a shade almost close to violet and a temper befitting a god, not an exiled prince.

‘’Chin up, sister.’’ He tells you with a smirk as you pass by several nobles and guards, servants and maids alike who all stare at you with judgment. They likely heard stories about your family. Stories of their treason and kinslaying murder and pillaging. ‘’Remember what I told you earlier this morning. Today is the day our family’s legacy will be reborn.’’ That is what he hopes. You hope your brother achieves this alliance. For as long as you can recall he wanted this.

Fyrand sighs before perfecting your hair, putting a loose lock behind your ears. “You be quiet unless I allow it. If you ruin this for me, the consequences could be dire. For both of us, but especially for you.” The glare he gives you says enough. You give an absent nod, staring at your own bitten down fingernails. Fyrand follows your gaze, scoffing with a deep sigh. ‘’And quit that. I didn’t keep you alive all these years so you can fuck this up.’’

The grant doors to the throne room are opened by guards and someone announces to you both as you hesitantly follow your brother. ‘’Lord Fyrand of House Marthyralys, and his sister, Lady Revaera of House Marthyralys.’’ It is one of the few times you hear yourself being called a lady, or even your first name. Fyrand does not bother with kindness and ceremony. He calls you whatever he likes, especially when he is drunk and in a bad mood.

By the throne, several people with silver hair wait. Yet you can easily divide them into two groups. One group wears subtle or not so subtle green accessories. And the other group wears about any other color but green. The Princess's party and the Queen's party. You know this from what Fyrand briefly told you about the Targaryens. The two parties do not like each other very much. Details are vague to you, as Fyrand didn’t want ‘’to corrupt your moral compass with nonsense that is none of your business anyway’’.

You know they are the royal family of Westeros. The Targaryens. Once close friends of your family, now look at you both. You do not know these people and they do not know you. They stare at you with the same confusion and questions you have deep down. You see it mirrored in their eyes and their hearts they carry on their sleeves. You keep your eyes on your soft slippers and faithfully remain close to your brother, afraid of these strange people. They killed your parents. They killed your ancestors. They killed your dragons. ‘’Your grace.’’ Fyrand speaks, full of servitude as he bows down for the silver haired corpse like man that sits the throne.

Or rather the throne sits him. The throne is a monstrosity in the worst way of the word. It does not look like a comfortable chair to you. Perhaps that is what it symbolizes. That ruling is no comfortable chair. It is not easy. It requires sacrifice, usually the worst kind. The kind where lives are lost and doomed.

The smell of poppy is heavy near the king and you assume he uses it regularly to dull his pain. He hangs half defeated, half consumed by the Stranger on his throne, his glare growing every minute that passes when you both are here. You continue ripping your nails subtly. 

‘’We let traitors in now?’’ A man comments, near who you assume can only be the Princess Rhaenyra. She is described as the most fashionable woman in Westeros, with silver, pale locks she often carries in Targaryen fashion. Her gown symbolizes a dragon, with her house colors, red and black. It has nice details and you take them all in. The man itself has shorter hair than his wife, although Fyrand would say it would still be too long for a male. He carries a sword around his hips, and wears a black armor as well. You guess by his age that this can only be Prince Daemon Targaryen, the King’s brother, the Princess’s her uncle as well as her husband. ‘’These two should be hanged outside and for the birds to peck out their eyes.’’

While you feel fear rise Fyrand laughs it off, as a joke.  The king is not so quick to judge you as his brother. He even smiles at you. ‘’You are the spitting image of your ancestor, Grysalda the Bold.’’ Out of both of you, he chose you to compliment.

Your brother boils in his skin next to you, yet fakes a smile and peacefulness.  ‘’Both fierce and stunning.’’ The King finishes. Grysalda was indeed both fierce and bold. She had a total of five husbands and flew the dragon Gravemaker. There was nothing she couldn't do if she didn't set her mind to it. She was said to be a great beauty. Men fought wars to lay eyes on her, Men conquered towns in her name and men would murder everyone that dared to oppose her. She was an interesting woman, although it is disputed whether or not she was a good one.

You make a small curtsy, swayed by the words yet wary of their meaning. Grysalda was a threat to the Targaryens. Is this a compliment or a very twisted warning? But to not acknowledge such a compliment would be rude. ‘’Thank you, your grace-’’ 

‘’Be quiet, sister.’’ Fyrand interrupts almost mumbling so the others won't hear. You close your mouth right away and let him speak instead. ‘’I have come with an offer for House Targaryen and House Velyaron.” He folds his hands on his back. You wonder if his offer is good enough for an alliance. You know what he will offer. You. He will offer you to one of the Princes of either party and he hopes that in return they will allow him to stay in Westeros.

Prior to this offer, no interest was shown by both parties. This changes instantly. Princess Rhaenyra turns into a woman dressed in Velyaron colors. Princess Rhaenys, you assume. Her granddaughters look on as well and even the Greens on the Queens side are surprised.

King Viserys sits up as straight as his sickness allows him. “You are bold.” You hear your brother laugh. You do not join him, your eyes constantly wandering to the interesting people around you. The princes and the princesses, the Queen and the King and their children.

‘’It is in our blood, I’ve been told by my lovely servants.’’ You think back of all the servants that nurtured you and Fryand when you were safely in Pentos and beyond. You are thankful for them, but there was only so much they could do to protect you from Fyrand. ‘’Since you ordered the death of my parents all those years ago.” Fryand smirks hiding the pain very well. The light in his eyes has died a long time ago. Nothing can bring it back.

The only sound that can be heard is Otto Hightower clearing his throat. “Are you here to dig up the past? I seem to recall your parents were planning my death.’’ The king is right. They were. You were almost a baby when the treason was committed but it was committed nonetheless. Your own mother died in childbirth and your father remarried quickly almost the day after.

You have known your brother for a long time. He is a dramatic man. He enjoys having power and enjoys playing with people. He will not tell them right away. He will toy with them first. ‘’I’m here for no such thing.’’ 

The Princess looks at you, as if you know more of this masterplan. You do, but you do not dare to speak again. ‘’I am here to ally my house with House Targaryen.’’ And with that, he hopes to restore your family’s legacy. All those years of planning in exile, all those years on the run all come down to this crucial moment. Was it enough? Or will you both hang before the sun sets?

‘’And why would we ally you?’’ The King asks, which is reasonable. They have dragons. You do not. They have a kingdom. You do not. You only have a freshly gathered army with questionable loyalties as they fight for gold and power.

Fyrand grins. ‘’It’s quite simple. I have built quite the legendary army, across the Narrow sea, in the Stepstones and far far beyond. Men are calling me Aegon reborn.’’ He grins at Prince Aegon, taunting him with this accomplishment. Aegon does not care, judging by his empty eyes and smile. 

You glance at your brother, giving him a clear look that warns him of the path he is rolling down from. He should not forget you two are both hostages until you can prove you are worthy of this alliance. To make him sound like their beloved ancestor is a mistake, you just know so. 

The king agrees with that as well, sitting up straighter and putting his crown back on his head when it slips. ‘’So you have come to threaten us?’’ 

You pull your nails faster, running out of your left hand. Fyrand chuckles but you can hear he has become nervous too. ‘’Your grace, no! Most certainly not. I came to a conclusion. I could destroy you all, but the chance you all yet survive because of your dragons is …too big for my liking. Why not forget about the past, why not let bygones be bygones. We should ally.’’ He says. 

‘’Bygones be bygones.’’ Viserys repeats after your brother. ‘’And how will I know I can trust your word, if you already have began expanding your army?’’ Even more wary grows and dread fills your stomach. You can already see yourself hanging.

Fyrand gives you a small nod and you step forward, your hands neatly folded on one another as you look around the court for any kind face. But everyone looks at you like you are a traitor. It doesn't matter to anyone that you were a baby when the assassination attempts happened. They think you are just as guilty. ‘’I have brought my sister with me. My pure blooded Valyrian sister. She can stay here as a hostage, perhaps even marry one of your sons or grandsons. There is no need to have her wither away.’’ 

The king rubs at his forehead as if a great pain plagues him. ‘’I do not have time for this.’’ He speaks. You and Fyrand both freeze. He is not even considering your offer. ‘’Escort them to the dungeons.’’ He adds. Fyrand is surrounded within mere moments. 

At first he couldn't believe it. ‘’What?’’ He can’t believe his plan didn’t work. And then the rage you know so well returns. He glares at you as if this is somehow your fault. 

You understand you must act fast. So you do. ‘’Y-Your grace! Wait. One moment…’’ You search in the basket one of your servants brought with you. Fyrand glares, at first annoyed that you search your sewing basket. A few men chuckle as well. 

‘’Is she going to knit her way out of this?’’

You put the wool and spools on the ground, searching deeper in the basket until you feel something cold, something hard and something ancient. You lift it from the basket, presenting it to all witnesses in court. In your hands is a familiar dragon egg. The king blinks with his eyes.

‘’Please, do not harm him. He has all I have left.’’ You add with a soft whisper.

‘’We found a chest full of dragon eggs in Pentos.’’ You hope you do not regret this. Fyrand makes a strangled little sound, briefly causing most heads to snap to him, back to the egg in your hands.

Prince Daemon draws his sword. ‘’Likely dead.’’ They might be. Most might be. Some eggs are centuries old, stolen during the time of Maelor.

You are facing certain death and so is your brother. You do not need this now. ‘’We did not have the resources to try to hatch them. We are no Targaryens.’’ You snap at him. ‘’We were lucky if we could find shelter for the night.’’ 

‘’How many eggs do you speak of?’’ The king asks. You did hope he would be interested. He is interested in dragon eggs. What fool wouldn’t be? You glance at your brother. He shakes his head rapidly.

Yet you go through with your plan. You must.

‘’At least seven and twenty.’’

Several gasps can be heard in the room.

Queen Alicent looks at the egg. ‘’’How did they even got there?’’ She wonders out loud.

A shout sends shivers down your spine. It belongs to your brother.

‘’I warn you, Revaera!’’ He thinks he is the only one who can make sacrifices. You will show him. 

You can either lie and be executed or tell the truth and meet your gods with a true soul.

‘’They were stolen from the cradles of Targaryen babies.’’ You reveal, your head hung in shame with the crimes of your ancestors. Queen Alicent instantly turns her head to a young man on her side, wearing an eyepatch. Even from where you stand you can make out the scars that he likely tries to hide. Princess Rhaenyra, although she may hide it, also glances at the young man, her face full of regret and what could have been.

It is true. For centuries your family stole eggs from the Targaryens, replacing well working eggs with eggs that aren’t working eggs at all. Just stone and clay. You walk to the iron throne, presenting the egg to the king. ‘’This egg, I brought for you, my King. It was stolen a few years ago. It was said to belong to Prince Baelon.’’ You know he died shortly after birth but it is clear that the king has never forgotten his first born son.

His eyes light up in ways you never saw before, as you hand the egg over.

‘’This is impossible. The egg is still here. It is in my room.’’ The Queen lets out a soft but painful sigh as if she tried for years to close a door that is now pushed open wildly. You speak. ‘’No, your grace. They were switched. You have likely fake ones.’’ 

‘’After everything I did for you! You dare betray our family?!’’ Fyrand shouts and this time they need to restrain him from attacking you. You back away, terrified of your brother.

‘’They deserve to know! We were robbing babies.’’ You feel like you are betraying your family. But this might be your only chance at survival. You feel tired, alone, terrified and like this can all end in a moment. You have nothing left to do but break into tears.

‘’They are the reason we grew up without parents, without titles, without dragons!’’

You know he is right. And you wish you could do both but you clearly can not. 

From the crowds, a brown haired young man steps forward, carrying the Velyaron colors. The colors of the sea. ‘’Grandsire, may I speak?’’ That must be Jacaerys Velyaron, the Princess’s ‘trueborn’ son with her lover, Harwin Strong.

The king smiles kindly at his grandson, proud that Jacaerys makes the effort.

‘’You already do so, Jacaerys.’’ He subtly looks at his other two sons, who stand by with rage written in their eyes, both green of envy and red of hatred.

Prince Jacaerys looks at your basket, your gown and the silver diadem in your hairs.

‘’We should ally with them.’’ He says. Hope fills your chest as you carefully start to smile.

Although the King loves his grandchildren very much, he will not let them affect his rule.

‘’Interesting. Explain.’’ He says instead, using this as a lesson. Again you notice his other two sons hide their displeasedness but it's so obvious to you.

The heir of the throne continues.

‘’House Targaryen needs more dragons. We can’t risk it that House Marthryralys will search for other allies. Dragons made us kings. Dragons made us strong. We cannot risk for the dragons falling into other hands.’’ You highly doubt that anyone aside a Targaryen could fly with dragons but with the blood thinning over several bloodlines it has become a risk to them.

‘’That is true.’’ The king admits despite the fact that he does not like you or your brother. He can see reason. That is rare for a king. Especially for a Targaryen king if what you heard from your brother is correct.

Prince Jacaerys becomes bashful, blushing a bit when trying to avoid staring too long at you. ‘’And, I think Lady Revaera has proven herself more than loyal to us, providing this information and the dragon egg. In fact, I was hoping you’d let us marry.’’ Marry? You feel new dread fill your chest as the King considers this offer. Even Fyrand has become awfully quiet. You need to turn your head to see if they didn’t knock him out. But no. He is still awake and awfully quiet.

‘’Not so fast.’’ A voice booms, as a shadow brushes past you, making his way to the Iron throne. The one eyed man stands in front of you. You feel threatened right away and gulp. The way he is dressed in all black is intimidating to you. ‘’I have done my fair bit of research into your family, my Lady.’’ You hear your heart beat only louder.

‘’You have?’’ You manage to ask, forcing your hands to stop trembling.

There is a silence in the throne room as everyone listens to what he has to say.

‘’Quite. You have an interesting story. I like interesting stories.’’ What is so interesting, you wouldn’t know. Your story is a tragedy. Perhaps he likes that. Perhaps his own story is a tragedy as well.

He turns to his father, and you briefly admire his long luscious looking silver pure locks that Jace clearly lacks. ‘’There is an old tradition, Grandsire. If an outsider wants to wed a member of the Marthryralys, he must duel a family member of the Lady to prove his worth.’’ That is true, in theory. But Your only family member is Fyrand. They won’t let their heir fight Fyrand.

And so, the king also speaks.

‘’I will not have Jacaerys fight that deranged man.’’ 

Aemond folds his hands on his back, his grin growing ever bigger. ‘’There is also another rule. If the Lady has multiple suitors, her suitors shall also fight for her and prove their worth. The victor shall become her Lord Husband.’’ You become uncomfortable, as you find it a bit of a silly rule, as well as concerning that he knows a awful lot about your family. 

‘’Why is that needed? I want to marry her.’’ Jace bluntly says, laughing a bit to prove how silly he finds these traditions that your house honored for centuries.

Aemond looks at Jacaerys so he can see his face before he reveals what he was planning all along. ‘’Because I am also quite interested in her, Prince Jacaerys.’’ That sends shivers down your spine.

The King is confused. As are you.

‘’You are?’’ 

Instead of addressing his father and his king, he turns to you to give you a kind, almost the ghost of a smile as if he can hear you think and read your confusion that is written across your face. ‘’Hm. A lady as beautiful as you, I’d fight or die for you anyday.’’ Despite these words he almost seems confident he will win this match. 

–

You visit Fyrand later in the dungeons.

‘’So.’’ He speaks as you have removed your hood. ‘’The Princes both seemed quite taken with you. Job well done.’’ He says, sitting up straighter, talking to you in high Valyrian so the guards won’t hear.

‘’They are eager for wives. It’s their age, I think.’’ Boys and men of that age become that way.

Fyrand chuckles as if you said something funny. He knows more about this than you ever will. ‘’Their age has nothing to do with it. They saw the way you played that fossil with that silly little egg of yours. They know their house is a dying one. The dragons become smaller and smaller still.’’ You heard the same, from your spies.

‘’You were clever, to think of it. To tell them the truth about the eggs.’’ You praise your brother, although you were scared in the moments where you acted out his plan. You had to turn off your emotions and believe that Fyrand would face certain death. 

He bows his head in fake humbleness that does not become him in the slightest.

‘’Certainly. I have my moments. I nearly saw Prince Aemond drool when you presented that egg to that corpse.’’ You bet he did.

You become uneasy as you think of the one-eyed prince.

‘’He scares me.’’ You hope it is enough to call off the wedding part of the alliance.

But instead of that your brother’s smile only grows.

‘’Hm. He should. He is much to be scared of, little sister.’’

He leans in closer, his face close to the bars. ‘’There are rumors he tried to kill his own nephew. He is quick to anger, slow to forgive and has the biggest deadliest dragon in the entire world.’’ You hope he is lying. He has to be. He is describing a true monster.

‘’Aemond will win this duel.’’ He adds, as if it's clear.

‘’How are you certain?’’ Perhaps because Aemond is taller or older or something else you do not see?

He laughs as if you again ask a silly question.

‘’Because I saw both him and Jace fight. It won’t be to death, but just so you know: You will become Aemond’s bride.’’

A terrifying prospect. You did not agree to that.

‘’I thought we would pull the plan before that would happen?’’ You ask, your voice scared.

‘’No, little sister no. This is a long time plan. You just focus on keeping and making Aemond a very happy husband, yes?’’ You feel your air cut off at his horrible description. You see Aemond’s hands on your body and his lips near your neck, slightly brushing it when whispering dirty things in your ear. 

Despite that, your body betrays you lie. ‘’Fyr, I’m scared. I do not wish to-’’ You wet your lips, speechless.

Your brother dryly gestures with the stomp that once had a hand attached to it.

‘’We all must make our sacrifices.’’ He says. You feel guilty. He lost his hand trying to get you to safety. He lost it defending the eggs.  He smiles as you silently cry, accepting your fate. ‘’Now go. I bet they are itching to spill each other’s blood.’’

As always with a new story let me know what you thought of it. Comments reblogs likes are welcome but not required. But they do make me smile:)

[verosikastrikerstellaexcuser]

Regarding Stolas and Stella. It says something that both their VAs were thinking there was something more to their relationship than the actual showrunner.

Fans wanna throw up this excuse that “their headcanons weren’t true.” But what about the actual input from the actors? Do they not get a say in their own characters?

Also I have to be honest, this whole arranged marriage has been completely pointless as a ‘plotline’ because Stella is just a nothing character and Andreaphuls is going to be the big bad.

You can write Stella out of the show and nothing changes, hell in hindsight she wasn’t even needed for S1. You can have her just be dead and things can play out the same. Striker could still be involved, just don’t show who hired him, but it’s revealed later that it’s Andre.

Yea definitely I find it very notable that her VA thought we'd see more of her side of things and then... nope. So many people thought there would be more to her, and that doesn't translate to thinking she'd be a good person like the "stop crying about your HC" people insist, but rather, we simply thought she'd be, A PERSON AT ALL. She was set up to be genuinely upset over being cheated on, like so many of her S1 scenes are her screaming with rage and throwing things and panting over it. We also had this plotline that once the Stella/Stolas marriage had been happier. These people insisting Stella was always just evil seem to forget the S1 era of this show and how its subtlety was so good. How it was able to tell us a lot without insane biased BLITZO KYS party type writing. Remember this dialogue? (Sidenote, God seeing this makes me remember why I used to like Stolas and this show a lot less critically its such a shame it used to be so good).

There was a lot of intrigue and mystery as to how things occurred in regards to their marriage at this point in time but we knew Octavia, granted she was a young child in the early marriage but still, she saw the home environment as having changed. I think her missing signs as a child because she was little could explain some of it... but clearly there was more to everything than that alone. And she blamed STOLAS specifically for it from what we saw. She says to him you ruined it, aka the cheating was the instigating event. Stolas' "I thought love would be fun" in the song of this episode and his failed explanations to Octavia suggested multiple possibilities. Back then a lot of people suspected Stolas was gay and now in 2024 we know its true, so the scenarios that seemed to be at play were either:

A) Neither of them loved each other but pretended to for Octavia's sake and maybe other reasons, but then Stolas broke that arrangement by sleeping with Blitz which angered Stella for reasons outside of love ie reputation.

B) Stella genuinely loved Stolas while he never did her, he tried to make it work but just couldn't, leading to Stella being furious over being arranged married to a guy, falling in love with him, only to find out he never loved her and no longer wanted to pretend.

Both of these are really interesting and this all felt so much different than S2 imo. We didn't need to be spoon fed a side to pick. Getting to have seen which of those scenarios it was and Stella's perspective would have been so good. At this point in time they were both victims and in turn the arranged marriage had made Octavia one too as she was stuck caught between them and their drama. It felt nuanced, realistic, interesting and cool. Stolas was still allowed to fuck up back then (just like Stella). It was painted as understandable but still a fuck up. Now, hes just a victim, victim, victim, and to write him as one, they took this interesting thing and twisted it into something else.

They made Stella some evil animal torturing bitch from birth that seemingly was completely unaffected by being raised and forced into an arranged marriage and that decided to devote her sole existence to stick around Stolas to torment him in various over the top and cruel ways (what is with this show and making people throw hate parties). Instead of being ANGRY, like she was in S1, panting with rage and clearly stressed, shes gleefully happy when it comes to her urge to hurt Stolas and at the idea of hurting him? How in the fuck is writing Stella to be like that instead of just focusing on how she felt about the marriage and how it affected her not outlandishly unrealistic and weird and stupid? Being forced into an arranged marriage and then the guy not loving you and cheating on you would hurt and affect anyone. Yet she seems so unaffected. Shes not allowed to actually feel anything other than hate for Stolas, she can feel no grief for herself, love for her daughter, sorrow at having to move out of her home for the past 18 or so years, nothing. Shes just a device to beat on Stolas so we feel sorry for him and she has no goals or thoughts outside of it.

Even fucking VALENTINO in Hazbin was shown to have more depth than this in that he was allowed to be shown to be upset at Angel changing where he lived. Yes it was shown as unhinged abuser's upset, but he shown as being bothered and hurt by Angel not wanting to be around him. I repeat: Rapist pimp Valentino who has convinced several people into abusive sexually exploitative soul contracts was allowed to be shown to be hurt and to long for someone more than Stella was.

Stella is so much so a device instead of a person that they had to shove in a brother character and divorce settlement plotline to overturn the assassination plotline (since that too has fulfilled its purpose as Stolitz drama now). All of this nobody saw coming because all of it was barely set up to the point Stella is still actively working against this new plotline once it comes in and is told by her brother she's a stupid cow and to stop doing what shes doing. And so she does. Instead of getting to drive her own story and goal and what she wants, instead of perhaps being written to change her mind herself, to choose to focus on something else even temporarily, nope, just have a man command her what to do (while still giving her no sympathy over being merely a puppet either of course). Now its time for the bullshit Andrealphus plotline so Stella can be replaced by the gay male character who gets to be a relevant plot driving antagonist instead. Its pathetic writing.

This show constantly does this. It sets things up, people get invested, then it gives them the middle finger and tells them they're stupid idiots for seeing what was actively shown and trusting the writing and it focuses on something else its now decided instead. Striker being bigoted straight and a joke is another example. The fact he appeared in Blitz's dream sequence, flirted with him while proposing blitz follow an alternate path in life in which they work together - nope you saw none of that he's just a dumb joke and you're dumb for seeing things and expecting consistency!

[trans-androgyne]

hey, thank you for having and running this blog. you're doing the equivalent of gods work.

first, i'm sorry for the amounts of jerk anons you have to deal with. you literally articulate yourself very well and clearly, and still, people will find a way to twist it or not take it seriously. it reminds me of me "arguing" with terfs back in 2022 on twitter. (shudders.)

and second, how do you deal with the constant negativity? i have found myself doomscrolling the transandrophobia tag, and, well, to no ones surprise, my mental health is down the gutter. do you have any tips to deal with it? mainly with the transandrophobia in general? it is more than exhausting existing as a (gnc & enby) trans guy atm, and it's really getting to me. the thing is, I wouldn't mind it if it were non-queer bigots, but the fact it's coming from inside the community is devastating. i am more than hurt. this intense hatred for men and masculinity, queer, trans, or not, is incomprehensible to me. it never does anything good. anyone who says "i hate all men and anything masculine" is definitely going in the "yep that's either a radfem or a radfem hatchling" box. i partially understand as to why- i had a fear of men myself when i still identified as a girl, and slipped into the "all men bad. kill" side of the internet for a short while but ONLY because of this rhetoric ("you need to be afraid because there are men outside." , "men and masculinity are inherently predatory or dangerous")- but i got out of it because i saw how fucked it was eventually (thank goodness)- but nothing should ever be an excuse to excessively hate a gender or masculinity this badly. and its mostly gender essentialist bs anyways imo, so i do not understand it at all...it reminds me of people saying men/mascs cant be asexual because it's "in their nature to be sexual"- because testosterone. its hard. i just wish we all could respect each other. you're either "one of the bad bad evil men" or "noooooo not YOU. you're AFAB!! never!! youre a girl/woman in spirit!!" from my personal experience with terfs/radfems/idiots.

anyways, sorry for invading your anon space with this long rant, but i just wanted to leave this and the question. i hope you have a nice day/night, and thank you for reporting on transandrophobia as much as you do. it's sadly very much needed right now.

Thank you so much, this is such a kind ask to receive. To be honest with you: I don’t handle my mental health very well around it </3 It’s weighed on me pretty heavily these last few months especially. The things keeping me running this blog anyway are my passion for the transmasc community and lovely anons like yourself cheering me up. When it comes to trying to manage it, the most important thing for me has been finding people I can vent to about it who will understand. I’m lucky enough to have a wonderful discord server full of awesome trans people who will talk it through with me, and that’s been a life-saver. Staying offline for a bit and trying to engage in person with people who are unlikely to be transandrophobic towards you can be a nice relief. I catch myself doomscrolling constantly too, and it doesn’t feel great. If you need to set some sort of time limit on your phone even just to remind yourself not to do it, that’s helped me before and might help you too.

Having this much hatred levied at me for my identity from my own community lately has been devastating. I completely understand you. I’ve always been vocal about supporting transfems in particular, so it really hurts to see so many turn against me for speaking up. I understand how the queer community got this way, though. Antimasculinism has been an issue in queer and feminist spaces for ages. I think people are starting to notice it more and understand why it sucks and how much it negatively affects trans men and mascs. It feels like a losing battle sometimes with how much cultural feminism — the Men Bad Women Good flavor of pop feminism — has pervaded our communities and often led to very overt radical feminism that people still can’t always recognize because they don’t know anything about TERFs outside of them hating trans women. I believe the culture will start to shift soon such that people are able to recognize sexism and gender essentialism that harms all genders, and I will be doing my part to help that happen.

[centrally-unplanned]

👀 are you interested in fire emblem and would you tell us your opinions of the franchise, I’d be very interested

I do like Fire Emblem! I have played FE6-8, smatterings of 9-10 (never owned them, played with friends), and all the games past Awakening/13. I did also play a bit of FE1, no shade on the limitations of the time of course but it sucks, not worth playing. So I am not a grand FE master but I have a lot of exposure to it.

I admire Fire Emblem for its simplicity of design & stakes - the combat system is "hit enemy, deal damage based on attack power - defense" kind of stuff, how everything works is super clear. All the complexity emerges on top of that. Your army is all individual people, permadeath means you need to pursue strategies with a lot of care such that difficulty doesn't get trivialized even if it is still easy (there is a big gap between "my odds of losing are 5% - exciting, I'm doing well!" and "my odds of losing are 0% - boring, why can't I skip this"). When it is doing its best you have a squad of guys with clear stakes and challenges that are overcome via smart kiting and tanking, it is rarely "did you equip the White Hooded Cat Ears to a unit with the Lapis Pendant to double proc a high initiative archer with Glacial Rain for opening gambit AOE freeze spam to prevent Featherknight Magic Guard from activating?" Which to be clear can also be a ton of fun, each game should just be its own thing - FE is just often best-in-class at its niche.

Fire Emblem also has great aesthetics, it aims for that "classy" style of fantasy typically and everyone authentically buys into all that nobility medieval stuff, which for a video game story can be fun vibes. I love their character designs, normally it is a game series with the right level of fanservice (Camilia -_-), and as someone who enjoys romance sideplots in video games FE typically gives you fun sidequests along those lines that sometimes has gameplay implications to boot - I loved the "eugenics simulator" of FE Awakening, as the fans affectionately called its system of child units inheriting traits from parent units. Tharja you are gonna torture Gaius for eternity via marriage because your faildaughter Noire needs Galeforce, I don't wanna hear any god damn objections okay?

As a series it is far from perfect, as anything running this long must be. The plots are normally "meh", in particular the series just doesn't care about logic that much? People do dumb shit alllll the time; FE7's plot is an absolute mess, Three House's story is hung together by macguffins and asspulls, and so on. It is better when it is simpler - in FE6, our boy Roy has gotta beat a bad guy, he conquering the world with dragons, oh no - great, no notes. More modern games need more involved plots due to market demand, but FE has not yet mastered it imo.

More modern games have also stacked complexity on the combat system - skills that proc, squads that attach to units, most recently "Engage rings" that buff and give spells. These can be good! The thing is the simplicity of say FE6 gets boring over so many hours, what works for a 10 hour game gets stale over 40, you need to grow. Sometimes they do that well - I thought Three Houses generally was smart on this front, the skills are more passive, the squads and gambits were (generally, they fucked up on movement buffs) flexible and didn't break things while giving you toys to play with. But Engage, while a good game, did get too complicated by half with many of its systems, and Awakening literally broke itself with pair-up & stacked skill procs, you can easily trivialize the whole game. And meanwhile to spike difficulty they would give every random enemy fighter different lethal skill procs that you would have to triple check every turn, a problems-beget-problems moment. But! I like that they are experimenting. Would have been real easy to capitalize on the success of Three Houses and just repeat it with Engage, but they didn't.

Also while permadeath is conceptually good, restarting a whole map because of a cheese crit is fucking awful, and I am glad modern games have time reset systems to obviate that. I do not play the older games without an emulator that can save state.

Tier listing the games I have played, lets see:

S Tier: Sacred Stones, Shadows of Valentia

A Tier: Three Houses, Blazing Sword

B Tier: Awakening, Engage, Binding Blade

C Tier: Fates

Edelgard best girl, and I think that covers it!

[yogurtlid10000]

Recently I read Transformers: Skybound FINALLy!!! it was fantastic, cant wait for the next issue

Highly recommend reading it tho, its a greattt comic and has super awesome art

Spoilers incoming ofc

Everyone's already talked about this but wow Optimus is portrayed so well!!! I love the dialogue when he describes Cybertron. Also love the pink backgrounds i some panels!! Anyway the interaction with him and Spike feels good and authentic. nice

The fight scenes. SO good to me, I think the art is super dynamic and the way the sound effects are written give great impact. The artist knew what they were doing for sure. I love how they use the comic media to its fullest. With those different shaped slanted box panels, and the smear lines when somethings moving fast idk

I also looove the shading in these comics!! and the linework like on their faces really helps the atmosphere. once again i love the sound effects (especially that big TONG) when starscream gets hit lol it just looks like all the fonts were designed or drawn by the artists yk?? and the variety of camera angles throughout is cool too.

Also love the relationship between optimus and the humans. It feels... better than how other transformers media has handled it (imo). I think its sweet

again great comic art the lighting.. the EVERYTHING idk i just admire this artist a lot (i think his name is daniel warren johnson, although it switches to Jorge Corona later) one thing i love in particular is how the lines are like... a little messy and sometimes a little all over the place-to depict their wear and grime. cool!

Next. Cant talk about skybound without talkingabout THE DECEPTICONS. oh my god. starscream is a spawn of hell. what a bitch. like actually he might be at his worst here hes so diabolical. Anyway even though hes very evil hes still enjoyable to watch because its just idk pure villain. Soundwaves care for his cassettes is sweet as usual. PUNTING Ravage is crazy. cannibalizing Skywarp is crazy. FGELP IDEK WHAT TO SAY except i like the art a lot here as usual its great very comic-y again. SOundwave stays a favorite character.

THIS is an iconic and great moment of skybound, i love it, i lvoe that optimus is willing to use this cannon to further the battle yk also looks badass

Gotta say these are two of my favorite pages throughout the whole series. Love the color and camera angles.

I know starscreams the big bad villain or whatever (for now) but he still makes me laugh

These panels... THE YELLOW BACKGROUND. THE LOUD SOUND EFFECTS. THE POSE. THE "YOU KNOW THE SONG" perfect. 10/10 for me. the artist has got the touch. (theyre referencing The Touch right?)

These three phenomenal moments with devastator. the art.... its just too cool. very dynamic. i like starscream getting squished. Once again the fight scene art DELIVERS.

This too. I love how soundwaves punches feel really weighted. also YAY starscreams getting the beating he deserved

....remember that PUNT to ravage earlier? welp. bye starscream. Things only get worse for the autobots here tho.... because with soundwave as leader the decepticons can actually function and be more deadly....

...when i saw this i knew we were fucked. we are fucked. wave and wave partnership? optimus is screwed. AND MEGATRON HASNT EVEN BEEN ADDED TO THE MIX YET. oh god.

The newest chapter has some gorgeous panels. plus beachcomber!

Local deadly robot scientist discovers whales and the beauty of earth. Big fan of transformers discovering earth stuff.

GUYS. ultra magnus!! hes one of my favorite transformers im so glad hes in this series.....i wish he was in better shape because-WE ARE SUPER FUCKED RATCHETS DEAD. no medic-HOW IS ANYONE GONNA GET REPAIRED.

ok fr what are we gonna do

poor wheeljack.

anyway the issue ends with shockwaves insane evil plan to bring cybertron to earth working so idk whats gonna happen next but im excited to see more.

also jazz this whole comic has been really cool, hes always helpful btu then he like gets beat up or captured but HES ALWAYS POSITIVE and he only speaks in music puns too. ONLY.

ultra magnus save us... idk bro we need a miracle... maybe jetfire will be useful again soon, maybe beachcomber will come in clutch. maybe new autobots will join. if yes, i hope we see springer again hes cool

anyway yes ik i barely talked about any faults of the comic, im trying to be super open and see it with like no bias or comparing it to other comics and stuff. personally i like it a lot. the humans arent even dislikable imo. the characters are nice. one thing is that MAN a lot of characters are dying. kinda sad. no ratchet is crazy. also when will megatron awaken? and how?

[wulfhalls]

lmao the idea that Daemon is now someone who gives a fuck about the prophecy and is saying shit like winter is coming is something I just can’t even accept,I am truly hoping they let up on the prophecy talk cause the past two episodes of every other line from multiple characters being some religious nonsense is such a stupid choice for this show. They are all in danger now,Rheanyra and Daemon have lost two kids already why in the world is a vague prophecy of a winter we literally know won’t happen for 200 years more important than that?

daemon’s arc is a mess imo as much as I enjoyed the vague concept of Daemon haunted in Harenhall and Matt’s acting being great. It started off well with the young Rheanyra vision,playing off their argument but then it went into this will Daemon usurp plot that was so obviously not serious to now culminating in the visions and him being a full believer. Its all over the place and lost that personal aspect I think.

I came out of the season enjoying Jace the most of all people cause he lives in reality and does not give a shit about divine intervention,gods or prophecy lol

can we talk about how the writers clearly aren't interested in or don't know how to write daemon as a father? sure he's a bad dad but most of the characters on this show are bad parents and we still get to see them interacting with their children and it's not like daemon has a bad relationship with his kids it's because he doesn't have one at all because he's written like he has no children. they're still writing him like the daemon from the first 5 episodes who's only focus in life are viserys and rhaenyra. at this point 3 of his children have died and this had no impact on him at all? ok.

despite daemon having his very own character development side quest it still doesn't feel like they really utilised all of its potential? like u said it started strong but then veered off into old well trodden daemon crown aspirations territory only to end with.......... prophecy vision?? and that gets him back on track? doesn't feel consistent from where we started or earned and just. really disappointing overall. this should have been an internal progression no a sudden scared straight by plot jump scare lol and yes on god the way they just. don't let him be a dad in any way lol even otto gets moments of genuine connection with alicent