#good GOD why would the lords of tumblr do this

[taylorisapuppy]

what the fuck is tumblrmart, i hate this shit sm

[kisseobie]

kisseobie’s masterlist ❤︎ ིུ͠*:·.

୭ back to navi

ask to be added to my permanent taglist!

🎧 currently listening to: candy by rosalía

❤︎ - nsfw/suggestive (mdni)

𓈒ིུ reactions/headcannons/texts:

picking out your new nail set

when they have a crush on you

reactions to wearing something revealing ❤︎

coquette boyfriend trend on tiktok

texting bf keeho ❤︎

texting bf theo ❤︎

texting bf jiung pt.2 ❤︎

texting bf intak pt.2 ❤︎

texting bf soul pt.2 ❤︎

texting bf jongseob pt.2 pt.3 ❤︎

back and forth texts with emotionally unavailable jongseob

who in p1harmony would fall in love at first sight?

where p1harmony would love to kiss you ❤︎

p1harmony reacting to you squirting ❤︎

p1harmony and their kinks ❤︎

p1harmony on whether they prefer ass or tits ❤︎

mtl likely in p1harmony to be pussy drunk ❤︎

p1harmony and what i think their ideal type is

p1harmony with an s/o with specific piercings ❤︎

p1harmony’s reaction to seeing their gf naked for the first time ❤︎

p1harmony’s favorite sex positions ❤︎

keeho as your best friend’s brother

“i didn’t shave” with p1harmony ❤︎

size training with p1harmony ❤︎

car sex with p1harmony ❤︎

❤︎ hard hours (all nsfw):

eager puppy bf intak

making up with jongseob after an argument

needy reader wanting to get soul’s attention away from his video games

cockwarming jiung and jongseob

rich boy keeho

reuniting with bf jongseob after tour .. pt.2

soul ruining your cute panties

seobsoul and hickies

public sex with p1harmony

sub! jongseob and his slutty little waist

p1harmony as subs

p1harmony’s dick sizes

mutual masturbation with jongseob

jongseob nsfw links

soul nsfw links

tutor!jongseob

° . ❀ longer fics/oneshots:

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 - nsfw (mdni)

yoon keeho ᥫ᭡

..

choi taeyang ᥫ᭡

..

choi jiung ᥫ᭡

ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 i can fix him (no really i can) 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

they shake their heads, saying, “god help her” when i tell ‘em he’s my man, but your good lord doesn’t need to lift a finger—i can fix him, no really, i can

coming soon..

hwang intak ᥫ᭡

..

haku shota ᥫ᭡

..

kim jongseob ᥫ᭡

ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 jasmine

a saccharine summer evening spent at your favorite nail parlor is so much sweeter when you’re accompanied by a boy made out of star-shaped tangerines

ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 sugar sorbet 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

how sweet is it to be dizzy and in love?

ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 240711 jongseob 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

he’s lifting his head now, so his lips hover dangerously close to your left ear, smiling knowingly and whispering “i take it you like my outfit?”, and jongseob doesn’t even give you a moment to react, retreating back to his side of the backseat, but not before shooting you a shit-eating grin that makes you want to sock him, albeit lovingly, in the face.

ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 tumblr girls 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

maybe you stay here out of convenience, comfortability even—why leave when you’re already settled, right? or maybe it was for the boy currently occupying the right side of your now abandoned bed. maybe you’re thinking too much.

coming soon..

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

✹*:·.

[calliesmemes]

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

[erenfox]

RANKING SBG SHIPS BECAUSE LOKI GAVE US ALL FREE WILL 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥

Aidlyn/Ashden: good lord the chemistry. the 'he fell first but she fell harder' trope. the lil gestures by aiden. him annoying tf out of her but also becoming very caring when she's hurt. I'M SO CALM RN GUYS. and the fact that them ending up together is inevitable lmfao XD 9/10

Benlor: FUCKKK IM SERIOUSLY NOT OK THESE TWO ARE JUST SO PURE AND SWEET TO EACH OTHER. ESPECIALLY TAYLOR TOWARDS HIM, cuz he kinda suppresses his feelings and is a sad boi :( dw ben taylor's gonna make you feel happy again fosho lmao 😭 the lil blushing ben always does around taylor! her supporting his ideas even tho they flop! her helping him calm down from barron through music! her always cheering him up whenever he's gloomy! her being the first to thank him for opening up! THEY'RE LITERALLY THE DEFINITION OF SHE FELL FIRST BUT HE FELL HARDER! GOD IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM 😭😭😭 10/10

Tylenol/Tylo: i never thought of the prospect of them together, but post tumblr i must say its interesting. not just them being the single ones in the team, but i like the way tyler defended logan against barron, and his general protective aura around logan. but then again tyler was kinda rude to logan in the start. but then again it gives nerd x jock vibes which to me r pretty cool 5/10

Tyden: LMAO the continuous saga of them pissing tf out of each other. it would be fuckin hilarious if they somehow end up together. but apart from the general hilarious bickering, there's not too much to it 5/10

Tayden: goddamn their friendship is so precious!! her painting his nails? her carrying him on his shoulders in dat one artwork?PURE BESTIE VIBES they just match each other's freak lmfao. 8/10

Logden: meh there are not any significant moments between these two. would definitely be cute, but i can't see it happening lol 2/10

Loglor/Taygan: no but why can i actually see this happening lol. the way theyre both so gentle around each other! then the way she was the first to help him when he got slashed by the phantom? and also the way she stood up for him when tyler was being rude? Cute! 6/10

Benlyn: ooh the two quiet people of the gang! they could work out really well bcoz they definitely understand each other's struggles with muteness and phantom hearing respectively. plus that panel of ben braiding ashlyn's hair was so cute lmao :> 7/10

Loglyn: AAA they have sm potential!!! before the events of yk the whole ✨sAvAnNaH✨ mess, i feel like they wouldve been each other's only existing acquaintance they may call friends (ik it's not canon but it's very plausible lol) 6/10

Benlo/Logben: theyd definitely be good together, it's just that my sbg memory is failing to recall any significant moments b/w them ;-; if y'all remember pls do tell 4/10

Tyben: what is with the hernandez siblings always ending up being bens biggest supporters lmao XD it's a cute dynamic honestly 5/10

Taylyn: now this is one freakin adorable ship TvT. the way taylor always had a slight pang of concern for a friendless lonely ashlyn when they were kids? and the way they quite frankly became besties after enduring all the phantom world shit? very sweet lmao 7/10

Tylyn/Ashler: i have been usurped into the tylyn propaganda by @tragedry honestly I DO NOT COMPLAIN. like holy fuck they're so enemies to lovers! them "loathing" each other, fighting for leadership, but then immediately becoming possibly the biggest protectors of each other in times of danger??? extremely wholesome lmao i love them smmm 9/10

SO THE TOP SHIPS ARE:

3. TAYDEN (the crack ship) 😈🔥🥉

2. tie b/w TYLYN and AIDLYN (the wholesome ships) 😌👌🥈

1. BENLOR (THE PUREST SWEETEST MOST ADORABLE GOOFS EVERR I-) 🥺❤🥇

[grahstumhurts]

The stars aligned for us

Synopsis- Y/n had always had a crush on Sophia. this being Y/n's senior year, she had to make it count. Sophia, a untouchable goddess, in Y/ns eyes. Will it happen?

A/N - YES I KNOW ITS A CHEESY TITLE AND FIC, ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR TUMBLR OKAY. SUE ME IF I WANTED SOME CHEESY ROMANTIC SOPHIA CONTENT. This was not proof read so yeah

 Lara always complains about how I stare at her in the halls when she passes by with her flock. “Dude, its honestly sad how much time you spend a day staring at her and or thinking about her, when in all brutal truth, she probably doesn't give you a single thought.” Lara sighs, rubbing her forehead in frustration as she watches me get out my books for my AP biology class. “Its not that bad, okay. Trust me i've been worse.” I try defending myself, “Listen, Y/N At this point you might as well confess since it's almost the end of the year. Whats the worst that could happen? You get embarrassed, yes, But you won't ever see her again until the highschool reunion.” Lara tries to convince me for the Nth time this year. Senior year was supposed to be the year where I let loose. By the time senior spring had come and college applications were through, there had been one thing I had yet to do. I’ve known her for years. I mean everyone knows her at our school. She's everyone's dream girl, Untouchable you could say. Sophia Laforteza. I sigh, almost giving in this time, “No, I won't do it. Like i've said multiple times, she's an untouchable painting that, Good lord, I want to touch so bad” I close my locker, leaning against it, facing towards Lara. She gives me an unimpressed look. “You have AP Bio with her next right? So why not ask her to study sometime? I mean you are basically failing that class,girl.” I pause, I consider it, My brain algorithm approves. The bell rings for the next period. “why are you actually kinda smart, Lara.” I walk past her “Hey, woah what do you mean kinda, I legit just gave you the best idea ever” she yells at my passing figure as i jog off to mr bennetts classroom. “For the sake of my mental health I pray to Beyonce that this works.” Lara mumbles under her breath as she walks off to her class. 

Now you would think that the universe would be on my side. And you would be right. The stars have aligned as Lara would say, God forbid that girl ever not talk about stars and astrology the moment the conversation dies down. “Alright class, today i'm announcing your semester-long project for this class. This project will be starting today and will be ending by the end of the semester, so right around April we will present. Now this is a partner project” The class groans in disbelief, “Settle down. Now, I will be picking the partners-” The class erupts in boisterous anger at Mr bennett. “Calm down, Jesus, I'm retiring after this year. This project is going to be about whatever you want it to be. as long as it relates to biology.” He opens his laptop. “Now the partners will be…” he pauses reading the screen “Chloe and Marquise, Nickolas and Wendy, Y/N and Sophia” I note down these partnerships in my head just for reference, Wait. Are you fucking kidding me, its me and sophia? Now in hindsight you would think that maybe this is a class prank on me. I swear to fucking god i was about ready to explode, yean no not that kind of explode, the one where im the most anxious person on the god damn planet that we call fucking earth. Out of the 24 students in this class, other than me, there is a one in fucking 24 chance that i would be placed with her. Which i find is fucking ridiculous. “And thats it for partners, now if you could start planning your projects that would be great” Everyone shuffles around the room, trying to find their partner. I scramble to pick up my things when I drop my pencil case. I notice a manicured hand pick it up, i connect the hand to the arm, the arm to the body. Like the gorgeous goddess she is, she hands me my pencil case, Stupid fucking fish pencil case. “I like your pencil case, its pretty creative and unique” She comments, placing the fish on the table “thanks, my grandma got it for me so i've just been using it ever since.” I laugh uncomfortably. “What do you wanna do the project on?” I meekly ask her, I avoid all eye contact possible. She ponders for a moment, “I've always been kinda interested in how the weather contributes to moods, would that be something your okay with doing?”  “imokaywithdoingwhateveryouwant” I spit out, at possibly the pace of a marathon runner. She laughs to herself at my reaction “you're cute.” She mumbles. “Are you free this week to start the project or…” She drags off the end of the word to insinuate for me to answer, “i'm good for this week, maybe tomorrow? After school” “We can go over to your house? My siblings can be quite loud so i dont think that’ll be the best “study spot”” She physically puts those two words in quotations. Which wakes me up to the reality that i will be spending the rest of the semester with her, creating a project. “Sure, Im down.” I say a little too excited, I clear my throat. “Cool, cant wait” she says casually as she walks off to her desk to pack up. 

The first week went surprisingly well. I actually kept my cool and had a normal conversation with her. As the weeks grow, my feelings never really cut off for her. Instead, like a tumour, it grows. And so does my guilt. The project builds up a good amount of research, by the time its almost the end of the semester, March to be exact. The guilt, it flourishes inside me like a mouldy banana in the bottom of your bag. For all I know she could be straight. 

I hear the doorbell ring, I know its her. My mom answers the door, as per usual. lets her in, then she comes up the stairs and up to my room where the door is already open for her to come in. “Hey” she greets me “almost the end huh? I bought some snacks on the way here, I remember last week you mentioned sour skittles to me so I figured I could try them with you.” “you remembered?” “Yeah, why wouldn't i? We are friends right? I mean with all the time we have spent on this project, i assumed we are friends” she looks confused, almost hurt? “Are we not friends” “we are, yeah” I flusteredly responded, panicking at the seemingly wounded look. She cracks a smile “i'm just messing with you,” she knocks my shoulder against hers as she sits down on my bed. “I think there's a storm coming soon actually” she says opening the shopping bag with the seemingly endless amount of snacks in it. “Kinda ironic don't you think?” I say to her, We get to work for the next couple of hours, sprinkling in some goofy moments between the two of us. She ends up having to stay over, The storm inhibiting her ability to go home. I look out the window, the rain looks as if it will never end. “You ever danced in the rain?” She sits next to me, resting her head on my shoulder, observing the perspiration. “I did it once with an ex boyfriend of mine,” she adds to her previous comment. For some reason that last bit stung a little, like a scratch from a cat. “You had a boyfriend?” I ask genuinely curious. “I ended things with him since I figured out that i liked girls” “oh, i didnt know you liked girls.” I looked at her, Her hazel eyes looking back. “Do you like girls?” she questioned me. “Yeah, always have” I answered meekly. An idea came to me when she looked back out the window, I stood up. “Lets go out into the rain” I drag her closely behind me as we walk out the front door to my house, running out into the wet sky. I laugh at her standing confused in the doorway. “Dude come on” I actively try to convince her “you were the one that started talking about dancing in the rain” I open my mouth and let the almost salty droplets hit my tongue. “Eugh, dude, dont you know how disgusting rain water is” She runs out into the rain, fully embracing the uncomfortable wetness covering her body. I curtsy to her “Mi’ Lady would you care for a dance?” I say in a faux british accent. She giggles “Of course Mi’ Lady, a dance would be appreciated.” I bring her in, her waist in one hand and her own hand in the other. “Is this okay?” I yell over the sound of the water droplets hitting the ground. She nods, resting her head on my shoulder as we sway in the middle of the driveway. She looks up at me, searching my face for something. Looking down at my lips, then my eyes, then back at my lips again. “What?” I asked her “do i have something on my face?” She cups my cheeks, her warm thumb stroking my cheekbones. Before I can say another thing, she leans in, and kisses me. The Ivy that is guilt covering my heart slowly withers away, her hands leave my cheeks and caress the hair on the back of my neck. I pull her in closer, wrapping my arms around her body. A lightning crack makes us pull apart. “You seriously dont know how long ive been dreaming of this happening” I tuck my face into her soaking collar, she kisses my forehead. “How long?” she giggles, “1st grade, When i first moved here. And it trailed all the way here.” “damn i wasn't expecting that.” I blush. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” I call out over the rain. “Of course dumbass” She leans back in, coating my whole body in a warm honey feeling, The stars aligned for us to be.

[smokesandsonatas]

beelzebub as a dad please!

-Hello! I accidentally deleted the other request like this, when I was trying to combine this and the other one. It's a Papa Beelzebub ask too and his daughter would be like Kanao from Demon Slayer. I'm sorry, and I do want to recover the deleted draft but I don't think Tumblr allows that. Sad. I also tried to imagine Beelzebub's daughter. I created the image. Her name is up to interpretation. -

+++

The first time he had seen the girl, she was staring into nothingness. Her clothes are torn, she's covered in grime, and her bones are peeking through her skin. Blank, big eyes slowly turned to him when Beelzebub walked to her side.

The demon lord raked his eyes to the ravaged town in from of him. Smoke from the house fire is high up in the air. Bodies lay on the floor, and the smell of blood circles the destroyed town.

Oddly enough, Beelzebub felt...pity for the poor girl. And then he said-

"Come with me."

And the little girl did.

+++

The Lord of the Flies, and the Young Lady of the Flies.

The name itself sounds scary. Sending fear to whoever hears it.

Everyone said his daughter's existence is a supernatural feat in itself. When Beelzebub's love reaches its peak, he would destroy all he loves. Would that mean that Beelzebub does not love his daughter? No, his love for his daughter remains there. It's just Beelzebub has to monitor himself to not go overboard.

Buddha stares at the girl in front of him. Long dark hair covers half of her face. She wears a dress in the color of black. Gothic, it reminds him of the Western people mourning, from one of his travels.

"Definitely got that from Beelzebub," Buddha mumbled to himself. The little girl is an enigma and the only one who has lived, oddly enough, to stay by the demon god's side.

Although unnerved, Buddha smiled, "Hello, I'm Buddha. Little girl, is your dad not here? I need to talk to him about matters involving the underworld."

The little girl just stared at him. Buddha frowned, just how on earth is Beelzebub raising a child?

+++

"Papa..."

Buddha's eyes doubled their size, goodness did the child just speak?

"...is busy in his office," was all she said.

Buddha let out an "Oh, all right." He smiled at her, baring his fangs, "I'll just wait here, tell your dad he-"

"Daughter there you are."

Beelzebub walks to the little girl, gently touching her hair as he looks at her fondly.

Buddha crunched his eyebrows. From the way they dress, they're similar. Their attitudes were almost similar. He narrowed his eyes, observing their faces.

They even look the same!

Is Beelzebub sure this girl is not his biological child?

"Don't hang out with dangerous gods, you might get yourself hurt."

Buddha raised his eyebrow, ready to retaliate.

"I'm not a dangerous god-"

"Don't hang out with gods like Buddha either. You never know what they will do to you. Always be on guard. If you need help, my daughter, call me."

Before Buddha can even reply to Beelzebub's unwanted opinions, both he and his child are gone. Beelzebub did not even give him a courtesy greeting.

"Huh," Buddha scratched his chin, "why does this feel familiar."

+++

Beelzebub is working in his lab as his daughter read books. The silence is enough to let him work in comfort.

Besides they've always been like this, basking silently in each other's presence. Ah, Beelzebub must control his love lest he kill the young lady of the flies.

"Papa," the little girl said. "Look," she held up the book, The Adventures of Mr. B! Then pointed to the protagonist smiling triumphantly, "This character looks like Mr. Buddha."

Beelzebub blinked and went to his daughter's side. Hmmm, the character resembles him. It does look like Buddha, the bright, shining, and happy-go-lucky god.

For some reason, the lord of the Flies doesn't like the feeling of uneasiness bubbling through him. He doesn't like how Buddha is being all his happy self around his daughter, doesn't like his presence, and he doesn't like the way the book his daughter is reading is about heroes based on Buddha's image.

Beelzebub frowned.

He needs to throw the book out.

[lucatumbling]

Digital Circus Episode 4 talk!

Been a while since I did some yapping about Digital Circus publicly, and I feel like doing it again. So... did someone say: "adventure?"

Quick disclaimer!

Personal thoughts and feelings will bleed into this, so there is a possible chance some of my wording may tip you off or my opinions may not align with yours. If that doesn't really suit you then you can take your leave from this post. I just wanna go talk my mind free about a show I love and I'm not looking to change anyone's opinions. Also there will be SPOILERS!!! You have been warned. Alright, time to clock in!

First up... Let's speak to the manager! GANGLE!

Full stop: I LOVED HER in this episode. Gangle having a character and personality unique to her is already a big win, but the way the episode handled it... my god. The masking, the interactions she had, the depression, the lore, the... JUST ALL OF IT! And good lord, parts of it feel relatable. (I'll get into that a bit later though with someone else)

She really is the biggest highlight of the episode, which makes sense because it is her episode. Though surprisingly enough, she is not my main focus for this blog. I wish I had more to say but there are many other people out there who can speak for Gangle and I'd recommend those blogs, you can find them all over Tumblr and they are some great reads!

My personal focus however, is on... JAX!

Ah, my favorite character in the show. AND MY GOD IS HE RELATABLE IN THIS EPISODE. Time taking forever, higher ups putting on facades wanting you to work harder (which gets annoying pretty quickly), being more genuine when alone. If I am in anyone's shoes the most in this episode, it's Jax. That being said, he is still his loveable Jax self from time to time. Yeeting Ragatha into the deep fryer, bantering with Zooble, unamused with Gangle. The usual lovely package! Honestly, one of my favorite things in this episode is that after Jax goes through that employee re-evaluation, he looks at the clock, gets pissed off AND COMPLETELY FORGETS ABOUT THE RE-EVALUATION HE JUST WENT THROUGH. HE JUST DROPS BACK INTO HIS MOOD FROM BEFORE (just more tired) AS IF NOTHING HAPPENED. What I also love about this episode is more of his genuine side. Talking to Pomni and after clocking out. Gotta love the human side of a human! I'm very interested to see how Jax will be like in Episodes 5 and 6. I'm personally hoping he will be just as great as he was here!

Alright, next employee... ZOOBLE!

Great employee, good score. No but really, I love Zooble in this episode. Them interacting with Gangle brings out a whole new side to them which I loved seeing. One of my favorite things about Zooble is how they are always honest. It makes them come off as much more real which I respect a lot. They aren't afraid to speak their mind free. We did see this in the previous episode with Caine where this works in a negative way. Whereas here with Gangle it works in a positive way and I'm all here for it. Goose also said that this Zooble design is her favorite and I can see why, the design looks great and even made for a 2 second gag which was pretty funny. If Goose has more Zooble screentime for future episodes, then I would love to see that!

Next up, we have... POMNI!

I like her in this episode! Having some heart to hearts with Gangle and the whole Gummigoo thing which... youch, that must hurt. I also like that this episode shows some more of Pomni's caring side. (I just realized that she speaks with Gummigoo again and then later has two heart to heart moments with Gangle and I find that rather funny, is Gummigoo a special sign?) Other than that, aside from her interactions with the NPCs and a small interaction with Jax, I actually don't have much to say about her. She's fine this episode but doesn't appear too much. Which, again, is understandable considering how many characters this show has. You keep going girl!

Okay... next up... AHA! CAINE!

Even though Caine didn't appear much in this episode, I still like what we got of him in this episode. Caine's glitching again, definitely some foreshadowing there. Though here's an interesting question: Does Caine have a bad memory? He forgot about Zooble's problem back in Episode 3 and now here, he forgot about the suggestion box. It would be interesting if that's the case. I'm not entirely sure if it's true though because he does seem to remember certain things such as Human and NPC difference and not wanting to mix that up. Nevertheless it's an interesting question to feed the mind, let me know what you guys think! Not much else to say for Caine so let's keep going!

Oh. Hey Kinger!

Yeah I do want to briefly mention Kinger. One line to explain why he isn't on the adventure but that is pretty funny. And it makes sense why he wasn't on the adventure, he had episode 3 which... (looks at all the Kinger content from October) yeah I think that says enough. Maybe next time Kinger!

Lastly... Ragatha!

Okay... Ragatha. For the people unaware, Ragatha is my least favorite character in this show. I hate the whole "nice" facade she puts on. Which is why I was pleasantly surprised that I actually liked her in this episode! This is mainly the result of her being dumb sauced which makes her more impulsively honest, and that's why I like her in this episode. She's more "honest" (using quotations since I don't think she's evil or anything, just honest in the moment which is something the brain can do at times) and not wearing her facade. She feels more real as a person this way and it makes me interested to see how this plays into Episode 5. You can't keep a facade going forever, it breaks or the person drops the act eventually. If we get to see more of this side of Ragatha, then I might be able to genuinely like her as a character. But Episode 5 is most likely to hold that answer and we aren't there just yet. Overall verdict on Ragatha, I like her this episode because she isn't faking it.

Hold on! One more group of customers! NPCS!

I like that the NPCs had a somewhat more active role in this episode. Seeing some returning faces (a payoff to Ragatha's line in Episode 2) and also how different each one can be. I love how the mannequins all have different personalities, I love how the Gloink Queen is a mother, I love that Orbsman looks like he's from Mario 64 and you gotta love the Gummicrew being back! The little moments with Pomni and Gummigoo were great, I really liked them!

PHEW... That was a LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG day of work... Time to clock out.

Hope you all enjoyed my ramblings about Episode 4! It was a lot of fun talking about this episode considering it's my second favorite episode (so far) in the entire show! I'm gonna drive home now. See you next time when I post something on here!

BYE!!!

[bonkbobl]

distraction

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

gif not mine

a/n: so this was the story i wrote like several weeks ago that got deleted by tumblr. i finally got the motivation to rewrite it (bc like i think everything but the last bit got deleted)

summary: roose bolton indulges his urges with lower born northern girls — by no means is this a very well kept secret. he stole your first night from you and your husband, just as he has done with many others in the past, but this time you remain cemented in his mind months after. that is out of the ordinary.

warning: mentions of previous dubious consent situations, no huge smut scenes but smutty descriptions of past memories, unplanned pregnancy, some bits of self hate and shame, take that trigger warning seriously!! reader was a victim of SA from roose and theres a lot of conflicting feelings, cheating depending on your pov but i dont think it counts bc she had no choice, roose is very much not the good guy here please be aware, a lot of victim blaming

Roose doesnt know when he began to care for you. It certainly wasnt that first time he saw you, bathing naked in the river. And it definitely wasn’t when you and your husband showed up at the Dreadfort asking your liege lords blessing for marriage.

Of course, he knew in both instances, he craved you.

A craving that should have been satisfied when he exercised the first night rights. No, somehow between the your first night and now, he had begun to yearn for you again. That night far from expelled you from his mind.

Only a couple times, Roose saw himself riding out of the Dreadfort and he’d see you outside, hanging clothes on a line or tending to some animals.

You’d always spot him, then quickly pretend as if you didn’t, probably praying to each and every God that he wouldn't come by to see you.

In truth, it didn’t matter much whether he stopped by or not. The damage had already been done and there was little his visit could do to worsen things. Your wedding night had ruined your marriage. It was something you had been coming to terms with over the past couple of months.

At first, you had tried your best to console your husband. The experience took a toll on both of you — he had refused your bed for almost a month afterward and after weeks of patience, you were finally able to have a real wedding night.

He was gentle and slow and kind, a noticeable contrast to how roughly Roose took you. You felt ashamed even comparing in the privacy of your own mind, but you thought it before you could even realize how much you hated the idea.

You loved and cared for your husband. He loved and cared for you. He treated you delicately and respectfully, as a husband should. It just wasn't quite as exciting as the passion, the rough kisses, the biting. He almost seemed afraid to touch you.

He’d asked you after you made love, how it was. You braved a smile and nodded, telling him it was wonderful.

Then he pressed, “Better than…”

And inside, your heart shattered, wondering if thats really all he cared about in that moment. With a faltered smile, you nodded again, though it was a lie and in his eyes, you could tell he knew.

When days later you had a more heated argument about the same topic, he revealed he’d been sat outside the door the entire time you laid with Lord Bolton.

That shut your mouth and you stared at the ground wordlessly as he continued to shout at you. Why would he? You thought but you knew your indignation was misplaced. It doesn't make sense why he'd willingly submit himself to the that experience of listening to your lord claim you, but it also didn't make sense why you sounded the way you did while it was happening.

Why did you?

He made a cot in your kitchens and you whimpered, tears spilling into the sheets that you were supposed to share as husband and wife. He didn't share your bed ever again. Granted, it's only been a couple of weeks since you consummated your marriage — you could understand if things just take time.

You were wracked by guilt. But you also had a great deal or resentment and anger building by the time Robb Starks war came about. You spent the length of your marriage comforting your husband over your assault. How is that right?

But the guilt… the guilt never stopped. You close your eyes and you can feel him if you try hard enough — Roose. Feel him kissing, feel him rubbing you down there, and when he made you get on top...

It was shameful.

When the North began to rally for the King in the North, any help was appreciated, even from an untrained soldier such as your husband, even from a simple farmers wife such as yourself. Anyone can do the least bit to help.

You did what little you were permitted to do — cooking for the soldiers, cleaning, dressing wounds. Having things to do with your hands took your mind off of your messy personal life. For a little bit.

It was only a matter of time before you started to feel his gaze on you. Everywhere you went.

Of course, you had expected to see him. But you had also expected him to ignore you.

You expected that if you were to ever approach him, it would cause a huge upset. Everyone knew he almost had his bastard's mother flogged when she brought her baby boy to the Dreadfort and you had no intention of meeting that fate. You thought, all the better for you. He wont seek you out and you would never put yourself through having to look in his face again. Every time you closed your eyes, you could already imagine him on top of you, and how he felt inside you.

It was especially difficult to keep those images off your mind because still, your husband refused your bed, keeping two separate cots in your shared tent.

You're a shameful little thing. Letting your mind wander from your marriage. To the man who ruined it no less...

No such luck met you, however and your expectations to be left alone were subverted.

Roose noticed his bad habit of turning up whereever you seemed to be as well and no matter how he tried to cull it, he'd still find himself wandering a little too close to your tent and the medical wing of camp where he was scarcely needed.

A few times, he'd spoken to you and you always kept your head down, ignoring the heat that would tease at your cunt or the way your stomach would twist at the sound of his deep voice. Only "Yes, milord," "Straight away, milord," "Of course, milord." One time he had even went as far as to compliment you on a job well done, serving the Northern Cause, and you still didn't budge to look up at him, gritting out a particularly bitter, "Thank you, my lord."

You truly were getting more and more bitter by the day. You felt quicker to anger — fed up by your husband, and seemingly unable to escape the watchful eye of your liege lord. You wondered why at first. Now you think, he must get some kind of high from it — from knowing that he was in many ways a part of you now, ingrained in your mind, a constant presence in your marriage. You wondered if he'd ever get tired of this petty humiliation.

You would snap. You were sure of it. One day, you'll say unpretty words, unbecoming of a farmer's wife. You could feel it even when you were alone, trying to unwind. You'd find yourself thinking of a scenario in which you'd be allowed to give him a piece of your mind, and sometimes you'd mutter curses to nothing but the wind as you knitted. You were wound up unbelievably so. You could hardly conceive of a time you felt more anger in you this frequently.

It nearly came to a head when your husband stumbled into your shared tent one afternoon and started clawing at your body. You had been laying on the bed, reading, grateful for a moment of solitude.

It was mid day and he already stunk of ale.

He took the book out of your hands and began kissing up your neck and you shoved him right off, storming out into the open air, furious at his lack of disrespect. Tears already pricking at your eyes.

Of course, you had been hoping he'd warm up to you and come to you one night. You'd talk it through — talk about both your individual feelings. You'd apologize for the cruel words you'd spoken to each other and start making love, start looking forward to the future you'd promised each other. You'd start trying to build a family. You'd begin making love regularly.

All these fantasies in your head — and he just stumbles in one day wanting to stick his dick somewhere.

You had only made it a few meters outside, the loud hustle of the war encampment, driving you even further up the wall. Your mind is too loud. Each day is feeling more and more like a dream rather than your life. Its all too overwhelming.

Your husbands grasp on your wrist halted you and you turned. He brought you in close, his stench absolutely putrid and you could hardly even recognize the boy you agreed to marry — the boy who was so gentle with the little pigs and sheep, who always wanted to feed them when he came to the farm to see you. All in a couple months, spoiled rotten.

"Aye, where d 'ya think you're goin, little lady?"

You snatched your wrist away forcefully, though you didn't need to be so aggressive. His movements were as slurred as his voice and a gentle pull would have loosened his grasp enough.

"I'm not in the mood," You hissed. "You don't talk to me most days now, you haven't shared my bed in weeks, and now you think you can climb on top of me stinking of ale..."

Anger flared behind your husbands eyes, "C'mon. You'll just end up enjoy'en it anyway."

Nothing but hurt stabbed at your heart as you moved away from him, "You act like this all happened to you. That you were hurt, that someone took something from you. You never showed any care for my wellbeing once.” You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes and you moved to storm off from him. “I'll talk to you later. When you're sober."

“Come back here you slut—” Was the last you heard and the last you saw was his hand raising. You turned and ducked.

When you turned, you ran into a firm chest, the hands attached to the man steadied you with a firm hand on your waist. Your husband flinched back when he saw the figure behind you, lowering his hand, but not without a bitter laugh. And you looked up, only needing a microsecond to realize who it was. You promptly, pushed yourself off him, nearly tripping over yourself doing so.

His deep voice rang out before you could start back on your feet, "Is there a problem, my lady?"

"Everything is fine," You held your gaze on the ground, begging that he'd just stay out of this so you can go and leave without creating a scene.

But he didn't see your urgency to leave. He saw your tears. He showed very little visible reaction to this very awkward and unfortunate situation, but you could sense that he was taking this far too seriously for your liking. As you moved to disengage, your husband had to get a last word in.

"It's alright, Lord Bolton. The whore is yours if you'd still like," Your husband, Mister Kent, yelled. Kent, you could hardly stand to share his name anymore.

Your face grew hot, suddenly aware of the eyes on you and you slipped away quickly, feet moving you swiftly to the tree line behind the camp. Roose had little awareness of those watching, simply scoffing at your husbands theatrics before turning to attend to what mattered more in the moment. You.

He called your name once and you kept speeding off, wiping your nose, your face. You refuse to cry.

He called your name a second time, sounding more irritated at your attitude — to think you were making him run after you — and this time, you gave him an answer. You turned and with all the hatred you could muster in you, you uttered a firm, "Don't."

Roose's hard eyes softened, only slightly, but the determination to catch up to you had faded away. With a simple nod, he watched as you finally ran off, seeking your much needed solitude.

Even long after you were already gone, he still thought about you. It was the first time he'd seen real resistance in you and to be truthful, it puzzled him far more than he'd care to admit out loud. He had stepped in, as your legal protector, as any good lord would have and instead of showing gratitude, you were angry at him.

Anyone else wouldn't have dared to speak to him in the ways that you have.

This created conflict — for one thing, he was understanding more and more what a liability to you were. A distraction at first, but the more he permitted himself to see you, the more troublesome you become.

Roose isn't a man to concern himself with peacocking and flitting about pretentiously drunk on power. But he was feared and respected. And he didn't get to be feared and respected by associating himself with beautiful young peasant girls. He didn't make grown me tremble in their boots at the sound of his name by letting little peasant girls talk back to him freely.

This distraction...

You could prove to be more trouble than you're worth. Of the few times he's seen you, he attempted to pay you no mind but sometimes, his eyes wander. Sometimes he's thinking about something more important and he realizes he's looking at you.

Your hair is always done up with a dirty little scarf. Sometimes it wouldn't be done up very securely — locks of hair falling in front of your face as you worked. In those moments it was difficult to look away.

Sometimes you'd wear these milkmaid dresses that you'd usually save for the warmer summer days when you'd work on your farm. And your straps might loosen over your shoulder, falling. You'd have to adjust it back in the right place after completing your task. Those dresses surely complimented your figure in ways that Roose imagined would make even a maester blush.

Your perfect little body looked even better, bare, in the dim firelight. His roaming hands were the best accessory — the best clothing — to compliment and accentuate your curves. The marks he left on you were better than any precious metals or gemstones you could adorn yourself with.

Just remembering what you looked like after he was done with you — chest heaving, warm, sweating and worn out, lips and cunt both so puffy and swollen, and doing nothing as his cum started to threaten to spill out of you. Your mind was wracked with the confusion of actually having had enjoyed it. And when you watched him push his spend back into the hole from where it was trying to escape, that action almost made you want more. He could see it in your beautiful flushed face.

Those memories are enough to make him completely forget himself and lose his train of thought when he sees you.

He'll be noticing you from afar and before he knows it, he's only a few paces from you, looking down at you with nothing to say but some arbitrary order that he'd come up with on the spot — fetch water, bring milk of the poppy for one of the generals, help the women prepare dinner.

You're one hell of a distraction.

Roose considered having you and your husband sent home from the war effort. It would have been the most practical solution. If the king is already flitting about with the Volantis Princess, the North cannot afford so many side tracked leaders.

And yet, he cant help but feel some vague sense of responsibility to you.

Perhaps if it were any other man, this was to be expected, but Roose has bedded many women under the old first night tradition and never paid a second thought to any of them. They were all just his subjects. He'd protect them, he'd do his duty, he'd take what was rightfully his, and he'd punish them if they refused him, but he had more important matters to concern himself with.

Definitely more important than a petty dispute between wife and husband. Though it left a distinctly bad taste in his mouth to think that your husband might be mistreating you in any way, calling you debasing names. Gods forbid, he's been misusing you — Roose knows there isn't a scarcity of husbands that subject their wife to all their most debased urges. Especially when there isn't a good amount of respect between them and it doesn't seem to him that your husband particularly carries much respect for you.

For that man to raise a hand to you.

Roose scoffed at Mister Kent's behavior. He supposes it's partially his fault, perhaps mostly. Or entirely. Not that he'd usually particularly care.

It's just that Mister Kent had an especially blatant disregard for your honor. That the man could even think he had the right to treat you as if you were below him when you were more valuable to the northern cause than he could ever hope to be — it baffled Roose.

Because thats what this was about. The North. Your husband is one foot soldier. You keep the army fed and medicated.

He reasoned with himself, that it's a part of his oaths to protect those small folk that reside in his lands. That includes farmers wives when their husbands aren't honoring the oaths they took at the altar. It wasn't personal. It was something he had overlooked in the past that he'll aim to rectify.

—————

You wiped some sweat from your brow, nodding kindly to the lady next to you, who brought you a fresh tray of bowls to fill. Then on your other side, another woman scurried up to you, tapping your shoulder.

She looked younger, slightly nervous.

“What is it?” You asked, turning with concern.

She spoke quickly, “Lord Bolton ordered me to pass a message,” her mousy accented voice barely audible as the other ladies rushed to get food to the hungry mouths of the men.

You flinched backward, confusion all over your face, but you leaned in anyway. You’d let the poor frightened girl complete her task. Your distaste for Lord Bolton doesn’t have to translate to her.

“Milord said to tell you that your belongings have been moved to a new tent, apart from your husbands, and that from now on, when we are to move camp, you should maintain this change.”

You stared at her, open mouthed, with brows knitted together in frustration, “Where?”

“Next to Milord’s, I believe. N-next to Lord Bolton’s own tent.”

Taking in a deep breath, you moved to turn back to your task. You'd worry about it later... But the offense had already set into your mind and your jaw clenched tightly. Opening your mouth, your original intent was to sternly thank her for delivering the message to you. She’s simply the messenger. You refuse to react and push the negativity of your reaction onto her.

But a surge of anger rose to your throat and you stifled your movements and words, taking a moment to collect yourself and think about it. Yes, this girl is simply the messenger. You should take your grievances to the man.

You nodded politely at the girl, “Thank you. Could you...” You gestured at the cauldron that you had been manning and nodded toward it pointedly, “Just for a moment. I need to speak find Lord Bolton and speak to him about why such changes have been made.”

“Of course, my lady,” She curtsied and rushed to take over your job for you.

You stopped in your tracks just as you were about to leave. “I’m not— Theres no need for formalities. I’m not a lady. We are neighbors if I am not mistaken. Your tavern is not far from my husbands farm.”

She nodded, hesitant, but conceded, “Of course… Its just… Lord Bolton—”

“Has overstepped greatly,” You finished.

She refused to respond, simply nodding in acknowledgment of your opinion. You’re brave to speak against your liege lord in such a manner.

You took your leave quickly, trying to find your way to the Lords and Ladies table as swiftly as possible. Perhaps there was still a way to reverse this change before anyone else takes notice and rumors begin to swirl.

Right next to his tent. What was he thinking? Did he simply aim to humiliate you— Humiliate your husband more? Was what damage has already been done not satisfactory— that he must shame you not only in the eyes of your husband but the entire North?

You were never meant to garner attention. A simple farmers wife was the life you thought you’d be destined for. And that was happy.

He’s spoiling it all.

You stepped up to the table, heart beating loudly in your chest, the fear feeling more like rushing adrenaline due to the fury underlying. “My Lord,” You greeted, trying to stay as respectful as possible.

Roose turned to you, as did your king, Robb Stark, Catelyn Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Rodrick Cassel, Rickard Karstark, and Greatjon Umber. Just as they did, Most of them had turned back to their previous conversations, passing you off as a servant girl with no doubt a simple question regarding something logistic. A fair assumption. And you were grateful for their dismissal. It made it less nerve-wracking.

Roose raised his brows at you. The only one of his companions that maintained an interest in you was Lady Stark, who looked to him for his reaction, and back at you.

“May I speak with you? Alone?” You pressed.

Roose looked you up and down, slightly amused by how ticked off you appeared to be. Pursing his lips and continuing to chew on the veal you and your ladies had prepared, he shrugged, “Whatever you have to say, surely, can be said now. You have no secrets to keep from the mother of the King, I’d hope?”

You glanced at Catelyn who still watched you curiously, then back at Roose. Taking a deep breath, and sighing it out, you kept your glaring eyes trained on him. “You had no right,” You held your ground firmly. The boldness of your words attracting the interest of the others once again, and despite the building pressure of those eyes watching you, you steeled yourself, holding to your purpose, “No right, My Lord," And through your words, you decided to add, "R-respectfully,” to soften your tone. Though it was only out of fear, not because you actually respected the man.

“No right to do what?” He challenged, icy blue eyes not budging a single bit.

You were taken aback, shaking your head and recoiling into yourself as if you were disgusted by him — which you were. You kept reminding yourself to be disgusted with him. He’s a disgusting man. Stubborn, always needs to get his way, arrogant, assertive, pragmatic, effective, dominant.

Though you couldn't help the bit of desire for him that you felt. It rose like bile in your throat just like every other time, but unlike every other time, the disgust that you'd usually feel toward yourself turned to anger, directed at the man in front of you.

“You—” But your next words died on your lips and you took in another deep breath, trying to keep calm. You were already bold for talking to him in an accusatory manner. You cant afford to curse at him or say all the things you want to say. Not with all these eyes on you. “I wish to share my tent with my husband. You had me moved. Without my consent.”

He gave you a look of faux consideration, as if he were truly listening to you and considering a change in his actions but you knew he wasn’t. He was condescending, “I seem to remember this is the same husband who stumbles around, a drunken fool, and raises his hand to his wife in front of not only his fellow soldiers but his liege lord.”

“Convenient picture, you paint,” You seethed, articulating each word with venom, no longer trying to hide any disrespect.

“Was there a lie in my words? Does he not hurt you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Dont pretend you care. Not now. Don't you fucking dare. “Well—" Yes, but would have been your next words but you bit your tongue. The point of this wasn't to debate your husbands behavior toward you. You, yourself found it distasteful. You should focus on the matter at hand which is that you don't want to be so close to this man. "I’ll have my own tent then. If it pleases you, My Lord,” Your words still full of spite, “But you’ll have my belongings moved again so that I’m not right next to you.”

Catelyn’s mouth parted and she stared at the man beside her. You kept your eyes stubbornly trained on Roose, looking at him with great offense and sass in your eyes, as if to ask him with just a simple movement of your head, what the fuck were you thinking?

Roose smiled, mostly to himself. Strangely your boldness did nothing to anger him. He expected some more gratitude, maybe. But you’re spirited. For some reason that excites him.

“No,” He said simply, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, “That won’t happen.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, entire face stiff with anger. “I don’t know what you expect,” You asked, “A thank you?”

“It would be appreciated. When your liege grants a favor—“

“A favor, ” You laughed, growing more audacious by the second, but your tone became mocking “A favor out of the goodness of your own hear—”

“Yes, it was a favor,” Roose said, more stern than he had been for the rest of the conversation.

Your expression settled into a hard frown, realizing yourself and your lack of power in this situation. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“And you’d do well to remember not to interrupt a Lord whilst he is speaking.”

You stared stubbornly for a moment, eyes narrowing in on him, challengingly. Then a few moments passed without a word between either of you.

Finally, you surrendered, valuing your head above your pride, “As you wish, My Lord. Thank you.” But the submissiveness of your words could not hide the unmistakeable snark in your tone.

Without granted leave, you turned on your heel and stormed right back off from where you came.

Roose sat back in his chair, ignoring the few lingering gazes of his peers. Though Karstark and Umber quickly busied themselves with their previous interrupted conversation with the younger Greyjoy, the King spared him one last curious look before joining their round of jibes against each other.

It was Lady Starks stare that bore uncomfortably into Roose’s profile.

But he paid it as little attention as possible. He took to his neglected meal and cut another slice of that veal. Stone faced, but thinking about your angry little face. The bite and the snark behind your voice. How badly, did he want to stand and take you right back to his tent and make you understand just how passionate he really was about your protection and safety. Just how capable he is of providing it, unlike that pitiful husband of yours.

As he chewed, the dreadful little realization started to tease at his mind. That perhaps this distraction was spiraling a little far beyond his control.

But the image of your angry, eyes softening as you lay beneath him… the fury dissipating into pleasure, it was more than enough to convince him that control over himself was not what was at the forefront of his mind, nor did he want it be. His desire was beginning to win over his will.

He’ll have you. And you’ll welcome it.

—————

Your days were spent mostly to yourself. Regretfully, you were actually quite thankful for the change in living arrangements. You no longer had to interact with your husband, who had become a near constant anxiety before. And Roose kept his distance for you — perhaps he's gotten the hint...

You could only hope that was the case.

One morning ripped you from your idyllic independence when you found yourself running and wretching into the nearest empty vessel nearly the moment you stood from your bed. You threw up two more times that morning before you gave in and asked a nurse to give you something for the sickness.

That inevitably led to the conversation you had been dreading since the moment you woke up.

"When did you last bleed?"

"I..." You paused to think on it but it couldn't come to you. Two cycles must have passed you by without you even realizing because three moons ago was as recent as you could think of.

Then a new anxiety began to build in you. Because you distinctly remember your husband never consummated your marriage until a mere couple weeks ago — more than a month after your wedding night.

"I'm not sure."

"The sickness means you've had it for probably a bit less than two months now," She informed you, counting on her fingers, "half a month for the babe to take hold, and then the mother gets sick after another month. Half a month for those with a more fragile countenance."

"Is there any way it could have started within two or three weeks?"

Her brows furrowed confusedly for a moment before the gears began to turn in the woman's head and her expression soured to vague pity, though she stepped back from you, almost as if your shame could be contagious. She shook her head lightly, and full of judgement, "There is always moon tea."

Moon tea was exactly what your husband suggested when you told him later. Though you shocked yourself when the a creeping reluctance rose to the front of your mind.

Mister Kent detected your hesitation almost immediately. Before you could fully process your own thoughts and feelings on the matter, he was invigorated by his personal mission to kill the mere idea of you possibly keeping the child.

"You can't mean to say you actually want to keep it?"

All you did was glare, unsure of yourself. "I don't know."

"How can't you know?"

"I don't know," You repeated, stepping back from the man that you once loved. "I don't know if I want to."

"What could possibly make you want to keep it?"

You scoffed at him, "It's still my child," you tried to reason, anything that would get him to empathize, even a little bit, with you. But it was to no avail, you were quickly realizing. He hardly ever really cares to see things from your view.

"It's not mine."

"That fact doesn't negate what I just said," You shot back, brows furrowing frustratedly at his selfishness.

"You'd have me raise another man's bastard?"

"We are married."

"We won't be if you have that bastard."

And there, you let out the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. You smiled humorlessly to yourself, scoffing once again at the situation.

"You can't possibly have thought that I would be amenable to this,” he filled the silence

You simply shook your head because no, you didn't think he would be happy. Of course he wouldn't be happy. But this was the point of no return. If you were to keep the child, there'd be no mending your relationship with him.

Overcome with some bout of sentiment, you took a good look at his face, trying to remember any reason you should pick him over your unborn child — nothing but a bundle of cells right now but probably more capable of truly loving you than this man ever would have been. For a moment you even felt the creeping feeling that you were grateful the child wasn't your husbands.

"I need time to think about it," You spoke carefully, so as not to antagonize him but also not to give him hope.

He rolled his eyes.

For you, that had done it. You still weren't entirely sure if you'd keep the child but next time you spoke to your husband, you'd bring up the question of an annulment. You didn't wait for whatever response he might have before leaving.

—————

Roose caught you just in the corner of his eye. He'd watched you enough to recognize you by the way you walked — or paced, was more accurate to describe it. You were always pacing from place to place, anxiously. He diverted his gaze away from Catelyn Stark who was speaking to him about something mundane, something to do with the Kingslayer, their most recent and most valuable bargaining chip.

You escaped his view as quickly as you came in, disappearing angrily into your tent. You're always upset. At least this time it has little to do with him. He's been giving you some much needed space for a little while.

He knew he stared just a little bit too much when he turned back to Catelyn in front of him and saw her looking to their side, at the little slit of fabric through which you disappeared. Then she looked back at him, curiously.

Roose smiled politely, silently urging her to go on, and hoping the damned woman wouldn't nose around.

"She's pretty, that one."

"Yes," Roose hummed, mentally cursing himself for being a little too careless, "The wife of a farmer. They live about a quarter hour ride south of the Dreadfort."

Catelyn hummed too, eyebrows moving upward awkwardly. "A-and how did you come to be acquainted... with this farmers wife?"

Roose stalled for less than a second before coming up with some farce. It wasn't difficult to think up a simple lie. Although it was barely a lie, simply an omission of most of the truth, "Her father was the Dreadfort's main supplier of milk. And eggs."

"Ah..." Catelyn nodded, and Roose knew she only accepted that answer as a courtesy, clearly aware that there was more to the story. "And her husband..."

Roose rolled his eyes at the mere mention of Mister Kent, "A drunk."

Catelyn smiled a bit at that, eyes narrowing with skepticism, "Unfortunate." She then cautiously pushed, "You seem rather attached to—"

Roose took a deep impatient inhale, causing Lady Stark to quickly drop the subject.

"I take it you were good friends with this girls father. And the only reason you seem to be so protective is because of that friendship..."

The impatient Dreadlord spared Lady Stark a look of incredulity. He wondered why she’d try to come up with a cover story for him when they both know she believes something else — when they both know the reality is something else.

"I would hope that is why, Lord Bolton," She addressed his disbelief, "This girl... She seems to have a kind heart, a strength and resilience, if you will."

For a moment, Roose's irritation blended into pure amusement at why Catelyn Stark would even begin to lecture him on what kind of person you were but she left no room for Roose to speak in protest.

"She is firey."

Roose chuckled, "Yes."

Yes, you are. Even the night he took you, you tried to hold your chin up high and face him. And you did, you glared at him as he entered you, your hardened, angry eyes wavering with each thrust until your furrowed brows knitted together with pleasure replacing your stubborn resistance.

"Don't dishonor her," Catelyn stated her point, finally.

For a moment, Roose scarcely knew what to say. It was a long moment, longer than it would usually take for him to generate a response.

Don't dishonor her.

He's afraid it might be too late. All those things Catelyn had said about you, after only bearing witness to a single heated interaction between the two of you, were all true. They were all things he came to learn about you slowly, all things that made it even harder to forget you or cast you aside.

It was in that moment that Roose came to the realization that while your husband wasn't a very good man, he might objectively be much worse. Well this wasn't the moment he realized that, of course the head of the house with the flayed man on their banners would be a slightly more rough around the edges than a simple cattle farmer.

But he committed a grave crime against your honor. Your husband has also sullied your honor in different ways, but he could hardly claim that he has treated you the way you really deserved to be treated.

"I'll try not to," Roose responded with a nod, and walked toward your tent.

Hopefully there was still time enough to rectify his mistake. He really shouldn't have let his desires get the better of him so easily. The moment he saw you, he knew he had to have you. It always goes like this. Its never ended with some strange sort of sentiment developing — that just wasn't the type of man Roose was. Not until now.

"My lady," Roose said once, trying to alert you of his presence outside your tent.

Upon hearing his familiar, deep voice, you looked up from your spot on your cot. You wiped your face of the few tears you'd allowed yourself to shed and scooted off the bed, but you hesitated for a moment.

Do you really wish to speak to him? All this pain caused by him. You should tell him to fuck off right back from where he came.

"My lady," The voice said, more firmly this time and with that signature tint of irritation that you'd come to know so well.

You sighed. You should speak to him about these matters. It concerns him. You're not going to get rid of the child, you couldn't bring yourself to. Inexplicably so, the thought of having a child to take care of, running around you, carefree and smiling, outweighed any hatred you may hold for that child’s father.

If your lord is kind, he'd give you an allowance like he did his bastard's mother, perhaps even allow you to reside in the Dreadfort. You could raise your child to be better than the men you've known in your life.

You went and opened the flaps of the tent, cocking your head to signal him in. He stopped as the tent closed behind him and you stood there with your eyes trained to his chest, waiting for him to take more steps inside. It remained as such for a second, then two, and you stood, confused as to why he was just standing in front of you instead of moving inside to the table set up in the center.

He took off his glove and you watched his hand come up to touch your chin. He tilted your face up, your eyes met his, observing as he inspected you. He looked down to consider something, and then met your eyes again promptly, a strange hesitance in them.

It fascinated and scared you at the same time. To see Roose in a somber mood. Skepticism remained on your face, waiting for some punchline.

"What do you want?"

His lips parted for a slow inhale, the closest thing he’d permit himself to a sigh. A sudden rush of heat felt as if it struck him in the chest. You were all he could want. If you caught on to his reaction to your words, you didn't say anything.

"I... wanted to apologize," and it was the first time you ever felt really shocked by anything Lord Bolton said or did.

Everyone to the east of Winterfell heard tale of the cruelty of the leech lord, not even his insistence on taking your first night managed to surprise you. But this... You suddenly wanted to listen.

"I fear I've behaved unseemly toward you, disregarded your honor. For this, I ask your forgiveness."

You realized he was finished and closed your open mouth, searching for an answer. You felt that he expected you to forgive him. But in truth you didn't really want to. "I don't think it's really that simple, my lord. I appreciate the sentiment but... I..." You huffed, looking down, frustrated at your ineloquence today. But he caught you off guard with this and you hadn't rehearsed an angry response to an apology ever.

His gaze was still fixed on you as he readjusted the weight he was placing on his feet, the first ever signs of desperation obvious in his body language and you couldn't say you ever thought him capable of this range of emotions — that in it self was impressive. For the first time, he was squirming, awaiting your words instead of you hiding away from his.

"I cant forgive you so easily. Not for this."

"Well what can I do?"

"What?"

"Is there something I could do to earn your forgiveness, I find that to be a fair question," Roose said quickly and clearly irate.

You looked up at him and laughed nervously because he was glaring down at you and to be honest, this was also a first. You wouldn't think it to be the case with him. And even in that moment, you wracked your brain for any moment in which you'd seen Roose truly angry, not just slightly iritated or mildly annoyed, but frustrated and emotionally driven to anger.

He huffed and pulled himself from you, walking further into your tent. You stayed at the entrance for a moment, staring at nothing, then you looked at him, still failing to find the correct words.

Another nervous laugh escaped you as you said, "Again, I don't think it's that simple. You cant just... do a favor and expect everything to be forgiven."

Roose stood, facing away from you, clearly thinking to himself. He looked all broody and upset and you couldn't help but laugh again. The men around here are all so wrapped up in themselves and their unprocessed emotions and you're always the one to carry their weight.

"Why do you care?"

He didn't answer for a moment. And you wondered if he even really heard you, but as you were about to repeat yourself, he responded, "I don't."

You scoffed, "Then you overstep again. If you don't care why do I have to forgive you. Why can't I just hate you for the rest of our miserable lives?"

He turned to you, eyes narrowed, taking you in, "Do you?"

"I don't know," You answered completely honestly, "You... ruined my marriage."

He responded quickly, firmly, and frankly, "I admit my part. I admit the dishonor I've brought you. I admit that I overstepped my bounds. These things I will admit, but I was not the demise of your marriage. Many have survived worse and continued to foster a deep love. I know, because..."

"Because we weren't the only ones," You finished, nodding. You knew. "But I'm the only one of those women who you continued to... pester afterward. You claimed your right. What right did you have stepping into my marital quarrels?"

"You'd be a fool to stay with that man after the way he treated you."

"And what's my alternative?" You asked, your voice full of humor, "Will you marry me, Lord Bolton? Is that your proposal?" You shook your head as he didn't respond, not even visually. You both knew he'd never take you to wife. If he wanted to, he would have already. But a man like Roose Bolton would never marry for love with a girl with nothing to her name but a couple of cows.

"I am sorry," he said, pausing to find the words, "That your husband has chosen to place blame on you for what I had forced you into. However, given that, surely you must see he is no man at all."

Of course, you agreed, but you didn't really see what his point was. So you said nothing, trying to come up with something. In the mean time, he continued.

"I can't marry you. But I can protect you. I'll send you to the Dreadfort. You'd be given a job, a room..." You'd be close by. "Your husband too, if you truly insist on dragging him along."

"For what in return, a bed warmer?"

"For nothing in return," He corrected, face twisting with indignation, "What kind of apology would that be if those were my terms?"

You kept your distrustful eyes trained on him, not wanting to give him any kind of small victory. But you couldn't deny the offer sounded tempting, especially with the most recent development — you were going to ask for an annulment to your marriage the next day, you were going to keep the baby. You had the same thought — living at the Dreadfort, under his protection. It just felt more rotten leaving his mouth than it did in your head.

He took a few cautious steps toward you and gently took your hands in his, “You’re a good woman. You do your duties, often even without receiving thanks. You’re a loyal woman, strong, passionate…”

You inhaled deeply, still trying to keep some emotional distance but he looked earnest, forehead creased by the way his eyebrows pushed against them. His eyes were the widest and most inviting you’d ever seen them, no jokes or hidden arrogance in them.

“I… care. I feel as if I’ve committed a great crime against your honor, and you are the most honorable woman I’ve come to know in all my years,” he confessed.

It was something that struck you in the heart — something you couldn’t push out. You had been questioning your own honor. You wanted to live an honorable life but recent events had made you feel like a failure in that respect.

Especially… you ripped your eyes away from his, sighing to yourself. Especially the way he looks at you and the way you cant help but look at him with the same longing. It was hard to hate him before when he was nothing but a prick who happened to know how to fuck the shit out of you. Now, as the father of your child, standing in front of you and whispering reassurance and praise, it was damn near impossible.

He finished his small declaration simply, “Don’t resign yourself to a miserable life. Let me make it better for you. We don’t have to speak to each other once you’ve moved into the fort.”

Decisively, you figured without a husband and with your father long gone years ago, you could do with an ally and protector. Of course, Roose Bolton wasn't ideal but he had the most reason out of anyone else to want to protect you — truly protect you

Never mind your night of passion. You tried not to think about it, especially not with him in front of you. It just clouds your judgement unnecessarily to think about his lips on your skin and his hands gripping roughly at your body, pulling you mercilessly against him. His fingers tangling in your hair, or moving your hips as you sat over him.

You cursed yourself. You hadn't meant to curse it out loud though and Roose tilted his head, brows coming together in a mix of confusion and anticipation as he was still waiting for an answer.

Unsure of yourself and your decisions in this moment, you started where you thought may be the most important, which was to explain your reasonings for everything, "Mister Kent and I will be seeking an annulment."

Roose didn't say anything, contrary to your expectation that he'd have some distasteful quip about how it was a long time coming. He just watched you respectfully. It was promising.

"I trust you will grant this annulment?"

"As your liege, I would, but I'd require a reason. A reason that would be considered valid to the Gods."

You took a deep breath and braced yourself, taking a few steps toward him. You pursed your lips in a tight, awkward smile and looked up at him. You felt like you couldn't stall this enough. This is as good a time as any.

"A reason valid for the Gods," You nodded, offering a sardonic chuvkled, "I've a damn good reason. I'm carrying a child that's not my husbands."

You watched closely for his reaction, but it was as if he froze in time, staring. He did nothing but stare. You wondered if he thought you were joking. Then he blinked and you decided he must just be thinking really hard.

"He refused to bed me for a time... the first, and only time, was about a fortnight ago now."

He continued to say nothing, but his eyes went off to the side, seemingly doing math. You nearly laughed at the sight of him doing the calculations. But you saved him the trouble.

"For reference, my wedding was about six weeks ago," you filled in the blanks for him, and tilted your head as his gaze met you again. You looked down at his lips for just a moment but quickly corrected yourself, "So... It's highly unlikely — well impossible that it would be his. A wet nurse I saw this morning said that sickness doesn't start until at least a month of having the babe."

"And it's started?" He finally asked.

You nodded, daring yourself to hold his gaze, "This morning," his eyes boring into you caused you to take in and let out a heavy breath, your lids growing heavier the more he searched your soul for answers — signs of deception. Though both of you knew there'd be no reason for you to deceive.

It was only when your lip twitched that you realized how close you'd gotten to him. You promptly blinked your head clear and looked down. He tilted your face up to find your gaze again, eyes raking your face. His own eyelids were just as hooded with desire.

"So It's mine," He stated, it wasn't a question. "You carry my child?"

His words shouldn't have excited you. It's the last thing it should do. But the reminder that you have Roose Bolton's baby in you, that the seed he shot into you on that one night had managed to take root in you by chance — that you carried the product of your shared passion that night... It made your stomach twist familiarly. It was only that this time, you didn't feel guilty thinking your husband never made your stomach twist that way.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately to keep your mind grounded and stubborn. "Unfortunately. Well, maybe Fortunately. I'm not sure the alternative is kinder. I'm only telling you as a courtesy, because you'd find out eventually if I'm to be living at the Dreadfort."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that. He truly hopes that no matter what, you never lose that bite to you. His fingers loosened around your chin but you held his gaze, understanding that this is what he preferred.

It just made you nervous. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, just looked at each others faces — really looked, and tried to know each other for the first time. You pushed away the feeling of wanting to kiss him, weakly this time, but you really cant. You haven’t even annulled your marriage yet and just because Roose says some pretty words to you doesnt make everything okay.

"He wanted me to take moon tea," you said, unsure of why you did. Just to keep talking, probably. Because you could see him looking at your lips with intent.

His eyes narrowed, still endlessly scanning your face, every so often landing on your lips. You tried to create a little bit of distance, and continued to talk, hoping it wouldn't escalate any further than this current tension. But even as you tried to pull back, you couldn't help but feel slightly drawn toward him. Especially with the way he was looking at you, it was hard not to have flashbacks to your old passion.

You continued, "I knew I wouldn't," Again you weren't sure why you felt the need to say it. You meant to reassure him that you wouldn’t have done such a thing without informing him first — that you were his loyal subject. It read more like a confession than anything else. It fanned the fire burning behind Roose's ice cold eyes. As you said it, you couldn't help but mirror his response.

How had you come to be so loyal to this man and he to you?

You still find reason to dislike him... but the thought of getting rid of his child had never truly been a realistic option to you. Even if you had the moon tea in your hands, even if you started to drink it, you'd remember the way he looked deep into your eyes as he took you — well it wasn't much different from the way he was looking at you right now.

The only real differences between now and then was that you’d been more naked that day, he was inside you, and after taking in your flustered state with those ever intense eyes of his, he captured your lips in his hungrily.

His face drew closer to yours. Then your lips brushed.

You pulled back slightly.

His hands came up to cup the back of your neck and cradle the under side of your skull as his face chased yours.

No… even if you had the tea in your hands and sipped a mouthful of the poison, you'd have remembered this exact energy and you would have spit out that tea before you could swallow it down.

One last attempt to pull away, feeble, and barely helping in any way, "I couldn't," left your lips, the words spoken more or less into his mouth, and you closed your lips onto his.

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 173 spoilers and thoughts but it's mostly just me getting tonal whiplash but not in a bad way i actually like this and more below the cut

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sorry i keep doing this (i.e. yelling about the very last panel of the ep instead of going chronologically) but i wanted to show this last panel first,,, idk how many alilloyd fans there are on tged-tumblr (tgedblr?) but i believe they'll be very happy about this panel and probably the next ep or so LOL

she's there for him again YAYYY YAYYYY but also what how did she get here WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?? HELP??

hopefully whatever happens after this will help alicia and lloyds relationship feel more balanced (rn its like fine but it definitely doesnt carry the same weight as llovier to me, simply bc we dont really see alicia and lloyd relying on each other in the same way javier and lloyd do - idk how else to put this but the "power balance" in their relationship feels different than lloviers if that makes sense, bc so often lloyd is doing things for alicia and that's just It yknow?)

anyway back to the top! we've got some really really nice panels of lloyd i just really like these in general,,, i like when he looks determined and serious and focused,,, it is cute

also explicitly mentioning this while also showing alicia IN the unfrozen time bubble with lloyd DOES make me worry a lil bit,,, what if smth happens,,, does fate still affect them when Most of the time across the world is frozen?? im scared,,, but also excited for more alicia lloyd scenes i can explain why in a bit,,, but also scared,,,

tyrant alicia looks cool as ever tho holy shit im VERY glad that the artist gave her a full set of armor and everything, so often we see fantasy stylized women's armor that really doesn't protect anything at all but alicia's armor is really nice and clean i like it,,,

also another panel of lloyd being cringe and javier being embarrassed,,, they're so stupid i love them . LET LLOYD BE CRINGE LET HIM BE FREE

this bit w artanis and the family was also super duper cute,,, little sillies,,, like treats,,,

seems like everyone will be safe for the time that they are frozen,,, thats good!!! at least i hope i am understanding this correctly

also thinking a LOT about these two panels bc,,, not only bc i really like how he looks in the second panel here, but also,,, well as i was reading this i hadnt realized that lloyd would be going off by HIMSELF to the mountains,,, i thought javier would go with him (bc he always does,,,)

i talked abt this when i reacted on twitter but like. javier asks if he's going by himself and lloyd goes "yeah it's fine" and javier doesn't question it, we don't see him objecting or anything,,, bc of course, lloyd will stay safe. that's what he says, so that's what'll be true. javier is also perfectly aware that lloyd can't be harmed by monsters, he's a sword master and has his singing. so the knight lets him go, bc this is a lloyd with a plan, and javier trusts his lord. but also it seems like javier doesnt really realize what exactly it is that lloyd is subjecting himself too. idk if he realizes that every time lloyd freezes time THATS whats freezing his heart; all the knight knows is that lloyd is dying, but the engineer has a solution so surely it's okay (it's not, lloyd is DYING IN THE COLD). jesus fuck

like i imagine if javier realized what exactly it is thats causing lloyd to Die is the exact stuff he's doing to stop fate and save everyone, he'd object immediately and try to find something else,,, but lloyd you fucking MARTYR u dont even say anything abt it and u GO OFF ALONE IN THE COLD WHAT ARE DOING WHAT ARE YOU COOKING. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!! MARTYRS ALL OF YOU!!!

also lloyd saying he's happy god fucking dammit. he has a goal and he's close to achieving it and all his loved ones are safe,,, that's probably the best feeling in the world to him that's the reason why he does like everything,,, it's just to protect what he cares about,,, this tiny lil smile i am going to shake him in a box

"lucky! this is perfect" AS HE'S DYING LLOYD YOU. YOUUUU YOU OYUU SHAKES YOU STOPP IT YOU FUCKING M. MARTYR!!!!

why is he like this. well okay i know why but like what the FUCK. i am pelting ten billion stones at him. risking his damn life AGAIN to protect everyone. leaving javier at the estate and not telling him what the deal is so that javier can be protected too bc thats where artanis is,,, all his loved ones in one place to keep them safe I HATE IT HERE /j

DOUBLY LOSING IT AT HIS FIRST THOUGHT, THE MOMENT HE GETS IN TROUBLE, IS TO CALL FOR JAVIER. I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO ADD TO THAT I JUST THINK THAT SAYS SO MUCH ABT THEIR RELATIONSHIP

"ah, im dying! the first thing i think is not how to solve this myself, nor is it of my parents or of my skills, but of my longtime companion who has always been there for me and thus will help me when i call for him! and i think of him immediately!" points accusatory finger LLOVIER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay i was gonna end the post there but i scrolled back up to review and realized i forgot to actually explain why i am excited for more alicia lloyd scenes so that's gonna go here now i guess LMFAOO

i really really hope that alicia and lloyd have a closer, more quiet moment to talk about their respective lives and history with losing loved ones and feeling isolated as a result. i WAS gonna talk abt that in a dedicated alicia post but i guess itll make a cameo here too lol

bc if u think abt it, suho and alicia both went through very very devastating losses. they both lost the lives of the people who cared for them most, and in very very tragic ways (suho's parents committed, and alicia's parents were slaughtered / alicia's brothers put her in a 'kill or be killed' situation). it's really unfortunate, it's life-altering, and it follows you,,, and then the isolation that comes after that makes it all even worse.

of course, we see suho very explicitly going through throes of isolation through endless work, endless school, and the sheer struggle to just survive to the next day by himself, with no family to support him. obviously, we don't see alicia explicitly having this experience, but i think it'd be reasonable to believe that after the death of her family,,, it was just her. she lost her parents and her brothers, and now she's the only one with the magentano name, and you can't exactly have an empty mantle now can you?

she probably didn't really have anyone to talk to about this. probably just a bunch of old coots on that board of nobles, who have to help her with this "being queen" thing, u cant exactly talk abt ur trauma to people who are technically working for u, who care more abt their status in the kingdom than anything else. and at such a young age, too... like yeah she's surrounded by people technically, but how many people around her actually care for HER, and not for her new status as crown princess? and then as queen? like no wonder tyrant alicia comes to be because of a betrayal from kyle, no wonder she's worried abt letting lloyd into her heart. she's probably been worried about betrayal from a loved one all her life bc of what her brothers did,,, that must be so isolating, and lonely.

so yes, i think alicia probably went through a long bout of isolation, too. and i think alicia and lloyd should Talk about it and have a heart to heart and go "jesus fuck we went through it,,, but we have found people we can rely on. and isn't that wonderful,,," and then alilloyd will have a wonderful leg to stand on yay

i WOULD go on longer about alicia in this rant but i wanted to save it for the post i was planning,,, i couldn't help myself this time though, bc it seemed relevant LOL

anyway i'll see u guys next week,,,!!! very curious to see where things go from here,,, pantara arc pulling shenanigans left and right!!!

[burningvelvet]

random excerpts from lord byron’s diaries that feel like tumblr posts from the 1800s

“My mind is a fragment.”

“I am too lazy to shoot myself.”

“Here I am, alone, instead of dining at Lord H.'s, where I was asked—but not inclined to go any where. Hobhouse says I am growing a ‘loup garou,’ a solitary hobgoblin. True.”

“Sleepy, and must go to bed.”

“Whether ‘Hell will be paved with’ those ‘good intentions,’ I know not.”

“Got up—redde the Morning Post containing [..] a paragraph on me as long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual.”

“I wonder what the devil is the matter with me! I can do nothing, and fortunately there is nothing to do.”

“Last night, party at Lansdowne House. Tonight, party at Lady Charlotte Greville's—deplorable waste of time, and something of temper. Nothing imparted—nothing acquired—talking without ideas:—if any thing like thought in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which we were gabbling. Heigho!—and in this way half London pass what is called life. Tomorrow there is Lady Heathcote's—shall I go? yes—to punish myself for not having a pursuit.”

“What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of Seed which may be spilt in a whore’s lap – or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream – might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Buonaparte.”

“Oh that face!—by te, Diva potens Cypri, I would, to be beloved by that woman, build and burn another Troy.”

“I have found increasing upon me (without sufficient cause at times) the depression of Spirits (with few intervals), which I have some reason to believe constitutional or inherited.”

“I shall soon be six-and-twenty (January 22d., 1814). Is there any thing in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?”

“Past events have unnerved me; and all I can now do is to make life an amusement, and look on while others play. After all, even the highest game of crowns and sceptres, what is it?”

“Redde a little—wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says is bad company. ‘Be not solitary, be not idle.’—Um!—the idleness is troublesome; but I can't see so much to regret in the solitude. The more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women too, all would be well. Why can't I? I am now six-and-twenty; my passions have had enough to cool them; my affections more than enough to wither them,—and yet—and yet—always yet and but—‘Excellent well, you are a fishmonger—get thee to a nunnery.’—‘They fool me to the top of my bent.’” (Quotations from Hamlet)

“I wish I could settle to reading again,—my life is monotonous, and yet desultory. I take up books, and fling them down again. I began a comedy, and burnt it because the scene ran into reality;—a novel, for the same reason. In rhyme, I can keep more away from facts; but the thought always runs through, through ... yes, yes, through. I have had a letter from Lady Melbourne—the best friend I ever had in my life, and the cleverest of women.”

“As to opinions, I don't think politics worth an opinion.”

“Tells Dallas that my rhymes are very popular in the United States. These are the first tidings that have ever sounded like Fame to my ears—to be redde on the banks of the Ohio!”

“This journal is a relief. When I am tired—as I generally am—out comes this, and down goes every thing. But I can't read it over; and God knows what contradictions it may contain. If I am sincere with myself (but I fear one lies more to one's self than to any one else), every page should confute, refute, and utterly abjure its predecessor.”

“Mr. Murray has offered me one thousand guineas for The Giaour and The Bride of Abydos. I won't—it is too much, though I am strongly tempted, merely for the say of it. No bad price for a fortnight's (a week each) what?—the gods know—it was intended to be called poetry.”

“I will not be the slave of any appetite. If I do err, it shall be my heart, at least, that heralds the way. Oh, my head—how it aches?—the horrors of digestion! I wonder how Buonaparte's dinner agrees with him?”

“If I had to live over again, I do not Know what I would change in my life, unless it were for not to have lived at all. All history and experience, and the rest, teaches us that the good and evil are pretty equally balanced in this existence, and that what is most to be desired is an easy passage out of it. What can it give us but years? and those have little of good but their ending.”

[crooked-wasteland]

I just saw your essay on the codependency of FizzOzzie and it cleared up a lot of things I've been thinking about this ship and to be honest, I myself thought it was the most healthiest ship in the whole show even better than the trash that Stoliz is but well... (btw, I was trying to scroll through tumblr to find it but can you just link it for me so I coud read it again)?

It also brings me to an idea of the possibility brung up in two fics each with different ideas:

#1 if Hazbin's events every leak in Helluva's since they're the same universe, there's a possibility that Lucifer would want to have precautionary heirs for the defense of Hell and outright force Ozzie and any other relationships with lowerclass apart since it's "not compatible with angelic DNA" or some thing, so Ozzie could in fact leave Fizz because of his status

#2 Ozzie getting tired of Fizz... Ozzie is the sin of Lust after all and Lust can be ever-changing and capricious in its nature as a sin. Ozzie’s character, embodying Lust, might lead to a fluctuating commitment level, influencing his interactions and relationships. In biblical lore, he did end up causing a lot of sinful things like fucking a human named Sarah or so I remember?

Again this is the same guy who humiliated Blitzø in Ozzie, S2 just rewrote him completely (btw, in my rewrite I'mma change him to be more evil and instead give the whole "lovey-dovey Sin" idea to Satan who is female and thinks Asmodeu's "fake-love" is like a slap in the fact to her idea of realistic and true romance)

I'd just feel like Fizz would be better off with Blitzø tbh or Striker or all in a threesome... the possibilities are endless, and why is the show making love seem too fairytale and unrealistic?! Like Blitzø shouldn't have to fuck Stolas just because he was his arranged playmate for just one day??? The show did the childhood friends trope dirty and would be better if Stoliz was a thing until mid-teens broke up for [insert reason] and reconnect but honestly, Stolas should've had his own seperate season/arc dedicared to himself if HB was an anthology show

Also the fact that Asmodeus couldn't just burn the contract, one-shot the lawyer and go on a rampage to save Fizz is just beyond me... the Sins are supposed to be these scary demon lords so why aren't they, hm?

Sorry for rambling and what do you think or want to add?

Absolutely here you go.

The consistent failure of Vivziepop is to commit to a mature story. She describes her own protagonists as "Deeply flawed but understandably traumatized people who just need love to fix them" while the villains of her shows are "irredeemable" (and women, but that's a tangent).

I mentioned before that trying to use the excuse of the setting being Hell and playing that out to the logical conclusion would end up exactly like Good Omens. The whole moral of said show being that imperfect humanity is worth saving, that life is worthy and beautiful for its own sake of existence. That is why the story of Good Omens uses the Bible, angels, and demons to tell it's story, to make that point.

Why is Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel set in Hell? What is being said by the plot, themes and story? So far we have that demons are better people than the Angels in Hazbin. That sacrifice is the only virtue worthy of redemption and thus reinforces backwards Christian ideals of penance.

Personally, I would have made Hell less absurd. Less a place of debauchery and chaos and more a mere continuation of life. We see in the Hazbin Pilot a character falls from the sky and says "I'm alive?" Before being hot by Travis' car. The point being that people just transition from one life to the next and in that they keep living life the way they always have.

My personal criticisms of the series' use of Hell is that it established this idea that people only behave if they have a god to fear. Once in Hell, there is no salvation, so why bother. It's like a Christian asking an atheist why they wouldn't commit murder if they don't believe in God. The answer is that people like order and security. People dying would seek to maintain their status quo from life. A lack of salvation wouldn't change that for them.

And frankly, I wouldn't have redemption be a thing. This story and its messages are actively devalued by the act of redeeming sinners when the Angels are just the same as them. By having Hell just be a warped continuation of life on Earth, it makes the message more universal: Life is Hell. Life is suffering in a way Hell can never hope to be. Physical anguish and torment for all eternity can never amount to the pain of the fleeting and the terror of change and uncertainty.

I would have made it impossible to be redeemed because the fact is, regardless what you believe happens after death, what we know we have is life. We fear death so much we have created salvation throughout history, the wish to keep living forever in some way. But, especially for young people, life is harder now than ever before. It's more terrifying and uncertain and cruel and uncaring.

So if life is Hell, how do you be happy?

That would have been my thesis for the show. The message underneath is all about finding happiness in the absence of salvation. Even the idea that maybe salvation is something we should reject to really feel what it means to be alive. Giving up on our deaths and seeking our own fulfillment, and in that finding community, love, and hope. To see true humanity as something selfish and kind at the same time.

That's how I would have taken the concept.

[pearwaldorf]

This is an introduction to Hozier playlist for my friend @junemermaid. The categories are a little idiosyncratic, but I think they make sense. I don't know what music services you have access to, so there are no links. I trust you can figure out how to get access to the songs.

Things I didn't know I needed words for until I heard these songs

Foreigner's God

Butchered Tongue (an introduction to the song from the Choctaw Theater in Oklahoma)

(additional reading: “A’ghailleann”: On Language-Learning and the Decolonisation of the Mind, by my friend Iona. It is about Gaelic and not having access to the first language you spoke, and how we deal with those sorts of things.)

Wry narration from self-aware narrators

Jackie and Wilson

Almost (Sweet Music)

Nobody

(What I mean is in contrast to something like this from Lord Huron. The narrator's a fucking idiot but I'm not sure he's aware of that.)

Horny but not really about sex (but not not either)

De Selby Part 2 (the video, starring fellow Irishman Domhnall Gleeson, is so pretentious, I love it to bits)

Talk (the song I'm totally going to make a Hannigram vid to, one of these days I swear)

NFWMB

Yes he really is Like That, Tumblr was not exaggerating

In a Week

Like Real People Do

In the Woods Somewhere

To be fair, I think he's gotten away from this a lot more since the debut album. People mean the bog prince nonsense affectionately, but I think they also use it as an excuse to ignore his more political songs. (On the other hand, the oatmeal.)

The way white people should cover songs by Black artists

Say My Name (more info on why he decided to cover it)

Problem > Regulate (As a child of the 90s I respect this so much)

The ones I'm really fucking angry about because they're gorgeous and beautiful and poetic

Work Song (the second song I would put on any Shepard/Garrus playlist)

Shrike

Unknown / Nth (this is an Aziraphale/Crowley song to me; the bridge fucking took me out at the knees the first time I heard it)

Abstract (Psychopomp) (This song is deeply weird in the best way. It is the perfect early oughts pop song I always wanted from Coldplay but it's about a formative and somewhat disturbing event in the narrator's childhood. But also about romantic love somehow?)

Unreal Unearth is, I think, a level up in terms of poetic lyricism.

The prettiest song you will ever hear about domestic violence and is really weird to sing along to live because of that

Cherry Wine

A disturbingly well-adjusted breakup song

All Things End

That random EDM song he did a couple years ago that's actually really good??

Tell It To My Heart

[cheweduplego]

Early Bird

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

WC: 1.2k

Tags: stand-alone fic, first entry in this fandom, fluff, plenty of kisses, morning sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, not-really-somnophilia (reader is mostly👀coherent before any finagling happens), slight overstimulation, breeding kink implied (I mean, he asks nicely), soft Simon, Reader and Ghost work together (an ode to reader's callsign, Osprey)

Summary:

he loves you so dearly, he doesn't care what hour of the morning it is, he'll show you, his beautiful early bird.

a/n: this is my first fic on Tumblr (that will see the light), so I hope you all enjoy! let me know your thoughts <3

The soft crack of the curtains, shifting in the early morning breeze, awoke Simon. At the unfurling of his eyes, he gazed upon your sheet-clad form dusted in the dawning sunlight. Your drift from him in the night was large enough that he felt a disconnect of your warmth, so he reached his deft, callused fingers to drape across your hip. He was nothing but happy. Content. The both of you home from such treacherous places, the blood and grime, long gone down the drain of the bathtub. 

Dragging you closer, he nestled your naked forms together, two pieces of one whole. Your neck provided him the solace his soul so deeply craved. Soon, you began to stir – though the warm breath of your burley companion was soothing in ways, the tickle of hairs was almost unbearable. Barely coherent and in the smallest voice, you pleaded, “g’back to sleep, Si.”

Though you wriggled to position his face elsewhere, he didn’t obey. All he could muster was a hum – maybe in defiance – you’d never know, as his lips now moved across the expanse of your jaw.

 “Not tired, love.” He breathed in your very essence. You groaned; you loved this man, but lord, why did he never leave you to sleep? He moved, pressing kisses down the plateau of your shoulder as his hand cascaded up to the depression of your waist, running across your ribs. You were too tired to think about him; the breeze of an early autumn morning chilled you, so you were secretly happy about his persistent intrusion. The man could have been a space heater in another life.

“You see, love, I think you would love to go back to sleep, but” – a shift down, his face peppering your collar bones in kisses, “I think it would do you good to be an early bird.” A large hand encapsulated one of your breasts while his mouth took to the other – You both let out almost identical moans, low and heady, full of desire. Your back arched just slightly in your sleep-drunk haze, exposing the sweep of your tits to him, urging him to take more, to take you.

You whimper, a particularly rough suck placed on your nipple in tandem with a dragging pinch to the other. An almost ridiculous wet pop fills the space, a string of spit breaking as he releases you, “So lovely, princess, want nothing more than you.” He rubbed his bare face into your chest, licking, sucking, savoring your skin.

He traversed lower, fingers and teeth alike, softly twisting into your torso. Time was blurring; you couldn’t tell if it had been two minutes or twenty, but you did know that you’d been painted with fleeting bites and purpling kisses. Fuck, his spit, drool, coated your hips and the tops of your thighs. You were a mess, the sheet had long fallen to the floor by the bed, revealing the incessant rise and fall of your chest. The room was filled with your pants and moans, only accompanied by Simon’s groans, so deep they were almost growls.

Your eyes remained closed, an arm draped across your flushed face. Strong arms hooked under your knees, pushing your legs apart as he sat back. Persuaded by your needy thoughts, you peek at him, and fuck, he looks just as ruined as you already feel. Your eyes searched his face, lips puffy from exertion, and God, his eyes were dark, full of lust and whole-bodied admiration. “Christ, love. You gonna let me taste your pussy? Please darlin’, c’mon, you’re leaking all over the sheets.” You knew he was right, the breeze chilling the dampness that shone at the apex of your thighs.

He was begging you, his eye found yours, completely lost and wanting. His claws wrapped tightly around your hips, pulling you to the end of the bed where he lay, rutting his clothed cock into the mattress. Stubbled cheeks ran over your inner thighs, inhaling so deeply as though to ingrain your scent into his DNA. You couldn’t wait anymore, letting out a strained noise, you groaned, “Please Si, p-please– need you, always need you.”

Your pleading was all he needed, his tongue darting out and bullying its way into your entrance. The buck of your hips is involuntary as is the nearly pornographic moan that leaves the both of you. “Ahh–! Si-” you cry out, hands twisting into his hair, pulling him into you. 

His tongue was hot, searing as it dragged up through your folds, gathering every drop of your juices. He was groaning out muffled curses into you, the vibration exhilarating as his lips sealed around your clit. “G-god, I- Uhh–!” You couldn’t think. All you could do was feel the energy in your body wrenched from you. The sounds coming from the man between your legs had you thinking he was doing this for his enjoyment – which would be correct. He was insatiable, tongue and lips holding you in an onslaught of painful pleasure.

He had no words for you, just growls. His fingers dug so hard into your hips that you were sure there would be bruising. You whined, hips twisting, not sure if you were trying to get away or get more, as the tip of a finger pushed into your fluttering hole. “Christ, you taste so good, Birdie, so sweet, makin’ me so hard.” 

His finger took no time easing in as he began to fuck you with abandon. The squelches and screams he pulled from you had long drowned out the rustling wind. Heavens, you couldn’t think, his fingers were so thick and rough, a welcome difference from yours. “I can’t- Nghh–! Si, please, too mmm-much!” You felt him smirk against your core, tongue catching under the hood of your clit just the way he knows you love.

He wants you to die, surely, that must be it. You were essentially in tears, mouth parted in a silent scream as the only sound that came from you was a choked whimper. Your hands released his hair as though it burned you, in fear of tearing it out, as you came. Your thighs seized around his head, hips canting up and trying to pull away from his mouth. Yet, the purchase his arm had across your lower stomach kept you firmly in place as you gasped, remembering to breathe.

The tears began to fall, so much pleasure, too much, beginning to overwhelm you. “Si, p-please, too much, I came, Ahh–! Christ please, I’ll be g-good–!” Your cunt was clenching hard around his digits, quivering and flexing at each broad lick he laid against you. You felt weightless, mind blank and eyes squeezed shut just as he released you with a filthy slurp.

“Such a pretty girl, did s’well for me, didn’t you?” He whispered in an almost teasing tone. His eyes cast down to look at your puffy cunt, completely covered in slick and spit. Your nipples were hard– he knew you’d argue it was the wind– but lord, when his eyes reached your face, he almost came. Your eyes were heavy, lashes thick with tears, pants rolling from your parted mouth hidden behind your palm.

You only realized he still had your leg in his hand when he pulled it farther to make room for himself. You could barely whimper fully as he released his hard cock from its confines, tip red with desire and leaking beads of precum. He wasn’t done with you just yet, lining himself up, “Be a good Birdie, and let me breed you, Hmm?”

<3

[flowers-of-io]

Tithe (to) me baby one more time

This post is my personal attempt to understand Season of the Witch, and potentially defend my hypothesis that at its core it doesn't make sense. I may yet change my opinion on this as I write and research, because here at flowers of io dot tumblr dot com we do real science and do not let ourselves be blinded by prior assumptions, prejudice, and bitterness. Maybe there is yet something there that I don't see.

Disclaimer: This essay is nearly 4k words long and has not been beta read, so any typos, tangents and formatting issues you may find here are my fault only and I preemptively apologise for them. Please tell me if anything is unclear or worded weirdly! I haven’t written a longer lore analysis in a good while and I may have got a little rusty.

With that out of the way, let's take a look at how Hive tithes, tributes, and willpower actually work!

1) Anthem Anatheme

Over three years ago in this post I wrote a bit about anthem anatheme, which is the way both worms and ahamkara feed. I did not explain it well, though (and I was being very comically exasperated over Truth to Power), so let me try again.

From the Merriam-Webster:

First appearing in Old English in the form antefn, anthem derives ultimately from Greek antiphōnos—a word meaning "responsive" that is a combination of anti-, meaning "over" or "against," and phōnē, "sound" or "voice." The Greek root gives a hint as to what the musical form of early anthems was like. Originally, anthems were devotional verses sung as a response during a religious service.

French anathème and English anathema is the formal exclusion from the community of Christians (in the New Testament) or the Catholic Church (in contemporary canon law). The original meaning of the word was a little different, though. I'll quote the Wikipedia article because I don't think I'd be able to word it better than it is explained there:

The word anathema has two main meanings. One is to describe that something or someone is being hated or avoided. The other refers to a formal excommunication by a church. These meanings come from the New Testament, where an Anathema was a person or thing cursed or condemned by God. In the Old Testament, an Anathema was something or someone dedicated to God as a sacrifice, or cursed and separated from God because of sin. These represent two types of settings, one for devotion, the other for destruction.

Anathema derives from Ancient Greek: ἀνάθεμα, anáthema, meaning "an offering" or "anything dedicated", itself derived from the verb ἀνατίθημι, anatíthēmi, meaning "to offer up". In the Old Testament, חֵרֶם (chērem) referred to both objects consecrated to divine use and those dedicated to destruction in the Lord's name, such as enemies and their weapons during religious wars. Since weapons of the enemy were considered unholy, the meaning became "anything dedicated to evil" or "a curse".

Combining these two meanings would give us something like ‘a hymn of offering’, the ‘offering’ part having a derogatory ring to it.

In the most recent Destiny loretab on the topic (Queensfoil Censer) Anthem Anatheme is explained as "a manner of subjecting reality to one's will, similar to a Lightbearer's ability to affect paracausality", and this is in line with the prior, much more vague definitions that we've had. It is both the invocation and the act of changing reality to match your will. It does have a similar vibe to aiat, which I wrote about here: "Ahamkara drive power from the space between ‘what-is’ and ‘what-is-desired’. Stating ‘aiat’ creates this connection between ‘what-is’, ‘why-it-is’ and the space in between: ‘why-it-is-?’."

It is also what worms and ahamkara feed on. The reason ahamkara "tweak" the wishes they grant is precisely to widen that gap between how the universe was before the wish and how it will be after it - the impact it will make on the universe - how much it will change.

2) Tithe to Power

Worms feed in the same way, except they are not the ones invoking Anthem Anatheme, and instead it is their hosts who do that. Contrary to the popular belief, worms do not feed on *killing*, per say--but killing is one of, if not the most efficient way of reshaping universe according to your will. Toland says: "This is the shape of victory: to rule the universe so absolutely that nothing will ever exist except by your consent".

The worms sort of... cede the ability(?) to invoke Anthem Anatheme to their hosts, and so also it is the host who gains power from that — the worm feeds, yes, but there is also something else there, something I don't quite understand but it's tied to the Darkness, Ascendant Plane, and Taking. The power that allows you to will things into existence, to define and dictate the rules. "Nothing will ever exist except by your consent".

Ergo: the more powerful—or rather... impactful, or influential—entity you kill, the bigger is the space of their absence; the more sustenance the worm gets, and the more power you gain — because you've asserted your will over them, you did not permit them to exist. As Toland explains: "Oryx inhabits a world where power is truth. To win is to be noble, and to be real. [...] The echoes of Oryx go forth to ask a question: are you the truth?"

So what I will be referring to in this essay as power is the total sum of your impact on the universe, which (thanks to your worm's paracausal abilities) gives you paracausal abilities. Willpower given shape, sort of. That is the foundation the entire Hive system is built on: magic, runes, philosophy, everything.

Now, I used to think tribute and tithe were two different things, but they are apparently used interchangeably in the lore: "The Worm within demands tribute. Now you shall kill what you can and take what killing you need to grow—or for your own purposes, if you dare—and tithe the rest to that which rules you. Thus, tribute will ascend the chain and the excess shall pool at the height, as unlike a river to an ocean" (Truth to Power: Injection). This entry is supposed to quote Oryx in the Books of Sorrow, but it doesn't repeat the words exactly, and omits something very interesting (and confusing). In Carved in Ruin, where Oryx dictates his law, he actually says: "You Thrall, each of you will claw and scream, and kill what you can. Take enough killing to feed your worm, and a little more to grow. Tithe the rest to the Acolyte who commands you."

"Take enough killing to feed your worm, and a little more to grow" seems to suggest the Hive-host and the worm feed on the same thing, or at least that the same thing that the worms feed on is what allows the Hive to grow. The whole shtick with the worm pact was supposed to give the Krill power over their own flesh and the world around them, so we can presume they grow physically as they attain more (will)power - to will their form to change. The lore about it is very vaguely worded though, and a lot of this is my own interpretation, so don't take it as indubitably true.

What I want to make extremely clear, though, is that neither tribute/tithe nor (will)power is a physical thing. Of course the power you have can manifest as paracausal abilities, but it's like with hitting something really hard with your fist - the stronger you are, the more impact you will have on what you're hitting, and the effects are very tangible, but your physical strength itself is not an, I don't know, physical object. It's the potential energy in your muscles I'm struggling to word it better, but I hope you understand the metaphor. The more you affect the world, the stronger your paracausal muscles get, so to say.

The way I understand the logic behind tithing, then, is that in the Hive pyramid scheme you transfer some of your power to your direct commander because they have power over you. Your will is subservient to the one above you, so they demand a cut of its potential growth. It's a way to organise the Hive society, really, because without this system in place everyone would be mindlessly killing each other to survive, while now the ones in command have an incentive not to slaughter all their soldiers if those soldiers are a source of power. It's delicate calculation - is it more beneficial for me to kill my underling and gain the entirety of their power in a single slurp, or allow them to live and transfer to you a percentage of their own power gain? How risky is it to leave them alive, in case they get too powerful and strike against you? But then again - the more power they gain, the bigger the percentage that you get. Is it worth to kill them now, or wait for them to get more powerful, so you can then gobble up a larger meal? It's like fattening a pig but the fatter it gets the more it is able (and willing) to kill you. At which point does the risk outweigh the potential future gain?

2.1) Nature

This part of Hive gods lore also ties into the way aiat works, and the whole thing with definitions and essences that I wrote about in that essay, so I won't go into this right now. What is essential to remember for the purpose of this post is that the Hive gods emulate their natures, or are their natures, and by invoking those natures they can be fed power, summoned into a given place, and even brought back from beyond the grave. I’ll just put a few lore quotes that sort of explain this concept, or at least illustrate it. It will be important later.

You must obey your nature forever. In your immortality, Aurash, you may never cease to explore and inquire, for the sake of your children. In your immortality, Xi Ro, you may never cease to test your strength. In your immortality, Sathona, you may never abandon cunning. (IX: The Bargain)

.

Oryx made war on the Ecumene for a hundred years. At the end of those hundred years he killed the Ecumene Council on the Fractal Wreath, and from their blood rose Xivu Arath, saying, “I am war, and you have conjured me back with war.” […] He drove the Dakaua Nest into a trap, and they were made extinct. From their ashes rose cunning Savathûn, saying, “I am trickery, and you have conjured me back with trickery.” (XXIX: Carved in Ruin)

.

In each act of His power Oryx seeks to incarnate the self-sustaining, immortal suzerainty that He worships. The power that He uses to wash his Taken clean and etch them into useful shapes. (Echo of Oryx)

.

He is not a simple thing to kill. He wants to be isomorphic to conquest, to triumph, to killing and death.** He is a syllogism, now, but in time He hopes to become an axiom. (Oryx: Rebuked)

.

[Xivu Arath, hear me.]

[You are war, and I conjure you with war and blood.]

[A gift for my favorite sister.]

(Empress: CHAPTER 5: NEW GODS)

.

MY HOME IS WAR. MY VOICE IS A BATTLE SONG. FOR AS LONG AS YOU HAVE WORSHIPPED WAR, YOU HAVE WORSHIPPED ME. I AM HERE TO CLAIM MY TRIBUTE. IT IS OVERDUE. (Empress: CHAPTER 6: BATTLE SONG)

3) Season of the Witch

So now let's talk about the premise of Season of the Witch.

We don't know what Savathûn's plan was exactly; we didn't get a scene of Immaru dictating it to Eris or Ikora, only scraps of it mentioned by various characters. But the gist of it, pretty much, was this: Eris plugs herself into the tithing system through the ritual in the first cutscene, and we - using the Acolyte's Staff, which contains worms - transfer the power we generate through killing to her. I say generate because I'm not sure we would've been able to actually use that power (for example, to create a throne world) if we're not connected to the system, but then again Hiraks had done it somehow, so idk.

Another thing, which I hadn't caught while playing the season, but either @winnower-winnower or @the-goldendragon pointed it out to me when we were talking about this, is Eris' nature as the god of vengeance. Every act of violence done in revenge against the Hive and/or the Witness, either by her hand or ours, should technically give her additional power.

So what was the goal of all of this?

Well, apparently the whole point of Eris becoming a Hive god and plugging into the tithing system was that she could become more powerful than Xivu Arath and beat her at her own game. And how would she get all that power? Why, by killing, of course! That's the sword logic, right? Nothing is permitted to exist except by your consent. That's power. And Eris already has so much power, as the hand wielding the blade which ended both Crota and Oryx, and possibly Nokris, and Hashladûn, and Alak-Hul, and countless other Hive. She did not perform these feats alone, granted (something that very cool sword logic cutscene seems to have forgotten), but she was the inciter, guide, and main motivator for them.

And this is all true, except for the one small detail which is exactly the reason why Xivu is (used to be?) such a compelling antagonist: this is not how you beat her at her own game.

3.1) Xivu and War

Remember imbaru? Remember how Savathûn made an entire power-generating scheme based around the idea that she, the god of cunning, cannot be outsmarted or outwitted, and every wrong guess about her would only feed her power? It was conveniently forgotten for the duration of The Witch Queen, an investigation-based campaign, but it HAD BEEN a thing.

And Xivu Arath had done her homework, and copied this idea. If she is war, then every act of war will invoke her and so give her power.

I AM THE WAR YOU CRAVE. PURPOSE ETERNAL. A LEGACY IN BLOOD. WHEN YOU DRAW BLADES, YOU DRAW ME. YOU CANNOT RESIST WITHOUT INVOKING MY BANNER. (Immolant Pt. 2)

And earlier seasons remembered this! The whole reason why Rasputin sacrificed himself was because Mara had enlightened everybody on the idea that Xivu would've gained power from any act of war and slaughter, regardless if it'd been against ours or her own soldiers. She'd set herself up to be struck against, and it would've been a power factory for her. Rasputin had no other choice than to fold and disable the weapons entirely. That was his sacrifice, that was what set him apart from the god of war in the end.

Season of the Deep had some insight on that too:

Zavala: Rasputin proved we can't beat Xivu Arath in direct conflict, but..

Sloane: Zavala, I tried every which way to fight her when Titan went dark. I never managed to put a dent in her plans. Just survive.

Zavala: So it is truly it. [sighs] And all that's left is for us to accept it.

(Deep Dives, Week Six)

And my absolute favourite:

Sloane: This report is interesting. Xivu Arath intended to use Rasputin's Warsat network as an unwinning scenario. We fire the Warsats on her army, she gains power through death. She fires the Warsats on the City, everyone dies. We only achieved victory through defeat. Through a... moment of sacrifice. It makes me wonder about our approach to defeating her.

Lord Saladin: Winning without fighting. Philosophers of war have contemplated this very thing, both in our culture and, as I've learned, those beyond Earth.

Sloane: How do you defeat the undefeatable? That's an interesting problem.

(Salvage, Week Three)

...But then we got Season of the Witch, and it turned out the way to defeat the undefeatable is simply to hit it harder.

Okay, but why shouldn't it work? I've said before Eris was extremely powerful by herself, and with the plan to boost her with our tithes, she'd be even more beefed up on sword logic. Why couldn't she hit Xivu Arath harder?

Well, for the simple reason that Xivu gets power from war--all war, or at least all war against herself. Even disregarding the sheer disparity in power at the start, the billions of years of tithes that Xivu was ahead of Eris, this idea was doomed at the start, because for every ounce of killing-power we passed over to Eris, Xivu got the same amount of tribute. We were making war on her, for Eir's sake, what else were we expecting?

Same goes for the idea that we cut off the tribute Xivu was getting from her powerful lieutenants like Ir Uulxal and took it for ourselves/Eris. Yeah, that's probable, but at the same time we were powering Xivu up by making war on her. That had been the whole point of her as an undefeatable antagonist.

I've heard people argue that what we were doing in Witch wasn't direct violence against Xivu, so it didn't count as war. And to those people I say that hybrid warfare is a thing. Seriously, my country neighbours both Russia and Belarus, and I don't want go on an IRL tangent but claiming the only act that count as war is the direct clashing of blades is some extremely medieval thinking. It's like saying the Cold War wasn't a war. Planning, plotting and strategising how to destroy an enemy absolutely is war, gathering power in order to destroy the enemy is war, trying to outmaneouver and outplay the enemy tactically is war. If the point is aggression or counteraggression, if there is An Enemy, it is war.

I'm willing to accept Eris got some amount of power from Xivu invoking her nature of vengeance in her acts of war against us, but still, it would be ridiculous to believe that would've been enough to match and surpass the might of Xivu herself. I'm sorry, it's simply unrealistic. In her acts of vengeance Xivu did not alter the universe in any meaningful way, she just threw a few beefed up Taken at us and that was it. If she'd, idk, kicked Venus into the Sun in her vengeful rage, then maybe we could've talked about Eris gaining a substantial boost of tribute, but as things stand there was barely anything to go by.

3.2) Savathûn and Death

Alright, but what about that extremely sexy assassination of Savathûn that Eris performed after the final mission? The game said that this was the source for the missing chunk of power Eris needed to defeat Xivu! Savathûn had been super powerful, right? Why wouldn't that be enough?

There are two problems here, and let's tackle the smaller one first. We don't really know how powerful Savathûn was after she had been raised as a Lightbearer, exactly. The tactical obliviousness of the entirety of Witch Queen to imbaru suggests post-rez Sav is no longer in the tithe system and cannot gain power through the Hive magic means because she doesn't have a worm anymore. That doesn't mind she isn't powerful, and that by deposing her one wouldn't make an enormous change in the universe, but we don't know if she can get more powerful anymore. SotWitch reintroduced the imbaru engine, but doesn't elaborate on what it even does now that Sav doesn't have a worm, or how it works.

And now the bigger problem: Eris did not claim Savathûn's power when she killed her.

This whole system is based on Anthem Anatheme, remember? Making ripples in the universe. Creating spaces between what-is and what-is-wanted. What Toland says after we kill Ascendant Oryx puts it well:

Dwell a moment on the weight of what you’ve done. Contemplate the story you just ended. Will you ever do anything that screams down the millennia? Will you ever hammer your will on the universe until it rings and rings and rings? Oryx was an awesome power. Show reverence. (Oryx: Defeated)

There is a reason why the Grimoire card unlocked by killing Oryx in Regicide is called "Oryx: Rebuked", and the one we get after killing him in King's Fall is "Oryx: Defeated". We did not defeat him in Regicide. We put a dent in his plans, sure, we weakened him, but we did not kill him. That's the point of Ascendance, of throne world and oversouls and other means of hiding death: they make you harder to kill permanently.

Ghosts are funny, because they serve pretty much the same purpose. They hide their Guardians' death. The Guardian isn't dead as long as their Ghost lives. That's our conditional immortality - we depend on our Ghosts just as Ascendant Hive depend on their throne worlds.

Death doesn't stick unless it's permanent and irreversible. I'll even risk the claim that the power Mara generated (and would've assumed, has she been in the tithing system) by indirectly causing Savathûn's death—immense power—was removed from her tally, so to say, in the moment of either Savathûn's resurrection, or when she got her memories back and decided she was still herself and not a new person with a clean record.

Eris couldn't have claimed Savathûn's power for herself without killing Immaru, just as she couldn't have taken the power generated by Oryx's death if he'd been killed in the physical world only. This wasn't an "interesting sword logic stunt", this was a suspension of logic priory established in-universe and it infuriates me to the point of pulling out hair. There is no way this can work. If it DID work, Ascendant Hive would've created power batteries for themselves by killing each other in the physical world and coming back to life as if nothing had happened eons ago. The Books of Sorrow go out of their way to point out that Savathûn and Xivu's deaths in star by star by star were "true deaths" and that's why Auryx was able to claim his sisters' power.

This is either a lazy retcon serving to nerf a character too powerful for the narrative to handle, or the writers not understanding how their own universe works. It's infuriating, it's stupid, and it does Xivu Arath so dirty I struggle to find words for it. It strips her of the most compelling part of her as an antagonist. And down at its core, it's a lack of creative courage. Did her undefeatability make Xivu Arath an extremely difficult antagonist to handle? Of course!! But when you write characters like that, you should be brave about it. You should commit. And as things stand now, it appears the creators had been challenged by their own story and instead of picking up a fight they backed out and changed the rules. They were been defeated by their own creation. Which is, of course, a note of praise to how good the creation was, but in the end it leads to a sad conclusion. Bungie can no longer handle the story they're telling; and whether that is because of the seasonal model, or the speed at which they've forced themselves to update at, or a lack of communication in the writing team, or any other reason, I sincerely don't care. The result remains the same either way.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 7

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3

“Listen to me, Stevie. Hiding myself away in a tarnished ivory tower wasn’t the answer. Till you came along to rescue me.”

Eddie was spouting total garbage. He still had Steve grinning like an idiot and clinging like an idiot around Eddie’s neck. The idea of being Eddie’s hero made him feel good about himself—good in a way he’d not felt in a very long time.

Then Eddie screwed it all up: “I really like you… I know it sounds dumb, but I wanna help you, like you’ve helped me, and—” 

“Zip it, Eds.” Steve pressed his fingertips to Eddie’s parted lips. I fucking knew it. He’s revving himself up to ditch the hooker. Steve yammered meaninglessly: “Yeah, I know what it looks like, me peddling my ass and all, but truth is, I don’t have to do this anymore. You were an exception.” 

He almost spewed some horseshit about being made of strong stuff; like, fiercely independent. That lie jammed in his worryingly itchy throat. 

I barely tied my own crappy shoelaces till I was eighteen.

He smirked: “Tonight’s about you breaking free, not me. C’mon, man—let’s party.”

Eddie slammed Steve with a searching look that lingered long enough for Steve to wish the shiny parquet floor would swallow him up. His smirk faltered. Shiiiiit, he’s gonna ditch me RIGHT NOW.

“Uh, Eddie, I—"

“You win again, Champ.” Eddie clapped his hands to Steve’s face, planted a wet kiss on his nose. “You really got my juices flowing tonight. The lords of hell demand music, and it’s gonna be metal and it’s gonna be loud. Hey, I want cheesy nachos. You up for cheesy nachos?”

Eddie ordered them on room service. When they arrived, Steve was extra-careful to stay out of sight. When Kline had nearly busted him leaving Eddie’s that morning, it’d shook him up big time. He’d not gotten much quality sleep on Robin's couch.

Soon, they were jumping around to Aerosmith, ACDC, Black Sabbath, and other bands Steve almost liked. Eddie smoked less than usual, for which Steve was quietly grateful. Eddie also kept on talking more than usual—at least, shouting, between bouts of headbanging. They moshed like they were tripping on acid, and Steve swore he was gonna get whiplash.

“The reasons behind my deeply uncool funk are not exactly rocket-science.” Eddie shoved a cassette in the stereo then wheeled around and collapsed onto his enormous beanbag. “I got rich in a way I don’t deserve, and I came apart like a whacked pinata. When I was broke, I had the confidence of a God.”

“You talking about being the badass Dungeon Master?” Steve slumped down dizzily beside Eddie and walked his fingers around the crazy demon dude on Eddie’s bare chest. A mellow acoustic track by Extreme started up. “I met him earlier. He destroyed me, totally.”

“It was pretty cool, huh? He’d like to creep out and play again soon. Hey, what do you say to those handcuffs?” Eddie slammed a punch into his own hand. “Dungeon Master is a teeny bit of a sadist and he luuuurved watching his bad dude squirm.”

Yeah, I can do bondage for you, Eds. You can even spank me again, what’s it to me? Still can’t believe you let me squirt all over your face... 

He’d do pretty much anything to make Eddie stay, which was the dumbest and most depressing thing of all.

While all this galloped through his head, Steve blurted: “Bring it on, oh master of the dungeon. Oh great, barbarian overlord and wielder of the sword of power!”

He feared the He-Man references were a cheesiness too far. Eddie hooted anyhow. Steve fluttered his lashes before turning away to take a slurp of beer and surreptitiously thump his chest.  Dammit, why did his crappy asthma have to mess with him on top of all the other shit today? He swiftly turned the conversation back to a previous topic—a house Eddie had told Steve about, which he’d bought for his Uncle Wayne.

“Why don’t you go home to him?” said Steve, which felt as painful as yanking out a handful of hair. That said, if he really wanted to be Eddie’s knight in shining armor, he didn’t see much choice. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to skedaddle. The sex has been kickass and the money’s swell… Why stay in LA? It’s not your home.”

“The boondock accent gives it away, huh?”

“Jesus, I didn’t say that—what’s wrong with your accent? I wasn’t born in California either.” Nope. His parents moved here for the climate. For him. And then they jetted off on that ski trip, because they missed the snow, and… “It’s just, I dunno… I… uh…” Steve stammered like a moron, partially because Extreme’s sap-fest lyrics kept throwing him:

‘Now that I've tried to talk to you and make you understand, all you have to do is close your eyes, and just reach out your hands… and touch me… hold me close, don't ever let me go… 

More than wo-ords…’

More than goddamn words? It was the words that were so mind-bogglingly tricky right now and he was a dud with them at the best of times. He wished Eddie had never begun all this talky-talky crap. Typical Eddie. Now he’d started bleating, he couldn’t stop—was there nothing this sucker wouldn’t get addicted to?

“Cliché alert,” murmured Steve, “you gotta do what makes you happy.” His tired eyes fluttered shut… and then flew wide again. Eddie plastered his lips to Steve’s in an ashy kiss, which lingered through the smoochy track.

Steve palmed Eddie’s dick, where it tented Eddie’s silky boxers, and wondered, Should I blow him? Steve enjoyed blowing Eddie. He'd learned to trust Eddie wouldn’t push too deep. Dammit, he’d enjoyed pretty much every trick he’d turned with Eddie, which was a fucking miracle, and several times Eddie had blown him.

Hell, yeah, he’d had Eddie plump lips around his cock, sliding and sucking, till Eddie’s cheeks hollowed. He’d revelled in the sexily demonic glint in Eddie’s soul-destroyingly gorgeous eyes. Then, that one time, Eddie did a dopey cross-eyed thing that had Steve cracking up even when he verged on spurting down Eddie’s throat.

‘What would you do, if my heart was torn in two…’  

FUCKING LYRICS. SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP! 

Steve tuned in to the noise of blood pounding in his ears, and rutted against Eddie. He breathed hard through his nose, scrubbing his tongue roughly against Eddie’s. When Eddie’s hand slipped down the back of Steve’s shorts, Steve rammed his butt shamelessly at it.

Finger me already! Like that first night… Can’t we go back to fooling around? All those times you made me forget you were paying for this shit… Oh God, don’t think, Harrington… Feel… fucking feel it. He’s gonna leave me… He’s gonna leave, goddammit.

He was genuinely relieved when the sap-fest track finished, and they rolled apart.

“Aaaaah, that sure made parts of me mega happy,” said Eddie, grinning down at his crotch. “You my shrink now?”

“ Haha.” Steve coughed behind his tightly clenched fist. “All part of the service. I should increase my rates.”

“You darn well should. I’ve been robbing you blind.” Eddie tenderly hooked a lock of Steve’s hair behind his ear. “You’ve done so much for me. Heck, I almost feel myself again tonight. You gave me the brush off earlier, I hear ya, but I so wanna payback the good stuff, and—”

‘Love of my life, you've hurt me…’

“JESUS FUCKING WEPT!” Steve leaped to his feet, reeled giddily a moment, then marched over to the stereo.

‘You've broken my heart, and now you leave me; Love of my life, can't you seeeeee?’

He slammed the stop button on the cassette deck, cutting off Extreme at the end of the third line of their criminal cover of a Queen song:

“Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ!” Steve dashed shaky fingers across his kiss-swollen lips. “Freddie Mercury’s only been gone a few months. Who the hell do they think they are?” 

“Woah! I respect the passion there. You’re a big Queen fan, honey?”

Steve stared down at Eddie. Holy crap, what was wrong with him? He’d gotten good at blotting everything out. Now, the flood of memories threatened to sweep his legs from beneath him.

His dad had bought him the Queen piano book. He’d been so proud when Steve began bashing out the songs. Even though Steve had been too numbskull to actually read the music and had instead picked all the melody and backing chords out by ear. His father knew that, of course, but they’d all pretended the hell out of it.

And ‘Love of my life?’ One of his mom’s favorites, though it hadn’t been in the music book and betrayed how he wasn’t even attempting to read it. He’d figured it out for her, and now… and now?

“I can play this one,” he muttered, fingers picking out the notes on some imaginary keyboard.

“You gonna serenade me, Stevie?” asked Eddie, pushing himself to his feet. He stretched his arms, as if waking from a dream. “Hey, let’s shift the party to the piano. I wanna jam, and I’d love to hear you—"

“No.”

“You sure you’re all right?” Eddie squeezed Steve’s elbow, and Steve hitched his lip in a weary snarl. “Ooookay. Shall we embark on a daredevil quest to the balcony for some fresh air?”

Steve nodded then located his uniform white shirt, dragged it onto his shoulders and buttoned it. He followed Eddie out to where autumn breezes whipped between them, and police sirens wailed up from the city below. Eddie leaned forward against the balustrade, fidgeting with his hands. He drew his cigarette packet from his pocket, and then assaulted Steve with woeful Bambi eyes: “Do you mind if I, uh—"

“Since when did you need permission?” sniped Steve, wrapping his arms tight around himself. “I’m not your fucking babysitter.”

They crawled into bed soon after. Eddie, as ever, fell asleep super-fast. His soft snores were thickly laced with the stench of tobacco. Steve lay awake, sweating, his mind churning so bad he could almost ignore how his lungs remained dead tight. It wasn’t like he’d expected this to last, so why was it such a wrecking-ball blow?

Eddie had been edgy and depressed when they met. Eddie was still edgy and depressed. The solution wasn’t Steve whoring his ass or Steve’s dipshit suggestions about a game.

The solution was Eddie moving on.

Nothing Steve could do would change that. Yeah, there’d been moments, like when they were having sex earlier, when this thing between them felt real. Their one-sided heart-to-heart only reminded Steve that he was the one who needed to get into bed with reality. Eddie liked him, that was obvious, but Steve wasn’t in a position to rescue anybody. Heck, even Steve had told Eddie to go home to his uncle.

To his family.

Steve sniffled, and of course, that had to be the time when Eddie’s smoky snores totally stuck in his airways. He stifled his first couple of coughs in his hand, but the breaths between were wheezy. Shit, shit, SHIT!

He rolled out of bed and fumbled in the dark for his pants. He took a puff of his inhaler, held his breath for a way-too-fast count of ten, exhaled slow. As the hit of coolness spread through his lungs, he stumbled into the washroom. He sank to the floor, leaning back against the iron-hard clawfoot tub.

The attack wasn’t the worst, and he’d known it was coming. His asthma always screwed him over when he was stressing out. He took another puff, then his arm dropped limp, loosely clutching his inhaler at his side. His limbs were shaky, his head all woolly, and his heart skittered at breakneck speed. Dammit, he was using his meds too much, and he was gonna need to put an order in for more. Then Eddie’s money would dry up, and…

“Steve?”

Steve’s stomach knotted so bad, he almost retched. Eddie was standing in the open door, staring at him. Then he was crouched beside Steve, his hand on Steve’s shoulder, stroking fretfully which just made Steve clamp up worse.

“Woah, woah, woah. No way! It was your inhaler?” He scrunched his bedhead hair, panic filling his eyes. “Sheeeesh! I can’t believe… I’ve been that self-absorbed? I could’ve smoked on the balcony, Stevie. I couldda quit!”

“Forget it,” husked Steve. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve furiously swatted Eddie’s hand from his shoulder. “Don’t poke the grizzly. Your rule, remember?” He really wanted another puff. He wanted to punch somebody, too. “I agreed to it, and you chose to break it. I didn’t… Never d-did have any choice in…” He’d have screamed if he’d been able. Instead, he whispered, “Get lost.”

...

Chapter 8 on tumblr

Chapter 8 on AO3

Sorry about the angst!! Will get them to a happier place soon (ish) promise!

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[dragonworshippersblog]

I saw a post on tumblr that said rhaenyra's usurpation was her own fault and was also the cause of no woman taking the throne and it is literally the stupidest, most nonsensical thing a person could write. At aegon’s name day in episode three lady Redwyne said to rhaenyra “your dear uncle is the great mind behind this war [..] since you supplanted him as heir” implying that if the heir had remained daemon, a man known for his violence and impulsiveness, the kingdom would not have gone to war. So she is assuming that even such a man is better than a female heir for the kingdom. Later on in the same episode otto said to alicent “it wouldn't matter if she were Jaehaerys himself born again, rhaenyra is a woman” and in this time rhaenyra did nothing of the action she is been blamed in the attempt of justify her usurpation. So in both of these situations, people think that a male born should step over rhaenyra even if daemon proved himself unfit to the throne and aegon is still a child.

When aegon grow up the people who support his claim on the throne did not do it because they were genuinely convinced that he will be a better king than rhaenyra (this part is similar in the book and in the show, aegon is a men who spend his day drinking and visiting brothel so he never gave the chance to anyone to think he is going to be a good ruler) but they support him because he is a male. These are a couple of quote from fire and blood said by lord borros and jasper wylde:

He had nothing against women, Lord Borros went on; he loved his girls, a daughter is a precious commodity... but a son, ahh, should the gods ever wish to grant him one of his own blood, storm’s end would pass to him, not to his sisters. "Why should it be any different for the Iron Throne?"

otto was executed and after him was Iron Rod, who continued to insist to the last that, according to the law, the king's son must nevertheless come before his daughter.

Could rhaenyra have made better choices in her path? Certainly. Would she have been preserved from usurpation? Absolutely not because the war was based solely on sex, not choices. Rhaenyra could have followed her duties and been a good princess but the war would still have taken place because she is a woman. She is not the reason why after the dance no one named a daughter as heir/no queen took the throne, but the reason for this is that no king would have taken responsibility for such a choice in the presence of a living male heir knowing how bloody and ruthless the dance of the dragon was (when there wasn't a male heir, a female can took the throne, as cersei did on got)