#no offense to men first of all.
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realizing a pattern ...
#no offense to men first of all.#but ive recently noticed a pattern (happened twice) where i get irritated when i have a friend whos a lesbian who decides to start pursuing#guys and obvi thats their own journey#but i think i have a habit of connecting with gay girls and grow safe in the expectation that i never have to hear about men existing...#and then when a friend is like lemme explore this then its an immediate break of those expectations... and also like. well damn there#really is not a life for me as a wlw if i dont know a single woman who doesnt pursue men eventually ?#double-edged sword?#anyways its really difficult to discuss cause its my feelings in regards to another person's life and journey and quite honestly none of my#business... but i would like to stop feeling so negative about it.#also again i literally dont have an issue with men... if anything its just men as a romantic option disappoints me.#so many of the girls/women i care about have really shitty relationships with men that my immediate assumption is that the relationship is#gomma be bad and im gonna have to put in a ton of emotional labour#but even if that were a preconception i still got my stupid ass insecure sexuality.#anyways i need to ramble about this for 6 hrs to a therapist with 16 yrs of gay people experience#a
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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE drop any x-men found family fic recs- all of the major stuff is solely cherik and the first class cast which is so good BUT i want team fluff so badly 😭
#if you have team recs with background cherik do not hesitate to send#nothing against cherik#i just need more fics where my love and my light scott summers gets the love he deserves#x men#x men fanfiction#x men fic#charles xavier#scott summers#jean grey#kurt wagner#hank mccoy#bobby drake#warren worthington iii#anna marie lebeau#remmy lebeau#ororo munroe#logan howlett#jubilee#professor x#cyclops#x men comics#x men evolution#x men movies#x men 97#rogue#gambit#wolverine#iceman#all of the top fics are cherik with the cast of first class#and no offense to my favs but i NEED found family fluff
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scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god
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apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.
i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au
ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks
anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.
Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.
Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.
It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.
It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.
Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.
Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."
It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—
You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.
And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.
Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"
Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—
Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.
Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.
"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.
"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."
"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.
"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."
"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.
"Be gentle, I bruise easily."
"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."
"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.
"Line like fishing?"
"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"
"Yes, yes, that."
Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."
"Doing the thing."
Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.
"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.
And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.
"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.
"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.
"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.
"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.
"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."
Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.
"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."
"Is that bad?"
"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.
So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.
"Oh, hilarious."
"If I was funny I would say jock."
"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."
"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"
"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.
#ask#instead of actually writing the things i wanted to get done i did this instead thanks guys#not to “controversially new hot younger girlfriend” maffhew but im gonna#timeline here doesnt make sense like quote wise so like you know#chat... matthew was not joking when he said well be seeing more of each other#he was fully intending to sit on that knot the first time he saw sasha#sasha is just dumb#god can you just imagine the ways in which maffhew would drive this nice polite alpha absolutely insane#can you imagine the way sasha accidently brushes his hand across the back of his neck because hes trying to wrap an arm around his shoulder#in camaraderie and sasha is so apologetic about it because dynamic classes in finland are intense and hes so remorseful about it#and then in the midst of all that maffhew just turns into this little purr machine and sasha is like oh i think i touched a button i should#not have touched at all oh god oh fuck#and maffhews like mmm? whyd you stop#pan to sasha silently freaking out#not to say sasha doesnt enjoy scruffing his omegas because they love it but he hasnt met one who enjoys it as much as maffhew does#and it kinda fucks him up#also speaking to ekky getting used to maffhews scent like oh boy i can see sooooo many ways that can go down like maffhew is respectful#of ekkys boundaries but also at some point ekky has had enough time to mope and for lack of a better word he does need to grow up#which is why maffhew starts off subtly you know standing on the dman side of the lockers for a few minutes. chatting up the guys over there#before ekky walks in you know leave a ghost of his scent around. its not strong and its not offensive but it certainly is there#eventually he just full on starts chucking his dirty socks at ekky after games#going oops sorry missed the bin didnt mean to snipe you (he absolutely did. he gets extra points if he hits ekkys face!)#sometimes a stray jersey too. if he really wants to make ekky mad he will just slingshot his biohazard-in-training-jock over.#i also think when ekky gets the yips when he starts pacing a little harder than usual when his chuckles turn a little too nervous#maffhew has enough and just like a worried hen of a men just manhandles ekky around in his arms and shoves at him till he puts his nose#in his neck and ekkys arguing the whole time like this isnt necessary im fine-#and matthews like right im sure thats why your teeth are chattering worse than a fucking woodchipper eh?#ekky cant really reply to that and maffhew tells him to just shut up and start sniffing#and it does help and he hates that he admits maffhew was right that he just needed to be clucked over by another omega#opening yapdoras box the lot of you. utterly awful. I HAVE THINGS TO DOOOOOOOOOOOO
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dynamics i want more of in ofmd season two:
- ed and lucius (once they get past the whole attempted murder thing i really want more of these two i adore their interactions in s1)
- stede and izzy (i don’t ship them but i think their dynamic is so fucking funny and i want them to be reluctant friends who pretend to still hate each other)
- lucius and izzy (they should fuck. i think lucius could fix izzy.)
#there’s a lot more i could add but these are the ones i think of regularly#i love any and all of the dynamics between the right-hand men and the captains#i know lucius isn’t actually stede’s first mate but it kinda always feels like he is (no offense buttons)#our flag means death#ofmd#eli.posts
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as a russian who doesn't talk to russian people online what the shit is happening there hello
look man i myself have put in the effort to Not talk to online russians for like (checks hand) 7 or so years (of course i’ve met some really great ones but this isn’t about them and they probably know it) but i’m sure the community didn’t change much. actually from the glimpses i see it seems to have gotten worse. don’t even get me startedddddd man
#Like okay first we have the misogynist dudebros. not a category exclusive to online russians but#there are so many it’s fucking crazy. homophobic to hell and back and Will hate on you for no reason#alpha male type mfs who hate women but will still harass them because of course they will#the second category of course is weird unironic fujoshis who are also usually proshippers#and they are either 12 (forgivable) or 25 and the thing is you can NEVER tell. But it’s kind of fucked how#acceptable it is to just straight up fetishize gay men (hell probably not only them) in online russian communities#and listen to me. the secret third category is that there is no third category. Both of these categories are racist#deer was right i have never seen a community more racist or xenophobic than fucking online russians#you draw a character one shade darker than their usual skintone and suddenly you got annoying as fuck russians in your comments going#BRO BURNT IN THE SUNNN 🤣🤣🤣 ENGLISH FANDOM LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE !!! <- in recent times they have taken to blaming the english fandom for#‘wokefying’ their sacred online russian spaces. Of course we can only be woke enough to fetishize gay men. god forbid black people exist#now the actual third category is the online russian tеrf/radfеm community. it seems recent to me but also as i said i have not really#interacted with russian comminity as a whole for a long while. But yea anyways they’re crazy i dont think i have to explain this one#but they’re somehow more evil and miserable than the ones you’re used to#another recent one is the russian twitterians … i’ve only seen glimpses of them as well as i dont use twitter#but you will not believe the shit these mfs try to pull. They try to get you to stop swearing at all bc they find a way to make every#russian swear word offensive. AND they speak fucking … englussian. rusglish. Half of their sentences are just english words written in#russian letters. all the same buzzwords english speaking twitter users like to say!#if you’ve never seen a russian talk about feminization or gatekeeping or being woke or yadda yadda. Well i have#it’s bad. they’re just very very terminally online#and don’t worry the last two categories will also always be racist/xenophobic even if the last one tries to seem Progressive#don’t know if i missed anytning but those are just the Specific Types of annoying asf online russians that i have noticed and have been#observing from a safe distance like a scientist#my point is keep not talking to russian people#cramswering#edit: I FORGOT BUT DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON HOW ONLINE RUSSIANS TREAT TRANS PEOPLE#YOU CANNOT IMAGINE THE WAY THEY REACT TO TRANS HEADCANONS IT’S LIKE THE END OF THE WORLD TO THEM. OR TRANS CHARACTERS#OR GOD FORBID ACTUAL REAL LIFE TRANS PEOPLE. it’s actually quite incredible how bigoted online russians are
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honestly the biggest disappointment with the Dark Swan arc so far is that no one has been slapped
#emma is the dark one and no one has been slapped? boring#in all seriousness tho#when emma gets angry she tends to be aggressive/offensive#in the first season when she realizes regina poisoned henry. she pushes her#in season 4 when lily threatens her parents. she is the one that gets the fight physical#the whole thing with her powers going overboard in season 4 was about emma's feelings#emma definitely has that femme fatale character that she puts on (specially for bounty hunting and seducing men)#so i get why dark emma is this girlboss lmao#but imo dark emma should have been a lot more volatile#ouat rewatch#i am rambling
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the results of that "is fanfic a book" poll have shown me one thing and its that this site never graduated past that absolutely insufferable phase in 2013 where everyone acted like every book is the single most sacred thing on earth
#sorry rant incoming. you know like the people who got way too offended over dog earing or carving books for art or things like that?#that's what the notes section of that poll feel like. just way too many people (on both sides) putting way too much importance on Books.#like first you have the 'um ive read fanfic that was deep and beautiful and thematic so yes all fanfic is books' votes#which like. ok. ive also read really deep thematic screenplays but that doesnt make it a book its simply not. what a book is#then you have the honestly even worse 'um your reylo au isn't like the works of the masters its not REAL BOOKS' crowd#which like. yeah most actual published books are not as good as the 'works of the masters' whatever that means. so you have proven nothing#which brings us back to the absolute worst of all 'colleen hoover & co aren't books either' SOMEHOW#like. ok well i think her work is pretty bad but it was literally edited and published into literal books so#if you're going to decide that you get to be the arbiter of what books are Good Enough to count as Real Books well you've lost already.#because no that's not how any of this works. youre fighting one of the most famous Losing Battles in all of art discourse.#a book is just. a format that writing can be in its not some holy status you have to work to acheive#and to try and turn it into that is really stupid and self important i think because like again#who gets to decide what books are Real? what motivates them to make that choice? what biases are benefited from that?#i think its worth noting in conversations like this everyone wants to deny female romance authors the title of Real Book#(which yes a lot of those books are very shallow or badly written. many have outright offensive tropes)#but nobody mentions the equally shallow and offensive stuff by/for men. like william johnstone's shitty cowboy books for example.#no matter how you try to frame it youre going to lose the second you decide something has to fit your standards to be real art.#avpost#its very reminiscent for me of the conversation around modern art where people just want to say they know what is and isn't real art#based on like whatever standards they want. 'ugh its just dots it's not real art'. do u see where im coming from.#a book is just. a piece of writing that was edited and published in the form of a physical book. that's it. its a v literal if vague noun.#it can be something with a lot of depth and meaning. it can be shallow and hacky. it can be nonfiction entirely. its not a value statement#which can also be said about art as a whole some of it is very shallow and bad. some of it is extremely skilled and profound#anyway. no fanfic isn't inherently books but some fanfics have undergone editing & publishing and became books i think#and that doesnt mean that they're 'as good as' the classics by really skilled writers. but theyre still books#tbh a lot of the published fanfic books are worse than most nonbook fanfic. them being books isnt a statement of being more valuable.#its just a literal fact.#i think its interesting to discuss but i swear its not a huge deal whether fanfic is books the bigger deal to me is#the weird attitude popping up on both sides. which i think most people would also find stupid if their brains hadnt been like#totally ruined by an uninterrupted 5 years of insufferable-on-all-sides fanfic discourse that has ruled this website.
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hmmm i want to be. a little bit controversial. but i fear this is the no nuance no critical thinking webbed site. and i don't want to start discourse on this account. ill just. tags.
#yeah y'know what? yes. it's fair to say 'i dont have experience writing this marginalized gender/sexuality and want to research#before writing something offensive'#like. if you spent your entire life consuming mostly mainstream media (as we all have! yes that includes you!)#you probably learned a few stereotypical portrayals. or more than a few#you're probably used to seeing tropes used a certain way#you may not know those are problematic tropes with the specific whatever you're writing#like. you decide to write a wlw ship. you decide to do something urban fantasy proximal and apply a trope you enjoy. all is fine#whoops you've accidentally turned the butch in your classic butch/femme relationship into a monster. oh geez#and since you're used to seeing the trope with het couples you just. write it the same way#and now you have a portrayal of butches as violent agressive monsters. oh no#(yes this can be done with nuance but I'm talking about like. people new to writing mostly. people who haven't written about these subjects)#ok another example. you write a mlm ship. you think well it's two men i know how to write men. you decide to make one of them kinda evil#now you have a gnc dude that's evil and manipulative and a liar. oh no#again: you can add nuance and reclaim these tropes. write characters as full characters and all will be fine#but. BUT. if it's your first fic with such a ship. you may make mistakes with those nuances#some of those harmful tropes get WORSE if you add depth the wrong way#(again. happened to me. had to do a full rewrite of a character when i realized.)#i know it's really funny to dunk on homophobes/misogynists who dont realize that gay/female characters are. well. characters!#but to make fun of people for doing research/being worried about perpetrating harmful tropes#because they're inexperienced? c'mon.#also like 90% of y'all making fun of those writers (the inexperienced ones) COULDN'T write a nuanced aro or disabled character so.#a/n:#actually deleted that last tag. too scary
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image of my tags from reblog, which read: it ain't women's lingerie if a man's wearing it though. that's men's lingerie now. and he looks real good in 'em too. 😘
hey, that's cool. nothing wrong with women wearing women's lingerie. i responded in tags with additional positivity about men wearing lingerie. my pov was that clothes are pointlessly gendered and my tags reflect the position that if a man is wearing lingerie, then he could feel good about it as a man. your response changes the original post, which was not about women, but i hold the same position i wrote in my tags: if a woman is wearing lingerie, then it's women's lingerie and she'd look real good in 'em too. 💖
thinks abyout men in women's lingerie and runs fast as fuck face first into a brick wall
#(can people not make a weird issue out of things that aren't an issue to begin with? like it seems as if this reply is making me out to be-#against trans women or something when the original post is literally about men...#and there are no tags on the original post or in replies or in comments that would indicate the men being spoken of in original post were-#actually women to begin with. otherwise i could've written a tag that was more appropriate the first time around!! 🏳️⚧️)#(how am i supposed to know that the barely one sentence all of 17 words total saying something about men wearing lingerie was supposed to-#somehow be about women? like genuinely. how would i know that? i'm tired of people making an issue out of things like this...#if there's no indication on the post or in tags to clear up the intention then pls don't bring attention to my tags as if i didn't-#get the memo. i'm not a mind reader. i just liked the post. still like the post. but now i'm worried random people are going to start-#sending me hate messages about this like i've intentionally misgendered someone by responding to this post as i have stated above...#which feels significantly less cool tbh#i don't see many posts hyping men in lingerie so i was happy to rb something positive about it! no other intentions here.#i see lots of posts hyping women in lingerie and i rb those too. the original post just happened to say men instead of women...#hopefully this is all clear and we are able to understand this interaction as idk the src. i happened upon this post and decided to rb it.#(no idea who the original person is that i've reblogged from. seemed to be trans friendly and over 25 without any specific dni on pinned)#(last time i reblogged a very simple text post and got a similar reaction it lead to that person posting about me a lot and sending hate)#(i'm just laying it all out in this so everything is transparent and i've shared as much as i know here. no offense or ill intentions) <3
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Women's Not So Distant History
This #WomensHistoryMonth, let's not forget how many of our rights were only won in recent decades, and weren’t acquired by asking nicely and waiting. We need to fight for our rights. Here's are a few examples:
📍 Before 1974's Fair Credit Opportunity Act made it illegal for financial institutions to discriminate against applicants' gender, banks could refuse women a credit card. Women won the right to open a bank account in the 1960s, but many banks still refused without a husband’s signature. This allowed men to continue to have control over women’s bank accounts. Unmarried women were often refused service by financial institutions entirely.
📍 Before 1977, sexual harassment was not considered a legal offense. That changed when a woman brought her boss to court after she refused his sexual advances and was fired. The court stated that her termination violated the 1974 Civil Rights Act, which made employment discrimination illegal.⚖️
📍 In 1969, California became the first state to pass legislation to allow no-fault divorce. Before then, divorce could only be obtained if a woman could prove that her husband had committed serious faults such as adultery. 💍By 1977, nine states had adopted no-fault divorce laws, and by late 1983, every state had but two. The last, New York, adopted a law in 2010.
📍In 1967, Kathrine Switzer, entered the Boston Marathon under the name "K.V. Switzer." At the time, the Amateur Athletics Union didn't allow women. Once discovered, staff tried to remove Switzer from the race, but she finished. AAU did not formally accept women until fall 1971.
📍 In 1972, Lillian Garland, a receptionist at a California bank, went on unpaid leave to have a baby and when she returned, her position was filled. Her lawsuit led to 1978's Pregnancy Discrimination Act, which found that discriminating against pregnant people is unlawful
📍 It wasn’t until 2016 that gay marriage was legal in all 50 states. Previously, laws varied by state, and while many states allowed for civil unions for same-sex couples, it created a separate but equal standard. In 2008, California was the first state to achieve marriage equality, only to reverse that right following a ballot initiative later that year.
📍In 2018, Utah and Idaho were the last two states that lacked clear legislation protecting chest or breast feeding parents from obscenity laws. At the time, an Idaho congressman complained women would, "whip it out and do it anywhere,"
📍 In 1973, the Supreme Court affirmed the right to safe legal abortion in Roe v. Wade. At the time of the decision, nearly all states outlawed abortion with few exceptions. In 1965, illegal abortions made up one-sixth of all pregnancy- and childbirth-related deaths. Unfortunately after years of abortion restrictions and bans, the Supreme Court overturned Roe in 2022. Since then, 14 states have fully banned care, and another 7 severely restrict it – leaving most of the south and midwest without access.
📍 Before 1973, women were not able to serve on a jury in all 50 states. However, this varied by state: Utah was the first state to allow women to serve jury duty in 1898. Though, by 1927, only 19 states allowed women to serve jury duty. The Civil Rights Act of 1957 gave women the right to serve on federal juries, though it wasn't until 1973 that all 50 states passed similar legislation
📍 Before 1988, women were unable to get a business loan on their own. The Women's Business Ownership Act of 1988 allowed women to get loans without a male co-signer and removed other barriers to women in business. The number of women-owned businesses increased by 31 times in the last four decades.
Free download
📍 Before 1965, married women had no right to birth control. In Griswold v. Connecticut (1965), the Supreme Court ruled that banning the use of contraceptives violated the right to marital privacy.
📍 Before 1967, interracial couples didn’t have the right to marry. In Loving v. Virginia, the Supreme Court found that anti-miscegenation laws were unconstitutional. In 2000, Alabama was the last State to remove its anti-miscegenation laws from the books.
📍 Before 1972, unmarried women didn’t have the right to birth control. While married couples gained the right in 1967, it wasn’t until Eisenstadt v. Baird seven years later, that the Supreme Court affirmed the right to contraception for unmarried people.
📍 In 1974, the last “Ugly Laws” were repealed in Chicago. “Ugly Laws” allowed the police to arrest and jail people with visible disabilities for being seen in public. People charged with ugly laws were either charged a fine or held in jail. ‘Ugly Laws’ were a part of the late 19th century Victorian Era poor laws.
📍 In 1976, Hawaii was the last state to lift requirements that a woman take her husband’s last name. If a woman didn’t take her husband’s last name, employers could refuse to issue her payroll and she could be barred from voting.
📍 It wasn’t until 1993 that marital assault became a crime in all 50 states. Historically, intercourse within marriage was regarded as a “right” of spouses. Before 1974, in all fifty U.S. states, men had legal immunity for assaults their wives. Oklahoma and North Carolina were the last to change the law in 1993.
📍 In 1990, the Americans with Disability Act (ADA) – most comprehensive disability rights legislation in U.S. history – was passed. The ADA protected disabled people from employment discrimination. Previously, an employer could refuse to hire someone just because of their disability.
📍 Before 1993, women weren’t allowed to wear pants on the Senate floor. That changed when Sen. Moseley Braun (D-IL), & Sen. Barbara Mikulski (D-MD) wore trousers - shocking the male-dominated Senate. Their fashion statement ultimately led to the dress code being clarified to allow women to wear pants.
📍 Emergency contraception (Plan B) wasn't approved by the FDA until 1998. While many can get emergency contraception at their local drugstore, back then it required a prescription. In 2013, the FDA removed age limits & allowed retailers to stock it directly on the shelf (although many don’t).
📍 In Lawrence v. Texas (2003), the Supreme Court ruled that anti-cohabitation laws were unconstitutional. Sometimes referred to as the ‘'Living in Sin' statute, anti-cohabitation laws criminalize living with a partner if the couple is unmarried. Today, Mississippi still has laws on its books against cohabitation.
#art#feminism#women's history#women's history month#iwd2024#international women's day#herstory#educational#graphics#history#70s#80s#rights#women's rights#human rights
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Thinking about your Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always uses you as his personal food critic whenever he experiments with a new dish. You are the first to taste it before it goes into the restaurant menu. When you question him about it one time he said you're his personal lucky charm because whenever you taste a new dish first it instantly becomes a hit in the menu.
Chef HusbandSukuna! Who has a whole wall dedicated to you and the pics of you two together in his restaurant. Oh but did I mention about the big wall art next to those pics? A wall art of you smiling that he painted himself. He still talks about that art piece proudly to this day.
Chef HusbandSukuna! who has no problem attracting customers. His restaurant is widely known in the town as one of the best spots but the only problem he faces is when people come into his restaurant being attracted to something other than his food. You can only imagine the amount of thirsty comments from both men and women under his restaurant reviews.
Chef HusbandSukuna! Who HATES it when people flirt with him even after clearly seeing the wedding ring he wears daily. That's why he lets his co-workers do all the serving and he rarely comes out of the kitchen until someone ask for his presence.
And whenever a customer flirt with him or ask for his number he straight up points to the wall art of you displayed in the restaurant and murmur "my wife" as he go back into the kitchen unbothered.
Chef HusbandSukuna! Who never lets you cook anything in the kitchen. He always prepare you food and snacks whenever you ask him without complaining and you slowly came to realize that's his way of showing his love for you. And when he prepares food for you it's never anything simple either,he makes sure his wife eats a 5 star meal everyday.
Chef HusbandSukuna! Who takes it as personal offense whenever you recommend take out for dinner. He doesn't understand why you want to eat that unhealthy junk shit when you have a whole chef as your husband.
"Just say you don't love me anymore"
"Kuna.. You are being dramatic I asked it for a change not because I don't love your cooking"
"Then marry a fast food worker that way you can eat junk shit everyday"
"Sukuna!!"
Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always decorate your bento box so cutely when you go to work. He doesn't miss with the hello kitty shaped rice balls and the heart shaped vegetables everytime. One time you remember your coworker asking if you're married to a woman because they refuse to believe a bento box that cute was a work of a man.
Safe to say your coworker was even more suprised after seeing the intimidating 6'4 tatted man who came to pick you up later.
Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always knows to prioritize you over his beloved restaurant. You are sick? Yeah he closes the restaurant and stay by your side all day taking care of you. You want to go on a date? Say no more restaurant is closed within a minute. You took a day off ? yeah the restaurant is closed that day. You wonder how he even keep up the popularity of this restaurant like this.
Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always loves telling people the story about how you two met and how his restaurant took off after he started dating you. In his eyes you were a blessing given to him. He always wonder how his life started getting better and better after meeting you. A cold heart that was completely untouched by everyone started melting at the presence of yours.
But one thing he knows is that he's going to cherish the blessing given to him for the rest of his life.
#jjk x you#jjk drabbles#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x#sukuna#sukuna x you#fluff#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#modern au#anime#jjk x reader#jjk
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im way too funny for men. they literally just don't understand that they're speaking to a genius
#no offense to my friend from the first screenshot who i do love dearly#but come on man 😭😭#biggest turn-on is when men get my jokes tbh#and honestly it's unfair like all a man has to do to make me like him is understand what i am saying#meanwhile women just already get it so it's like unfair to them#but it evens out because i like them more in the first place so it's like cool#anyway. i hope u all find me funny. i consider dming to be an art form related to posting#bri babbles
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LADY STRONG
Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon/Strong!Reader
Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms
Warnings - none except not edited!!
Word Count - 3.1k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
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As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.
You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.
What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.
Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.
Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.
“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”
The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.
Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”
“I study!”
“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.
Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he's the heir to the Iron Throne. I am merely the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”
And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.
Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.
Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”
“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”
His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”
Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.
Gods.
You hate it when he’s right.
“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”
Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”
“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”
“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”
Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”
All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.
Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”
Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”
You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.
An hour—that's all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.
How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one can consider nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.
Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”
You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you���re right—a walk might be nice.”
Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.
“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.
“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”
The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”
Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”
“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.
“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”
With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”
Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.
You miss home. Desperately.
You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.
But even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.
Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.
Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.
Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.
As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.
You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.
He’s talented—you think, studying his form.
Talent is something you're familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself. Yet never before had you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.
He didn’t move like other boys.
He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.
Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.
Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.
He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.
Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.
“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”
The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.
Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”
You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”
His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”
You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”
A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— “and you are…?”
Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.
Seven Hells. He doesn't know, does he?
A sudden speechlessness grabs hold of your tongue.
You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you aren't what many expected of a Targaryen princess.
Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.
Even so, it's rare that you met someone who doesn't know who you are. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.
“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”
“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”
“Southern?”
Benji nods.
“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”
The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.
Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”
Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”
Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.
“Why not?”
He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”
Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.
“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”
Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”
Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.
“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to defend her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”
You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.
He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”
“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”
Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”
The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.
“What of me?”
A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”
Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.
Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.
It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.
But this was different.
Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.
Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was too forward and-”
You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“A deal?”
You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”
Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”
“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”
In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.
“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”
Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”
“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”
The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”
You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.
“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”
Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent.
Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.
“Princess...” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”
You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.
“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”
You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.
“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.
Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”
You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.
“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”
a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??
and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.
anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot
benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus
#benjicot blackwood imagine#ben blackwood imagine#hotd imagine#bloody ben imagine#benji blackwood imagine#benjicot blackwood x reader#ben blackwood x reader#ben blackwood imagines#benjicot blackwood#benji blackwood x reader#bloody ben x reader#hotd imagines#house of the dragon#house of the dragon imagine#house of the dragon fanfic#benji blackwood#hotd fan fic#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#house of dragon imagine#hotd season 2#asoiaf imagine#asoiaf
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Yeah
Anyone else deeply hate this meme format or??
like it's giving "WOMEN ARE SHALLOW. MEN CRY WHEN REAL THING HAPPENS. WOW MAN COOL. WOMEN FUNNY STUPID." shut the fuck up bro please
#i had this whole argument for “in the current years. this meme is actually both offensive for men and women because it assumes that women on#ly cry for anything even remotely resemling love. and that males will cry whenever something is animated.“ and also uh#something about the fact that we should care about mens mental health but the first step is unironically making sure womens mental health is#taken care of. after all. why do you reckon they choose the bear?#e x a c t l y. that is an actual issue and not some random ass “hot button topic” no its actually a bad thing and it should not happen#and then people are out here being like “we need the purge films to be real” without realizing they sound like total psychos#like all crime being legal would simply mean that once a year the worst of the worst go unpunished for a day where every deviant shit they w#anna do just. goes unpunished#<- that is a real thing i saw in an IG comment section what the fuck i tell you
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Little doe.
Cregan Stark x betrothed Velaryon!reader
Summary: the reader is everything Cregan isn't- soft, kind, and delicate. He's determined to be gentle.
Warnings: age gap, soft dominance, talk of blood and consummating a marriage, bedding ceremony
A/n: This one is fluff and stuff. Perhaps a part two with a little smut is needed 🤭
part 2
Masterlist
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Cregan was only a tad worried.
The journey back to Winterfell was almost silent, and he was beginning to grow concerned for the quiet woman seated on her horse next to him.
The Velaryon Princess.
After winning the war, young Aegon III honored his mother’s promise to the Stark: help win the war, and he could have the hand of the Princess.
Rhaenyra’s only daughter.
When Daemon had found out about his wife’s bargaining while he was away in Harrenhall, he was furious. The child was not his and still he felt a responsibility for her. And handing off the only daughter to a dynasty like this one felt wrong.
But that was then. And this is now.
Cregan’s horse brushed against hers. “Nervous?”
Her head turned, her eyes moving over his face as if taking in every inch of him.
He now realized just how much she looked like her brothers.
She was the second eldest child, between Jace and Luke, and yet she was nothing like the two. Her parents (all four of them) had kept her from even the hint of conflict and battle, and it showed. She was more graceful and delicate, soft-spoken and kind, not an experienced warrior who could lead against the greens with an iron fist.
That’s what worried the Stark.
He was quite a bit her elder, her now 18 and him being 24. A lot of change happens in a mere six years- for Cregan, he had fought and won a whole war in less time than that of their age gap. And because of his well fought war, he was more harsh.
He feared he couldn’t be the gentle husband she needed.
She hummed, as if that was answer enough for him. The soft clomping of their horses was the only sound between them.
He sighed. “I believe I asked you a question. It’s rude to ignore someone, Princess.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t meant offense by her actions. In fact, she was rather mortified that he had taken offense to it in the first place. “Perhaps a bit nervous,” she admitted softly.
Her voice was soft and calm. It was everything Cregan was not used to.
He hummed back, not even aware that he was doing the very thing he criticized her for. “Winterfell is only a day’s ride out. There’s not a reason for nerves.”
“I’ve not… I’ve not been away from Dragonstone or King’s Landing before,” she mumbled.
Cregan was surprised by that. But being the sheltered princess, he assumed there was much she didn’t know about. “You are in for an adventure then, little dragon.”
…
Outside of the castle doors, Cregan dismounted his horse and stepped to the princess. Without question or concern, he grabbed her by her hips and lifted her from her horse. Her body slid down his as he lowered her, their faces too close for comfort for either of them. As if in slow motion, her lips parted but no sound came out. She didn't know what to say.
Cregan's large hand brushed hair away from her face and his eyes set on her like a starved wolf- observant, and yet, ready to strike anything at a moment's notice.
His head dipped down, his nose brushing her temple as he took in the proximity of the two. "We'll marry soon," he remarked quietly.
Another hum came from her but he let it slide. It sounded more like the squeak of a frightened mouse and he would be an arse for ridiculing her for it. In fact, it amused him. His lips tugged up into a grin as his hands tightened on her waist. "You're not a big, strong dragon," he mused. He bent down a little more to whisper in her ear. "You're just a frightened deer."
Her big doe eyes stared up into his in anticipation and worry for his next move. She may have been innocent, but she was not dumb. She knew what powerful men did to women when they so choose.
His lips quirked up. "Can I kiss you, little doe?" He asked as his lips brushed her cheek.
She tilted her head down in embarrassment but Cregan caught her chin.
"So soft," he mused kindly. "I can be patient."
He released her and her lungs finally filled with air. She rested a hand against the horse in an attempt to collect herself. He offered his arm politely, though his eyes said that it was expected of her to take it.
Together, they walked into Cregan's home.
…
"Knew I'd find you eventually," his deep voice interrupted the silence.
She gasped. Her hand dropped from the shelf she was admiring the contents of. "Lord Stark. Forgive me."
He shrugged. "Don't know why I would need to. Just a curious doe, hm?"
She shook her head insistently. "I only meant-"
"-Please," he smiled as he took slow steps to her. "My home is yours now. Don't apologize for being in your home."
She smiled lightly. "Thank you."
He reached out and took the carefully bound book in her hand. "Stark history," he noted. He flipped it back and forth. "Are you truly interested?"
She nodded.
He smiled- a genuine one. "I'm glad." He held it out for her to take again. But when her hand reached out, he pulled it back teasingly. When her face fell and her hand hesitated, he finally handed it to her. "If you want more, I can manage a few of the-"
"-Please," she insisted.
His eyes traced her face and he nodded. "Course. Consider it done." He closed the distance and dipped his head down, kissing her head without much thought.
As he walked off, her hand came up to the spot he had just kissed.
…
During the entire wedding feast, she was lightheaded. The ceremony had her numb. But what really sold it all was Cregan's heavy kiss on her lips at the end of it. He had cupped her cheeks and gave her a weighted kiss. Like he was hungry. Like he'd consume her.
She tried to eat even a little of what was in front of her, but she couldn't. The back of Cregan's hand brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Eat."
She looked over to him with a questioning look. "I am."
He smiled, completely amused. His hand found a comfortable place to the back of her neck. "Staring at everyone else does nothing."
"I have not-"
His voice rumbled as he muttered her name. "I placed more on your plate minutes ago and you've yet to even notice."
"W-" True to his word, there was additional food on her plate. Her eyes bore into his. "Forgive me. I d-"
His thumb rubbed into the skin at the back of her neck. "-'s alright. But eat."
She hummed then paused and forced herself to give him a verbal answer. "I will."
He smiled, beginning to massage the nape of her neck. For someone so harsh, his hands were gentle.
…
She let out a shriek when the men finally set her down in the chamber. Cregan was already in there, ushered by the women. They had managed to get him down to his tunic and trousers. His head snapped to her when he heard the noise.
He lightly shoved away the hands of the woman untying the strings of his tunic. He stepped through the small crowd of men with light shoves until he was next to Y/n.
She had been stripped of all but her shift, her hair tousled from its neat updo earlier. There was a slight fear to her eyes that worried Cregan.
He pushed off the men enough to give the two room. He circled her and pulled her to him. With his chest against her back, his head lowered to kiss her neck. The men hollared and cheered, all excited that the Stark had begun the bedding ceremony.
His kisses trailed up her neck until his lips brushed her ear. "Are you scared?" He asked so lowly that only those two could hear. "I'll call it off."
She felt frozen, her eyes stuck on the ground.
He nipped at her ear, his hand slowly brushing down her forearm until he joined their hands together. "Squeeze my hand and I'll do it."
She had to force herself to wiggle each finger until she was able to finally squeeze his hand.
"Go," he muttered immediately against her neck to the others. There was a hesitation in the room. Like perhaps they hadn't heard him right.
Cregan's head raised slowly, taking in the room. His gaze was truly wolfish.
The room emptied after that.
When the door closed, Cregan's hands dropped from her body. He moved away, going to the small table against the wall and pouring himself a drink. He looked back with a questioning look if she wanted one, to which she denied.
Downing the cup, he filled it again and took it with him to move back to her. She had yet to move.
He stepped in front of her. "Are you afraid?"
Y/n lifted her chin to finally look at him. There was a glazed look in her eyes, though there were no tears. She took a breath to brave saying what she wanted. "Does it matter?"
His head lulled to the side with a sigh and a smile. He looked down at the content of the cup and swirled it before offering it.
Her fingers wrapped around it and she soon downed the contents.
"I will never force myself on you," he promised. He ran a hand through his hair. "Us North, we can be… brude-ish. I forget you were made with gentle hands." He takes the cup back. "Need more?"
She shook her head. And when he moved away, she walked to the bed and sat down.
Cregan soon joined her. He sat next to her and the two stared at the wall. He twiddled his thumbs awkwardly until he figured out what he wanted to say. "You're the most delicate woman I've ever known. I'm not sure what to do with you. I want to hold you but… my hands have never cradled anything. You understand?"
She nodded, picking at a string on her shift.
His hand covered hers. His head dipped down. "Give me a better answer than that."
She looked to him. "I do understand."
He accepted that. "Thank you." He gently pinched her chin between his fingers. Cregan's eyes darkened at the proximity of the two. His eyes raked over her face carefully, taking in every part of her. "Most beautiful doe I've ever laid eyes on."
…
"C'mere," Cregan motioned.
Y/n moved to him.
The two had grown more familiar with one another. The consummation of their marriage remained undone, though neither cared. Cregan, the night of the wedding, had ruffled his wife's hair and slashed his hand to spread blood across the sheets. The North was none the wiser.
It was especially believable with how close the two had grown- though that was entirely unplanned.
When she neared the desk, he stood and offered his chair. He leaned over it to talk over her shoulder. "Look here."
On Cregan's large wooden desk lay a large fabric with stitching in a webbing pattern, names scattered everywhere across it.
It was a Stark family tree.
His hand reached over her and brushed the fabric. "Here I am. And my brother- before he died. Father there, and mother." His hand came back to his spot, brushing idly. "I'll have your name sewn in soon."
She leaned back in the chair. "I thought that was reserved until a woman has given you children?"
He shrugged without a care. "You are my wife."
She wanted to argue further but his fingers had wandered to her hair, twirling around the soft locks slowly. He looked rather entranced as he admired the woman. She cleared her throat. "According to the law, this marriage is not legally binding yet."
"Yet. Not yet." He leaned over the backrest. "But if I recall right, I banished the law from our bed. The priests and lawmakers. Because you asked me to."
She shivered, leaning forward to escape the overwhelming feeling of him consuming her every thought.
Cregan twirled one last curl in his hand before letting it fall. He stepped around the desk to face her. "I'll have you stitched into the fabric within the fortnight. I don't need a child to prove that you're mine." He stretched. "I'm off to petitions. Tell me you'll miss me."
Her lips pulled up into a happy smile. "I cannot lie and say that I won't."
He accepted that. "It's almost beginning to sound like you love me."
She flushed.
Rheanyra had never loved Laenor. Not… not like that. Alicent had never loved Viserys. Helaena and Aegon… Never was a political marriage as filled with admiration as this. It frightened her.
She had heard tales of men bedding mistresses, and wives with other men than their husband. It was normal in a sense to do so. But now, in front of Cregan, she couldn't imagine her soul surviving if Cregan loved another. And to cheat on him would be to cheat on everything she loves. Everything she l-
She loved him.
It hit her harshly.
Her silence had confused Cregan. "Didn't mean much by it, Doe. Only jesting."
If only he knew her heart already belonged to him and him alone.
.............................................
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part 2
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girldad!geta pleeease!
Filia Divina
Pairing: Emperor Geta x Wife!reader
Tags: childbirth, pregnancy, miscarriage mentioned, implied infanticide, soft!geta (if you squint), historically accurate practices, NOT BETA READ SO IF YOU SEE SOMETHING WONKY NO YOU DIDN’T, good ole fashioned misogyny
AN: Tollere Liberos is in reference to an ancient Roman tradition where a father decides whether or not to accept a newborn as their child. Rejected children were abandoned via ‘expositus’ (aka dead ass just leaving a baby out in the wilderness). So basically girldad!geta but historically accurate lol. Enjoy!
It had only been an hour since you birthed her—a sweet little creature with curls the color of honey and supple skin like the flesh of a ripe plum. With a mighty wail fit to be heard across an empire, she came into the world. Your goddess, Juno, generously granted her the health and strength you prayed for. You rejoiced, though your joy was not shared.
The midwives cleaned your daughter in grave silence, save for the whispers of the politic-men gathered to witness the birth of Rome’s divine son. They huddled together in the far corner of the chamber as your girl laid against her mother’s chest for the first time.
“It cannot be true—look again!” Geta frantically commands the weary doctor. He paces across the marble floor in a state of distress. A litany of expressions troubles his face; disbelief, panic, betrayal.
“My lord, it is not what was desired, but I assure you—the child is female. You have my greatest sorrows.” The doctor mournfully bows his head, knowing better than to look the short tempered prince in the eye.
Geta was persistent, diligently sewing his seed in your womb since your holy union. You passed two of his children as blood, and he held you as you suffered through the pain. He watched your body grow when his efforts succeeded, massaged your taut skin with olive oil, and fed you bread soaked in sweet wine when you felt ill. He even kneeled at Jupiter’s alter to call for the safe delivery of his first son and the health of his wife—All these precautions only to be cruelly slighted.
“The gods have punished me, yet I’ve done nothing but bend to their will.” Geta holds his head in disbelief, his devastation made evident by a deep scowl.
Senator Gracchus tentatively approaches your distraught husband, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“My lord, we must atone for our offenses, whatever they may be. It is a grave misfortune indeed, but your bride—“
Rage ignites across Geta’s face as he pulls away from his constituent’s touch.
“Speak tactfully of your empress if you wish to keep your tongue, Senator.” He seethes through a tight jaw. Gracchus relents, his tone softening considerably. He continues slowly and with caution.
“Two winters have passed since your union, and she has yet to bring forth an heir of Rome. Her body has proved inhospitable. The gods have sent a message, and it would be foolish to turn a cheek—you must heed this omen! ”
Geta takes a moment, carefully considering the senator’s plea for reason. He looks back to you, Obsidian eyes gazing down at the linen sheet that obscures your sleeping child.
“I am a conduit of their will. Tollere Liberos will prevail and the gods will decide through me.” Geta turns to you fully. Your heart becomes heavy in your chest as you search your husband’s face for tenderness, but see nothing but solid stone.
In your dreams, you imagined the day Geta approached his first heir as sweet—that he might kiss your reddened cheeks and proudly claim his child. Never did you think the sight of him would cause you to tighten your grip and cower away. He looms over the bed where you lay exhausted and perspiring—like a holy monument.
“Show me the child.”
“My love, I beg you—“
“Your emperor commands it.” Geta callously interrupts.
You unwrap your daughter in your arms, trembling hands moving as gingerly as possible. She shifts in her sleep, curling her precious limbs toward her delicate body, but does not wake. Geta’s eyes widen at the sight of her.
“So it is true. My faithful wife’s womb has betrayed me.” His gaze softens. Something stirs behind it, but you are not sure what.
“If you wish to return her life, then be merciful and do the same with mine.” Your heart twists and aches, your love for your emperor becoming a knife in your rib.
To your shock, Geta reaches out to his daughter, takes her tiny fist in his palm, and runs a thumb over her blushing knuckles. She wraps her hand around her father’s finger with a mighty yawn.
You have seldom seen your restless husband become so still.
“She bears your resemblance.” Geta’s voice is but a whisper. His gaze doesn’t stray from her. It appears his heart aches the same as yours.
“And a head of golden hair.” You can only offer an exhausted smile.
Geta takes his daughter into his arms for the first time.
“The gods have spoken!” He declares to the small gathering of senators. Your emperor raises his girl above the laurels atop his head. Some look on with horror, and others with pride.
“She will have my name! It is done.”
As your daughter’s first weeks pass, Geta’s tenderness only grows. In the lavender hours of dawn, you wake to find him cradling her in the crook of his arm. He speaks to her softly.
“Poor girl, you have wounded your father’s pride. My, what tragedy.”
You smile at the sound of her gentle crooning as your husband assuages her back to sleep.
“A son would belong to Rome—but you, dear Septima, will belong to me.”
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