#like the fact that there are people who believe this that bad people don't deserve even basic human dignity or empathy

[dino-nugget7]

@vaspider, this isnt directed at you, this is to support your point.

So, we have a lot of data about redicidivism rates. If you don't know what this is, it is a measure of how often people who go to jail, go multiple times. Smaller scale, i have also known a lot of people who have gone to jail for various reasons, and a lot of people who have been addicts, whether they went to jail for it or not.

On the larger scale, the data shows pretty clearly that countries which punish inmates, to "teach them a lesson" have really high redicidivism rates.

On the smaller scale, the people I've known who are in and out of jail, and the people I've known who are stuck in their addictions or have died from them, are the people without options or hope. The people who get abused for their habits and told that they're evil or stupid or otherwise irredeemable, and/or the people who think that their habits are their best survival mechanism. The spiral for them is downward.

Conversely, large scale, countries which treat inmates with dignity, which rather than burdening them with debt and shame, but give them skills and resources they're missing and consistently message to them that they are not permanently defined by their worst actions but rather that they are capable of growing and deserve to do so as much as those affected by their actions deserve to heal, have incredibly low redicidivism rates.

On the smaller scale, the people I've seen break out of cycles of imprisonment and addiction are the people who found something they felt like they were capable of and people who believed that they were capable of growth. Better survival mechanisms.

I think we want shame and punishment to be an effective tool. People who hurt us make us feel like shit, and we want to rebalance the scales. But that's not actually what happens, and it's not actually what we're doing when we flip people's actions back on them.

People's minds don't change when they get told how terrible they are. They don't change when their lives get worse because they get punished. In fact, they double and triple down, even if (and maybe even especially when) they can see that their actions got them into the mess they're in. Because they start to feel like that's the only path, and start to get a twisted catharsis in their own suffering. And they feel justified in continuing the cycle of hurting others.

People change when they are given better options, and shown that they too can participate in making those better options happen. They change when people believe in them, over and over and over again. Which I know, feels like rewarding them for their bad behavior, but trust me, they'll feel their own shame worse than you could ever inflict yourself when you tell them "I know you're capable of better than this, more kindness than this." And they know you believe what you're saying. That's when people change.

Every time you think to yourself, "I want the people who voted That Way to learn their lesson," I want you to come back to this post and ask yourself, "Is that really more important than marginalized people's safety? Am I engaging in Leftist LARPing to the detriment of actual people?"

[thegirlwiththewriting]

Personal vent

Tw I guess

I just need to get this off my chest because it's suffocating me, and everything’s just too much. Also if no one sees this it's okay too cause I just need to write this down I guess, no matter if smone sees it or not.

A year ago my best friend and me fell apart, and she was literally my everything. She never even once lost patience with me and appreciated everything | did. Ofc sometimes she made mistakes, but these were all little nonsenses, I could have ignored. That time I had no idea from life and was just so ungrateful for everything and straight up a shitty horrible person. I said and did so many things that must have hurt her more than I can think off. And then at the end I blamed all the shit on her and why nothing was working in my life. All the time after, I was convinced it was her who ruined everything and why we fell apart, and didn't miss her a bit.

But after that I went through so much shit that made me realize so much things and made me a whole different person.( well I wouldn’t wish it anyone, but for me everything was deserved tbh) Half a year later I was startina to rearet everthing and tried to reach out again. Surprise, ofc I fucked up again, this time not with my cruel behavior, but just idk, I was scared I guess.

Now I suddenly found one of our old chats again. I deleted everything but seems like I forgot this one. And it hurts so fcking bad. I was so ungrateful for everything, and said the most horrible things ever.

The whole last year made me change so so so much, and I can't believe what a shitty person I was back then. I just wish our friendship back, the way we would text until late at night, or how we would go on walks with her dog and then stay at her place and cuddle up while watching Ghibli movies. although I know everything was my fault.

Not in a hundred lifetimes I could make up for everything I did and said, and that's what haunts me so bad. The most I can do for her is to never contact her again, and just idk. But I hate this old self, and I just can't live with the fact that I hurt her so so fucking bad, and probably lots of other people that time too, just because I couldn't appreciate anything, and wasn’t satisfied with myself.

I was clean for months but yesterday I sh myself again, and all the feeling and thoughts I thought left behind me r coming back . It's just, if I wouldn't be here it would be so much better for her and all the people I hurt.

And I don't deserve everything and the remaining people I have rn anyways. I feel like the only way I could make up for all the stuff I did and said is to make sure I'll never do it again, by just disappearing from this world.

I know I would never ever do what l've done back then now, since I know so much more, and I won't hurt anyone in any way ever.

But just the thought of what l've done, and idk but for some reason I could do it again, it makes me despise myself. I don't deserve the people I have rn, and the new friends I made. I don't deserve anything rn. I wish I could think otherwise, but my mind is telling me that the only way to make up and protect the people around me, is to go. Because who says the ungrateful cruel person isn't still somewhere? What if someday I do smth shitty again and hurt too many people?

I‘m falling apart, and idk how to handle anything. And besides all that I’m feeling not rlly good right now generally, and with this weight added now I’m falling apart. I feel like crying 24/7, idk and my mind is just being too loud.

And the most egoistic thing is, all I want is someone to hold me and tell me everything's okay. Also when I know it's not. Also when it's me who hurt eveyone.

[linkspooky]

I haven't literally felt this sickened about a character ending since Azula's entire character ended with her chained to a grate and crying and screaming without her brother even lifting her finger to uh, give her a fucking hug or something.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[musical-chick-13]

Maybe I’ve just been Thinking Too Much About the Concept of Justice due to...currently watching....something (Idon’twannatalkaboutit)..........but GENUINELY the way most of y’all talk about the death penalty and about ANYONE who decides to go through law school for ANY reason is terrifying.

[aberooski]

I love Taylor. I always have and to some degree I always will. She means too much to me and is such an important figure and source of joy and light in my life when I desperately needed, and a connection to my own father that I need desperately, to deny that I will always look on her fondly to some degree as silly as that may seem sometimes and to some people.

But that doesn't mean I don't/won't/can't be critical of her or be disappointed or disagree with choices she makes or has made, because I absolutely have been and I absolutely am.

My problem is that I always, with every fiber of my being, look for and try to see the best in people and believe in people until I absolutely can't anymore. Unless it's something truly reprehensible and irredeemable, my brain simply cannot comprehend the idea that one bad decision or mistake trust me I know she's made more than one lately can automatically invalidate or negate anything and everything good a person has ever done. I've genuinely tried to understand it and unfortunately, I can't wrap my head around the concept. I give grace to a fault. I get sad when I see things said about her in a negative light even when I completely understand and even agree, because I have so much love for her in my heart. It's that tride and true naive, blind optimism in me I guess.

But I do not in any way think she's a perfect person, I know she isn't, because nobody is. Some are just better at hiding that than others. She makes mistakes, she's wrong sometimes, she is a human being who messes up. Sometimes in big ways. And unfortunately she's messed up a few times over the last year or so and that makes me sad. It disappoints me because I love her so much, and I do want and expect better of her. And in the process of that, it makes me very sad that I feel like I have to hide the facet of myself that does still love her despite my disappointment in her or risk making people upset with me now because I'm so afraid of upsetting people. I'm terrified of doing or saying the wrong things I try so hard to do the best I can every day and it's disappointing to see her slip up. It's sad. It makes me very sad.

It's a complicated time to love her right now. I hope, in my heart of hearts, I sincerely hope that sooner rather than later it won't have to be that way anymore. Not just for me, but for all of us who feel that complexity or conflict of emotions.

[sunderberry]

thinking about... diluc ships...

[signedsfs]

I've got some great fuckin news

Once again got a bee in my bonnet to spend a night doing obscure fandom research to make a point, so. For all those people who keep making the annoying, "Tim keeps '''stealing'' other peoples' names" comments -- have a table.

Everyone with a check mark has used that codename at some point in DC's 80+ year continuity -- Elseworlds and alternate dimensions/timelines count, adaptations (movies, video games, cartoons, etc.) don't unless they've got comic book tie-ins, and neither do in-universe dream sequences/illusions/fantasies/other narrative elements that are objectively "not real" within the boundaries of the fiction.

A purple marker indicates an element that only applies in Elseworlds or alternate timelines. Yellow is for the originator of the legacy title. Star symbol is for borderline cases/extenuating circumstances/it's open to interpretation (with some further elaboration below).

The "other" column is just there to account for people who've held lesser or non-legacy titles, like Renegade, Wingman, Arkham Knight, Drake, Redbird, Talon, Deadman, Black Bat, Orphan and Catwoman.

Point being: the people who have actually gone through the most legacy titles in this family are Dick, Babs and Jason, tied with 5 each (again, not counting "other;" if we counted those separately Dick would've had by far the most). Tim is tied with Steph AND Helena Wayne, so unless you're whining about them "stealing other peoples' names" you're just wrong, and they're all only one higher than Damian, Carrie and Bruce.

This is a legacy family that passes their codenames up and down the inheritance line. It's what they do. It's not a legitimate criticism to level at one character and not the others. Please get over it.

EDIT: I realize after posting this that I missed some colors on the table, mostly with Babs' Elseworld only roles (Batwoman and Nightwing) but I'm too tired to go back and correct them; refer to the info below for more details.

---

Further elaboration on some of the lesser known/niche cases:

- Bruce uses the Robin ID in Superman & Batman: Generations

- In the second half of Thrillkiller ‘62, Babs cuts her hair and dons the Robin costume worn by her deceased partner Dick to get revenge on his killer; however the only name ever used for her in the series is Batgirl

- Cassandra was a member of the Robins orphan gang from Dark Knights of Steel.

- Duke was a member of the We Are Robins gang, as well as the aforementioned DKS orphan gang, and has appeared as Robin in a couple of Elseworlds, including I believe a White Knight spin-off.

- Cass was Batwoman in one of the versions of the Titans Tomorrow, as was Bette Kane, depending on changes to the timeline.

- Babs is Batwoman in the Batman ‘66 comics and in the 1980 story “The Secret Origin of Bruce (Superman) Wayne”

- Earth-3 Steph is Batwoman in Young Justice 2019.

- Helena Wayne is Batwoman in the possible future story Last Rites

- Tim is a member of the Batgirls vigilante/little league baseball team in the DC Bombshells universe, as is Cullen Row. Some call them the “Batboys” instead. I call those people cowards.

- Helena Bertinelli wore the costume that would later become Cass’s signature Batgirl look during No Man’s Land. However, she was more often referred to as “The Bat” and her Batgirl status is up to individual interpretation.

- Dick didn’t originate the Nightwing name, it started with Clark in the Silver Age.

- Steph has never been Nightwing. The panel where she appears in the costume is a Black Mercy illusion that happens only in her own mind. It’s a dream sequence.

- Barbara was Nightwing in the Smallville Season 11 comics.

- Terry was briefly Nightwing in volume 4 of Batman Beyond.

- Damian briefly became Nightwing after accidentally killing Dick in the Injustice series.

- Dick is Oracle in the “Eight Wonders of the World” version of Earth 2 (aka the Black Superman dimension)

[sneakygreenbean]

personal observations made by a new cane user:

you do not need to be in constant pain to own a cane.

folding canes have a clasp or band to keep them folded. losing the band is a pain in the ass.

you will get dirty looks

it does not matter what age you are. you will get dirty looks.

you have to hold it in the opposite hand as the disabled leg. this is fortunate, as I am right handed, so i hold it in my left hand to support my right leg.

people will try to steal your cane from you.

when standing still, I hold it in my right hand unless i need to do something right handedly. this does not work as well as i thought it would.

being visibly physically disabled is difficult. having a mobility aid will help with pain and movement, but some people don't get them because visible disability is treated with disgust.

if someone meets you for the first time, and you don't have your cane, then they will like you more, but they will not believe you are actually disabled.

if someone meets you for the first time, and you have your cane, they will not treat you the same.

the majority of other cane and mobility aid users I have met are homeless. I live close to a big city.

People do not want to see you being disabled.

you will not hear of the benefits of using a cane from anyone who does not use a cane.

no one will prepare you for the world of being visibly physically disabled. however bad you think we have it is usually not from the disability at all. I can deal with pain and I can deal with an indisposed left hand.

the hardest part of being disabled is the fact that no one will care until you make them care.

the disabled seats on trains are a suggestion

the disabled seats on buses are a suggestion.

you will have a different experience with using a cane than I have had.

your hand will become tired. you are using it as a leg.

your cane is legally a part of your body. this will not stop some people.

you are not your disability. but it will affect you.

i love you

theres always an invisible someone who has it worse. that person will not be affected or offended by your use of a cane. take the damn ibuprofen. put the folded cane in your bag. ask your friends for help. gd knows they need help sometimes too.

you will have to learn that things will be impossible to you. you may not run as fast anymore. you may not become a skater, like you always wanted to be. you may be left behind when everyone else runs ahead.

you deserve better.

your cane handle gets dirty. wash it.

some days pain is worse. some days you will feel it the moment you wake up.

no one deserves pain. the human condition is not to suffer. we deserve better. we deserve to be loved and not tolerated. we deserve to be seen better than from the corners of eyes. we deserve to be heard better than an afterthought at a meeting.

be quick to care for yourself. I love you.

[argentconflagration]

when the subject of "why do people believe things that are seriously wrong and harmful" comes up it feels like you kinda hear one of two perspectives:

"oh, that's easy! it's because they're fundamentally Bad people who want to hurt others and choose their beliefs to justify that! :) hope this helps"

or

"they just don't have access to the same information we do. look at this person who was raised in a cult! don't you feel sorry for her?"

and like, yes, fine, some people were in fact raised in cults, but what i wish people would understand is that the bulk of it is just normal human flaws, like:

they want to believe stuff that makes them feel smart and cool and like they've figured everything out (you also do this)

they want to believe stuff that makes them feel like their emotions are justified and grounded in reality, and that the people they want to hurt deserve to be hurt (you also do this)

they form conclusions before they've processed all the relevant information, and cling to that first impression even when new info comes to light (you also do this)

they pick up beliefs from the people around them because they want to be liked and fit in, not because the beliefs are good or true (you also do this)

they come up with reasons that the stuff that benefits them (and the people they like and identify with) is actually overwhelmingly best for everyone and obviously the right thing to do (you also do this)

they pay more attention to stuff that supports what they already believe and avoid looking in places that might show them otherwise (you also do this)

they listen to people who talk like 'one of them' and ignore others (you also do this)

they come up with reasons to dismiss people with conflicting viewpoints as obviously in bad faith or ignorant or a shill or evil (you also do this)

they fail to take their own beliefs seriously sometimes, and take their beliefs way too seriously other times, in a selective way that lets them do the things they already wanted to do (you also do this)

the very ways they construct the ideas of 'knowledge' and 'wisdom' and 'belief' and 'understanding' are biased so that what they don't want to believe comes under lots of scrutiny and what they do want to believe receives less (you also do this)

you, dear reader, are presumably right about everything and were correct to die on every hill you've ever died on, but the difference between you and someone who's wrong about important stuff doesn't look like "well they're inherently evil and i'm not", it probably looks like a combination of:

natural environment (they would have been exposed to different information than you regardless of their choices)

being in the right place at the right time (your particular profile of flaws and virtues happened to be what was needed to lead you to the right conclusions, they had the opposite experience)

random luck (you doubled down on what felt right to believe but wasn't, but it turned out to be inconsequential, or even right for different reasons, while they doubled down on what turned out to be a horrible mistake distorting their entire worldview)

you do less of the things in the previous list, and over time the difference between you and them adds up

and, look, i also do these things. the nicest and most thoughtful people i've ever met do these things. if you meet someone who never does any of these things, i dunno, give them a fucking medal or something.

i know you're doing your best. we're all doing our best.

[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[lauriemarch]

and at the end of the day, people will still hate women.

because beyonce is a terrible songwriter who has a good body and nothing more and she's really nothing compared to olivia rodrigo, that stuck-up bitch who steals other people's music, but taylor swift is an old, bitter nothing who clearly hates other girls. and sabrina carpenter deserves to die because she followed her heart, not her brain, and that's exactly why zendaya will never be good enough for tom holland. don't forget about kylie jenner, who's stealing precious timothee's innocence away and dating her is like committing arthouse cinema suicide, or how we said the same thing about miley cyrus and her disgusting profanity, think of the children, poor liam hemsworth, trapped in a marriage with such a horrible woman. lana del rey was hot until she was big and she made trailerpark sexy until her ass got a little too fat. and ariana grande, talentless homewrecker, and selena gomez, jealous and unreasonable, and hailey bieber, even more boring than the blood drying on the knives you are so quick to pull. sophie turner is a bad mom and megan thee stallion deserved whatever was coming to her.

and amidst all of this, we still don't know these women. we cannot fathom the pain of having a public divorce, one where people choose sides and hurl insults at you until the battery on their phone dies. we don't watch them chase after sweet-cheeked children in tucked-away backyards or play board games with their best friends while their chests heave in laughter. we don't know their marriages and we don't know their solitudes. we don't watch them unravel themselves, time and time again, preparing for the battle that we have made of their lives. they can never make a mistake. they can never cry. they can never be who they believe themselves to be.

and we take all of this and we go to work, we ride the bus, we go grocery shopping, we walk in dappled sunlight, and we let ourselves shrivel. i compare myself to every body i see and i comfort in the fact that i can still encircle my wrists with my fingers. food turns to dust in my mouth when i think about the fact that taylor swift thinks she's fat and people still hate sabrina carpenter for sticking by joshua bassett's side when he almost died, for God's sake, and now the people on my twitter feed are saying GUTS is the worst album they've ever heard. i liked it, the tiny voice in my head cries out. she wrote songs that made me feel noticed. they're calling the song i relate to the most a total skip.

so i close the app. i try not to think about the endless profiles screaming about how much they hate a nineteen/thirty-two/thirty-eight/twenty-three/twenty-six/forty-two year old. i try not to think about how much they would hate me, if they knew anything at all.

[the-second-hand-unwinds]

1x04: "just kind of an asshole and a bad friend" - this scene, though!!

I don't see this scene discussed all that much, but for me it's a massive turning point, not just in the Lokius friendship but for Loki's own growth as a person who doesn't want to let down the people he respects and cares about. Mobius completely blows Loki's mind here and cuts him down with a graceful, yet blunt skill. He can almost read Loki's mind; no one has ever understood Loki like this before. But more importantly, why Mobius' reply here means so much:

He's not raising his voice. He's not giving Loki the angry and hurtful response that Loki expects and wants right now. That's because if Mobius hurts Loki back, if he retaliates in kind, it will distract Loki from the fact that he was a dick to the first real friend he ever had. It will make it much easier for Loki to lie to himself and excuse his actions, while avoiding any guilty feelings. Mobius is not going to give him that.

Mobius also refuses to play along with Loki's bratty drama, instead speaking to him in an honest way, showing that yeah, Loki did let him down and hurt his feelings. And that Mobius is angry, sure. But it's not a moment for petty, fake drama such as Loki tries to ignite.

Instead, it's his friend saying "I trusted you and put myself on the line for you and you betrayed me. You don't get to make this about anything else." (more below the break)

Owen Wilson's delivery on these lines could not have been more flawless. We get all of Mobius' feelings; he's just a regular guy at the end of the day, and his genuineness, his integrity is not what Loki is used to dealing with. He's knocked the ground out from under Loki, this simply, this easily.

Emotional stakes instead of shallow, selfish ones. Loki is thrown into real shock by this turn of events. This is not how he's used to being dealt with when he's been "bad." The child in Loki never matured past these tantrums, for reasons we can easily guess.

Instead of being enraged or saying a bunch of mean stuff back at him, Mobius calls it like it is, then moves on, as if Loki no longer deserves his attention. That is going to drive Loki so crazy.

Plus, Mobius gets Loki so completely that he already knows how his statement is going to hit him. That's why, when Loki's surprised expression appears, Mobius is expecting it and says, "Yeah, chew on that for a little bit."

In other words, "How do you like being treated like a person who is expected to be decent and considerate, as opposed to being treated like a threat or problem to be destroyed?"

I think the latter was damaging to Loki at first, but then, over time, so much easier for Loki to cope with. Enemies were playing into his hands by repeating back the same insults he's gotten used to, has toughened up to.

Nobody has believed in him and expected - not just demanded - but expected better from Loki, until Mobius.

Knowing that he almost immediately tarnished such a friendship hits completely different and Loki is thrown by it.

Mobius sees Loki 100% for who he is and knows how to get under his skin when necessary, knows how to get past Loki's bravado in a way no one else has done.

But part of that skill is because Mobius really still can't help loving Loki to bits, and as hurt as he is here, he has not completely given up on Loki. It's Mobius' genuine, heartfelt responses to Loki that allow him the empathy to give as good as he gets, but more than that, to care enough, specifically, to try and help Loki learn to be better.

I just love them so much-- 😭💓💞

[autolenaphilia]

God I think I actually prefer explicit fascist transmisogyny in comparison to the disguised dogwhistly liberal transmisogyny.

Like the people who openly call me an autogynephile and other various slurs and tell me to kill myself are at least being honest. They don't bullshit me about hating my very existence and wanting me to die.

It's all the faux-loving forms of transmisogyny that really make me angry. Like it makes my skin crawl in its dishonesty and hypocrisy. And it takes so many forms. Like the transmisogynist christian "hate the sin, not the sinner" approach where they claim to love me and just want me to accept Jesus in my heart. The necessary condition for accepting their version of Jesus however is me detransitioning, and that would kill me.

There is the terfy "people with gender dysphoria are suffering and they need help but we can't endanger women's sex-based rights for them." i've even seen in arguments about legal gender changes the following: "of course trans women deserve to use women's spaces, but if we allow legal gender self-id evil cis men will take advantage of that. So trans women will have to have their rights restricted." Even J.K. Rowling used it in her terf manifesto.

It makes one yearn for the days of the ur-terf book "The Transsexual Empire" which had the "shemale" slur in its subtitle and in which the author Janice Raymond argued trans women rape real women by the fact of their very existence. That kind of brazen transmisogyny at least had some kind of honesty about it.

There is also the transmisogynist callout culture fandom, or as the japanese fittingly call them: the american feelings yakuza. They callout transfems for problematic kinks like at least once a week but deny transmisogyny. "oh we don't believe all transfems are evil predatory sex perverts, it's just that this particular transfem is."

Their evidence for her being sexual predatory is that she ships two fictional siblings. Or in meatspace meetings, things like her having "bad vibes" ("bad vibes" or "gut instinct" are polite words for what more sensible people call "ingrained bias") .

And they suspiciously keep on making callouts for transfem after transfem in a neverending series, trying to ruin her reputation and socially exile her, but of course they are not transmsiogynists.

There is also the sofboi transandrobro type of transmisogyny. They spread the vilest transmisogyny but always falls back on a terfy bioessentialism to claim ontological innocence and perpetual victimhood in all situations. I've literally seen someone say "how can i be a misogynist, i'm literally afab." These people will not say directly "shut up about your oppression, stupid tranny", but say it in coded form. I had one guy traumadump to me about his rape in vivid detail to make the point that (trans)men suffer more and imply that transfems don't suffer from sexual violence.

And that's the crux of the issue. Open hate barely fazes me anymore, unless there is an immediate threat of physical violence. But being condescended to, being emotionally manipulated, being faced with people veiling their hatred of transfems behind a veil of superficially loving rhetoric, that does make me angry. And these people always use my anger against me. "Why are you so angry when these people are being so polite and nice to you?" And that's because the point of these rhetorical approaches is to have plausible deniability for your bigotry and make transfems look crazy when they point it out.

Yet it's the same bigotry as the explicit version, it's just more dishonest about it. Like if had the They Live glasses and looked at the rhetoric, it would just read "exterminate all transfems." All those polite liberals believe the same thing about transfems as the neo-nazis openly calling for us to be hanged, they just lack the virtue of being honest about it.

[pomefioredove]

Can we have kalim's ending for the yuu auction as well? I was pretty excited for his outcome

of course of course!

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: a kalim ending type of post: short fic characters: kalim additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is maybe a little short, hi kalim :)

"Problems don't just go away when you throw money at them, you know," Vil says. The tone of his voice is sour, and he's making no effort to hide it. "You'll have to actually take some responsibility."

Leona rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut it. They're not a pet, they can handle themselves. You're just butthurt it wasn't you,"

"And yet, here you are, still moping just the same," he snaps back. "Kalim, congratulations. I'm sure the prefect will- where'd he go?"

Despite their best efforts, Kalim hadn't heard a single word of the other housewarden's well wishes (and warnings).

He was gone before they'd even started, in fact.

Even with all he'd had prepared beforehand- the new room, the uniforms, all of your favorite foods- there was suddenly a list a mile long on his mind.

First, he had to get you.

Then, he had to show you around your new place.

Then, dinner.

Followed by dessert, of course.

(Maybe a light appetizer to start? Why hadn't he thought of that already?!)

And then he'd treat you to an evening of your favorite songs, laughter, and fun.

So on, and so forth.

Kalim may be a little oblivious at times, but your poor condition at Ramshackle is no secret to anyone. He'd been talked out of helping more than once before- and, so, this was his chance.

The gravity of technically owning a person who doesn't legally exist in this world hasn't crossed his mind even once. The way he sees it, he gets to host you indefinitely, take you on vacations with his family, treat you to the life you deserve after all you've done for everyone, and no one can tell him no.

Though, something still sits in the back of his mind, something that asks him to walk before running. A voice of reason.

If Kalim had a shoulder angel and devil, both of them would somehow be Jamil:

"I would advise taking it easy on them as they adjust. This whole spectacle must have been difficult for them. You're a good listener when you try. Now's a chance to show that,"

More than anything, Kalim wants to impress you.

Such a thought would make anyone else scoff- the gold and jewels and magic carpets aren't enough?

And his answer would be... well... no.

Kalim possesses many things. He has entire houses full of treasure, trinkets, fine silks, servants at his every whim... and yet, he's still missing something crucial. Something he's become more and more aware of since coming to NRC.

A bond.

Of course, he loves his siblings. And his parents. And the students in Scarabia. And the students in the other dorms. He might consider all of the above friends, but not at the emotional level he seeks. Jamil is a work in progress. But you- you're already well-acquainted, and friendly. You're a gracious guest, a great listener, and... well, you had the kind of bond he looks for with so many other people on campus.

Why else would everyone be lining up to pay to be your friend otherwise?

(That's how he saw it, anyway).

So, he listens. Makes an effort to, anyway. He even stops feeding Grim at dinner when you ask him to.

"Oops!" he says, offering the direbeast a gold-lined handkerchief to wipe around his mouth. "But it's good, right? Jamil's family recipe is always delicious!"

You quirk a smile at him. "I liked it. Grim?"

Grim mumbles something indistinct and crawls to sit on the other side of you.

"I'm glad! I remember you telling me that you miss it from your home- I can't believe some of our recipes are so similar!" he beams. "Maybe Scarabia will start feeling like a home to you, too, then!"

You laugh, a little awkwardly. "Aha... maybe. This is all just so sudden,"

"But... good, right?"

"Yes, good," you smile, tilting your head to the side. "It's a step up from being Crowley's errand-runner and sleeping in the cold, at least."

"Well, you'll certainly never be cold here!"

He laughs again, and a murmur of agreement ripples through the students in attendance, all the way down to the end of the long table.

"Ah... Kalim, this is nice. Really nice... I don't know how I'm going to repay you for any of this,"

"Pay? Like with money?" he raises an eyebrow. "You're my guest, and an honorary member of Scarabia now, so you don't have to do anything but relax."

That's not exactly what you meant, though you don't have the heart to explain what exactly Crowley's care had been like.

"...Right. But really, if you need anything done- I'll be glad to do it,"

He's quiet for a moment, thinking. "Well... if you're really bored, I'm sure you could find something to do. We have lots of board games,"

"No, I meant like, work,"

Kalim blinks. "Why would you have to work?"

You should've just let it go. Now this is getting embarrassing, admitting all that Crowley had you do when you had no say in the matter.

"You know... to earn my keep,"

"Earn your..." he squints. "You don't have to earn anything. Having you here is reward enough for me!"

Sometimes his oblivious nature can be a little comforting.

And even though it's dark, his positivity is as radiant as the sun... you can't help but return his smile.

"Alright, then,"

"Alright! Now..." he says, looking around the table. "Who's ready for dessert?"

[atrwriting]

rivalry — blackwood and bracken arranged marriage au

pt. 2 my luvs

so i wasn't an aeron girly and then a few people requested him and i was like shii maybe y'all are onto something

ok full disclosure i genuinely didn't think i would be able to write for him and then suddenly i think i wrote the dirtiest thing i've ever written in my life (like ok maybe im exaggerating but fr i was quaking in my boots)

as always, warnings: enemies to loves, smut smut smutty smut smut, blowjob, p in v sex, hate fucking, he's so pretty i cried writing this, dom!aeron, swearing, bit of pre-sex violence in an ok way, anal play, rough sex, arranged marriage, heavy on the sexism, aeron is a consent king u can't convince me otherwise

don't tell me if this sucks lmao actually please tell me im a whore for validation and critiques

_____

he did not know how he found himself in this mess.

genuinely, he did not.

when aeron bracken was a man grown, he understood duty and how he needed to uphold it. he understood that duty and tradition needed to be put over his own wants and needs, for it was for the greater good for his house.

...until that greater good came in the form of two marriages between brackens and blackwoods. his younger sister would marry a blackwood, and he would marry the younger sister of his new brother in-law. he bit his tongue at the idea — aghast at how a feud that is so engrained in their bones could be thrown away with two simple marriage pacts. how could a wound so deep, so festered — be expected to heal so fast, let alone at all?

despite the fact that it left him aghast — he would not show it on his face. his face was that of stone throughout the entire ordeal; the ceremony, the feast, the dancing — all of it. he hadn’t even had a proper look at his bride — because what would it do? it wouldn’t matter. he would bed whoever it was once or twice a month, and hope for the best.

that was until the wedding night.

there was no bedding ceremony, thank the gods — but there was throwing of cups.

lots of cups.

aeron had never had so many silver and gold chalices thrown at him in his entire life — especially not by a woman.

there the pair of you were — in your nightwear, behind a locked bedroom door, and you were throwing cups at your new husband.

aeron hadn’t even stepped within ten feet of you. he had simply sauntered into the room, greeted you, and began taking of his clothes as you were already dressed for the occasion.

“will you stop it?!” he hollered, bending to avoid the goblet hitting him in the temple. “i command you to stop!”

“you think that because we are married i will obey you?” you spat, throwing anything in your line of sight to keep him from you.

“i would hope that you would refrain from pelting me with objects until i have at least done something to fucking deserve it!”

“you’re a fucking bracken!” you spat.

aeron couldn’t believe the mouth on you, his new wife — but he could believe such atrocities came from the mouth of a blackwood.

“trust me,” he spat, dodging the next object. “i would rather be anywhere else than here!”

“you think me ugly, husband?” you responded curtly. “that i am not fit to share your bedchamber?”

“not when you’re trying to maim me — no, wife!”

“or that i am beneath you?” you spat.

suddenly you were out of objects to throw at him — but that relief was clouded by his sheer realization that your bark was just as bad as your bite.

“i never said that —" he said, trying to catch his breath. “if i recall correctly — it was your brother who referred to me as craven, and then agreed to the marriage pact. your brother began with the insults —“

“but not until you —“

“wife!” aeron suddenly hollered, his fists balled at his sides as his skin began to turn pink. he was a few feet away from you, keeping his distance. when you did not flinch at his volume or tone, he kept going, “am i bedding you — or your brother, hmm?”

“i wouldn’t be surprised —“

he couldn’t take it anymore. he stomped over to where you stood. his tall height forced him to lean down so his face was only a few inches from yours.

“whether you like it or not — you’re a bracken now,” he spat. his eyes were blown wide above you — consumed with an anger that appeared to be foreign to him. as you studied him, he continued, “we can either get this over with, or we tell our families we would not perform our duties. is that what you want?”

“you think i’d scoff at duty?” you demanded. “i refuse to be any man’s triumph — let alone a maiden on my wedding night!”

the admission caught him by surprise — but the look of fear that cross your eyes threw him much more by surprise. you weren’t a maiden, but what did that matter now? he could've scoffed at your admission. just like a blackwood to make a decision they regret.

“look,” he sighed, shaking his head. “that doesn’t matter now — and it would ruin both of us if anyone knew that. it does not bother me that you’ve been with someone else, nor will i force you to be with me. however, i will not be subjected to hatred from my wife when this is the first time we’ve spoken. if you wish —“

“get on the bed,” you spoke, sighing.

his brow furrowed in confusion.

“get on the bed,” you repeated.

he looked over you once before he pulled his shirt above his head, discarding it. as he turned, he began to unlace his pants — but he did not take them off. he let them hang loose on his hips before he laid down on the bed.

he returned his eyes to you as soon as he had laid down. when he set his eyes upon you, he realized you were bare. bare in all of your glory. he had never seen a woman so perfect in all of his life. skin as soft silk bed sheets, hair cascading down your back like that of the most coveted mare, and a figure that even the king himself would ask your hand in marriage for.

but he did not say that. any of that. his eyes were trained on you in the way any man would be on a woman as beautiful as you. and when his mouth parted slightly, his lips falling open in awe — you knew you had him and that no words would’ve been as good as the look on his face.

you fought the urge to smirk, but that did not stop you from walking towards him. you straddled his hips, letting your cunt fall right on top of where his pants hid his bulge.

“i prefer to be on top, husband,” you spoke.

he raised his eyebrows, silently conveying that he was impressed. “you’ll find no quarrel from me, wife.”

aeron bracken wouldn’t say that he was inexperienced, but he definitely did not have the confidence his lady wife had. he also never thought he would like a woman taking control… but the prospect of hurting a woman made him so nervous. he never saw he would actually see the day — him, a bracken, afraid to hurt a blackwood.

“but i must ask you one thing,” he spoke, refusing to touch her just yet. “this is of your own volition? — because i don’t want to do this if you do not wish it.”

you quirked an eyebrow at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a loose embrace. “what of duty?”

“if duty comes in the form of forcing your wife in the bedroom — ” he spoke softly, and then continued, “i want no part in it.”

you couldn’t believe your ears. you didn’t think he would be aggressive or ruthless, but you never thought aeron bracken would want your consent — of all things! you didn’t think any man would ever understand the concept — and yet here was your husband, sitting below you and not touching you until he had your consent.

a small pool of wetness collected between your folds, and then slipped onto the laces of his pants. you didn’t think he’d notice — but you did.

he was looking at you intently — studying your face, but also waiting for your reply. you couldn’t help but give a knowing smile.

“are you pleased with the wife you received, husband?” you asked, gesturing to your naked body.

“i consider myself very lucky, wife,” he spoke, a slight smile coming to his lips. “but no one had ever conveyed to me how pretty of a face my wife had.”

“did they convey how poor my attitude is?”

“i already knew that, my lady.”

you swatted him lightly and playfully — both of you smiling.

“i want to do this with you,” you spoke, taking his hand and putting it on one of your breasts. “do you want this to be with me, husband?”

his hands were greedy with what he had been granted access to. his large hand grasped at your breast before he rolled your nipple in between his index and thumb finger. your hips jerked forward then at the sensitivity while your mouth parted slightly. aeron couldn’t help but watch as a blush rose to your cheeks, and he realized then that he wanted this very much.

“very much, wife,” he spoke, suddenly realizing he should at least try not to sound too eager.

he’d never know, but you didn’t mind his eagerness. you took it for candor, and that you appreciated.

you grabbed his other hand, and place it on your other breast. you witnessed his gaze flicker between your breasts and your face, almost like a silent question. when you bit your lip and smiled, aeron bracken did not waste any time.

his perfect lips wrapped around your nipple, which looked too good to aeron not to get a taste. his teeth had found the bud, lightly grazing it as he sucked at it. with his other arm, he wrapped it around your back with a focus on your waist. he began to thrust his hips slightly upward as he pushed and pulled you forward and backward onto his bulge.

“tell me what you like,” aeron ordered, still pinching your nipple.

you gasped at the feeling — surprised at aeron’s confident nature. you ground your cunt down harder onto his bulge, enjoying the friction from the laces of his pants. you grew worried at the prospect of soaking his pants, wondering how he would react.

“i want your cock inside me,” you mused. “and in my mouth.”

he moaned against your breast, the vibrations sending ripples throughout your entire body. he replied, “more, wife.”

you laughed, threading your fingers through his hair. “i like to be taken from behind — and i want your arm around my neck. i like it rough, husband."

for a mere instant, he thought about how other men would respond to her admission and use of coarse language. within that same moment, the thought vanquished from his mind. he realized how lucky he was to have a wife seemingly as experienced as you — for what trouble would there be now? you would tell him if he was hurting you, and you would be able to tell him what you like.

“and what do you like, husband?” you asked, running a few fingers up and down his upper arm.

he moved his hands down to your knees, running his large palms up and down your thighs. you watched his shoulder and bicep muscles tense and release as his arms extended and retracted, rubbing your soft skin. “i want to make you finish on my cock.”

you raised your eye brows at him as you blushed, laughing. “is that so, husband? i was led to believe that brackens were selfish — but now i see they're just ambitious."

you watched him as he appeared to turn over words in his head, contemplating what to say. you realized then how different aeron already was from what your family was like, and what your family believed him to be like. “can i ask you for something?”

“what, husband?”

“just allow me one night.”

you quirked an eyebrow at him. “what… do you mean?”

“allow me one night to prove that i am not what your family believes me to be.”

“my family?” you asked, stunned.

“nor you, wife,” aeron stated with a knowing grin. “just one night — for me to prove that this does not have to be a union consumed by hatred.”

you did not answer. you simply leaned down, and connected your lips with his. with both hands cupping the sides of his face, you kissed him with only sweetness and curiosity. aeron was so… different than you had ever thought he would be. he intrigued you. he honestly did. maybe it was the feud, maybe it was something else… because it didn’t matter. all you wanted to know what was the extent of his sweetness.

when he had finally discarded his pants, you marveled at his cock. it was bigger than you had ever seen, and your eyes told that. aeron smiled when he saw your surprised reaction, and couldn’t help but feel more confident at the prospect of an experienced woman being pleased with what he could offer.

you couldn’t help yourself — you immediately took him into your mouth.

aeron had received blowjobs before, sure — but not like this. oh… definitely not like this. with your hollowed out cheeks, you took him deep into your mouth and down your throat. the warmth from your mouth made him shiver, but not before his muscles tensed at the same time his mind relaxed. he had never known bliss like this. how could his pretty wife ever think he would scorn her for her experience, especially when he benefitted from it so sweetly? few hairs fell down to cover your face as you sucked on his cock, and he couldn’t help but think about how fucking lucky he was.

so lucky. so fucking lucky.

that was until you pulled off.

“does etiquette escape you, husband?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

he raised an eyebrow. “no — but your meaning does. why have you stopped?”

“because you should be holding my hair out of my face!” you snapped, eyeing him.

you didn’t let him respond. you took him back into your mouth before one of his hands picked up all of your hair and piled it on the back of your head — away, and out of your face.

good, you thought. he can take directions.

that was until you felt him begin to push down on the back of your head, causing the tip of his cock to nudge further and further down your throat. you wanted to scold him — reminding him you’re the one in charge when his cock is down your throat — but you didn’t. you didn’t because when you snapped your eyes up and saw the look on your husband’s face, you would’ve gasped if you could.

his cheeks were tinted a light pink as his eyes had drifted closed. with his mouth slightly parted, falling open in pleasure, he fought back the urge to let small moans escape his throat. with his adam’s apple bobbing — all you wanted to do was keep him teetering on the edge of not enough of and the perfect amount of pleasure.

you should’ve scolded him for pushing down on your head without asking, but you realized suddenly that it ate at your womb like the hunger for his big member inside of you. your realization occurred at the same time aeron noticed you watching him.

he smiled.

wickedly.

“are you enjoying yourself, wife?” he asked, holding your head up so you were only sucking the tip.

you narrowed your eyes at him, unwilling to give him what he wanted.

he threw his head back in laughter. you went to tell him off, but he pushed your head down again. you gagged around him, fighting the urge to cough and cry. you were growing irritated with his actions — wondering where in the seven hells he got the fucking nerve.

he noticed your anger the instant your brow began to knit together.

“you’re so pretty, wife —“ he spoke, relishing in the pleasure you granted him with a wicked smile on his face. “but you are so much prettier when your cock is down my throat and that attitude escapes you.”

he pushed your head down again, causing you to gag and a tear spring to your eye. you wanted to tell him off — but when the warmth in your womb curled with the anger in your chest, you couldn’t. you just couldn’t. you couldn’t bring yourself to scold him, because what if he stopped? what if he stopped the delicious, bittersweet feeling that he was giving you without even touching you?

“i can see it by the way you’re rubbing your thighs together,” he spoke, eyes on the backs of your legs. “can’t help it, i see. all that blackwood attitude, 's too much for you, isn't it? — all you needed was for a bracken to put you in your place.”

he wasn’t choking you, no — but the surprise attacks on the back of your head and into your throat threw you for loops. you didn’t like to be out of control, and didn’t think you ever would — but you couldn’t deny the slick that had fell from your folds and was now collecting between your thighs. you grew insecure at the thought — that if the flames from the fire or the lanterns caught the shadows just right, aeron would see your slick glisten in the light. the realization was embarrassing and exhilarating all at the same time — but you couldn’t deny you wanted more.

“that’s it, wife,” he cooed condescendingly above you. “take that bracken cock down your pathetic fucking throat.”

you did. oh gods, you did. your throat was hoarse with the bittersweet attack on its inside. you were fighting back coughs and gasps, wanting to wipe away every bit of saliva from around your mouth but you couldn’t. you were stroking the bottom of his cock and bracing yourself with your other hand — working him as fast and as hard as he wanted you to.

and then he pulled you off when you reached the tip of his cock.

you were hazy — lost in lust. he pulled you off of his cock with your mouth still open, saliva beginning to run down your chin. you were gasping for air once aeron let go of your hair, only to replace his hand around your throat.

you immediately grabbed his wrist — you weren’t sure why. to brace yourself, maybe — but that was all you could do as aeron held you before him with your back arched towards him while he sat upright.

you weren’t sure what you looked like — probably a mess; spit, tears, and messy hair. but aeron? fuck, aeron — he was himself. completely himself. confidence and pleasure and arrogance formed to make a look of power on aeron, and you couldn’t help but want him more. the pink hue of his cheeks and lips did not suggest innocence, no — but exertion of a man’s power. at that moment, all you wanted was your bracken husband inside you.

“you hate that you liked that, don’t you?” he asked, a small wicked grin playing at his lips.

you couldn’t answer. you could only gasp for air in response, throat still dry from his cock.

“cock keeps you quiet, wife?” he laughed then.

your eyes narrowed at him, even through your tears. that set you off.

“well, when you shove your craven cock down my throat —“

he chuckled then, and you were too weak to protest. “craven cock, that right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “well, maybe i should let my reputation precede me — i guess i don’t care about fucking my wife the way she needs me to.”

“i don’t need you to,” you spat, lying through your teeth.

“you don’t?”

he held you upright then, leaving you on your knees with your back arched. he towered over you on your own knees as you felt a hand of his slip down your abdomen, and in between your thighs.

he laughed once more. “you don’t?”

you went to hit him, but he caught your hand. your cheeks were beginning to sting with want, need, and embarrassment. when his fingers began to rub circles on your clit, the fucking center of the ache — you almost doubled over onto him, hoping to catch yourself on his chest. you fought against his fingers, forcing yourself not to show any sign of enjoyment.

he chuckled darkly. “i’m going to have to fuck that blackwood attitude out of you, aren’t i?”

“as if you could,” you replied, glaring.

he raised his eyebrows at you then — a dare. you were feeling weak, and definitely weren’t able to match him — but you couldn’t let that show.

“i was going to be nice and let my pretty wife ride me,” he ordered, sighing. "get on your stomach."

he let go of your throat with a slight push on the release. your muscles were wound so tight that the abrupt action caused you to lose your balance, and fall. with a huff, you rolled over onto your stomach.

aeron couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. the flames and the moonlight from the window caused shadows to ripple across your perfect hourglass shape and ass. aeron pushed your soft, long hair off of your back and onto the bed so that his fingers could trace the length of your spine from your neck to your tailbone.

you shivered at the feeling. you were about to scoff at him when he smacked your ass.

“bracken!” you spat. “how dare —“

he chuckled before he pulled you up the hips. you caught yourself on your knees and hands, trying to keep your balance. a blush rose to your cheeks as you realized you were… completely exposed to your husband. you felt his hand come up to the fleshy part of your ass, kneading the thick skin. you froze.

“my perfect wife…” he mused, massaging your skin.

you wriggled in his hold, and he held you still — spreading your cheeks. you gasped at the further exposure — every private area of your body now visible.

“husband…” you spoke.

his tone mocked you. “you’re still soaking, my lady — do you really want your lord husband to stop?”

“piss off — !”

he smacked your ass again, causing you to yelp.

“can’t expect better from a blackwood…” he sighed. he spat on the puckered hole of your ass, and you froze. he let the spit drop from your ass to your cunt, mixing with the juices collecting on your folds. “are you going to lose your mouth?”

“i swear —“

you felt his finger circle your puckered hole, and before you could protest — he slipped his thumb into you.

you gasped, leaning forward. his laugh vibrated through him, and you felt it against the backs of your thighs. it was only his thumb — but you had never been touched in such a way. you had never had anyone, nor anyone breach such a private area of yours. you felt it bury itself to the last knuckle, all of your muscles tightening around it. you should’ve felt violated, dirty, something of the sort… but you didn’t. all you could register was how empty your cunt felt in comparison.

“have you ever been touched here before?”

you didn’t answer, still speechless.

he smacked your ass once more. “you will answer when your lord husband speaks to you.”

“no, husband…” you whispered. “please, husband… i want your cock…”

“…i could give you my cock, couldn’t i?” he spoke, slipping his thumb in and out of you gently. a sharp intake of break was involuntary from your throat. “i could, but what would that teach you? my greedy blackwood wife would continue to think so little of her bracken husband.”

“don’t make me beg,” you whined. “i want you so bad, please…”

you couldn’t see it — but you could imagine the smirk on his face at your words. he slipped a finger inside your soaking cunt and aching clit, and couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the feeling. your cunt clamped down around his finger like you had never had someone inside you before, needing him so desperately. his circles on your clit were agonizingly slow, and soon the relief from his minuscule touch was turning into desperation.

he realized this at the same moment you did.

“who knew my lady wife could be such a whore for her husband,” he spoke lowly. your hips began to rock against his hand, wanting and needing more. so much more. “do you wish me to stop? tell me.”

“no —“ you cried. “you can’t stop, i’ll… i’ll…”

your body felt like it had pins and needles everywhere. you had been pushed and pulled toward an orgasm, over and over, but never fully brought to the peak. you were warm, cold, hot, freezing — all at once and it smashed your resolve to pieces. you were a pathetic, drooling, sopping mess that needed her husband to quell this ache; to put it to rest so that you may rest.

he ripped his hands from you, and you sobbed. you actually sobbed. you bent your hips back to meet his, but met nothing. you bit back a sigh of frustration as tears threatened to overflow from your eyes.

“seven hells…” you sighed, shoving your face into the bed cover.

then, you felt your hips being pushed down as your knees flattened. you went to turn around to question it, but then you felt your husband spread your thighs. the cool air hit your cunt like lightening and you whimpered at the feeling. you felt an arm snake around your throat as a weight settled on top of you.

you felt aeron’s lips press against your jaw — pushing your head to the side as his touch calmed you. you let your head be supported by his strong arm, whimpering when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“maybe brackens are mean…” he whispered against your ear. “an honorable husband would right that mistake, wouldn’t he?”

he didn’t wait for you to respond. he thrusted his cock into your wet cunt. once his cock filled you, a gasp left your lips on reflex. you could feel a groan rumbling in his chest as he bit down on your neck. your husband had complete control over your body, and you gave in to his thrusts as his hips snapped against yours.

“that’s what you needed,” he stated with a wicked grin against your cheek. “cunt so warm and wet — just wanted to be fucked so bad.”

“you fucking bastard —" you cried. “it feels so good —"

with a groan, he spoke, "i know it does — didn't i promise i'd make the ache go away?"

your cunt sucked him in — refusing to let him go as he thrusted inside of you. he slid his hand underneath your stomach and let his fingers find your clit and roughly rub shapes on it. you reflexively bit down on his forearm, crying into his skin. your hips wanted to move with him, or against him, fucking anything — you weren't really sure, as they had a mind of their own. the pleasure was too much — and way too much for your mind. aeron was fucking you dumb into the bed without anywhere to go.

you felt his lips by your ear, "that's it. take it for me. ungrateful cunt — can't get enough of craven bracken cock."

nothing that left your lips was coherent. you were gasping onto his forearm for dear life as his sword hand drew the greatest weapon of all — forcing the sobbing, strong woman to become clay in his fucking hands. with his own hips and arm, he held your hips down as they tried to fight against them. try they did, but they were no match for a man like aeron bracken.

"tell me you can't get enough wife — " he grit against your ear. "tell me you can't get enough of craven bracken cock."

"don't make me — "

he stilled not only his hips, but his hand.

he held your still with his forearm, locking you in place. you fought against him, trying to buck your hips back against his cock for anything you could get. with malice, he replied, "i could use my hand and hold you down on this bed as i finish all over your back. would you prefer that, wife? spilling over you like a common whore? or will you listen?"

"fucking —" you spat, consumed by frustration. "aeron, please —"

"are those words too dirty for you, my lady?" he asked condescendingly, softly and slowly moving his finger against your clit. not enough to satisfy you — but definitely enough to frustrate you further. "you want me to fuck you like other lords fuck their new wives? slow, and shallow? maybe three thrusts before they fall asleep? barely caring if their wife feels good?"

"no..." you whimpered.

"then say it."

"please, husband..." your mind going numb with frustration. "please — i need your craven bracken cock."

"that's is, love," he spoke, sheathing his long cock inside you once more. "that's all i needed. such a good little wife for me."

his fingers immediately continued their assault on your clit, and you gasped at the feeling. you could feel and hear aeron's laugh behind you as your hips jerked once, twice, thrice before you let out a cry. it filled the room and would fill the ears of anyone walking by your room. you dug your nails into his forearm as he pulled you closer against him, closer, closer, closer — kissing your forehead as you came. you came, and you came, and you came. there was nothing like it. there was nothing left of you. you had never experienced an orgasm that was so fucking earth shattering. it pushed and pulled you like nothing ever before. with each aftershock, aeron sucked on your neck and hummed at the taste. he wanted to swallow you whole, and leave nothing left for you. you were clay — barely crumbs in his hand, but only his to mold.

when you went limp, aeron let out a hearty, earthy grunt. he pushed you down onto the mattress as you lay flat on your stomach. on his knees and between your thighs, he grasped the flesh of your ass in both hands and fucked your cunt straight into that perfect spot that you had only found once or twice in your life. he was like an animal behind you; predator and prey, with the carnal need to breed you dumb. when aeron delivered his final thrust, his hips snapped against you and you could feel him against your cervix. it hurt in the most delicious way possible — almost like you could feel your hips, cervix, womb, fucking everything open for him and swallow him whole.

he collapsed next to you before he pulled you into his arms. he placed a single kiss on your forehead, long and hard and you sighed, content.

"did i prove myself to you?" he whispered as the flames from the fire begin to die down, cloaking you both in darkness.

you scoffed, nuzzling further into him as you kissed the skin of his chest.

"no need to admit it, wife," he laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "i already accomplished tonight's ambition."

you swatted him — and he laughed, not fearing you in the slightest.

____

lmk what u think ;)))) -L