#her being a woman doesn’t make her any more of a predator.

[medievalwife]

whenever there’s a story about an older woman abusing a younger man and ppl are like ‘ew DISGUSTANG how is no one talking about this can you imagine if she were a man she’d definitely not be able to get away with this!!!’ and it’s like… idk how to break the news to you but if she were a man doing this to a woman, it would probably not change anything bc we live in a society that demonizes victims and protects predators no matter their gender. men ‘get away with this’ behavior all the time!!! also if she were a man abusing a young woman it would probably not faze anyone as much bc we’re programmed to normalize older man younger woman relationships. this isn’t to defend female predators at all but i feel like ppl go after them as a way to somehow blame feminism for why abusers are still out there 🫨

[johannestevans]

Big deep dive into themes of sexual violence and rape culture as portrayed in Alien (1979, dir. Ridley Scott)! About 13k.

---

Here is a horror film about rape — and not just rape, but forced impregnation and reproductive coercion — that doesn’t use the word rape, doesn’t use words like sexual violence. Although the reproductive threat remains the same and the alien herself is phallic in appearance, the xenomorph’s assault is a degree removed from “actual” on-screen sex, so those words are never needed. The xenomorph penetrates her prey via her facehuggers, and through this process, impregnates them against their will, sometimes without even their awareness. It is a direct parallel to sexual violence amongst human predators and their victims but is not in itself sexual when presented on screen.

Because it doesn’t use those words, we strip off the assumptions people have about the gendered aspect of this sort of violence. In the sci-fi setting, using a unisex cast and also introducing androids as well as human beings, we also strip off the forced binary of male and female.

In Alien (1979), it’s not just cisgender women who are at risk of being forcibly impregnated with a dangerous parasite that could kill them as it grows inside them, as with human pregnancy as assumed by cis society — it’s everybody. And because the monster is an alien — a big, clawed alien that’s very penis-like in its design — there is not the same ability for the filmmakers to in some way romanticise or downplay the violence of the assault.

There’s no need to humanise the rapist or explain that he’s a lonely man who just wants female companionship, really, and shouldn’t society provide for a man like him? Isn’t the real cause of his violence against women that no woman provided for him, to cater to his needs as a man?

There’s no need to humanise the xenomorph or her facehuggers — they are alien creatures who seek only to breed and survive. They have no voice, only violent action.

But here comes the real horror of the film and what ramps up the terror inherent in it: yes, the xenomorph and her children are acting only on instinct, but Earth’s society is thinking about the value of it. The xenomorph’s offspring might be worth money. They might be converted into weapons and fire power, and scientific advancement.

In real life, the damage is losing the rapists who work at the company, or dealing with the media fall-out that might occur if rape victims spoke up about toxic work environments, or the legal fees that might be incurred — and thus, victims are silenced, let go, the working culture makes certain to defend and further enfranchise abusers while silencing and disenfranchising victims.

In Alien, The Company does what any company does in our society. It measures the damage caused by not just the assaults and the coerced impregnation and the death that will be caused in the result, against the potential profit of the xenomorph’s DNA, no matter how scary or violent or traumatising the xenomorph and its behaviours are.

Alien (1979) then becomes a perfect metaphor and parallel for sexual violence in our society — and especially as a male victim of sexual violence myself, but also as a transgender man, it really cuts to the core of the horror of it for me.

Yes, it’s terrifying to be raped, but it’s not terrifying because men are strong, and they all want to rape women, who are always so pure and innocent — women rape other women or men or nonbinary people; men rape other men and the same; corporations and other for-profit enterprises might work towards invasions and corruptions of individual bodily autonomy because it benefits them monetarily or societally; other political and governing bodies might work toward the same.

The terror of rape is in the invasion of your body against your will, your powerlessness to stop it or defend yourself, whether by force or coercion. It’s in the collapse of your desires for your body and its purpose as you see it to that of another person’s, or a third party’s.

And when that rape can come with the threat of pregnancy, there is a further terror — can you access emergency contraceptive and/or abortion services? Will they be delivered to you without prejudice and without delay? Will you be forced to submit to further invasions of your body, having a rape kit done, being tested for STIs, and having to describe your assault to police or to other violent authority figures, who as you describe it, will demean and undermine you, and do anything to discredit your testimony? Will you have to flee your state or country to get medical services to end a pregnancy? Will you be blocked off from these and forced by the state to carry a pregnancy to term, on top of having already been raped by an individual?

Unlike many other horror movies about rape, no one gets raped in Alien (1979), and then at the end, does a stirring monologue to sad piano music about how, yes, they were raped and attacked, but they couldn’t possibly kill “an innocent life” by having an abortion, because any female rape victim’s natural instinct is, of course, to want to be a mother to their rapist’s children. Anti-abortion activists aren’t putting facehuggers on their posters and their propaganda.

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[buildgrist]

I wrote this last year on Twitter, but since Empty Spaces has sort of abandoned ship, I'll post it here too:

"Funeral"

A woman's whole life changes the first time she sees a combat doll.

First-person, combat doll setting by Twitter user mars_phobos_L1

CW: Harassment, violence, military context, blood, personality changes, conditioning, surgery, unreliable memory

Story below cut:

1.

I washed out of combat training almost immediately, but it wasn’t enough to get me off the hook. I’m sure you all know how it goes – just because you can’t fight doesn’t mean you can’t support the ones who do. If you can’t carry a gun, you can fix a gun, if you can’t fly a plane, you can fuel a plane.

Nothing wrong with that, of course! It’s simply efficient use of resources, and I’m certainly in no place to criticize that, especially not given my current status, so to speak. But even then I wasn’t exactly bothered by it -- I would have rather not been conscripted at all, but maintenance would be safe and interesting and I was already pretty good at it.

2.

The first time I ever saw a combat doll was when I was at the range, trying to get in enough practice to pass my pistol qualifications. I didn’t even know she was there, at first - there was no fuss, no fanfare - but as soon as her handler started barking those sharp, staccato orders I realized what was going on.

I looked over, of course. I know, we’ve all been taught not to make eye contact with the dolls because they might take it as aggression, but how could I not be curious? Can any of you say you wouldn’t be tempted to take a peek?

I hadn’t expected her to not be wearing her mask. All the publicity photos, all the technical diagrams, all the battlefield footage always shows dolls with their masks on, so I assumed that was just their usual state – but no, I was wrong. That was her natural face, with her implant jacks and her surgical scars and her delicate-looking skin. I truly hadn’t expected her to be so pretty…

She caught me looking, of course. Dolls are the apex predators of the battlefield, and noticing a maintenance trainee staring at her was trivial in comparison. She met my eyes before I could look away, and then I couldn’t look away. I knew nothing except her eyes and my heart pounding in my ears, and I had no idea what was coming next… and then she grinned at me.

That grin did something to me, something strange and frightening and wonderful. It felt like lightning running down my spine, like watching a sunrise after being blind my whole life, like finding my way out of a forest I’d been lost in since birth. I was never the same again.

3.

I needed to know who she was, of course. She could pick off targets faster than my eyes could follow, with a perfect bullseye every time. Her handler ran her through everything in our arsenal, and more besides - pistols, rifles, machine guns, throwing knives, on and on - and she was perfect every time. How could I have not wanted to know more after watching a display like that?

Well, apparently, that made me the weird one in the battalion. Everyone I asked about her just shrugged or gave me sidelong glances. Why would they want to keep track of which doll was which, they asked? They were all equally frightening, after all. What did it matter what the shark swimming next to you was named?

It took more than a week - and a couple cases of beer - for me to find out who I’d seen. My buddy on the security team had seen the handler’s name and done some quick research, and he was willing to pass on that information… for the right price, of course.

Victoria. Her name was Victoria, and the next thing he said to me was “be fuckin’ careful around that one,” which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me at the time. We’re taught to use caution around all dolls, combat or not, why the extra warning?

Because, he told me, there were stories about the Victory-class dolls. They weren’t the fastest dolls or the most powerful dolls, but they were notoriously unpredictable, and dangerous even to their allies. I won’t get into the details right now, that’s not what I’m here to do - but some of your classmates went pale the moment I said her name, so ask them about it later.

But what did that have to do with Victoria? I had to ask, because I used to be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. In case any of you haven’t put all the pieces together: Victoria is the first Victory-class, the flagship, the template upon which all others were modeled – and that meant if there was some fault with the Victory-class dolls, some flaw in their design or their conditioning, Victoria would definitely have it.

4.

Even with all he’d told me, and all I’d learned on my own afterwards, I still couldn’t get her off my mind. Not that I was thinking about her every second, or even every day, but that moment never quite left my mind. I’d lay down and try to sleep, close my eyes, and behind my eyelids I’d see that bare face, that grin, and my heart would start pounding all over again.

By the time we were given our assignments, I knew what I was going to do. I knew what I had to do. I got the cushiest possible position – 8th Supply Battalion, well away from any combat zones, where the greatest danger would be a private driving a forklift drunk. The perfect position to serve out three years of compulsory service and go back to my old life, right?

Except I didn’t want it. I hadn’t wanted it since the moment I’d seen her.

As soon as we were dismissed, I went straight to the commander’s office and asked for a transfer – which they don’t usually do, of course, but he was willing to hear me out anyway, so I told him I needed to be on Victoria’s maintenance crew. Once he was done laughing he asked me what I was really there to ask for, and I repeated my request. I explained to him that I was serious, that I wanted, needed more than anything else, to be assigned to maintenance for Victoria.

He didn’t understand – which is no surprise, because I don’t think any of you do either. Why would I have wanted to be transferred to the only role that had higher casualty rates than front-line infantry, right? Truth be told, I didn’t understand either, and I still don’t. There’s nothing I can point to, no specific reason, just this surety that I belonged there and nowhere else.

Someone needed to do maintenance on the dolls, right? Why shouldn’t it be someone enthusiastic about it, someone fully committed to their role? I don’t know if my argument won him over or if he was just tired of listening to me, but in the end he just shrugged and wrote out my transfer orders: maintenance crew, Victory-class combat doll “Victoria”.

I still remember what he said when he handed me the orders:

“It’s your funeral.”

5.

Just because I’d volunteered for the position didn’t mean I was any less nervous when I first reported for duty! The rest of the crew had already been giving me a hard time - I was the squeaky-clean new girl, fresh out of training - but honestly, they weren’t why I was nervous. That was just some laughs and some hazing, nothing I wasn’t used to by that point.

No, I was nervous because of the six-plus feet of exquisite purpose-built killing machine standing in the middle of the maintenance bay.

The thing is, though.. the reasonable thing would have been to worry that Victoria was going to kill me, right? That’s what you’d be afraid of, that’s what any sensible person would be afraid of! But it wasn’t what I was afraid of.

I’d done my research, I knew the numbers, and I was certain - beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt - that I wasn’t going to survive three years in her maintenance crew. I’d made my peace with that before I ever even walked into the commander’s office.

I was worried that Victoria wasn’t going to like me.

6.

I know that probably sounds bizarre to you - after all, nobody worries about whether their tank likes them, right? - but trust me, it was absolutely the biggest thing on my mind. So much so, in fact, that I decided to introduce myself to her immediately! Why hang around hiding behind the rest of the maintenance crew when I could just walk right up to her and make a good first impression instead?

So that’s exactly what I did. Right into the maintenance bay, right past the rest of the crew, right across those painted lines on the floor… one foot in front of the other, listening to the pounding of my heart until I was within arm’s length of an active combat doll.

I took one more deep breath, accepted that it could have been my last, and gave her the usual introduction: name, rank, and role. She just stared at me, with those intense eyes I remembered so well, and I offered a little bit of extra politeness – just a simple little “I look forward to working with you, ma’am.”

7.

The moment the words were out of my mouth, she grabbed me by the collar and dragged me in, my body pressed up against hers, and as I stared up at her in shock and fear and excitement, I heard her voice for the first time.

“You’re cute,” she said.

There were teeth in my neck before I could even make sense of her words - combat-specced teeth, the kind that can slice through bone - and it was unbearably painful… but also something about it felt right. I was helpless in her grip, completely powerless, and I realized that I’d wanted that all along.

I saw her true face for the first time, then. That flat, blank non-expression she’d been wearing when I walked up to her had simply been another mask, another disguise… and she’d let it fall away. As she licked my blood from her lips, I understood – she was a hunter, a predator, hungry for more and strong enough to take whatever she wanted… and I was her prey.

I suspect your instructor would kick me out of this class immediately if I described what she did next, so I’ll just say ‘she had her way with me and I had no desire to stop her.’ You’ll have to use your imaginations for the rest… or come find me sometime and I’ll be happy to tell you all about it!

8.

Anyway, even though it seemed like I’d made an excellent impression on Victoria, the rest of the maintenance crew was pretty clear that I’d made a pretty poor impression on them. As soon as we were off-duty and the dolls had all been escorted back to their bunker, they made their feelings known in a very direct fashion.

I got off easy, they told me, pointing out maintenance staff for other dolls. One man had a bloody bandage where his ear had been, and another was completely unresponsive – just blankly staring at a wall. In comparison to things like that, a bite and some fucking was downright gentle for a Victory-class doll!

The crew insisted that I’d better not expect special treatment from Victoria to mean they’d give me special treatment too – I protested that I’d never once expected that, but I don’t think they were listening to me by that point. From all the shouts and cursing, it seemed like they were upset that I, the death-wish rookie who walked right up to a combat doll and introduced herself, had been treated more gently than maintenance staff who simply wanted to carry out their duties safely.

I tried to answer them, I tried to explain that all I’d done was to be friendly and polite, that I’d just wanted to treat Victoria with the respect she deserved. They didn’t like that answer.

Nobody told me about this, so I’ll pass it on as a warning to you just in case: maintenance crews aren’t just wary of their dolls, they’re downright resentful of them. From their perspective, the dolls are the thing that stands between them and getting home safely, and they’re not particularly fond of people who see the situation differently.

I, not knowing this, made some helpful comments about the dolls not being our enemy, about our purpose being to support the dolls so they can carry out their Purpose. Shortly thereafter, in a totally unrelated event, I slipped and fell down a staircase – completely by accident, of course.

I’d been hoping that the maintenance crew - and the staircase - had gotten all the vitriol out of their system by then, but it only got worse. Someone had found out that I’d volunteered for the maintenance crew, while they’d all been unwillingly forced into that position, and it was all over. That was all the proof they needed to decide I wasn’t like them in some indescribable way. They might not have been able to explain how, exactly, I was different from them, but they all agreed that I was, and they all wanted to make that my problem.

9.

I next saw Victoria for post-mission diagnostics two days later. The procedures would be routine, and yet the crew was far more anxious than they had been for our previous visit to the maintenance bay. A doll just back from an operation, having spent only a few minutes being gentled by its handler before being sent off to maintenance, was the most dangerous kind of doll as far as the maintenance staff was concerned: all keyed up on adrenaline and battle stimulants and potentially unsure as to whether or not it was actually safe or still on the battlefield.

The crew all talked like they were off to the firing squad, and I had no idea what to expect as we all walked down to the hall… especially when they all hung back, in ones and twos and threes, lagging behind me while I walked up to the maintenance bay first.

I was the tribute, the offering, the fresh meat tossed to Victoria to sate her hunger - and oh, did she ever take the bait. She ran to me, snatched me right off the ground, and sprinted back to her designated zone as if to convince everyone she’d never left.. except now she had me clutched in her arms, her deadly teeth tracing up and down my neck, that beautiful voice giggling in my ear.

The maintenance team had to conduct their diagnostics around me, in the end. Victoria simply didn’t want to give me up, no matter how they tried to convince her -- and I had absolutely no desire to argue with that. Where could I possibly have wanted to be more than her arms?

In fact, I didn’t want to leave her arms. Even once our duty shift was done and she’d turned me loose, bloody and weary and deeply content, I lingered in the maintenance bay as the others fled for the mess. I knew what was waiting for me there - the same thing that had been waiting for me since I first met Victoria - and I wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

10.

I hadn’t expected her to notice me hanging around - surely I was unworthy of her attention, right? - and yet, as I lingered behind, she spoke to me for the second time. “Not joining them?”

“No ma’am,” I told her, quietly enough for nobody else to hear. I hadn’t meant to say anything else, but the prospect of having a sympathetic ear was just too much, and the words just tumbled out of me. As she stared down at me with that blank expression, I explained how the crew had decided I didn’t belong, and how they’d been treating me since – the punches, the kicks, the fish in my bunk, the thousand other little reminders that they’d decided to hate me.

Eventually I ran out of words and found myself simply staring up at Victoria. She hadn’t said a single thing the entire time, and her expression was the same unreadable blankness that I’d seen before. While I tried to figure out whether she was sympathetic or simply bored, I suddenly realized that she’d met my gaze, staring into my eyes as if she was looking for something. I couldn’t imagine what she was looking for - and, truth be told, I still don’t know what it was - but I stared back up at her and let her look for it.

I guess she found what she was looking for - or perhaps found an absence of the wrong things - because she simply grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me right out of the maintenance bay. What was she doing? Where was she going? She ignored my questions, of course, so I stopped asking them and simply walked along with her in silence.

You probably haven’t seen a doll bunker yet, but they’re extremely sturdy – downright overengineered, even. They’re even more heavily reinforced than munitions bunkers, and the only route in and out is through an extremely sturdy-looking steel door. It’s the sort of thing that makes the vault doors in heist movies look like tissue paper… and that was the door Victoria had led me to.

Even though I’d walked to the bunker with her willingly, I couldn’t help but protest a little as she swung the bunker door open. I had been told, upon my assignment, that only handlers and commanders were permitted to enter the doll bunker – all support staff were required to stay out in order to avoid ‘unnecessary manpower shortages’. Not that that stopped Victoria, of course! She simply picked me up by the back of my uniform like an uncooperative pet and tossed me right through the door.

11.

Have you ever walked into a room and found eight combat dolls staring directly at you? Sixteen eyes fixed on you, unblinking, like cats that have just spotted a mouse? Presumably not, but if you’re very lucky - or very unlucky - you might get to someday.

That’s where I found myself as the bunker door slammed shut behind me – gracelessly picking myself up off the floor under the hungry gaze of eight combat dolls. They waited a moment, graciously permitting me to get back to my feet, and then… well, I guess the best way to describe it is to say each one started trying, in her own way, to draw me away from my host.

Not a word was spoken, but carnal offers were made, and one or two dolls began to creep toward me as if stalking prey – and then suddenly they all froze at once. I couldn’t receive dollchat yet, so I didn’t know what Victoria said to them - and even now she just giggles when I ask! - but whatever it was, it was enough to convince the other eight dolls not to steal her guest away.

I spent that night in her bunk. I didn't do a lot of actual sleeping, of course, but the moments I did get... having a combat doll holding me close and murmuring sweet reassurances in my ear was maybe the safest I'd ever felt in my whole life. To be told I'm safe now, that the squad will look out for me, that I'm theirs forever…

12.

I hardly ever left the bunker after that. I would have never left, if I’d had the option, but there were still two things I was expected to handle: work and food.

I was still a member of Victoria’s maintenance crew, expected to be present for those duties, and since the necessary hardware was in the maintenance bay, that was where I had to be too. My first duty shift after being taken to the bunker, I’d hesitated – I was even more uncertain about showing my face around the rest of the crew now, after all! Victoria had just returned from a mission, so she would be waiting for me there, but I still had to get from the bunker to the maintenance bay on my own…

Before I figured it out myself, one of the other dolls took pity on me. She took my hand in hers, as if I was a child, and led me to the maintenance bay herself. It was permitted - after all, she was being escorted by maintenance staff - and nobody dared to say she couldn’t stand by while we Victoria received her post- mission diagnostics and I received an entirely different kind of post-mission attention.

I’m not sure if the crew ever appreciated just how much lighter on them she was when I was around, you know? I don’t know if they even noticed, or if they were too busy hating me. It didn’t matter, though – when we were done, Victoria and the other doll walked me back to the bunker, hand in hand, as if they were concerned I’d stray – or flee, perhaps, but there was already no chance of that.

If any of you ever get invited to a bunker, be aware: there’s nothing for you to eat. There is food for the dolls, although it’s terribly bland, but those meals are measured out to the last bite. Even once the whole squad had fully accepted me as their own, they still didn’t have anything to give me – every bite of food for me was one less for them, and dolls are always hungry.

The only way for me to get food would be to get it from the kitchens myself. I’d have to brave the hallways solo, avoiding any other staff, and throw myself on the cook’s mercy in the hopes that they’d be willing to let me take something back with them – and I’d have to do it two or three times a day! It’d be absolutely miserable, right?

As it turned out, that was practically a nonissue. The kitchen staff recognized me on sight - word spreads quickly, especially when you’re escorted to the bunker by two dolls! - and realized that we could solve each other’s problems: I needed food, and they didn’t want to interact with the dolls. If I could come out of the bunker to receive each day’s rations, rather than the staff needing to hand-deliver it directly to the dolls, they’d be more than happy to throw in each day’s worth of meals for me! Teamwork and problem-solving, that’s what we’re trained for, right?

13.

With food resolved and my duties sorted out… well, one day started to blur into the next. There are no windows in a doll bunker, after all -- there’s no sense of time unless you’ve got a chronometer built in, and I sure didn’t. I slept when they let me, I did as I was told, and every time the rations were delivered I felt a little more like I was walking through a dream.

The kitchen staff stopped looking straight at me, eventually. It wasn’t that they were afraid of me - I was no doll, no battlefield predator - but something about me unsettled them. Maybe my body language had changed – after all, I’d been spending more time around dolls than humans, even I could tell that I was picking up their mannerisms, that I was absorbing the way they spoke and moved and held their bodies.

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe there was something in my eyes. I had prostrated myself before the squad and worshipped them for the goddesses they were. I had licked blood from a doll’s body without ever stopping to wonder who it had belonged to. I had given myself to them over and over, even after my stamina was exhausted and I could do little more than accept their desires.

They had made me theirs - with pleasure and pain, with fear and adoration - but they decided I was ready for more.

14.

I’d tell you it was a day like any other, but I don’t even know if it was a day. It was just another moment in the bunker, a moment of laying on a bare concrete floor, my limbs tangled with giggling dolls who simply couldn’t bear to let their plaything go… and then it wasn’t.

They hauled me up off the floor and pushed my back against the wall, one on each side of me, and the rest of the squad parted as Victoria approached, as the doll who’d claimed me first stood over me once more.

“You’ve been fun,” she told me, “but you can be better. We want you to be better. Don’t you want to be better for us?”

Even after all the time I’d spent with them, I still hesitated. I knew what they meant, and I had learned exactly what it entailed. The surgery, the conditioning, the experience of not being human anymore – but wasn’t I already seen as no longer human?

Victoria saw that hesitation, she saw the fear in my eyes, and stroked my head like a pet. She promised me she’d stay by my side the whole time… and she promised to do my conditioning herself.

How could I say no to that?

15.

The surgeons broke me. There’s no way to sugarcoat that. Even without all the modifications combat dolls get, having an arrhythmia control device implanted in your chest without any anesthetic is simply more than any human can bear and stay sane – so I didn’t. I screamed, I struggled and I let myself fall apart.

Victoria put me back together. She reminded me how much I liked being helpful, and how much I enjoyed being useful. She dug up my memories of how much I loved each and every member of the squad, and she made those memories into the core of my personality so I could never, ever forget again. As for the rest of my memories… well, I told you this whole story, didn't I? But everything before the dolls took me in feels distant, removed from me, as if they're someone else's memories instead of my own. It's better that way – I have a whole new life and a whole new family to love.

Speaking of which, Victoria had a surprise for me once I'd recovered, a way of celebrating me as the newest part of their family. One at a time, each doll got up on one of the bunks like it was a makeshift stage and delivered maudlin, overdramatic speeches about the person they imagined I had been before, and we all giggled along together.

In the end, it was my funeral after all.

16.

There you have it, that's the whole story. That's how I went from being just like you to being who I am now. Your instructor wanted me to share it as a warning, a cautionary tale, and I'm sure for most of you it is. But for one or two of you, if it appeals–

Yes, sir?

Understood, sir.

Thank you for your time, everyone! May fate preserve us! Good luck on your quals!

[inamindfarfaraway]

Here’s a sad thought about Princess Jasmine in Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier, courtesy of listening to the soundtrack again and feeling the feelings about her and Ja’far: this version of the Sultan must be a really bad father.

We never see him interact with his stepdaughter. He already seems rather senile when he steals Scheherazade, and that’s sixteen years before the present day. His sanity may well have completely gone in that time. Even if it didn’t, he makes it clear in his one appearance that he considers everyone in his power to be objects defined entirely by how they can benefit him and remorselessly will torture, enslave and murder them on a whim. I doubt that he’d be sensitive or nurturing toward his child. Now, I think Scheherazade would be a great mother - but she never got to try.

The Sultan has evidently been very neglectful and distant, failing in his duties to teach the Princess how to be both a good person and a good member of royalty. Despite her being his only heir and old enough to marry and rule the kingdom, which apparently has no problem with a female sovereign, he’s let her grow up to be extremely sheltered and not at all adequately prepared for responsibility and politics. It doesn’t even occur to her that having her tiger assault a neighbouring country’s visiting prince might have consequences. The Sultan, and on his behalf the Captain of the Guard, don’t let her know important news and royal decrees: neither what a menace Aladdin is, leaving her vulnerable to him, nor the Sultan’s mass execution of the 2D Department, since for as insensitively egocentric as she is at the beginning, she’s still deeply sentimental and quick to empathize with the homeless peasant Aladdin, so I can’t believe that she wouldn’t be at least a little upset with the Sultan (or more likely Ja’far) over so many lost human lives.

More than that, her immaturity speaks to bad parenting on the most basic level. She hasn’t internalized the Sultan’s cruelty, but has learned his selfishness, entitlement, impulsiveness and poor emotional regulation. Her social skills are notably clumsy and underdeveloped (not picking up on Aladdin’s numerous red flags, “No high five”, “At least Abdul had a family who loved him!”, even cringing herself at the last one). The Sultan’s passed down absolutely zero wisdom of any kind.

Instead it’s Ja’far with whom she has a familiar father-daughter dynamic (“What’s up, are you mad at me?” “Where are you going?” “There she is!”). It’s him who shows concern when she runs away and gives the order to find her before all else, notices that she’s upset and talks her through her feelings, warns her about sexual predators, appreciates her idealism and effort. It’s him who provides the gentle but firm, healthy guidance and challenge that she needs to grow. Who sees her potential, respects and believes in her. Who loves her. However, he is ultimately in her service. Between the imbalanced power dynamic making him wary of treason (after all, the last time he had a stronger relationship than the Sultan with a woman the Sultan called his, it didn’t end well) and his other responsibilities taking away from their time together, he can’t be as influential a presence in his life as he’d like.

Maybe this why she’s initially so resentful of him. Subconsciously she does see him as a father all along, but he hurts her and lets her down sometimes. Like the Sultan, her only official parent, always has. That stings. The differences are that the Sultan hurts her much more, more consistently and without her best interests at heart… but Ja’far is the one she can lash out at and complain to and be a messy adolescent around, because firstly, he’s her subject instead of her ruler, and secondly, he’s actually involved in her life. He cares, and therefore yelling or halfheartedly trying to poison his wine will make an impact. The Sultan is untouchable. We know that she conflates the two in her head as unjust authority figures keeping her trapped and crushing her aspirations (“All the people who say I’m just dreaming, like Father and Ja’far”, one of the only times she mentions the Sultan). It’s easier to blame your problems on an employee everybody else hates than accept that your parent is a bad one.

Maybe this is the root of her discontentment as well, her yearning that she can’t articulate for something more than what the life she’s been given. The joke of “Everything and More” is that she doesn’t need anything besides what she has… but she does. She needs a competent, reliable parent. One who she can trusts loves her the person as her parent, not a servant of her bloodline, and she knows to love as such in turn.

No wonder she falls for “Orphaned at Thirty-Three” hook, line and sinker. She’s never known her mother. Her relationships with her paternal figures range from terrible to complicated. Having unconditionally loving, supportive parents and then suddenly losing them must be the worst thing she can imagine.

But in the end, the Sultan dies and her dad has to leave her. Although he found a way to live forever, it wasn’t enough to save her from the pain of being orphaned at sixteen.

[radfemverity]

Andrew Tate is the perfect test, and women should use him to vet men.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a better demonstration of how an umbrella fear of all men is justified, than in the support millions of men have given to Andrew Tate these last few years. At the end of 2022, every claim about he and his brother were vindicated when they were finally arrested for sex trafficking.

Both have publicly admitted to preferring when women stay like young girls, beating women in the bedroom, tricking women into making degrading porn, and ploughing ahead in sex whether the woman is ready and willing or not. There have also been leaked footage of Andrew Tate filming himself frightening a woman to humiliate her. @CrayonMurders on Twitter is a living breathing archive for all of this.

Yet his fanbase grows everyday. Very high profile commentators on the Right who the Left have been warning about for years (eg Elon Musk, Tucker Carlson, Tommy Robinson) have actively endorsed Tate, and his tweets regularly surpass tens of thousands of likes. He has a cult of personality amassing millions of men.

He is the textbook example of everything women have been warning about, it’s almost comedic. Andrew Tate isn’t like most sexual predators. He’s not discreet, he doesn’t use vague language or dogwhistles. He’s not a Jeffrey Epstein, a Jimmy Saville or a Harvey Weinstein, he’s too reckless for that. In caricature Disney villain style, he has been so brazenly unapologetic about his lifestyle of rape, pimping and violence, that unlike many before him, he has given himself absolutely no path to plausible deniability. His fanboys preaching “innocent until proven guilty!!” falls flat in the face of hours of footage and hundreds of tweets of him bragging about being a sadistic monster.

Andrew Tate is so addicted to flaunting his evil, that he inadvertently exposes the sheer number of men who are pro-rape and human trafficking, in a way that more careful predators just don’t. We can all use him as a test to vet any man we consider letting into our lives, and provide other women with the information to do the same.

Ascertain a man’s opinion on him early on. Don’t show your own bias, don’t interrogate, just ask casually and feign ignorance. Say something like “Oh I saw the whole drama on the news, but I don’t really know what to make of it all”. Listen for his answer, and then enquire further, no matter what it is. Even if he says he doesn’t like Tate, ask why. Because while “he’s an insecure beta masquerading as a big man”, and “he’s a bad role model” are true, it isn’t enough.

If you’re going to trust any men, especially in this neoliberal hellscape where they’ve had access to millions of clips of women being raped in every position and every hole since they began puberty, just please wait until they’ve demonstrated an unshakeable empathy for the female sex. Andrew Tate isn’t just a dickhead, or a funny peanut man, or a beta narcissist. He is a monster.

I cannot remember the last time there was a yardstick by which we can so easily measure a person’s humanity (or lackthereof). And while I would never blame a woman for just pointblank avoiding the entire male sex, associating with men is quite the game of Russian Roulette, most women – even radical feminists – would never be willing to do that. So to the 95% of us who wish to have at least one man in our lives, this is the easiest, most perfect test.

[rinrinx2]

hello! i love ur work ! 💗

is it okay if i request a bimbo reader x ran where ran and the reader are friends. The reader is a virgin but doesn’t want anyone but Ran to take it ! Idk if this makes sense but ur work is really lovely ! so feel free to play around with this idea <3

Okay I absolutely love writing bimbo reader, I don't know why but it's always so fun. I hope you like it 💕💕💕.

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"When do you lose your virginity?"

Ran x Bimbo!Reader

Warnings: Inappropriate language, Mature themes, virginity loss, smut, orgasm, fingering, dom/sub

When Ran had befriended you in high school, he was taken aback by how such a beautiful girl had absolutely nothing in her head paired with the fact that she wore the shortest skirt his ever seen and bending over in such a manner that had you exposing your panties to everyone, he came to one single conclusion you were a Bimbo.

There was no way you weren't a nymphomaniac, so how now after so many years of him thinking he knew you had the question you just asked been the biggest plot twist of his life.

"Did you hear me Rannie. When are you supposed to lose your virginity?" You said waving your hands infront of his baffled face as your boobs bounced about in his face.

Ran took a moment to let the question fully sink down into his brain.

'Maybe she's just asking this dumb question to find out when I lost my virginty' Ran thought, as the idea of you being a virgin was slim.

"I lost mine at 18" he said as he now kept a neutral look on his face.

"Wow Rannie, that's so cool. I haven't lost mine yet I didn't know we were suppose to lose it then" you said with a smile on your face as if you hadn't just told him the biggest news to his ears.

"You're a virgin?" Ran said confused, still not fully comprehending that you a woman who showed him your skimpy thongs because they were cute was a virgin.

"Yeah, can't you tell?" you asked turning your face back to Rans with a pout on your cute face.

"I mean it's just you're so cute I would think any guy would be lucky enough to have you in his bed" Ran said turning his charm on to avoid hurting your feelings.

"Well I always wanted to lose it to you, but everytime I tried to bring it up you either had a girlfriend or you went to juvie" you said with a giggle.

"But I also didn't know at what age you were suppose to lose it, so guess it doesn't matter right?" You said turning your attention back to the t.v as you tried to focus on some barbie movie Ran put on for you.

So clueless that you didn't even realize the predator like look in Ran's eyes. He didn't know that you kept yourself for him and if he knew back then what he did now he would of easily ditched whatever girlfriend to be buried in your unused pussy.

Ran carefully moved closer to where you sat on the couch, till his thigh was grazing at yours. Carefully placing his big hand on your upper thigh as you remained oblivious to his actions.

"You know the perfect age to lose your virginity is your current age now" Ran whispered into your ear as his hand massaged up your thigh.

"Really?!" You said head snapping towards his, as your eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Yes really. Boys lose their virginity earlier so their cocks can get bigger but it's best a girl waits a bit so her pussy can get nice and puffy on the inside" Ran said gently coaxing you into his lies that you were readily eating up.

"That makes so much sense Rannie, you're so smart" you said unaware at the hand that was now just hovering over your covered cunt underneath your dress.

"So, come on let's take your virginity" Ran whispered towards you as he brought his lips closer to yours until he closed the gap between the two of you.

Ran kissed you softly at first trying to make it feel magical until his hand began to knead at your covered cunt, then Ran began to kiss you more feverishly. His tongue sliding into your mouth as his tongue lapped at yours. His fingers coming to your clit rubbing tight circles through your lacy pink panties as you moaned into his mouth.

"Rannie ~ feels so good" you said against his mouth.

"It's about to feel alot better soon" Ran said as he moved his hand down to shift your panties to the side, his fingers feeling the slick that dripped out from your cunt.

And in one swift movement he plunged his digits into your cunt.

"Oh Rannie" you moaned out as your pussy felt filled out by two of Ran's fingers.

"Come on, if you can't take my fingers how you going to take my cock angel?" Ran asked as he pushed his fingers back and forth fucking your cunt, causing wet lewd sounds to echo about the lounge.

Rans skilled fingers spread your pussy from the inside as he pushed his fingers as deep as he could causing moaning to escape your lips.

Your pussy was devouring Ran's fingers, pulling him as deep as it could as it milked them, as if you weren't a virgin.

Ran enjoyed the sight of your pussy dripping down on his hand, how your walls were beginning to pulse sate a sign you were close.

"Rannie something feels funny" you said as you gripped at his hands.

"It's okay princess, you're not going to cum now, you're gonna cum on my cock" Ran said as he removed his fingers, watching as your pussy juices dribbled out.

Ran quickly undid his pants taking out his cock causing your eyes to become massive.

Ran's cock was massive, the shaft was long and girthy with a prominent vein on the underside and a thick mushroom tip that had a pearl of pre-cum dripping out of the slit.

"Rannie how's it going to fit?" You asked with slight panic in your voice.

"Don't worry I'm make it fit" Ran said with a smirk as he aligned his throbbing cock at your entrance.

You could feel Ran prodding at your folds gently pushing against your pussy hole as it squeezed out in excitement.

Ran kept his eyes focused on your cunt, your unused cunt that was about to be filled with cock for the first time, by his cock.

Ran's eyes shifted to your face as he began to push into your pussy watching as your face began to contort in pain and pleasure.

Ran couldn't believe how tight you were, how your pussy was both grabbing at his cock and trying to push him out, the sensation causing his balls to fill with more semen.

"Rannie its -" you moaned out but were cut off as Ran stopped half way. His cock had slipped into your pussy only halfway but it felt as if he had already filled you to the brim, you pussy felt so full.

"Lemme just bottom out"

"Rannie I don't think I can-" you began to babble as tears started to sleep at the sensation of him pushing deeper.

"You can take it, you're a good girl. You're my good girl" Ran said as he bottomed out inside you.

His cock was so deep inside you that when you looked down you were able to see the bulge of his cock inside you.

Ran remained still adjusting to your unbearable tightness waiting for you to adjust to his cock so that he could start fucking you.

You lied on the couch with Ran's cock pentrating you so deep, feeling his hands remained on your waist while quiet tears dripped down your cheeks, but they were quick to dry when the pain was replaced with pleasure and soon you were moaning at the sensation of having Ran's cock inside you.

"My good girl wants me to fuck her" Ran said as your reaction was clear enough that you craved for the friction.

Ran began thrusting into your sobbing cunt, slowly and deep causing the air to be knocked out of you with each thrust.

Your pussy walls felt like they were being massaged in the best of ways, you wanted more.

"Rannie fuck me harder" you begged out pushing against his cock.

Ran gave you a predator look and in the next second he started pounding into your pussy.

Ran fucked you like a wild animal, hips barely pulling fully out as he fucked you now. He could feel the cum that was once in his balls being pushed through his shaft just aching to shoot out into your pussy and paint it a nice pearly white.

Ran continued his brutal pace as your pussy kept tightening with each thrust, until the pressure became unbearable.

"Rannie I think I'm gonna pee" you moaned out at your pressed your hand down on your womb feel Ran's cock slide in and out of you.

"It's okay baby, just let go" Ran said feeling how your walls were starting to milk him.

"Just let go baby" Ran moaned out trying to hold back as long as he could.

The pressure in your tummy was becoming to much to fast until it finally stopped. Strings of moans left your mouth as clear liquid squirted out of your pussy and all over the couch.

The sight of you squirting pushed Ran over the edge as hot semen was shot into your cunt as your pussy still milked Ran for more, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure.

You and Ran remained in that position until he carefully slipped his cock out, causing a soft popping noise to be heard.

You looked at Ran who was busy putting his cock back into his trousers as he got up and walked to the kitchen to fetch a clothe.

Ran began to wipe the slick and cum that still dripped out of your pussy, as you watched in amazement

--------------------------------

Rindou sat on the couch as Ran was in the kitchen pouring to glasses of whiskey.

"Why does your couch feel so wet?" Rindou asked as he pushed his hands against the damp spot.

"I had sex" Ran said matter-of-factly, as he walked over to where Rindou sat.

"What the fuck and you let me sit on it"

"Calm down it was with (Y/N)" Ran said handing a glass to Rindou.

"She finally let you fuck" Rindou said with a laugh as he took a swig at his drink.

"Nah she let me take a virginity"

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All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

[lo-shouldve-been-an-email]

Why hello there.

Listen,I don’t have much to say about the newest LO episode so here’s an ares ranking to go along with the other ones.

Spoilers.

Percy Jackson:

6/10

Look,Ares is a really weird figure when it comes to how the media presents him.

Almost always they present him as this sexist frat boy when in mythology he is:

A reported protector of mistreated woman.

The patron god of the amazons and was worshipped to the point that their leader had 2 babies with him.

Scored the GODDESS PF LOVE AND BEAUTY and there is no way you cannot convince me she doesn’t have some pretty high standards(even though apparently you can convince most of the writers on this list)

And as much as I love Percy Jackson,it is not devoid of crimes.

In the first book,he helps Luke/Kronos steal Zeus’ master bolt and Hades’ helm of invisibility as to start a civil war within the gods.id say this is a pretty good portrayal overall.

…until we get to the second book.

This myth will be very important so long story short:a daughter of ares got r*** by a son of Poseidon so Ares,like any reasonable and bloodthirsty god of war,fucking killed him.

After this,he got put on trial for murder as if he wasn’t the literal god of bloody war,and all the ladies vouched for him so he got set free.

Let’s just say,Rick Riordan didn’t know of this myth.

In the second book,there’s a scene where Clarisse La Rue,a DAUGHTER of ares talks to him through a magic mirror.

There,he threatens her and says he should have sent one of his sons on the quest.and keep in mind she is his FAVORITE DAUGHTER.

So yeah.

I don’t really like this portrayal but he gets points for bringing Clarisse and (technically)Frank into this world since I like them both.also the fact that Percy could tell he had beef with him even without having any other memory.

Lore Olympus:

1/10

FUCK THIS GUY

Remember when I said that modern Ares was more often than not a sexist frat boy?we’ll add “predator” and “Reddit nice guy” to that list because RS can’t write.

If in Percy Jackson Aphrodite had terrible standards here said standards are so much worse.

He spends MONTHS trying to seduce a 19-YEAR-OLD and then tries to marry her without her consent.

Also,sir,YOU HAVE THE GODDESS OF LOVE AND BEAUTY FULLY AT YOUR DISPOSAL AND YOURE PICKING A GURL WHO DOESNT EVEN KNOW HIW TO USE A COMPUTER????

Great.this guy is a predator,Reddit nice guy,AND stupid.

I remember saying that the only character who could get a lowers rating than LO Persephone being LO hades and then I remembered this fuck existed.

Fuck him.

Hades:

10/10

Your know when you see something and then immediately want to wash your eyes with soap?this is my soap.

He is my third favorite Olympian in the game,coming third to Hermes and Artemis.

So here’s a few reasons why I like him:

Doom anything with impending doom and the increasing doom damage boon does absurd amounts of damage.

Curse of nausea is one of the best duos in the game.

He respects woman.(oh look they finally Aphrodite standards)

His quest is stupidly easy and he was the first Olympian who’s bond I maxed out.

I know this joke has been made so many times but.he really is a Chthonic simp.

He doesn’t get too pissed if you don’t pick him is trial of gods.hes just here for the bloodshed.

It may be just the fact that almost every other interpretation of ares is bad,but I really like him.

Also Aphrodite wearing his face paint in hades 2-

OSP:

7/10

He’s cool.

I really don’t have much else to add except the helmet stays on during sex.

Gods school:

5/10

Welp Back to the incels-

Him straight up telling Aphrodite that he can do whatever he wants because she won’t leave is just.why.

I don’t get why people go to this myth,turn it around,and act as if they’ve done a service by making Ares miserable when in the myths it was already a good ending.

What is with the obsession with making ares a toxic ex boyfriend when in the myths him and ‘dite were literally love and war.

Another issue I have with gods school is the fact they made Aphrodite a Karen Smith when in the myths shes a Regina George but that’s a problem for the Aphrodite ranking.

Also I just realized the Aphrodite Hephaestus ares myth is the og “I fell in love with a bad boy story”-

Epic:the musical:

8/10

I don’t have a physical picture of him but I already like him.

The only time he he appears is during a bit of an unfinished song but he does bring up some pretty good points,like the Scylla thing.

Also the fact Athena didn’t directly refute any of his points but instead persuaded him with the fact that the moment Ody gets home the suitors are going to be fucked is surprisingly great.

Also can I just say how absolutely hyped I am for god games?Aphrodite’s part fucking rocks and I’m excited for Apollo and Hephaestus.

Also here’s my ranking for epic Hermes since I wasn’t part of the fandom back then:

10/10

*insert dolphin laugh here*

[starkdirewolflove]

Latest episode of X-Men ‘97, wow.

Omg there was so much going on in that episode can’t believe it was only 36 minutes.

Love square of Jean, Scott. Madelyne and Logan. Love triangle of Magneto, Rogue and Gambit, relationship drama galore.

I find it really amusing that Emma Frost has a front row seat to the drama with Jean, Madelyne and Scott like her own personal telenovela. Love that Madelyne has been forging her own path and becoming a part of the council of Genosha.

There’s a reporter doing a documentary about the X-Men and Xavier’s school. I’m a bit confused about Roberto being there. When we first meet him he’s a young rich party boy, heir to a wealthy Brazilian family that can just take a private jet wherever he wants to go and is ashamed and afraid of people, particularly his mother learning he’s a mutant so he leaves after episode one. Then he’s just always at the mansion hanging around with Jubilee and he’s in this documentary about a mutant school. Is he out to his family as a mutant or does he not care who knows anymore? I feel like this should’ve been addressed at some point.

Things are still really rocky with Scott and Jean, I can understand why he blew up at the reporter, she was being really invasive about his personal life and calling him a liar about having a son. And who was that doctor to make any statement about the birth? The bigot refused medical help to a woman in labour. But then he goes and has his psychic affair with Madelyne, dick move. And he’s been doing this since she left while shutting Jean out then turns everything around on her. Like Jean has been traumatised by what Sinister did to her. She doesn’t know how long he had her abducted, what he did while she was his prisoner, her mind is all messed up and on top of that her husband had a baby with her clone who had completely stolen her life (not Madelyne’s fault, this was 100% Sinister’s evil plan) and the only one who is actually supportive and understanding of her pain is Logan, no wonder she kissed him. Good on Logan for not trying to make the kiss into a big deal, Jean and Scott are married and he respects that even though he’s in love with her. The betrayal from Scott was even worse for Jean because their psychic connection has always been sacred between the two of them and her anchor when the Phoenix was overwhelming her and then he disregards all that because he’s in love with Madelyne too supposedly. Like I get their shared grief over having to give up their baby, it doesn’t give him a free pass to cheat on his wife.

Gambit was such a gentleman throughout the whole Rogue and Magento stuff, even though it was breaking his heart to see her with another man he respected her choice, didn’t try to blame or shame her about it and said they can be friends still. Rogue had a really rough time this episode. From the start of this season I felt uncomfortable with this Rogue and Magento pairing but when she explained their history to Gambit it was even worse because it just sounded like grooming and made Magento a creepy sexual predator. So Rogue ran away from home as a teenager after the trauma of putting the first boy she kissed in a coma and being rejected by her dad, gets taken in by Mystique who gets her to use her powers as part of her mutant terrorist group then brings this vulnerable teenage girl who is afraid to touch anyone to a middle aged man to help her control her powers and instead of doing that he fills her head with his ideologies and because he can touch her without it hurting either of them they become lovers. 🤢🤮 so creepy. Magento leverages the council of Genosha that he will only lead them if he can take Rogue as his “Queen” or co leader to the public, so she feels backed into a corner after seeing how amazing things on Genosha were for mutants now. Then after that amazing dance scene she realises that Gambit is the man she truly loves and what they have is more meaningful and goes beyond being able to touch and she chooses her swamp rat only to lose them both by the end of the episode.

The attack on Genosha was brutal but it was so amazingly done. Cable traveling back through time to try and warn everyone about the attack even though it goes against the rules of time travel, seeing Madelyn for a moment, her recognising him as her son by his eyes and him calling her “mom” as he got pulled back through time. The music, the chaos and panic you could literally feel through the screen, Magneto’s holocaust flashbacks, the Morlocks being trapped and thinking no one was coming to save them, Nightcrawler almost dying saving Rogue and Magneto.

Rogue and Gambit were the ultimate power couple fighting their way to the Morlocks, a better dance than the one she had with Magneto. Magneto saving Rogue and Gambit while he tried to shelter the Morlocks from the sentinel blast, so tragic. Then Gambit saves Rogue from getting herself killed by attacking the sentinel in a rage, takes it on by himself to save everyone and destroys it but sacrificing his own life in the process 😭.

The tragedy is they foreshadowed this in the first episode when Jean/Madelyne went into Trask’s mind and then both Jean and Madelyne got a psychic premonition of the attack just before it happened but were unable to do anything to stop it.

When the dust settles at the end you see the X-Men witness the aftermath of the attack, the few surviving mutants gather around the crater where Rogue is cradling Remy’s body. She’s finally able to touch him but only because he’s dead. “Sugah. I can’t feel you.” 💔

That killed me at the end, was so shocked that they killed Magneto and Gambit within minutes of each other. I know they probably won’t be dead forever but fuck that was brutal.

I know next week’s episode is gonna be Storm centric so we’ll probably have to wait 2 weeks to see what happens with the rest of the X-Men and hopefully by then Storm is ready to rejoin the team. There was a moment in the Genosha attack where Val Cooper is helping evacuate mutants to the gardens and she looks back at the sentinels and there’s this look in her eye that made me wonder is she Val Cooper or Mystique in disguise? We haven’t seen Mystique in the show so far but what if she’s been there all along? Maybe she was afraid of being exposed as an imposter by the sentinels because they’d know she’s not human.

[minas27]

HotD - S2E2: Aemond Thought

I want to discuss the scene where Aemond is in the brothel with the madam. So, of course, somewhat of a content warning and spoilers below the cut. I’ll also make a separate post on the topic of grief because I think there’s a lot to talk about. Also it goes without saying this will be a long post so bear with me.

I want to talk about Aemond actually being in the brothel in the first place. We know based on the conversation he has with the madam that this is at least the second time he was there with her. Timeline wise I think this is right because the death of Viserys takes place maybe a week or two max before the events of the beginning of season two. So, Aemond must have started to visit the brothel and the madam shortly after he saw her again for the first time after their initial meeting when he was about thirteen.

We see Aemond put on the facade of a stoic and competent swordsman and display the epitome of what a royal Targaryen prince should be. However, here in the brothel he’s so vulnerable. Not only because he is fully naked and in the arms of a woman in a kind of cradle position, but also because he’s removed his eye patch. I struggle sometimes to understand Aemond’s relationship with said eyepatch. Part of me thinks he might be embarrassed by it and would prefer to keep it on at all times. But another part of me thinks he is somewhat proud of it. For example, when Aemond was at Storm’s End and he removes his eyepatch in front of Luke, the Baratheon family, and their guard this tells the audience a few things. The most important thing, to me at least, is that he doesn’t care who sees him without the eyepatch. He doesn’t care that people can see the sapphire he placed in his eye socket. He doesn’t know the people in the hall aside from Luke. And yet he’s willing to remove the one thing that covered a part of him that brought him and his mother such pain. And then, to remove it in the brothel where servants and perhaps other patrons might see him also tells me he doesn’t care.

Aemond, like the rest of his family, does not grieve in a healthy way. After not only discovering that his nephew was murdered in such a gruesome way but also learning that he was the initial target, Aemond seeks solace in a very toxic way. He returns to the woman who took his virginity at such a young age. To me, Aemond never received much comfort from his mother because I think she viewed him as the most ‘mature’ and ‘well-adjusted’ of her children. Even after Aemond had lost his eye and his mother attacked and cut Rhaenyra, it was Aemond who was comforting her. A child who just lost his eye and has become somewhat disabled has to comfort his mother and reassure that he’s alright. “Do not mourn me, mother. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon” are his exact words to her. It’s no wonder that Aemond would rather seek the comfort of someone else rather than his own mother, even if that someone is paid because at least she does a good job at pretending she cares about him. It’s incredibly tragic and heartbreaking that Aemond feels more comfortable seeking solace in a prostitute than any member of his immediate family. He’s able to tell the madam things that he wouldn’t dare tell anyone else. For example, he tells her that he regrets what he did to Luke and that he’s sorry for it. He’s sorry. And he would rather let people like his mother believe he did it on purpose. I’m reminded of what Ewan said once during a podcast that Aemond believes he can achieve more if people hate and fear him.

I want to discuss the madam in this post as well. I understand the sentiment that many people in the fandom hold regarding this woman’s incredibly inappropriate relationship with Aemond. A lot of people think that she is a predator/groomer and that she took advantage of Aemond when he was thirteen. And while I understand why some would think that, I believe you guys are looking at this the wrong way. Yes, Aemond was too young to be engaging in sexual relations with a woman who was most likely old enough to be his own mother. That I think we can all agree upon. However, there are a few things to keep in mind. The first is that it was Aegon that brought his younger brother to the brothel and paid for the madam to have sex with him. She did not go seeking out Aemond in order to sleep with him. Second, she is a prostitute and this is her job. As uncomfortable as that might make many people, we have to understand that this woman likely grew up in Flea Bottom to parents that couldn’t offer her anything and so, like many women in her position, she did what she had to do to survive. Third, can any of you explain to me how on earth she would have been able to refuse the request of a prince? I highly doubt it. She is expected to bring in recurring clients and she can’t really do that if she’s refusing the services of someone like Aegon. And when Aemond grew up, it was him that sought her out. It is Aemond that is paying for her services. This isn’t to say that it makes any of what is happening here okay. Let me make that perfectly clear. There’s just a lot more nuance to this dynamic that we need to dissect. Aemond seeks out the madam and pays her to tell him things he wants to hear. Things like Daemon should be afraid of him, that he has grown from a boy into a man worthy of holding the name Targaryen, and that he is good to feel sorry about the business with Luke. 

There’s so much more that can be said about this scene and I might make another shorter post but this is what I thought was most important to discuss. Let me know what your guys’ thoughts are because I’d love to discuss this topic further. I’d also like to remind everyone that my blog is not a safe space for body shaming. I will block the fuck out of you if you bring that bullshit here. I don’t know where some of you get off making comments on another person’s body. Seek psychiatric help immediately.

[llamagoddessofficial]

I hope I'm not unwelcome here, I was wondering. How do you think the boys would react to a siren MC that was another variety of deep sea siren~? I've been writing a fic with the reader as a deep sea eel siren and it's on my mind since I adore your siren au thoughts!

Ohoooooo

I fuckin love the concept of a gorgeous, dangerous eel Mc. Sleek and dark and powerful. I feel like a deep sea Mc would be bigger than her pelagic counterpart... much closer to the skeletons in size. Not to mention, she’d have some other unique traits, like heightened senses and bioluminescence. 

Sans: She is, for once, something he isn’t used to seeing on his usual menu. Orca are surface dwellers. She’s a curiosity; he adores curiosities. Especially pretty ones. He’s cautious, because she’s clearly a predator, he works slowly... stalking her from a distance, then approaching fast and ducking away at the last second, baiting her into lashing out so he can see how her attacks work. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what her deal is. He’s enamoured with this beautiful, fierce novelty from the deep.

Sans frightens her. He didn’t, at first; he looked like a puny version of the much bigger, much toothier whales who occasionally make the long journey to her depths. But then he started moving- and she realised his danger wasn’t his body, it was his adaptability. He could kill her if he wanted to.

And yet... there’s something about his intelligence. Something about his powerful form as he swims. Something about his unreadable calm, soft smile around her, razor sharp eyelights taking in every detail... she can’t help it, she’s drawn to him. 

Red: ... C’mon. We know this dance by now. She’s big, she’s beautiful, she’s strong- not only that, but she’s mysterious and elegant, a dangerous predator from the depths all decorated in glittering lights. It’s like he’s at a cocktail party and a 6ft buff woman just walked in, wearing a black velvet dress and diamonds- he’s shootin his shot, and nothing will stop him. He likes his ladies capable of killing him. He makes a couple stupid eel-related pickup lines (“girl, are you a coral-dwelling eel? cus you’re my a-moray.” “I’m a conger, not a m- wait,”) and her baffled flustered reactions just cement his growing interest.

Red is... a lot. Not necessarily in a bad way. He keeps shocking her by making her laugh (“gulper? jeez, i hardly know her.”) and she likes the company and conversation. Deep sea sirens don’t tend to do the whole ‘group’ thing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t get lonely, down there in the endless night. 

She also likes the patterns on his body- you don’t see many pretty markings when you live in near pitch-black. He likes when she can’t help but touch them.

Skull: Finally. Finally. Another creature from the deep, another siren like him, who understands his mannerisms and his way of life. A siren who’ll see him as kin, who won’t view him as some kind of strange, unknowable alien. Being around her makes him soft and giddy, he lights up his bioluminescence any chance he gets, he enjoys having that point of bonding with her (he’s smug the others don’t understand their secret language of lights). He gets the overwhelming sensation they were meant to be together... the abyss is so huge, so endless, and yet somehow they found one another? It can’t be chance. The stars aligned. He knows her smell now- he’ll follow her wherever she goes.

A deep sea Mc would definitely feel more comfortable around Skull than she does around the other two sirens. They’re so similar, and she’s much more used to monsters like him; big, dark, strong, slow. She’s still careful around him considering he’s the more frightening apex predator where they’re from- being familiar with something doesn’t make it any less dangerous. But when his tentacles flash and she flashes back, it feels like stumbling across someone who speaks your mother tongue in a land full of strangers.

[mi-i-zori]

The Hunter and The Prey

CoD Fae!AU - Fae!Ghost x f!reader

SYNOPSIS : When the Hunter finds herself vulnerable in the middle of the Frost, a certain spirit decides to make it clear who exactly she belongs to.

WARNINGS : Gore, body horror, violence, predator behavior (Fae VS Human)...

Author’s note : This is part 3 of The Hunter’s story. As always, my take on this AU is inspired by @ghouljams ‘s works.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Her wards are no more, and she doesn’t know why.

This hunt was supposed to be an easy one. And it had been, in a way ; her target had been born not so long ago, and couldn’t gather enough magical power to give her too much trouble. Yet, as she prepared to leave, all her protections had suddenly shattered, leaving her with only her weapons and experience to fight her way back to safety.

A curse falls from her lips. She can feel the shadows slowly tighten around her, their weight hindering her progress through the snow. She has become too vulnerable to be ignored. An easy meal for the beings of the Frost.

The creatures move within the misty darkness of the trees. In their hollow eyes, she sees nothing but the reflection of her own fearless expression. Although wary of the multiple weapons lining her clothes, they linger, waiting for the moment their potential meal will falter ; for a breach to exploit in the seemingly unbreakable walls of her mind. Yet, according to the magic dancing around her, a danger far greater than all of them combined hides in the shadows. While still keeping an eye on the freezing monsters, she steps forward, looking for the outline of a masked silhouette amidst the smog.

She survived many similar situations, she thinks. Hell ; as a child, her father even willingly put her in danger to hone her hunting skills. She can do this.

With a snarl, of the beasts suddenly rises in front of her. Gritting her teeth, she adjusts her stance in the slippery snow. Her dagger sits comfortably in her hand, its iron blade glistening in the wintery sun. Her opponent launches its scaly body at her, and her arm gets ready to plunge the cold metal in its flesh ; but the monster is suddenly covered in multiple layers of smoke, its muffled cries echoing within what soon looks like a thick, misty cocoon. It vanishes seconds later, leaving only a broken, hollow shell in its wake.

A cold, eerie silence falls upon the forest. The young woman suddenly tenses as black tendrils slowly wrap around her, dancing at the edges of her vision. The remaining creatures’ mouths tremble, teeth instinctively ready to rip the flesh from her bones ; yet they can’t stop a series of whimpers from escaping their throats as they crawl in front of the power emanating from the strips of darkness. A large, gloved hand rises from behind her to rest on her chest, a newfound warmth settling against her back and somehow preventing her blade from striking the invisible threat.

In front of her, the monsters take a step back. They know that, even with her wards destroyed and her body covered in wounds, the Hunter is still a threat to their very existence. But as a skull mask emerges from the overwhelming darkness above her, they all understand that, right now, the Spirit of the Fog is the one they should fear ; especially when he is powerful enough to remain unfazed by his close proximity to the living weapon standing right under his palm.

She can feel him shift behind her. His body curls around her own, just enough to dip his head against her shoulder. And, despite his size, he still manages to keep her back flush against his front. She can feel his breath on her neck, probably way too warm for a fae of Winter.

Just like his entire being.

It took her days of cleansing to get rid of just half of his scent. She has a feeling he is going to make this process much longer because of this.

And she knows it’s working just like he wants it to by the way the monsters in front of them keep cowering under the threat of the Ghost’s power.

- Fuck off.

His tone is commanding, somber, cold. The beasts don’t waste a second to scramble away, leaving them both alone in the middle of the misty forest. The silence weighs heavy on her chest as the fae keeps his hand above her heart. A single wrong move could be the end of her, whispers a voice in her mind, and her instincts are torn between fighting him and remaining still.

- Not trying your luck against me, Hunter ?

His low timbre echoes against her back, shaking her very core. Everything about him screams danger. She stays frozen as he slowly turns her around to face him. Her eyes stay focused on every one of his languid movements as he takes off one of his gloves to grab the hand holding her blade. Lifting it to his throat, he slides his fingers against the sharp iron, unbothered by the vicious burns it leaves on his skin. He tilts his head with a low hum, prompting her to answer. The ice of his eyes glow under his balaclava.

Whatever he is, she thinks, she greatly underestimated him. She barely manages to articulate the question that has been bothering her since he showed himself, her teeth almost cracking under the pressure of her jaws.

- You were the one who shattered my wards, weren’t you ?

The Spirit lets out a deep chuckle that sends shivers down her spine.

- What a clever girl.

He leans towards her, the bone of his mask coming to stand right before her face. His free hand steadies her in place when she tries to put some distance in-between their bodies, allowing him to get even closer to her ear.

- One more reason to make you mine.

She finally manages to push him away ; and he lets her, obstructing her view with a thick layer of smog when her dagger tries to strike him. And, just like the first time they met, he leaves her alone in the middle of the Frost, his back fearlessly facing the predator she was raised to be. But as she watches him disappear into the shadows, she can’t help but think that, right now, she feels more like a prey than ever.

What is he ?

[onceonafullmoon]

A Marionette's Ball

Yan! Chevalier x Fem! Reader x Yan! Gilbert

Tw!! Manipulation, threats of violence, implied captivity, period typical misogyny and Gilbert Von Obsidian himself

You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal.  And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.

-----

You need to stop fiddling with your necklace.

You know you need to calm down, but doing so is another story; you can practically feel the weight of everyone’s stares on you, not malicious, but prying still in their curiosity.

And it’s tough fighting the urge to snatch one of the champagne flutes off of the waiter's plates and down it in one gulp, but the subtle warning of Chevalier’s fingers pressing at your waist helps you forget the idea.

Right.

Just make a good impression and then you’ll get to go back to your own schedule with only one scrutinizing set of eyes on you.

It’s almost impossible to mess this up anyways, with all the effort Sariel has been putting into making you a “true lady befitting of a prince”.

Ha.

The audacity of that claim makes you laugh. 

As if you had a choice in any of this. 

As if you were something more than a puppet on a string pulled by the most powerful man in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, you pushed through the lessons easily enough, it was, at the very least, an escape from Chevalier’s smothering presence, although you would rather have buried your nose into a good book instead.

At any rate, it doesn’t seem like much of your work will be put into play considering the way that Chevalier has you glued to his side.

You suppose you get the hostility, he’s always been a touch smothering even before… this, and it doesn’t help that princes from other nations are currently visiting too.

Not that you would have the opportunity to meet any of them considering how anal Chevalier was about your “safety”.

In fact, if it were a year ago when you were still “unruly” he would have probably kept you chained in his room the whole time.

Well, if all good behavior amounted to was this then you probably could have thrown a fit to get yourself locked up again. Now it was too late, and you were stuck smiling fakely at some random noble who came to give his greetings. 

“My, my, if it isn’t the mystery woman that everyone’s been wondering about. Everyone’s been wondering about the one who stole the Chevalier Micheal’s heart, it's a pleasure to finally be able to meet you.” The nobleman, who you recall vaguely being named Lord Wessley, greets you with a certain, subtle prying look on his face as he studies you.

“Oh, you flatter me, but I’m afraid I’m not much to speak of. Any compliments should be redirected towards my fiancé.” You smile, cringing at the use of the word fiancé but happy enough with the way Chevalier’s brow furrows ever so slightly in annoyance.

You can almost hear his voice ringing out in your ears.

“If you have enough time to dish out praise, then you have enough time to do something useful with yourself, simpleton.”

“Praise worthy indeed!” Another man cuts in, rudely, albeit he’s possibly a bit drunk already. “An arsenal of military feats, a genius intellect that only appears once a century, and now a bride to be, you’re truly something else Prince Chevalier!”

You have to try your hardest to bite back the laugh bubbling up in you and Chevalier slightly grimaces.

Wessley furrows his eyebrows slightly at the intrusion but doesn’t comment, or rather, doesn’t get the chance to comment as he’s interrupted again. 

“And what a beauty she is, I can see why you’ve kept her locked up away from the rest of us!”

And now you are no longer smiling.

Karma really is a bitch.

The grip around your waist tightens and you find yourself conflicted about whether to celebrate the (hopefully only) verbal lashing this misogynistic bastard will get or to intervene for the sake of this very clearly drunk man.

Empathy wins out in the end, but also because you don’t trust Chevalier not to immediately jump at the chance to “incidentally” find this man charged with treason.

“I’m flattered by praise, truly, but you look a bit sickly to me, are you feeling alright?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off smoothly.

“Poor thing, I bet you can hardly stand, much less answer coherently, but there are several couches in the foyer for you to rest at. I’d escort you myself but, considering the circumstances, perhaps Lord Wessley can escort you instead?”

Of course, Wessley himself isn’t too keen on leaving the conversation, seeing as he probably started it to discuss his own business. But when you phrase it in such a way of offering good will, he can’t refuse. 

With a furrowed brow he replies in kind and leaves.

Perhaps Sariel’s lessons did come in handy, you think as you find yourself alone again.

A sigh from Chevalier has you mending your thoughts, not completely alone, unfortunately.

“How bothersome.” He grumbles, finally letting his arm drop from your waist.

“Yeah, being stuck around someone you can’t stand, tell me about it.” 

He gives you a look which would scare the living daylights out of even a battle hardened soldier, to which you innocently smile at.

You know him well enough to know when you’re actually in trouble.

“What? Just offering some words of support in your trying times Prince Chevalier, now wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”

Your smile dips into a frown when instead of falling for the taunt he smirks at you.

“Prince Chevalier? I recall being referred to as fiancé earlier.”

You narrow your gaze, regretting your earlier decision to speak.

“Don’t read much into it, you’ll strain your eyes trying to find nothing.”

He simply smirks again.

“Complacency is a dangerous thing isn’t it?”

He leans in closer, tilting your head up, sending roils of annoyance and slight embarrassment through you as you fix your eyes on his face, unwavering from his.

“...It’d be a shame for you, if all your efforts were for naught.”

He chuckles derisively, letting you go. 

“Now, wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”

You glare at him, annoyed that he used your words against you, before deciding to make a tactful retreat.

“Now that I’ve taken care of your nuisances, I’m taking care of mine for a bit and freshening up. Does that please your highness, or should I stay tethered to your side for another hour?” 

He scoffs. 

“Just don’t get lost, simpleton.”

To use Clavis’s terminology, the Cheva translation of that would mean: “Go ahead, but if you aren’t back in 10 minutes I will find you and there will be consequences.”

“...Whatever your highness wishes.”

—

You supposed Chevalier already knew that you weren’t going to the bathroom to freshen up, rather instead to find a private area to ruminate at being bested by him once more, and that almost made you even more upset.

It’s stupid that you’re even angry, you know that there's no winning a fight against him. It was already a given that he would twist your words around in an attempt to make you succumb to him, and yet…

You furrow your brow as you turn the corner.

It was all you could do, if you could annoy him, even just a bit then that would be victory enough… 

At least it should be, if you didn’t get carried away with it.

But damn you for having a competitive streak and damn him for pointing out the one idea that would make you sick to your stomach.

(Although, maybe if you thought about it more, you would find it was only his own sick desires taking form in his words.)

“Complacency, my ass.” You mutter, as you push open the door to the library.

Despite this being originally Chevalier’s domain, you’ve also been quite the avid reader, and so any time alone with books was welcome. And even if you weren’t alone… well at least he had the sense not to disturb you, outside of his general presence.

Scanning the room when you enter, you find your eyes catching on the rows of bookshelves before halting when you see the shape of a figure, dimly lit by a candle.

You frown slightly.

While there were no set rules against entering a host’s library, it was still considered bad taste to enter rooms you weren’t explicitly given access to. Not that this person seemed unaware of it, judging by the lofty coat you could make out they seemed to be born into wealth.

Well, you weren’t exactly a shining beacon of manners either, considering that you were ditching your debut ball in order to sulk in the corner of a dark room because your captor/fiancé bested you in a game of wits.

Although, when you put it that way, your life does sound significantly more ridiculous.

You, albeit hesitantly, decide to give the person the benefit of the doubt and approach them to direct them back to the ball.

���Excuse me?” You call out, nearing the figure. “Are you lost?”

They turn around, and it becomes apparent that they’re a man. But not just any man, you realize, as a few more details come to light that have you suddenly freezing in place.

First, the dark crimson eye that gazes upon you while the other hides behind a black eye patch.

Second, the black cane who’s shiny finish glints in the candle light.

And lastly, the golden encrusted emblem, signature of an Obsidianite.

“Oh no, I’m exactly where I need to be.” Gilbert Von Obsidian responds cheerfully.

…

You suddenly have the sense that you’ve, to use words that Chevalier claims are “crude and boorish”, absolutely fucked up.

To be fair to you, you hadn’t been able to see even a glimpse of any foreign princes, much less would you have predicted that the damn Prince of Obsidian was going to be there, or more accurately here, in your lovely library safe space. 

It’s not often that anyone other than Chevalier makes you stumped on what to do these days, but that goes to show how dangerous complacency really is.

“Prince Gilbert.” You finally manage to greet, falling into a practiced curtsey. 

When you pull your head back up, he has an innocuous smile on his face, eyes crinkled slightly.

“No need to lower yourself, (Name) (Last Name), soon enough we’ll be on the same social standing won’t we?”

Oh, of course he knows who you are, couldn’t make it any less difficult for you could he? Still, the provocation (actually, whether he knew it as a provocation or not was a matter to be unseen yet) of your future engagement has you irritated as well as afraid.

“You never know what might happen.” You respond neutrally. “I’d hate to offend because I grew cocky.”

“Cautious, aren’t you?” He questions.

“That’s a good trait to have, although, I can’t say I would’ve thought the woman who tamed the Brutal Beast would be so meek.”

You want to laugh at his attempt at a jab, because he couldn’t be closer to the truth.

You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal. 

And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.

But even still, you couldn’t help the words that poured out of your mouth.

“I would argue that being meek and being cautious are entirely different, but it must be difficult to understand from your perspective.”

“That so?” He hums. “What’s your view then?”

“That you can’t tell the difference, because for you, someone who has been powerful and feared for so long, there’s hardly any need for subtlety when dealing with others. For people like me, discretion is a necessary tool.”

A tinge of bitterness seeps into your tone as you respond, or maybe it's jealousy; you can’t tell. 

But it’s enough to make Gilbert pause, facing you, seemingly looking at you like he hasn’t seen you before, his eye glinting with something akin to interest. 

Oh.

Shit.

You’ve always had a bad habit of overplaying your hand during your time with Chevalier, possibly because you were so used to a lack of consequences due to his soft spot. It would’ve been better and safer for him to believe you were Chevalier’s little trophy wife and suffer the stab it would take to your ego. 

“...I suppose that “genius’s thinking alike” must be true, for you to be able to make such a succinct assumption about me.” He smiles, this time his eyes glinting with something darker.

“...I wouldn’t go so far as to imply that Prince Gilbert.” You say, desperate in your attempt to backtrack.

“Oh? Cowering now, are we?” He asks, the smile on his face growing more predatory. “And here I thought you’d be more vicious.”

He’s clearly trying to pry at you, to goad you into snapping at him, but you’ve since realized that the playing field had favored him from the start and you’d do better to avoid the trap he’d set for you.

“...I think you have rather high expectations, that you might think of me similar to the company I keep.”

“And you’d be right.” He says, drawing himself closer to you, even more empowering as he draws near, his red eye glistening like the blade of a knife.

You find yourself wanting to run, like the terrified lamb you are in the face of the threatening jaws of the beast in front of you.

But you don’t.

Because these damn beasts are always just toying with you, never daring to go for the killing blow.

He towers over you, clearly trying to get a reaction out of you, but you find that you can’t quite summon up the effort to change your expression.

“…”

“…”

Moments pass and his eye widens a bit, seemingly shocked at your lack of expression.

“You aren’t scared, are you?” He states, more as a fact than a question as he pulls himself away to an appropriate distance.

You shrug as if to say you don’t quite care, but you felt like laughing.

The truth is, he’s wrong. 

You’re constantly scared, every single day of your life.

When you wake up, when you go to sleep, you’re filled with horror constantly, terrified by the man who lays beside you. Every move you make is calculated and stuff, made in fear of the blades, not set to cut you, but rather everything you know and love.

Even now you’re scared, not quite by the prospect of death, but by the fact that it doesn’t scare you.

The fact that you would rather accept freedom in the form of being removed from your earthly ties than to live another life being tethered to this life scares you, because you know death is the only way you’ll be safe from him.

It brings you only slight ease that despite his best efforts of chasing perfection, Chevalier still only amounts to a man.

Gilbert’s laugh snaps you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the man in front of you.

“That’s excellent!” He says, toothy grin lighting up his face, eye lighting up like he’s a child who’s found a new toy to play with.

Somewhere deep down you can feel a familiar sense of dread forming in the pit of your stomach that only comes with Chevalier, almost like deja vu.

It shouldn’t surprise you, after all it’s said that the prince of Obsidian is a genius only the likes of Chevalier could rival. It’s the type of gossip you used to absentmindedly listen to while busying yourself walking down the streets.

Still, you’ve survived Chevalier, albeit with your share of scars, you can handle at least one chance meeting with another snobby prince.

“Are you done threatening me then Prince Gilbert? I believe my fiancé is looking for me.” You say, keeping your tone neutral.

He chuckles, that wide, creepily childlike smile still on his face as he hears you speak.

“Of course. Tell Prince Chevalier that I congratulate him on finding such an interesting toy.”

“Of course.” You mimic, turning on your heel to leave. “Perhaps next time we can meet in a more fitting setting rather than the library, Prince Gilbert.”

Petty, yes, but he doesn’t seem affected by the rebuttal you throw his way judging by the small laugh he lets out as you leave.

Toy, huh?

You think, as you find yourself retracing your steps back to the ballroom. 

More fitting than lover that’s for sure, but you doubt even a genius like Gilbert would understand from just a glance that that was the case, rather he meant it in a dismissive manner.

But still, you can’t help the bitter smile that appears on your face at the statement.

Because you would end up back at Chevalier’s side, and either through your expressions or through his own logic system that you couldn’t possibly fathom, he would understand everything that happened. And then, like always, you would end up locked up in a cage while, ironically, the beast who should be locked in there would prowl around, growling at anyone who came close, possessive of his toy.

And the worst part is, even though you could see the path paved for you, leading you to your own demise, you still had to follow it, like written in a story, like fate.

And maybe that’s why you smile instead of frown when you see your beloved captor’s face twist into a look of grim understanding as he sees you again, wordlessly gesturing you to draw nearer with his gaze.

Because ironically enough, the only person even close enough to understanding or even changing your situation was the same breed as the monster that possessed you.

And it’s an amusing thought to you.

But if you could see the expression of a certain dark haired man, thinking almost fondly on your interaction, you wouldn’t find it half as funny.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Pretty Prey

Pairing- Dark!Ronal & Neytiri x f!reader

Summary- Your the prey and Ronal and Neytiri are the predators.

Warnings- Non/dub con, knife play, bondage, nipple play, prey/predator play, oral sex, fingering,

A/N- this was one of the reqs that tumblr deleted luckily i remembered it 🤞🏼

A/N- i hope this doesn’t flop but also im so sad that i haven’t been as active mostly cause i didn’t have any inspo go write but i have a few ideas 😍 also the fandom is dying down so hard rn but im not ready to stop writing for it yet 😭

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Your feet hit the wet ground as you jump from a tall tree, looking around to see if the two women were still around. You send a quick prayer to Eywa before running as fast as your body would allow. You felt predatory eyes on you as you ran through the forest that surrounded your home island. You were just like the meek prey you hunt almost everyday, running for your life not knowing when you'd be taken.

The two Na'vi women hunted you, their pretty little prey running away. Their steps were calculated not once breaking silence as they chase down their prey, they could take you whenever they wanted but, where is the fun in that?

Your lungs were on fire, the muscles in your legs pleading for you to stop running, but you just picked your pace up.

You were confident that they were far behind you, your fast paced run slowed down to a jog but your body still screamed at you to stop completely, and then your ankle rolled, you yelped out in pain and fell face first into the damp ground.

You pick your head up and grunt as you push yourself up sitting on your bottom. You hiss as you check your swelling ankle. Grabbing hold to a tree next to you, pull yourself from the ground and push through the aching pain that was spreading through your leg.

Neytiri, crouched behind a bush, watched as you pathetically pulled yourself up, her yellow iris glowed in lust. Ronal was crouched beside her, her thoughts about you only darkened the more you ran.

Your body couldn't take it anymore your body fell limp on the ground.

Their ears peaked as they heard the thump of your precious body, pupils dilating as they crouched closer being careful not to make a sound.

Neytiri looks at Ronal bringing her slender finger to her lips and Ronal nods her head as her eyes widen in excitement.

The darker woman pulls a binding rope from her waist and quickly pushes you onto your stomach, snatching your arms and tying them together as you squirm under her. You try to break them but Neytiri is a good hunter, if she wants you she'll have you no matter what.

She flips you onto your back, Neytiri's golden eyes shine in the darkness making her intimidating presence even more frightening.

Ronal climbs over, closer, to you biting her plump lip as her eyes examine your body. Her cool hands trace the bioluminescent freckles that decorated your now, shaking, body. You yelled at them to stop, to let you free, you pleaded, begged, but it was as if they were deaf overcome with…. something… something primal and all they could do was play with the prey they caught.

Pitiful tears dripped down the sides of your face and into your hair. Ronals hands creeped closer to your thighs giving them a tight squeeze making you squeak, and then Neytiri's fingers dance across you lower stomach, just above your loincloth, and then you heard her unbuckle something making you squirm, trying to free yourself, it seemed your efforts were futile as just Ronals strength alone held you in place.

And then you felt something sharp just barely touch your skin, you gulped as she dragged in from your chest, stopping to cut your chest covering off with it. You sob as the cool nighttime air hits your puckered nipples. Dragging the dagger down to your hips, cutting your loincloth off on both sides, and carefully off of your tail discarding it, she'd already decided you wouldn't need it.

Ronal spreads your thighs, keeping them in place, warm breath hits your cunt, you try to pry yourself out of her grip but just like every time before you failed. Gasping as you feel her tongue lick long stripes from your clit to your entrance. You felt Neytiri wrap her lips around one of your hardened tips, her fangs scraping as she swapped both of your nipples into her warm mouth. Your back arches away, yet you find yourself wanting to chase the pleasure.

You try to ignore the building pressure in your tummy but it was hard as she applied more pressure on the little bundle of nerves, your thighs try to close but they only clamp around her head as she aggressively eats you out.

''S-stop it, l…. Oh Eywa.'' You moan as she slides her fingers inside of you curling, scissoring your achy hole.

The metkiyina woman pulls your clit as her finger massages your cervix with her teeth making you cry out in pain soothing the pain with her wet muscle.

She's tounge fucking you to the point of no return, and Neytiris tounge on your nipple felt magical but you refused to give them the power of making you cum . Ronal pulls her fingers out of you, crawling up, replacing her mouth with her hand now.

''Do you know how long we have watched you?'' she asked, the Tsahik did not sound like herself right now, she sounded dark, needy, obsessed with something you wouldn't understand. Neytiri didn't have to talk for you to see this in her as well, her devilish eyes gleaming with it.

''We watched you, waited for you, Eywa it was so hard to let you just prance around, playing with whoever you wanted, but now,'' she says, slamming her fingers inside you again, hitting that sweet spot inside you again and again. ''You're ours.'' She seethes through her teeth. You cry out as she hits it once again. Neytiri pulls away from your abused nipples watching as you fall apart on Ronals fingers, your release coating them.

The predator finally has the prey.

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Request Open 24/7

[writingsofwesteros]

Hayley Atwell and that ask about Aemond’s mommy issues got me thinking:

There’s a lovely Lady of the court who’s a good bit older than Aemond. 5-8 years older, maybe a bit more. She was new to court, but she was/is everything he likes in a woman. Curvy, older, long hair, maternal.

She’s married with a babe but that doesn’t stop him from lusting after her. Dreaming of being the one to wake up next to her. Longing to untie the front of her chemise to kiss her supple breasts. Feel her plush thighs close around his head as he plays with her using his tongue.

When he becomes Regent, one of his first acts is to imprison her husband in suspicion of aiding Team Black. Of course, he may be able to release him… if he’s swayed.

This leads the poor Lady to visit him in the darkest hours of the night. She’s already stripped down to her chemise when she sits to the headboard of his bed. Her heart is pounding as Aemond crawls to her, completely nude, sapphire eye shining. As his hands part her knees she asks, “And if you are satisfied, my husband will be returned to me?”

Aemond looks from her bare cunt, to her nearly exposed breasts, to her tense expression. His hands slide to her bum and drag her flush against him, making her gasp and brace herself against his chest with nothing hands. Aemond’s throbbing length is pressed against her sex as he replies, “Of course, My Lady. Though I hope you will forgive me if I take my time. My satisfaction is hard won and there’s much I’ve wanted to do…”

Dark Regent AEMOND !!

A smirk of a predator comes across his face as he watches the pretty reactions coming from her body. But he could not wait any longer.

He had desired to feast on her for so long and now he could. Her husband had never once done such things and Aemond's tongue was just as slender as his body with his nose pushed against her clit causing her to nearly squeal.

[austinslounge]

I don’t know how you can be an Austin fan and said you’d prefer he be with Vanessa again, someone who multiple people have said was not nice to him in public/around other people. There’s a reason Ashley Tisdale “chose” him. Baby V is problematic for more than just that too and would be an embarrassing publicity nightmare for him if they were still together to this day. If people think Kaia has tarnished his image, what little she’s done is nothing compared to what the other woman would’ve done.

I don’t like him with Kaia but spoiled nepo baby or someone that’s been mean to him in public on multiple occasions, is buddy buddy with foreign dictators, was selfish about COVID-19 deaths and defends Hollywood predators like Woody Allen? I choose the spoiled nepo baby any day if those are the only two options. The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend.

He’s nice about her publicly because he’s the bigger person and doesn’t want drama. That’s his choice, but fans can make their own and it’s not just Kaustin shippers that don’t like her. I don’t like either of them and don’t understand Austin fans who feel the need to defend her. Fuck her. I’m glad Austin went to Australia and never looked back.

You're entitled to your own opinion, as are others on here.

I just want to clarify something though.

I never said that I was a huge fan of Vanessa, or that she was the best person for Austin. I'm very well aware of some of the problematic things she's done (and said) in the past.

What I was saying was that from the outside looking in, I'd rather take what Austin and Vanessa's relationship looked like, vs what we know and see of Austin and Kaia's relationship, any day of the week!

Do I think Vanessa is/was perfect? Hell no! But you can tell that she genuinely loved Austin to pieces, and you can't change the fact that Austin loved her deeply as well. You can just look at pictures of them and tell that they loved each other.

Vanessa was also there for Austin during one of the toughest moments of his life, and helped to take care of his sick mom in their own house. I don't care what you say about someone, that's pretty huge.

And these reports of Vanessa being mean to Austin 3 times in almost 10 years? 🥴 First of all, how do we even know these rumors are true? The internet says a whole bunch of stuff.

I can only go by what I see. I can't go by what I haven't seen. That's not to say that these things didn't happen, all I'm saying is that I can only go by what I have actually seen. From all of the photos and video footage that I've seen of Austin and Vanessa in nearly a decade together, I've never seen her treating him "meanly". She always looked super happy with him -- almost deliriously happy rofl 😂

I also look at what Austin said himself about V, not just during their their relationship, but after their breakup. I also look at how he still followed her long after their breakup... even after she stopped following him. If she had been as horrible to him as some shippers now are trying to spin, why on earth was he with that woman for nearly 10 years, and why on earth was he still following her after their breakup?

Wrt to Ashley and Vanessa -- Did it ever occur to you that maybe it was Vanessa who cut friendship ties with Ashley because she and Austin are still close? Maybe it was Vanessa who couldn't handle that. Maybe it caused a rift because Austin is like Ashley's little brother and she's known him the longest, and Vanessa couldn't handle that.

We really don't know all the facts.

All I can go by is what I see. And what I see with my own eyes with how Austin and Kaia are with each other is not a good feeling at all.

Plus, let's not try to sit here and act like Kaia is miss perfect. She's done and said some problematic things herself. Also, the whole kissing other people while in a relationship with someone else doesn't really sit well with me. And I'm sorry, but the way Austin doesn't even look/seem comfortable or himself with her speaks volumes to me.

But hey, to each his/her own.

[theeonlyroman]

I like to imagine that if SB did raise HL and Rosa (Reader) that the overall setting of the story would be them being raised in a mansion and SB being the old, washed up, celebrity war hero that really stays in the spotlight through his kids by making them star in movies sorta like how Britney Spears was in that Disney show in the 80’s. That if HL especially didn’t get the mark right SB would throw him around and beat him and no one would intervene because of their status and well them being supes. And that no matter how many times Rosa would try to her impress her father with her acting talent and powers, she’d never be seen as “good enough” primarily because she’s a woman and that everything she does would be seen second to her brother HL.

A pivotal moment in yours and HL’s young life would be SB walking in on HL whacking it while smelling your sweater and SB angrily asks him, “What the fuck are you doing?” And a young HL scrambles to readjust himself because it’s pretty humiliating and before he even realizes it SB grabs him by the scruff of his collar throwing him across the room saying, “I knew you were a fucking disappointment but this just takes the cake, you think I’m really gonna let you do this fucked up, sweet home Alabama bullshit like this under my goddamn roof after all the hard work I fucking did” and he just choke slams HL to the ground creating a meteor sized hole on the ground.

You fly in on this after coming home from getting greasy fast food for your Dad and you see the chaos of the house and immediately panic and you run too see that SB is on his way to throwing HL out of the house. You run to try to save HL and you both are desperately clinging to one another because after all you HL is all you have, even though you had no idea the truth of why SB was doing what he was doing and in a moment of rage and disgust SB screams at you to go to your room making you feel like a weak, child you listen to him and HL is screaming for you not too but you tearfully abide by SB over your brothers constant begging. And after everything has calmed down you seek out your father and you see him in front of the tv watching one of his movies with beers and empty pill bottles on the table side, you tell him that you bought him some dinner and the only thing he says is “Thanks”. Both you and SB are just sitting quietly eating the food with nothing but questions in the air but you know that SB won’t tell you anything so you just tearfully eat your food while SB doesn’t make any attempts to console you.

HL finds refuge in none other than Madelyn Stilwell, the twist being is that she’s more like if Lois Lane was a predator and made a young Superman into her lover. She manipulates and abuses him by using his mommy issues and sister complex too her advantage into becoming the face of Vought from a young age from there a more younger generation of The Seven appears which is similar to the Teen Titans. HL tries to use his newfound influence to reach out to you but that can barely work with SB standing in between you both and not even Vought wants to intervene given his status and power so for years you can only support you brother from a distance and in secret away from the eyes of your father the whole time you still don’t know the truth as too why HL was kicked from home but this being kept under wraps by SB and Madelyn as well to preserve the image of the “perfect all American family”.

Other hcs

Rosa and HL were children when their grandfather died and they watched SB respond to his death by dancing on his grave and having multiple women in their home. They just stayed in their rooms till the end of the night to hide away from his antics thankfully their maid made them food.

I’m still kinda iffy on how I want BN and Rosa’s relationship to start out because while he is rendered mute and is treated more as obedient character he is still older than her like he’s in his 40’s and she’s in her mid 20’s.

It’s more of a “Wow this man is acknowledging me for my powers and acting abilities”, “Omg he’s taking care of me and sees that I’m here too”.

Lowkey triggers her daddy issues

Like let’s not forget that Rosa is a SUPE and she’s incredibly strong and talented but she’s just looked over because she’s a woman and is more of a character that’s treated as a sort of “You can be seen but not heard”.

Basically you and BN bond over being treated as the shadows of society; both only being acknowledged when it comes to having a physical presence but not a verbal one but both experiences are entirely different.

For HL and Madelyn imagine if Lois Lane wasn’t the strong willed reporter, imagine if she was the bottom of the barrel, morally corrupt, fame seeking reporter; now let’s apply that notion to Madelyn, shes at the bottom of Vought’s corporate ladder who stumbled upon a grave secret that can ruin SB’s image. So she uses HL’s status to get her to the top of Vought’s corporate chain, she uses his sister complex and mommy issues to her advantage and controls him under the pretense that if he does as she asks “they can be together” at the time he’s 17 and she’s 30.

The Boys version of the Teen Titans is called “The 7 Titans”