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#you told me you hope i get raped again told me to kill myself and called the cops to my house

just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Text

Want You Dead

Daemon Targaryen x Pirate!Reader | Part 1 2 3

Summary: It was a classic case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time that lead to the Rogue Prince's capture to a ship of pirates. Had it not been for the cunning lady of the ship, he would have been killed. Yet, upon his relief of capture, he told himself it was only right if he captures the very lady that thought to capture him in the first place.

Word Count: 14k+

Warnings: graphic mentions of assault/rape, smut [oral (m receiving), degradation kink, impregnation kink, binding kink, fingering, vaginal penetration], fem!reader, super slow burn (i hate myself for doing this to myself), some made up characters and lore, time skips, bisexual reader, super thirsty reader, super major kinky reader, everyone onboard is her playmate fr, curse words because I'm tired, angst, misogyny, parts with fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HELLO I MADE A FUCKING SPIN OFF????????? WHY????? IT'S SO LONG I CRASHED THE EDITOR SO MANY TIMES ?????? WHICH IS WHY I AM CUTTING THIS IN HALF OR POSSIBLY MORE T_T I really did not want to do this but tumblr decided for me with the amount of times it refused to cooperate. It's far from done T_T but i hope it's just gonna be two very long chapters. Anyway pls reblog and comment if you so desire me to get that next chapter finished quickly T_T also, if you would like to be tagged pls tell me.

"STOP!"

The 3 pair of ears in the room ring at the sound of the shriek.

He, who was bound on the floor, didn't care for it though, as there was another more pressing matter at hand. He awaited the piercing sensation of a blade to his neck. He realized though that shriek had halted his impending doom as no painful sensation came. He opens his eyes just as a sound of someone galloping over resounded on the wooden floors.

"What are you morons doing?" I demand, turning to the silver haired man on his knees with a sword to his neck. He raised his eyes up at me, then down to the weapon in my own hand.

I hit the sword by his neck away, metal clashing against metal. The blood my blade was still slick in splattered onto man's cheeks in the process.

I make a face at that, crouching down after wiping my weapon on my dress shirt, uncaring if it stains the already stained off-white cloth.

I take in his features-- violet eyes, strong jaw, pointed nose, just as it seems he is taking in mine. I do not fail to catch the fact his pupils linger on the loose ties of my top by my cleavage where a single, largish, encrusted ruby dangled from my neck.

My own eyes travel down to his armor, and it seems we both silently examine the crests we bore. I lick my lips before speaking, "apologies. May I?" I raise a hand to his face.

The man looks at me darkly. I knit my brows, holding in a chuckle at his lack of response, tongue darting out yet again to my lower lip. I pull my hand away. I stand straight then turn to the two men behind me, "did you cut his tongue off?"

For a moment, the two look at each other. The tall, red haired man widens his eyes at the shorter, yet still tall, blonde, mentally asking him if he, indeed, cut off his tongue.

I roll my eyes after a moment passed with no response, "how could you lot forget so quickly? I was literally here with you less than an hour ago, not a whole day!"

I dust off my dirty, leather trousers and stomp my leather boots as I listen to them make excuses.

"It's not me! I caught Gorm hacking at him and I came to help," Ahern replies with his thick Gaelic accent, "I do not ken if he managed to chop his tongue of in the meantime."

I turn to Gorm, placing my hands on my hips, exasperated, "well?"

"I don't remember, if I'm being honest," he replies under his breath, muttering something about drinking too much ale in his Norse mother tongue.

"Fine!" I sigh, turning back to the man on the floor, "shall I check?" I lean down, piping softly, "could you be a dear and just," I bring my thumb by his lower lip, barely ghosting it on his skin, "open your mouth for me? It's truly more for you, if I'm being frank."

For the prolonged while I exchange looks with him, the man seems half compelled to do as I asked out of sheer intrigue. His eyes were still dark, and I yet could tell there was a curious glint behind them, curious and predatory.

"Who's he anyhow? Why can't we kill 'im?" Ahern asks.

Immediately, the prisoner turns away and stares at the large oaf with a look of daggers.

I huff and look over to said oaf, shooting him a similar expression. Ahern's annoyed face, once finding mine, melts into regret.

I roll my eyes, walking towards the discarded weapon on the floor, picking it up, "this is yours, correct?" I turn to our captive, earning silence still.

Ahern answers instead, "that's his alright."

I turn to Ahern, "This is Valyrian steel," I start to explain, turning back to its owner, "and his hair is whiter than your arse cheeks," I hand him the weapon. "He's a Valyrian."

"Hmp," Gorm tilts his head, "I thought he was just old."

I roll my eyes and shake my head, "this is why you should leave the politics to the masters, captain." I turn from Gorm to our prisoner, "and as said master, I say we take him onboard and bring him to our next stop... use him for show."

For a moment, my two shipmates are silent.

"No offence," the ginger rubs his fingers down from his chin to his beard, "but this one would've nearly killed our bright ol' captain if I hadn't stepped in," Ahern says.

"And you would suggest what? We leave him here? We kill him?" I inquired, "you do know that being a Valyrian means he is not only a high born, but a royal, right? And even it were that he is not the most beloved of his line, make no mistake his line will come for whomever made him unable return."

I steal a look from the Valyrian, "we don't even know why he's here, clad in armour."

"Yeah, well no one's gonna know why he ended up missing," Gorm says, yet again making me roll my eyes.

Ahern agrees, "yeah, we've done it once before-"

"Yeah! With that rat and his stupid cunty right hand-"

"And that old geezer! Gods, with the awful beard-"

The two continue to bicker amongst themselves of the exploits we've accomplished, but they all fall deaf to my ears.

"I beg your pardon," I turn to the man who had yet to speak, "they're not very creative and it's impossible for even I to help them with that."

Finally, after a few moments of struggle on the behalf of the captive wanting to break free, we got on board Jocelyn. We had to knock him out and have Ahern carry him over his shoulder to do so though. We tied him up, starboard side, with rope on poles meant for the very job of keeping prisoners.

Right now, I was patiently awaiting his return to consciousness.

I fiddled with my necklace, retracing the emblem on the reflective red rock with my fingers. I was sat by the edge of the ship, watching as the salty waves crashed against the hull.

I couldn't help but break into a smile upon hearing the man behind me curse and groan. It was nearing the sunset now, so he was lucky the sun was not too bright for his newly opened eyes.

I turn from where I sat, and hop in front of him, slightly raising my head to meet his face, as he was taller than I, "so you do have a tongue."

His head shakes as the ship hits a particularly rough wave.

I blink at the bloodied side of his head and purse my lips before telling him, "if you hadn't been so difficult, I wouldn't have had to hit you with my hilt."

He grinds his teeth then clenches his jaw, clearly not in the mood for my shenanigans, evident in his attempts to pierce me with his glare.

I place my hands behind my back and lean forward, "you're bleeding. Just say the word and I'll clean you up," I raise a finger, "and even feed you. Supper is almost ready."

He speaks nothing still.

I narrow my eyes at him, anticipating some sort of bite in his vernacular, since he did hold the looks of someone who basks in chaos.

Gorm especially made it a point to whine about how confrontational and short tempered he had had been, and how they quickly escalated into a fight because of the silver haired man's brazen words. Of course, Gorm omitted mentions of any sort of offence he did to our captive. He didn't have to say anything for me to know he's most definitely guilty of riling the Valyrian up just as much though.

I make an exaggerated expression, "I am afraid I'm being quite serious about asking for your permission before doing anything to you," I lean closer, "before touching you. Consent, to me, is important, for anyone who touches me without it loses their fingers one at a time."

The man's expression is blank, yet I could see a fire building in his violet eyes. I chuckle, excited over his brewing vexation.

Upon the impact of another crash of waves, I bend my knees and rock with the movement to remain upright. My hair flies up to the man's face as a gust of wind accompanies us. I push the strands behind my ears, exposing my collarbones further, practically drawing in the man's gaze to the area. I bite my lower lip as I watch him examine my skin and the necklace laid upon it, "perhaps you'd be more willing to speak of another topic? Shall you prefer to ask me something about myself?"

I move back and sit on the side of the ship again, this time facing him.

He was stretched out like a starfish, arms and legs in thick rope, and I could only imagine how uncomfortable he must be, especially since he was still clad in his armor. Oh, how I wonder, with how good he looks in it, how much better he would look without.

After another moment passed with only silence, I decide to speak instead, "your crest. It is similar to the king's." I think of how badly I want to retrace it with my fingers.

His head wobbles again because of the waves.

"I reckon you could be a prince, considering your attire. It would make sense, considering how much gold Ahern got out of you. But then again," I take a moment before continuing. He seemed exasperated and awfully done with it all. Though he had an air of composure around him, with how he was clenching his fists and possibly curling his toes underneath his shoes, he looked like he was about to snap. I smirk deliciously, thinking of nothing else than a way to make him burst, "perhaps you are just so desperate to pass off as a Targaryen."

"Not as desperate as you are to converse with me," he finally responds, though in High Valyrian.

I purse my lips in a small, thoughtful smile, and cross my arms, "I am not the desperate one on Jocelyn," says I in the same language.

He conceals it well, but I could tell he was not expecting me to understand, let alone respond.

For a moment, the two of us stare each other down. If he could, he probably would have lit me on fire with his gaze by now.

"Supper is here," chirps Aldora, walking towards me with a hot dish of food. She dreamily smiles ear to ear as she hands me a bowl.

I smirk back at the shorter woman as I take the food from her, "thank you, my love."

"May I?" she peers up at me with a longing expression.

"You may," I offer my hand, "but what of our Targaryen scum?" My eyes flick over to the said man as Aldora takes my hand and hops up next to me, "what shall he eat?"

Aldora frowns, seating herself snugly close to me, "he's a Targaryen?" She pulls her lips in disgust as I nod. She then presses her lips in an uninterested pout, "matters not. He is our prisoner and dangles on our mercy."

I click my tongue at that, "now, my love, I taught you better than to leave your bed pets hungry," I retort, hopping off in front of the said Targaryen, managing not to spill a drop of food.

Aldora is offended, "you cannot bed him!" She whines, "you are promised to me tonight."

I chuckle, "I jest, love," I turn back to her and give her a quick flying kiss, "still," I turn back to the man and scoop up some food, "I would enjoy it if he joined."

I bring a spoon up to his lips. His jaw clenches slightly as he looks down on me.

"I WOULD NOT!" Aldora exclaims, jumping down behind me. Swiftly, I turn to her, seeing her cross her arms with teary yet angry eyes. She roughly stomps off, thunder and lightning following her.

I can't help but chuckle in amusement, calling out, "Aldora, my love! Do not be cross!"

Ahern, who Aldora shoved right past, huffs at the contact then bellows out, "it'd do you good to get used to it!" He then turns and makes eye contact with me, "she's got a thirst that not even all seven seas can quench."

After a moment tension, Ahern snaps out of his trance and turns back to the direction of my quarters where Aldora locked herself up in, "last time, she left me for you! Imagine how I felt."

"AT LEAST IT WASN'T FOR A PRISONER!" Aldora screams.

"Aye, and a prisoner one time," Ahern mutters, walking off somewhere else in the ship.

"My arm is starting to tire," I speak to the prisoner.

"Both mine are," he quips back, making me chuckle in excitement over his harsh tone.

I put the spoon down on the bowl and raise a brow, "what would you have me do?" I watch his expression then decide to take a bite of food myself. He reverts back into his silence. A brow of mine quirks up in expectation.

When he does nothing but glare, I lose interest, "right."

I crouch down and place the bowl in front of him, nudging it back in place with my boot when it moved around the floor, "tell me when you're finally interested. Then, I can keep you locked up in my quarters instead of here." I stand up and give him a smile, "til then, Targaryen scum, I must pacify Aldora, lest she threaten to throw herself into the sea again."

The said Targaryen only watches as his unhinged captor walks away and enters her quarters. It was not long until the seas calmed, the sun set, and his, along with everyone else's ears were filled with lewd, loud, and wanton groans and cries of womanly pleasure.

His eye twitches as he looks down at the bowl of food in front of him.

The next day, I am munching an apple in front of the silver haired man, yet again waiting for him to wake up, only this time from his sleep.

Our captain, Gorm, who had been watching me watch the prisoner finally decides to walk over.

"Might I?" he asks me before coming closer. I, who was leaning against the side of the ship reach my hand out to him, and take another bite of my apple, wordlessly allowing him to approach me.

He takes my hand and firmly pulls me against him, wrapping his arm around me, securing them under my breasts. I place my arm over his and I continue to finish the rest of my apple.

Gorm leans against me, bending down to match my height, muttering in his mother tongue against my ears, "I don't understand your intrigue. He is hideous compared to me."

I chuckle as I chew before responding in Norse, "you vikings made sure to steal all the pretty women from their husbands," I lean against his chest and crane my neck up to look at his face, "you're wrongfully boasting about your good looks." I take a moment to examine in his blonde hair, blue eyes, and thick lashes, giving his lips a quick peck, then turning away, taking another bite of my snack, "and, he's not so bad. Much more cunning than you could ever be."

Gorm huffs at that, face sinking to my shoulder, pressing a rough kiss on my skin, "he doesn't know what you like."

I giggle at the ticklish feeling, "and I wager he'll learn much quicker than you ever could."

He is fully offended, and releases me abruptly. He then spits at the Targaryen's direction. Lucky for the latter, it misses his face by a hair and lands in front of him with a disgusting splat sound.

It was in this moment, I realize that man was already awake. I excitedly perk up at the sight of his open eyes, "good morn, Targaryen scum!"

He only looks at me again, completely annoyed, face wound in tension, ready to kill.

I smirk at him, "oh don't be so grumpy. If you must know, you are not special to the title scum," I walk over to him, clarifying as I get on my toes and move back and forth, "I think all monarchs and nobles are such."

He watches me as I take another bite of my apple, "hungry, my pet?" I ask as I move the fruit to his lips.

As if on cue, I hear his stomach growl. I decide to ignore it for his sake, although I am sure the involuntary act his body betrayed him with only added much more to his sour awakening.

I instead explain, "I will not feed you if you do not ask me to, for why should I force you when I know how much more effective it'd be to persuade you," I turn between him and my apple, "especially since I, too, am a master of that craft."

The Targaryen scum does not respond in the manner in which I wanted, "where did you steal that?"

My lips quirk at the accusation as I watch his eyes lock on my ruby necklace, "you think so lowly of me, Targaryen scum. This is the only thing on Jocelyn that is truly mine."

Jocelyn? He huffs, asking again "where are you taking me, insolent wench?"

I huff, rolling my eyes, "boring." I release a sigh, "still, if you must know, we're heading west. It's quite pleasant there in this time of year."

The man seems a bit pacified with my answer and I detest it. I click my tongue, "you are too eager to escape, yet you've no idea whose ship you are aboard."

He tilts his head, "you called that nitwit captain."

I cross my arms and shrug, turning to Gorm for a second then back to him.

"It's his ship," he decides.

I bite my apple, then reply, muffled, "does the captain normally own the ship?"

He quips back with his own question, "does the king own the castle?"

I give him a look, "well, that doesn't matter," I reply, "he's the king."

The Targaryen decides to speak to me again in his native tongue, "my sword holds the strength of his king's army behind it."

I chuckle at that, looking down to his hips, where his sword would have been, had I not locked it up with the rest of my spoils, "I see no sword, nor army behind you at all," I look back up to him and step forward, replying in High Valyrian, "you are nameless to me."

His face contorts at that.

I am awfully excited by this. I swirl my tongue across my lips and chuckle.

"Untie me and I will name myself," he responds.

I can't help but throw my head back in laughter, fully amused by how much weight he puts on the revelation of his mere name. Still, the spark behind his eyes makes my stomach churn deliciously, so I say, "I will untie you, if you swear not to touch me without my approval."

He weighs the seriousness of my words. He does not respond, and I am honestly surprised he did not just lie to me just to get what he wanted. I was not stupid enough to think his silence as agreement, and yet I was so eager to see what he would do, to feel him against me, even though I knew his touch would be nothing but attempts to hurt me as hard as he possibly could. It however set a ripple of excitement down to my core. I quickly decided I was ready to be hurt and began to bring my hands up to his left arm. I quirk a brow up, asking, "may I then?"

He again does not respond, but this time, I say, "I will assume you agreed with me, darling."

It work on untying one of his hands. His arm tenses under my touch.

It does not take long before someone catches me in the act and scolds harshly, "OI! DO NOT UNTIE HIM!"

"Or what, Fredson? You'll kill me? He'll kill me?" I chuckle, "good. I cannot stand your snoring."

"Captain!" someone tattles.

There is a moment of commotion then Gorm, fuming, shouts, "YOU WILL NOT UNTIE HIM!" He begins to storm over from the far end of the ship, "I will cut his arm off if you do!"

Continuing to work on the bind, almost fully untying it, I mutter, mostly to myself, "I don't understand how that is a threat to me."

By the time Gorm manages to get here, it's too late. The Targaryen scum already darted his hand to me and struck me across the face with all his might, or at least what was left of it from being tied up so long. Make no mistake he was still strong though, as I literally went spinning on my heels, seeing stars.

Next thing I knew, I was barely conscious yet conscious enough to feel his hot breath against my cheekbone. He had me pressed against him, his arm was around me, choking my neck.

I whine, breathless, bothered, increasingly turned on. I lick my lips and taste blood. I moan after I hear him mutter in High Valyrian, "you are a fool in thinking I would not hurt you."

I barely manage to wheeze out a chuckle, "I wanted you to hurt me."

He does not respond to this as Gorm is barking out multiple long threads of threats, demanding his attention. The rest of the crew is circled around the us, ready to watch whatever is going down next.

The man holding me captive barks, "do you doubt that I could break her neck?"

"No, but think she would enjoy it," Gorm retorts, face contorting.

I choke out a chuckle but it ends with a cough. The blood on my philtrum sprinkles in front of me because of it.

"I may not be bright, but neither are you for thinking you can get anything out of killing her other than yourself getting killed right after," Gorm states.

The Targaryen quickly realizes the rashness of his actions, agreeing internally he was getting nothing out of this. It was especially clear to him or, perhaps the exact opposite of clear, when he was hit from behind, effectively getting knocked out again.

Instantly, my chokehold is freed and I inhale sharply, coughing out in my hasty attempts to catch my breath.

After my lightheadedness faded a bit, I look up and find Aldora to be my savior. With her angry expression, she heaves as she grips a rock, knelt atop of a barrel. She drops the stone to the floor and makes a face at me, "still into him, love?"

I straighten myself up and watch as blood drips form the Targaryen's forehead, "are you doubting me?"

Aldora growls in annoyance and storms off yet again.

I lick what's left of the blood on my lips and turn to Gorm, who is glaring at me in distaste. I tilt my head to the the other light haired man, "unbind him."

"You fucking-"

"We're nearing our destination. We can't possibly leave him tied up, bleeding, and dirty," I retort, "and as you said just now, you are not bright enough to understand most things, so instead of using your head, use your hands to do as I say."

Gorm grips his fists tightly and clenches his jaw. I stare at him, awaiting his compliance. He does just that, albeit begrudgingly, and once he moves, I walk off and mutter, "by the way, tell Ahern it's his turn to be captain now."

When the captive finally woke up after yet another brutalizing, he was met with darkness, or rather, he quickly gathered, a dark prison cell.

"Good, you're awake," I smiled, looking over to him from the other side of the cell where I sat, "again."

The man that was sitting with his arms on his lap when realized he had something on his head.

"It's the last of the ice that hadn't melted yet," I tell him, hand through the wooden bars, holding a wrapped chunk of ice to his skull, "it helps with these injuries. Though since you're supposedly a dragon, perhaps this is uncomfortable for you."

He groans, slowly turning to me.

I pull my hand away, only to bring the ice down to his lap, "once again, you tired my arm."

He turns to the ice and places it back on his head as he moves to stand. I rise too, much quicker than he, then purse my lips in a small smile, "come now. Honor our deal. I should like know what to moan out next time you think to choke me."

He finally stands, his free hand slamming on the bars as he got his footing, "I am a prince of house Targaryen, you mad wench!"

I knit my brows at him, "I'm thinking you might not be as smart as I gave you credit for. I asked for your name, not your title."

"Let me out of this cell and I swear I will spare you to annoy another sorry bloke on your next expedition," he grunts.

I make a sound in thought, half faux-thinking about it, half enjoying how quickly his lips loosened after taking another hit, "I don't like that deal," I decide, instead showing him the elixir I had in hand, "how about you tell me your name and I give you this."

He leans against the bars, looking out at me.

"It's moonshine."

He pulls away, instantly uninterested.

"Mėnulio distira," I mutter, renaming it, or rather calling it for what it is, "it's used now to help women with labor pains, but it was first made-"

"Made to help warriors heal from their battle wounds," he continues, interested again, "where did you get that?"

"You have no sense for bartering, Targaryen scum," I reply to him in his mother tongue.

He discards the melted block he held, and leans both his hands on the bars, peering down at me, "Daemon Targaryen," he starts, "Prince of Dragonstone."

I raise my brows at that, chuckling, "an ambitious title to covet, Daemon."

He words out carefully, as if each syllable that left his was laced in flames, "I am heir to the iron throne."

"Ooooh," I blow out and end with a giggle, "that would have been true had the king not named his daughter, Rhaenyra, successor."

Daemon's face darkens at that. His ears ring upon realizing there was knowledge of this on the ship, and yet nothing of him. He suddenly felt as though he was toyed with.

I coo at him, "find no offence in my lack of knowledge of you, Daemon. -"

"I am your prince!"

"- I only know of this news because it was so exciting that a woman would succeed after a long line of raggedy old fucks."

Daemon seethes with venom, yet a sardonic smirk adorns his lips, "and you think my niece will empower impertinent, common whores like you?"

My jaw tightens at that. I lick my lips, pressing my tongue on my top front teeth, "it's funny how you wish to taint me by calling me a whore, and yet," I release an airy chuckle, "it's men like you that degrade women to be perceived as such. It's your filthy, little cock that is devaluing."

It's his turn to laugh, "you act as if," he steps closer, hands going to his side, "you were not so eagerly lusting after my" he raises his brows, "filthy, little cock moments ago."

I choke on my saliva as I laugh.

Daemon watches me and cannot hold back the curving of his lips.

I slap my hand on my chest as I attempt to catch my breath, "you are the most amusing man I have ever met."

"I am closer to the gods than man," he retorts, "you'd be wise to remember, bitch."

"You know," I raise a hand at him, "out of all the kinks and the thousand ones I have, this is the only one I don't."

The man smirks, leaning down to see my face clearer, "worry not, I'll break it into you."

I smile back at him, raising the vial in my hand, "I like a challenge," then throw the object to him.

He catches it with ease and looks up at me with a calculating gaze.

Before I could tell him anything else though, Gorm comes thundering down towards us, "that bastard better be alive, or else he'll be food for the kraken."

"Gorm!" I chirp, smiling at the blonde man stomping over, "he's well awake, but just to make sure everything goes smoothly during dinner, I gave him the elixir."

"You fucking what?" Gorm does a double take, raising a hand.

Daemon, in this moment, looks at the bottle in his hand and begins to waive his doubts on it.

I shake my head and shrug, "we can't really use him if he's fucked up in the head, now can we?"

Gorm breaks into a fit and releases a string of Norse cusses. I raise my hands in an attempt to calm him. I don't manage to place my palms on his shoulder as he raises his own and fists them, growling in frustration. He darts his hands to the bars and growls, "give me the vial!"

Daemon, at this point, uncorked the vial and downs the liquid in one go.

In that moment, Gorm sighs, releasing all the tension in his body, defeated. "May I?" I mutter as he nods on instinct. I place a hand on his shoulder and smile up at him, "I told you. There's nothing to worry about."

Gorm takes a moment to respond before breaking into a chuckle, "you're too cunning for your own good. What if he dies before we manage to break into Suston's treasury?"

Daemon knits his brows upon hearing that.

"I'm pretty sure he won't cause delay since he's adamant about being a prince and all. It's his death anyway."

"His death?" Daemon repeats, "who's death?"

Gorm looks over to him, as do I, then knits his brows, "what? Was I the one that drank the poison willingly?"

Daemon's eyes quickly dart to me. I turn to Gorm, chuckling, "stop pretending to be witty when you're nervous this dinner will last half a day long."

"Well it could!" he whines and groans simultaneously.

I make a face at that, just as Daemon asks in High Valyrian, "did you fucking feed me poison?"

Gorm looks at him, stupidly and annoyed, "what did he say?"

"He asked me if I fed him poison."

Gorm scoffs, "you drank the poison yourself, Targaryen scum."

Daemon's eyes flicker over to Gorm, tenfold not enjoying how the insult rolled off his tongue. It was poison all along. Daemon shoots me a look, sighing, releasing an angry string of curses, to which I give a soft smile and shrug.

"Calm yourself, pet. As you've overheard you have half a day until it actually does anything. In the meantime, you can help us if you want to get the antidote."

He replies in his native language, "what makes you think I'd be willing to do anything you tell me to do?"

I blink at him and shrug again, "then die."

Gorm begins breaking a sweat, "but you said the King-"

"There'll be no way for the King to know who poisoned him. Unless he gets smart and finds something on this ship distinct enough to bind to us."

"Like your pretty necklace," Daemon notes, eyeing the jewelry around my neck. He leans on the bars.

I look down to my chest and find myself chuckling, "but you said it was stolen."

"But you said it wasn't," he retorts, "regardless, at this point, many have seen you in your flashy accessory." The prince sticks his hand out through the bars and I smile. He is more cunning than what he let on.

I don't hesitate and yank the jewelry off me, throwing it over to him. He again catches the object easily and observes the rock on a golden chain, swearing to himself for the nth time since first seeing it on the piece of jewelry that he's seen it before, and yet he cannot recall where.

"Now that all's fair," I sigh, "I'll let you out of your cage and-"

"Wait, how is all fair?!" Gorm asks, face souring in confusion.

"Gorm!" I sigh, "He just agreed to help us, since he can't do anything anyway. I gave him the necklace so that if we let him die, the king will find a way to find us," I turn to Daemon, "if they manage to find his body."

"But we won't let him die!" Gorm retorts, "he's got too much leverage on us!"

I roll my eyes, exasperated, moving to unlock his cell, "I'll explain it to you when you're older."

"Do not be so comfortable with the idea of riding with her," Ahern says, arms crossed, as he adjusts the straps on the horse Daemon is mounted on.

He, who was on the steed, now clean and in fresh, noble attire, looks down at the man and gives nothing but a blank expression, "don't be so bothered by the idea of me riding her."

Ahern snaps his gaze onto him, "you fucking cunt-"

"Why is he on the horse?" I ask, dropping the skirt I held, giving both men a look of annoyance.

Daemon, in this moment, became acutely aware of the scenery. The ship, Daemon learned was named Jocelyn, was resting in the dock. The sun was setting yet again, creating this warm orange atmosphere. I was no longer in trousers and a dress, instead, I was in a deep red dress, with the neckline dipping teasingly, deliciously low. Usually, my necklace would be the cynosure of my outfit, but it was currently in the Targaryen scum's pocket.

"I am your husband," Daemon recounts that detail of the plans we made, "I would not insult my lady wife by letting her do all the work."

I narrow my eyes, ignoring him, "where is my carriage, Ahern?" I ask the red head, making him avert his gaze elsewhere. He clears his throat and starts, "well..."

"Well?"

"We lost it."

"You lost my fucking carriage?"

Ahern finally turns to me and bursts, "it was Gorm's fault! I've only just been captain today! He said there was an issue in the stables and some thieves came and-"

My sigh cuts him off. Rolling my eyes, I turn to the man propped on the horse, observing the careful look he had, "I should do the work since my husband and my men have no idea what they're doing."

Daemon's lips smirk as he extends his hand out to me, "you need only tell me where to steer my steed."

I stare at him for a long moment, shaking my head as his lips curve deeper, "pull me up, my lord husband."

His stomach ignites at that, twice as much as arms wrapped around him. In fact, his entire body was churning ever since that moment.

When we arrived to our destination, a private banquet held by Magnus of house Suston in his estate, I changed character, holding my head up with grace, practically skating instead of walking.

Daemon could not mask his astonishment of me, though he was trying quite hard to. From the way I unmounted the horse, to how I casually greeted every servant we passed, it was clear to me he was taken aback by how easily I played the part.

And so dramatically, just before we entered the banquet hall, Daemon grabs my arm and pulls me close to him to a stop, "who the in the name of the gods are you?"

I look up at him then to the hand he had on me. Daemon turns to the skin he was holding then releases me. I clench my jaw, clicking my tongue, bringing my hands to his face, "may I, husband?"

He knits his brows, still seemingly unable to understand my need to continuously ask for permission before touching him. Still, his face softens, then he says, "I am yours, wife."

I brush my hands on his cheeks, gently, tracing the curve of his jaw, "I told you as we recounted our plans for tonight on the ship that I was invited as a lady of an esteemed house. Once I put a dress on such as this, I am just that," I pull a smile, "which is why I will not cut your finger off."

Daemon is not satisfied with the answer.

I sigh, pulling my hand away, "I thought perhaps you would have figured out by now, since you have my necklace in your pocket," I begin to walk off, eyes still locked in Daemon's, "I am the heir of house Rubin."

Daemon's jaw loosens at that, that's why the crest looked familiar.

I smirk, knowing well that his shocked expression was due to the fact the very house I was speaking of has not stood for about as long as I have been alive. Or at least, not in any way that counts.

"Lady Rubin!" the man, who was seated at the head of the table exclaims the moment we walk in the banquet hall.

I smile at him, "sir Magnus Suston!"

I walk over to him, forcing back a look of disgust at his eagerness. I stop a few steps early since he took it upon himself to walk over and raise his hand out to me.

Daemon watches as I uncomfortably take his hand. Magnus places a kiss on my skin a second too long that I rip my hand away.

He is unbothered as his eyes dart to the man by my side, "and who might this be?"

I turn over to Daemon, "this, sir Magnus," I turn back to him, "is my prince husband," I pull my smile wider, "of house Targaryen."

Magnus' face falls as he releases a gasp, utterly baffled, "y-your grace! Your majesty!" He breaks into a loud and nervous chuckle, "I was unaware you would be gracing our company tonight. I-I-I am honored by your presence."

Daemon hums, annoyed by his squeaking, "yes. My lady insisted on honoring her visit to your," he looks around the place, "dwelling. Yet it was beneath me to allow my wife visit a man in these hours by herself. Impertinent of you to ask for her presence at this time, don't you agree?"

"Ye-yes, of course," he starts, fidgeting, "I was completely unaware the lady was wed, I-"

"Thought you had a chance with her?" Daemon blurts, raising a brow.

"I- I-" Magnus attempts to start but could not possibly continue with how absolutely petrified he was under the prince's gaze.

The prince turns to me, uncaring of the other person, "shall we sit?"

I give him a smile as he pulls the chair out for me.

Magnus mutters something about us sitting and making ourselves comfortable but it's all incoherent, and his words only become clear once Daemon is sat down next to me, "tis not Marcus, your eminence... but Magnus."

Daemon turns man across him, face completely uninterested and annoyed.

Magnus tugs on his collar with his finger, clarifying, "my name, your grace."

"Does it matter how I refer to a low born?" Daemon asks, leaning against the chair, raising his nose.

I purse my lips at that, turning to my side, crooning out, "my love."

The sound is ineffable and absolutely delicate to Daemon's ears. He was unable to hold in his surprise, nor the chuckles that came after. He clears his throat in an attempt to calm himself, "my apologies, my love," he continues in High Valyrian, "but he's got his head too far up his arse for a peasant, no?"

"He is not a peasant since he now owns a large expanse of land," I retort in the same tongue.

"Well, he won't for much longer anyway," Daemon replies, turning to the empty cups before him. He reverts back to our common language, "will you not serve me wine, Mark?"

Magnus shoots up from his chair, taking a jar of wine and circling over to pour Daemon a cup. He then moves to pour me a drink, but Daemon promptly blocks him, hand covering the cup, "will you not even ask her if she wants wine? She could be with bearing my child for all you know."

I turn to Daemon's enraged look, pressing my thighs together under my skirt before consequently crossing them over each other.

"I- ah," Magnus starts, reeling backward, "apologies my lady, I-"

"She is not your lady," Daemon retorts, face twisting at the man's trembling squeaks. The prince lowers his gaze upon me, expression calming but a fraction, "would you like a glass of wine, my love?"

I break into a smile, "might I just drink from your cup instead?"

He wastes no time. He grabs his cup and hands it over to me. With my lips curved in a smile, I take the object from him, and after taking a sip, handed it back to Daemon, who promptly downed it contents. Upon placing the cup back on the table, he looks over his shoulder, annoyed by the lingering presence, "you stand there and yet we have no food on the table still."

Magnus' eye twitches as he grips the pitcher with much force. He scurries off back to his seat and paces back and forth, unknowing if he should sit or run off somewhere, "my deepest apologies, your grace. Usually my servants do not take this long."

And as if on cue, there is a piercing shriek from the distance.

Magnus gasps, already on edge, completely taken aback by the noise. He stutters, sitting down tensely, "wha-t- what was that?"

Daemon takes his cowardly expression, noticing him shiver. He raises his brows, "is that not one of your help? Are you so stupid to not even know where the sound is coming from?"

Magnus covers his head in fear as there is a loud crashing sound followed by grunts and more shouts. He turns to us, looking for some sort of comfort, but is met by only my stoic gaze and Daemon's vexed one.

All at once then, the banquet hall's doors burst open with a loud sound, and Gorm, followed by the rest of our crew walks in with plates of food. The tall blonde stills when he sees the shriveled up man of the house, "you still haven't killed him yet?"

Magnus grips his chest as he involuntarily stands and screams, "WHO ARE YOU!? What have you done to Helena?!"

Gorm, who was holding an entire pot of what I assume was stew, moves to place the food on the table and draw his sword. Upon doing so, Magnus runs over to the wall in fear. He halts where a sword was mounted. He grabs it and screams, holding it up in his defense, "get out of my house! All of you! GET OUT!"

Gorm walks over to the terrified man, ready to behead him, but he is stopped my Daemon, who quickly stands, "no." The Targaryen turns to him and raises his hand, wordlessly asking for Gorm's weapon.

Gorm looks down on the shorter prince, then scoffs.

"Give it to him, Gorm," I say.

Magnus' breath hitches, seemingly only now realizing what was happening, "you treacherous whore! You brought them here?!"

Daemon turns to Magnus as the latter screams with tears staining his face, "and, what? This is the prince of the realm? You lying piece of-" he is unable to end his words, as he broke into a shriek as Daemon went upon him. Magnus attempts to swing at him, but Daemon quickly knocks the sword out of his hand and promptly ends the squeaks by beheading.

Blood splutters as the body drops to the floor. Daemon makes a disgusted face as he turns back to me. He walks over, handing Gorm his bloody sword. Once he's sat back down, he looks around the room and calls, "where's the fucking food?"

The crew trickle in, laying the food that was prepared by the now dead servants onto the table. Daemon wastes no time in digging in.

I watch as he stuffs his mouth with chicken and say, "you enjoyed that."

"He's a squeaky son of a bitch," he responds in High Valyrian, ripping off a leg of chicken with his hands, placing it on my empty plate.

I look at the food and break into a smile, "thank you."

"Eat up, for I will tire you tonight, wife," he continues in his native tongue, nonchalant, not even looking at me.

I chuckle, propping my hands on the table, ignoring everything else but the eating prince beside me, "I was under the impression you would be leaving the moment we were done."

Daemon swallows the food in his mouth then grabs a piece of cloth on the table, wiping his fingers on it, "I did this much as your lord husband," he turns to me, "might as well claim all that's left of mine."

"I belong to no one, Targaryen scum," I smirk, responding in High Valyrian. He mirrors my expression as I continue, "you will find that your armor and your sword is on the horse we rode on a while ago," I then reach into my top, fingers slipping between my breasts.

Daemon watches my actions intently, hands tightening into a fist.

"All that's left is this," I say, pulling out a vial, "it's a bit warm, having stayed under my breast all night. I hope you don't mind."

He watches as I place the object in front of him, speaking again in his native tongue, "dragons prefer warmth." Daemon stares at the small thing for a moment, then turns back to me, wordlessly examining my face.

After a few moments pass, he brings his hands up, then mutters, in the same language, "may I?"

I nod.

Daemon brushes the back of his hand on my collarbones, making me release a breath at the gentle action. His eyes are stuck on my skin, my own are stuck on his lips. I feel my body burn in warmth as his hands make it to my nape, where his fingers begin to dig into the root of my hair, "you should be more cautions."

I lean against his hand, silently looking at him, as he continues, "House Rubin has fallen decades ago."

The forming smile on my lips falter as he suddenly withdraws from me.

He thinks I'm an imposter. How daft of him.

Still, I cannot help but release an airy chuckle at the look he gives me. I push my shoulders back, "does it matter if a pirate falsifies claims?"

He smirks, then tuts, "oh doe. Any wolf would know you are the very ruby of that house," he brushes the back of his hand on my cheek, making my stomach swirl, "how many souls must have perished to ensure your survival." His hands then move down my neck. He presses his palms flush against my throat, fingers fiddling with my jaw, "and how many more will follow in attempts to covet the very ruby in my hands."

Daemon grows excited, feeling the pulse under his thumb quicken.

Swiftly then, he pulls away then inquires in High Valyrian, "how do I know this won't finish the job?"

Skin still so aware of the feeling of his hand on my neck, I take a moment to realize what he means. I turn to where he was looking and let out a hmp, "how do you know if I even poisoned you truly to begin with?"

Daemon smiles, drawing his hand out again. I anticipated his touch, and yet the tease places it on the table, "you remind me of Caraxes."

"Your dragon?" I ask, just as he moves for the elixir and hands it over to me. He does not speak a word and only stares at me.

I knit my brows, "what? Do you want me to drink it?"

He purses his lips at that, seemingly agreeing.

I raise my brows, taking the object, uncorking it, "and then what? There'll be nothing left for you, moron," I then break into a chuckle, "unless you want me to put it in my mouth and spit it into yours."

Daemon smirks, leaning onto the table as he continues in High Valyrian, "then at least we'll be poisoned together."

I am unable to hold in my laughter, "you're fucking crazy."

Daemon raises his brows.

I stand and step forward, "may I then?"

"So long as I keep getting to touch you," he responds, pushing his chair back. He spreads his legs and rubs his hands on his lap, beckoning me over. I respond my pulling my skirt up and placing a knee on his lap. I bring a hand to his neck and push his head up to me. His hands go to sides and grip tightly on my waist.

I throw my head back, pouring the liquid in my mouth. I close my lips as I lower my head to meet Daemon's. I press my mouth against his, slowly allowing the antidote to trickle onto his tongue. Daemon pulls me down on him and I adjust my legs atop his. He laps his tongue out to my lips, taking in the liquid greedily until there's nothing left but moans in me. It's all very messy as the liquid surely does not all go into his mouth, yet it was so very scrumptious.

"Oh for fuck's sake, get a room," someone calls angrily.

I am abruptly pulled off after this. I barely manage to look at Daemon as he suddenly stands and grabs me, bending down and throwing me over his shoulder.

"They're all fools to think you would not be heard from here," Daemon says, kicking the doors of a room open. It was a great stroke of luck that he found the master bedroom. Not that it mattered, I would let him have me wherever he wanted. And judging by how he threw me onto the bed, I’m certain he thinks the same way.

I sit up on the cushions and watch him as he crawls over to me. His brows quirk at the sight of the blankets, "that squeaky moron has horrible taste."

I waste no time in grabbing his face once he is close enough, placing heated kisses onto his lips. He leans into me, body pressing against mine, hands scratching at the fabric on my back in an attempt to undo my dress.

He pulls away from me so he could work on getting me naked.

I can’t help but laugh at his fervor, “easy, boy, you might hurt yourself.”

I manage to see him clench his jaw before he stands up from the bed and yanks at my corset. He effectively shoves me face down onto the cushion and rips my skirt back so my folded legs were now flat on the surface. He then climbs atop me, groin on my bum, and undoes my laces, ripping it all the way open. Once he’s finished, he digs his nails firmly into my skin in an upward motion, “you will know your place, bitch.”

He moves off me, only to flip me over and climb atop me again. This time around though, he bunches my skirt up and brings his hands in between my thighs, making way for himself in between them.

“I should ruin your pretty little dress, so you won’t be able to use it anymore,” he mutters, pressing his pants on my bare core, earning a moan from me.

I reach my arms out for him as I grunt, “ruin me with your Targaryen seed.”

Daemon brings his hands on either side of my thighs and roughly kneads on my flesh, “you would enjoy that won’t you, little come slut?”

His hands dart to the collar of my dress and he roughly rips it off, causing me to grunt. I shift in my spot, raising my arms, wriggling out of the fabric as he pulls it over my head. For a moment, I am caught in the expanse of my own skirt, then I am fully stripped beneath him. Right after throwing my dress off to the side, my hands work on undoing his breeches, but I am so rudely slapped away.

I give him a pointed look, but it falters after he catches my wrists and pins it over my head with his hands, “I am your prince husband. You are subservient to my mercy.”

His face is close to mine when he says this and so I give an open-mouthed moan, “fuck me good, prince husband, I beg.”

He chuckles. He keeps my wrists under one hand and brings his free one down my face, “so eager,” his palm rests on the side of my neck, “perhaps I shall take you back with me and wife you in Dragonstone.”

Taking this moment of tenderness to my advantage, I attempt to free my hands under his. However, I find that I underestimated his strength. His one hand on my wrists pull my limbs upward, making me whine. He clicks his tongue, “you don’t like that?” Daemon’s other hand runs firmly down from my neck to my core where he then rubs on my soaking folds, “you would prefer to be my come whore, hmm? Such a lowly dream”

He hisses, as do I, when he pushes two fingers in me, “your cunt belongs to me now. You will not be able to have anyone else’s cock but mine.”

I chuckle at his words, “you’re a lot of talk for someone so opposed to the idea of me undressing him.”

Daemon’s eyes darken. He shoves himself off me and kneels, “undress me, then, whore.”

I take in his looks, his expectant gaze, the hardened length beneath his trousers, and yet I cross my arms, “no.”

“No?” he repeats harshly, although there was no trace of anger in his voice. It was in fact of excitement.

“I will not submit to a man who perceives me to be a lesser version of him.”

“Ah,” he chuckles, removing his shirt by himself, “I remember your distaste for this, my dear ruby,” he throws his shirt aside and I lick my lips at the sight of his toned chest, “you are right not to enjoy these words when they came out of the mouths of all the trolls that fucked you before me.

“But like I said,” he grabs my hand from my chest, continuing in High Valyrian, “I’ll break it into you.” He pulls me up, bringing my palms to his waist, “strip me, while you still can.”

I sit up, fingers digging into his garment, replying in his language as I lick my lips, “or else what, Targaryen scum?”

“Or else you won’t be able to do anything with your hands at all.”

I groan at the thought, feeling my stomach roll. My hands then dart up to his face and I heatedly kiss him, savoring the taste of his tongue. My fingers travel back down, fiddling with the string of his clothes. I take a moment to nibble on his lower lip before I pull away and lie back down with my arms over my chest again, “do your worst.”

“You insufferable minx,” he quips proceeding then to climb off the bed. For a moment, I am confused and a little concerned, but then I see him rip at the tassel of the drapes, carelessly bringing the window’s cover to the floor. He winds the rope in his hand as he draws closer to me, “turn over.”

I bite my lips and cross my legs, “no.”

Daemon laughs, darting for my ankle, yanking me towards him, “turn over, my pretty little whore.”

“Fuck you,” I retort.

He wastes no time and roughly grabs me, flipping me over himself. My body is buzzing at the feeling of his rough hands on my bum.

“Not at this rate, you’re not,” Daemon replies, hands grabbing my arms, forcing them behind me, tying them with the rope still attached to the curtain that was dangling near the bed helplessly. He then pulls my hips up, bringing me on my knees. My face pressed on the bed as he climbs behind me and fiddles with my heat, “so deviant for no reason,” he notes in his language.

His fingers tease my entrance, and my voice betrays me because of it, “you—enjoy it.”

He laughs again, pumping two digits in and out of me, “not as much as you.”

Daemon feasts on the lewd sounds, absolutely basking in the slickness dripping from his fingers. He positions his free hand on my hip, digging his nails in my flesh roughly. He focuses on my heat around his fingers and quickly eases in an orgasm. I let out a pained grunt when he withdraws before I could come though. Although I was expecting it from him, I still bark in anger, “Targaryen scum.”

He tuts, rubbing my back, “come now…” he teases, “you didn’t expect to be rewarded for your insolence.”

“I can fuck myself better with my fingers."

Daemon laughs, “I’m sure from now on you’ll imagine they were mine.” He then brings his wet fingers to my mouth, wanting me to lick them clean. For the most part, I do, but he yelps when I bite down. I lick my lips after he pulls away, smirking in victory.

He grabs me by the hair, pulling me all the way until I'm upright. I whine in pain, yet feeling my body burn in excitement. He mutters hotly against my ear, “let’s put that mouth of yours to good use.”

He shoves me down and I hear him work on his pants. I roll over, grunting as with my arms still bound behind me. I chuckle, “who’s eager now?”

Daemon’s length springs free. The idea of him burying himself in me makes my breath hitch. He discards his pants to the side, “you won’t be so verbose after I burn my seed down your throat.”

I stick my tongue out and giggle.

In all his strength, he rearranges me like a doll. He gets me on my knees and sits in front of me, wordlessly commanding me to do his bidding. I obey and take him in my mouth eagerly. His hand is controlling the bobbing of my head and I feel utterly pleased with myself upon hearing his satisfied grunts. After relishing in his profanities, I begin to constrict him in my teeth.

He whines, “less teeth, viper.”

I use more teeth.

His grip on my hair tightens but his arm movement still.

I begin to laugh, but he’s so big that I can’t, so I begin to choke.

Daemon revels in the feeling for a moment, pushing himself deeper into my mouth before ripping me off him, allowing me to catch my breath. I heave as he brings my ruined face up to meet him eye to eye. His other hand grips my jaw, “if you will not obey, I will come in your cunt and leave you bound and unsatisfied.”

I lick my lips, head banging at the pain he was eliciting from all the hair pulling, “you would risk leaving a baby dragon inside me?”

I smirk at him, whining as he pulls my head back slowly. It seems I hit a chord as Daemon’s face is unreadable. Suddenly, he releases his grip and shoves me down. He claws at my legs then presses my knees to my breast. All at once, I am a loud moaning mess as he enters me without another word and beats into me without a break of pace.

The sound of skin hammering against each other is overpowered by my screams of pleasure. If I had known that what it took to get him going, I would have lead with that.

Daemon pistons himself in an angle so sweet that I can feel a fire so hot build in my belly. His lips are latched on my neck, sucking, biting, licking. Overly sensitive already, it doesn't take long until I uncoil beneath him and his brutality.

I am reeling, absolutely spent, utterly boneless beneath him, loosing my breath all over again.

He does not relent however, and I whine in a mix of both pain and pleasure at his lack of courtesy for me to come down from my high. I quake beneath him, repeating his name like a prayer, unsure if I wanted him to stop or keep fucking me raw.

My throat begins to burn at my obscene sounds that left my lips. I barely manage to hear him as he speaks to me

“They say a pleasured wife brings forth a male heir,” Daemon jaggedly mumbles, “will you be a dutiful lady wife and spawn me a son?”

My head is spinning at his words. Too keen on chasing this rebuilding high however, I spew out words in the heat of moment, “yes. Fuck yes. Burn your seed into me. Put a child in me, Daemon.”

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing my jaw, “your cunt is so eager for me, wife, do you feel it?”

My only response is my filthy groans.

My eyes are flooded by tears when I finally come around him for the second time. Daemon wastes no time and follows. He digs himself balls deep into me, shooting out every bit of himself inside. The feeling is so hot, I could barely feel my legs around him nor how my toes curl.

I relish in the feeling of his weight on top me. My arms behind me hurt twice as much as I remember I cannot even touch him.

“You will not move an inch, slut,” he mutters after catching his breath. He pulls away from me and I whine at the action, not enjoying the emptiness that came after. I watch him as he goes about the room and collects his clothes. He begins to dress himself and I stupidly look at him as he mutters, “if you do not fall with child, I will consider it treason.”

Once he is clothed, he walks over to me and turns to my legs. He pushes them together. I squeak when he digs his hands on my leaking core and presses a kiss on my belly, “you’re wasting my seed.”

With that, he gives me one last look and walks away.

Many moons had passed since then. It was almost as long as the years since the prince has been away from his home.

Daemon decided not to recount this encounter with pirates to a single soul, not even to Lord Corlys, who was enraged by his absence and began to believe he had forsaken him in their battle in The Stepstones. He played off his lack of appearance as with vague reasons of failed outsourcing, already irritated by the idea of people gossiping about how he was captured by a bunch of slow witted pirates had he told him the truth. Corlys obviously did not buy it, but he had no time to press on about the matter as the issue with the Crab Feeder was more imminent.

Daemon wonders what became of his captor after killing that Suston man. He would look at the ruby necklace he kept on him from time to time, wondering when he could use it to his capture his captor in return. He had yet to also make use of the fact the pirate claimed to be a Rubin, a house that was dissolved during the height of a war in their region. That, and he was owed a son.

"You look deep in thought, uncle," Rhaenyra notes walking over to him. Daemon had his feet up in the table and his back slumped on the chair as he chewed on some grapes.

He responds to the princess in High Valyrian, "I'm merely enjoying my time back home."

Rhaenyra chuckles, walking closer, "I did not know you were fond of this place."

Daemon watches as she sits down next to him and asks, "tell me about your adventures in the Stepstones."

He shakes his head, "what is there to tell but the fact there was blood and loss, before our eventual victory."

"Come now," she smirks leaning in, "they sing your name great praises and even gave you a title, yet you cannot think to tell me much more than that?"

"War is not a dazzling story, princess," he turns to her, giving a smirk, "you would be wise to be a benevolent Queen."

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes and shakes her head, muttering in her native speech, "the irony of my uncle telling me this."

"But you enjoy my irony, don't you, my niece," Daemon chuckles in response in the same tongue, bringing his hand to her head, ruffling her hair playfully.

She swats at his hand and shoves Daemon off with narrowed eyes, "well if you will not speak to me of your battles, tell me then if it is true you had an encounter with pirates."

Rhaenyra watches his face grows stoic as he mutters, "they were all pirate, girl."

"No," she shakes her head, "I overheard the servants speak about you dealing with a crew who had women onboard. They say you were turned away after asking them for help."

Daemon straightens up as he laughs, not even taking a moment to wonder how anyone even knew this, "more like I turned from them after they'd forced help out of me."

"So it's true, then!" her voice goes a pitch higher in excitement, "you had encounters with women pirates."

Daemon takes her expression in, "does that please you, Rhaenyra?"

"I think it's exciting to know there are fearsome individuals out there who bleed every month just as I."

Daemon blows out a breath that bubbles out into a fit of chuckles. He grabs a few more grapes, eating some, throwing one at his companion, "you're all fucking mad."

Rhaenyra narrows her eyes at her uncle yet again, "you mean all women? We're all mad?"

"Yes," he stands, smoothing out his pants, "but then again if I bled every month I think I would be so as well."

"My Prince," a voice calls, and Daemon turns to the guard who interrupt the laugh he was sharing with his niece, "Lord Corlys has requested your presence."

Daemon's mood does a total 180, "he is aware I am not entertaining anyone."

"My apologies your grace, but he insisted that it was urgent. He says it's about House Rubin."

Rhaenyra watches his uncle's face shift. Daemon's mood does yet another 180 and promptly decided to answer to the call.

He quickly regards his niece and heads off right after.

"Lord Corlys," Daemon nods upon entering his chambers, "you have news for me."

"Nothing that either of us don't already know," says Corlys, arms crossed as he stood by the table where the necklace Daemon had lent him was laid out, "the house of Rubin and all its heirs died during a skirmish, leaving their wealth and land ripe for the pickings of whoever stake their claim."

The prince nods, eyes going to the necklace on the table, "and what of this?"

"I've had a jeweler inspect it and he said he knew exactly who designed this and who had it commissioned."

Corlys and Daemon turn to each other as the former says, "it was made in the north by the request of the Lannisters as a gift for the Rubins."

"And yet I found it on the neck of a pirate," Daemon smirks, picking the ruby necklace up.

"It is not surprising, considering house Rubin was most definitely looted after its fall. They were also situated close to sea folk. Our houses once joined hands in the expeditions of the sea. Hearing of their demise was a sad day even for us."

Funny, Daemon thinks.

"Now, tell me what this has to do with the pirate ship that robbed 2 more of my ships blind."

Daemon's lips quirk, "that makes 14," he releases a chuckle, much to Corlys' annoyance. "What if I told you, Lord Corlys, that capturing the captain of that pirate crew could not only grant you satisfaction but could reignite your alliance with the house of Rubin."

Lord Corlys shakes his head, "and why would I want an alliance with a dead house?"

"Perhaps since it was that house that robbed your countless ships blind."

Corlys does not follow. Daemon raised his brows, "the captain is the remaining heir. Why snuff out the last of its remains when you could built it up and use it as an extension of your power. Your men have seen the might of Jocelyn first hand, did they not?"

For a moment, Corlys wonders who Jocelyn is, until he remembers that was the name of the ship. "What makes you think this Rubin-turned-pirate would swear fealty to me?" he raises a brow.

"Willingly? Perhaps not," Daemon smirks, "but is it not so much more fun to break it in?"

"That is not their captain," Daemon speaks.

Corlys instantly gives the order to execute the man with a simple hand gesture. "Yes," he responds, "yet it seems like they're not running out of captains any time soon as each time we capture someone who knows anything about that ship, Jocelyn, they claim to be the captain. Still, that fucking ship is still lurking the sea."

Daemon's lips curve upward, "perhaps they were captain for a while."

The other white haired man knits his brows, "what?"

The prince ignores this, "your error is in assuming their captain would be an ugly man."

"Are you saying the captain is a beautiful woman?"

"I'm saying the captain of the ship is the remaining heir of the house Rubin," he retorts, "you ought to be more careful of how quickly you kill your captives."

Corlys narrows his eyes at this, "does it matter if we restore this supposed 'true heir' when no one would be the wiser if I hailed a stable boy as a Rubin."

"It matters if you want an alliance with a fiery strategist who managed to steal from your ship, not once, but 18 times now, was it-- in broad daylight, or--" Daemon turns to the dead body that was being dragged out, "you want one with a smelly imbecile that's walking dead weight."

"Then what do you suggest I do, my prince," he asks, voice growing irritated.

"Nothing more," Daemon nods, "I'll do it myself."

"Targaryen scum," I smile, voice genuinely excited upon seeing the face of the man walking over to me. "You got a haircut," I say baring the blood on my teeth as I smile, "I am impressed to tell you that it suits you, even though I prefer long hair."

Daemon takes in my appearance, eyes raking over the blood that was on my face and clothes. He turns over to one of the guards, barking, "did you do this to her?"

The guard quickly shakes his head, "n-no, your grace. But I was told she did attack and injure multiple men."

Daemon's anger is calmed after this, though his face makes no change, "leave us."

Once it was only him, I, and the chains on the wall that I was bound to, he steps forward, licking his lips as he brings his hands up to my face, "may I?"

I look up at him, lips curving into a smile, "you may."

Daemon pushes back the hair that was stuck on my skin with sweat, tucking it behind my ears. He then begins in High Valyrian, "you could not resist me, could you?"

I lean against his hand as he places both of them on my cheeks. I pout, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Daemon chuckles, fingers gently pulling away from my face, "did you not hear about my presence in the Stepstones and purposefully hijacked those Velaryon ships..." he hums, "perhaps out of spite?"

I screw my eyes shut as I break into a hearty laugh, "out of spite over what, pray tell?"

"Leaving you tied up in bed," he mutters, placing his hands behind his back.

"And I am bound now as we speak, yet I share laughter with you," I raise my brows, "must a pirate really explain their motive for stealing?"

"Perhaps not," Daemon responds, turning down to my belly. He presses a hand on it, "how has your womb been?"

I chuckle, "it seems your seed is defective," I narrow my eyes, "there was so much of it in me, and yet nothing came forth from it."

He grabs my face with both hands again, "worry not. I will wife you up again soon enough."

Upon his mention, I recall a detail I learned that angered me. I clench my jaw, replying in High Valyrian, "perhaps it was precisely because you had an actual lady wife at the time that your own seed was against your wishes to get me pregnant."

Daemon chuckles, pulling his hands away, "jealous?"

"No." I respond, "I pity your bride that you treated so poorly."

The prince rolls his eyes, "oh, don't worry, my dear ruby, for the ugly beast has since been relieved of her duties upon her trip to the underworld."

"Fucking Targaryen scum."

Daemon watches my expression grow dark then chuckles, "are you not excited to perform your duties to me?"

"That's why you had my crew gutted?" I bark back, "were you to stupid that you not have tried to get me yourself?"

"It was not my failed attempts to capture the captain, but Corlys Velaryon. He did not take kindly to the fact you stole a handsome sum from him, which is why he made sport of killing Jocelyn's crew."

"Well, he's got the captain now," I say.

Daemon nods, "Indeed, she is here."

"Whatever he wants, I'll do, so long as you spare my remaining crew."

For a moment, Daemon is a bit disappointed by the admittance to defeat, however he understands soon enough.

"There's not much of us left," I mumble, "Aldora, Ahern, Gorm, Fredson, Charles, Th--" I cut myself off as my throat begins to tighten. "There's not point in fighting if we all end up dead."

"Smart," Daemon nods, "Lord Corlys will be delighted to know this." He then begins to walk off, "in the meantime, pay your dues here until I come for you."

I let out a soft chuckle, replying to him in his mother tongue, "petty scum."

"Targaryen scum," Demon corrects before walking out.

I hadn't expected him to come so soon that night, but then again, if I recall, I did have him out of his chains after sunset.

"Miss me already?" I ask in a teasing tone in High Valyrian, "will you lock me with your dragon next?"

It was a bit too dark for me to make out the figure coming closer, but there was something very off with him. There was something about the slowness and suspicious manner in which he stalked over, apart from the hood he was wearing.

I figured then Daemon would not act like this at all. So it begs the question, why would a guard have to come here dressed like that?

My heart began to quicken as I began to think of what this man's motives were. Still, unwilling to accept the worst, I spoke out in the Prince's language, falsely hoping it was him pulling a twisted joke, "is this your way of getting back at me?"

"What kind of demon language is that supposed to be, you cunt?" the man growls, darting forward, heaving heavily in front of me. He grabs my face, and I see him along with the cut he had going down his cheek to his lips, "remember me, bitch?"

I merely look at him as he forces my jaw open with the intensity of his grip on me.

"You're not so tough now that you're under the Prince's thumb," he seethes, hands coming down my neck, choking me, "since you scarred my face, you whore," one of his hands leaves my throat to go down to my thighs, "I'll make you regret the day you drew your blade."

My wrists and ankles were bound but that did not make me cease my attempts to fight back, though futile. And even though he was choking me, I made it a point to still scream, not caring if he asphyxiates me in the process. Better that than to be docile.

He was basks in my failed attempts to fight him off as he rips my top open and forces my trousers down.

Prince Daemon did not want Lord Corlys to join him on his way to the prison cell today for he so wanted all the attention to himself, especially since he couldn't speak in the privacy of High Valyrian, since Corlys could speak it.

And so together, begrudgingly, the two were making their way to the cell. Daemon had a spring in his step. He was so excited that even before entering the prison, he called out in the other language, "rise and shine, beautiful."

Lord Corlys averted his eyes from the guard who was unlocking the door, giving the prince a questioning look. He truly didn't think much of it however, knowing the prince's irritating nature.

Honestly, Daemon was half expecting an answer, an annoyed retort, and so he received none, he pressed his lips together in disappointment. He added once the door was open, "not in the mood to tease today?"

Corlys walks in first, face dropping in shock at the sight before him.

For but a moment, Daemon feels a rush of possessiveness, thinking Corlys must have been enchanted. He thinks of how he would easily cut off his hand if he so laid a finger on you. However, his own anger dissipated, then doubled upon his entrance to the cell.

I look at the two men, wondering how they were related to distract from how exposed I was. My assaulter did not possibly think to cover my chest nor pull my pants up. There was also a burning feeling between my thighs that I could not bare to look at. Anything other than thinking of how my flesh was surely torn was welcomed.

The prince is beyond livid. The lord beside him appears to be disturbed as well.

"Did you have your men do this to her?!" Daemon barks, turning to Corlys, raising an accusing finger as he pressed so close to him in anger that their chests slammed against the other's.

Corlys throws him an incredulous and angry look, shoving him off, "why would I when you were so clear on making sure the lady came here in one piece?!"

He heaves heavily, ready to attack Corlys, but the sound of my uncontained whine makes him avert his attention to me. Daemon then walks over to me instead, raising his hand out, but the sentiment is so uninvited that I bark out even through my hoarse and broken voice. It was so loud I even surprised myself, "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

Daemon halts in his tracks before he could go near. His hand drops, tightly turning into a fist, he mutters, "unshackle her."

Corlys does not do anything.

"UNSHAKLE HER NOW!" Daemon shouts, turning to the door, where a guard quickly came running in. The moment the guard nears however, the prince shouts again, "STOP."

The guard freezes, turning over to him with a look of confusion and anxiousness.

"Give me the keys," he demands, pulling the man over to him by his shoulder, then extending his hand out to him. The guard wastes no time in handing the prince the object. Right after, Daemon walks over to me, carefully as if his whole life depended on it. His fingers work on the lock without touching my skin.

Corlys watches as he does this.

The moment one of my arms were free, I crumple, dangling on the other arm that was still bound. Daemon looks down on me as I muffle the whine that comes as I force myself to stand. He quickly moves to the other side, undoing the lock, then crouches down, working on the bounds on my ankles. Once he is done, he rises in front of me, expression hard.

I look up at him before pulling up my pants that were left by my ankles then covered my breasts with what remained of my ragged shirt. He looks like his mind is running with a thousand different things and yet he cannot even bring himself to speak one word to me.

I croak out, hoarse and tired, "now you know why I don't like being touched without consent, Targaryen scum."

Daemon's jaw clenches. His anger multiplies at the notion this has happened once before.

"Lady Rubin," the other man in the room speaks, walking forward.

I turn to him, lips curving in a farce of a smile, "Lord Velaryon." I swallow roughly before muttering, "you, too, were convinced over my characterization yet you have not even seen me in action."

The man looks at me for a moment, examining my expression. He steps forward, untying his cloak, handing it over to me, "will you be able to walk over to the ward to the seen by a maester?"

I look at his extended hand and feel my smile fade, tears building in the corner of my eyes, "of course." I raise my hand to his cloak, gently pushing it away, "lead the way, my lord."

He watches me and withdraws his hand before nodding and tying his cloak back on, "I'm afraid the way there includes an unavoidable flight of many stairs."

"I was not defeated last night, nor will I be defeated by mere steps."

Lord Corlys seems to appreciate my response, and so he turns to prince Daemon, speaking in High Valyrian, "You were right about her fire. She's different from the rest of her crew."

"Thank you, my lord," I reply in the same language, making the man turn to me in slight shock, "I would have appreciated the compliment more had it been directed towards me."

With this, Corlys turns to me, shocked, but impressed. He then shifts where he stood and motioned to the door, then walking off.

I clench my jaw before taking a step. I falter in my actions and am unable to withhold a pained grunt as I do so. It enrages me. I heave heavily. The incident of last night replays in my head uninvited. I will the tears forming in my eyes back where they came and I force through the pain with each step I make.

By the time I make it out of the cell, I see Corlys there, waiting for me. I draw closer to him and it is then I hear a voice behind me, "I will destroy whoever did this to you."

I turn over my shoulder, expecting to see Daemon, but I find no one. When I do manage to spot him, he is already far off in the other side of the hallway.

"The prince was keen on bring you to me," Corlys starts, extending his hand to the direction we needed to travel, "his personal motives are now more apparent to me after seeing how he reacted to you." He begins to walk slowly and I follow after him.

He continues in High Valyrian, "he insisted that instilling you in House Rubin and re-forging an alliance with you as its head will be more beneficial than beheading the captain of ship Jocelyn, who stole ten thousands worth of goods from my vessels."

"It's clear to me the prince does what he wants all the time, but that does not equate to him always getting away with it," I retort, taking a moment to continue, lest I let out a pained whimper, "whether his influence on you will allow me to keep my head or not, all I ask is that you no longer harm whoever's left of my crew. They were only following my orders."

Corlys watches me as I limp in my short strides, then raises a brow, "following the order merits the same punishment of whoever gave it." He places his hands behind him, "they also lied when they confessed to be the captain when they were clearly not."

"I did not ask them to do so."

"A lie is a lie," he says, "Prince Daemon however said that you allowed your crew to take turns giving the order, being the captain for a time."

I clench my jaw, turning to my feet, "they were all born without... it was my way of giving them a taste of power."

I turn to Corlys, but I instantly regret it, for his gaze upon me was most scrutinizing. I turn away just as he tells, "I knew him, the man who you claim to be your father. Estephan Rubin. I would like to say we were friends years ago when he was still alive."

I rub my eyes that were watering in pain.

He continues, "I knew of his four sons and how each of them died in battle, though I repent of not remembering their names. However, my memory does not fail me enough not to know about Rubin having a daughter."

"That makes two of you." I press my lips, turning back to him, "I was told my father died well before I was born. My mother died of child birth."

"Who raised you then?"

"The remaining servants of my house, Agnes, Douglas. They married each other and had children of their own. For a while, I acted like I was their eldest child, but then some lords found out about the origin of birth, and then they--" I shudder, unable to bear the pain of the memory on top of the physical pain I was feeling now. I turn back to my feet, "I was 13 when I ran away and lived off of whatever I could pickpocket."

"Who taught you how to speak this language then?" he asks in High Valyrian.

"You tend to get around when the world is out to get you," I respond, hand coming up to my chest, "what remained of my house, my ruby necklace, it bore the crest of Rubin. I realized all I had to do was be shameless enough when wearing it and people would be willing to do whatever you want."

I turn to Corlys when he halts in his tracks.

"Keep your head then, Lady Rubin," he says, "go forth with your banner, not as a pirate, but as the last of house Rubin and bring me back all twice the amount of which you stole. I swear then I will spare your crew."

I nod, "consider it done," I reply in his mother tongue, extending my hand out to him. He shakes it firmly, beginning to talk about his plans for me as we continue our travel to the maester's room.

#house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen slow burn #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon smut #im dead

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candycandy00 · 2 months

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Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 3

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

You stood outside Anna's door the next morning, holding the little girl's hand. When the door opened, Anna looked curiously at her. "Who's this?"

"This is Miranda," you told her. "Her parents were attacked by half-breeds last night and she ended up with me. I thought you two should meet."

Anna stared down at the little girl, who was looking at her feet as she squeezed your hand. "Oh," Anna said, then dropped to her knees beside the girl and wrapped her arms around her.

Miranda's hand slipped free of yours and her little arms went around Anna, struggling to return the hug. Her body began shaking with sobs and she cried loudly into Anna's shoulder.

"It's okay, honey," Anna murmured, tears forming in her own eyes. "I'll take care of you now."

You stood back silently until Miranda stopped crying and Anna led her inside, then you followed the girl into the apartment.

Anna's place was cute and quaint, reminding you of the pictures you once saw in old home improvement magazines Terrian used to keep lying around the clinic. You didn’t know how she kept it so clean. The walls and furniture were faded, but had clearly been very bright and cheery at one time.

"So how did Miranda survive?" Anna asked, sitting down at the table beside you and handing you a cup of weak tea.

You took a sip. "Remember the half-breed Terrian brought in yesterday? He was the one who killed her parents."

"I told you he was dangerous!"

"Yeah, but he let Miranda go because he owed us for saving him."

Anna sat her cup of tea down. "You mean you interfered with a punishment? And a half-breed actually listened to you?"

"I was surprised myself," you answered, taking another sip. “I was so scared, I was crying like a baby. But I took a chance and it worked out.”

“You better not try anything like that again,”

Anna warned you. Then she glanced at the clock on her wall. “We’d better get to the clinic.”

After Anna showed Miranda around the kitchen and told her to help herself to anything in the refrigerator, she locked the door and instructed the girl to keep it that way until she came home.

"Sorry to dump her off on you," you said as you and Anna walked together toward the clinic.

"No problem. It'll be nice to have someone around. The nights are pretty lonely, you know."

You nodded. "I know." You turned your eyes toward the giant mechanical tower that stood in the direct center of Gallica. It was visible from every single spot in the city, as it loomed over everything as a symbol of the Pagoda. You frowned at the menacing construct. "It's too bad we can't just blow it up."

Anna followed your gaze to the tower and immediately held a finger to your lips. "Shhh! You know better than to say something like that in public!" she whispered furiously. "Do you wanna get ripped up by the half-breeds?"

You pulled Anna's hand away. "I know, I know. But it's like they're mocking us with that stupid tower."

"That stupid tower keeps the dome up. If we blow it up, we all freeze to death."

You looked down an alley toward the wall of the dome, where you could faintly see snow blowing wildly around on the other side. You sighed and kept walking. There was nothing you could do, nothing anyone could do.

Walking by the various alleyways and streets brought back painful memories. You could almost see yourself as a teenager, huddled under a streetlamp with Anna, eating whatever you could steal.

But you could also still see Terrian reaching out his hand to you both. You pushed the negative thoughts to the back of your mind and walked the rest of the way to the clinic with Anna.

It was a couple of days later when the front door of the clinic swung open and the half-breed you and Terrian had fixed up returned. He was back in his uniform, topped off by a dark beret that pressed his black hair down over the lone green eye. You stared at him as he walked toward Terrian. He was no longer the wounded young man in polka-dot pajamas, but an unfeeling monster in black.

There was a knot in your stomach, and you looked over at Anna, who was frozen stiff. "Anna, come on, let's tend the other patients," you told her, taking her hand.

"That bastard killed Miranda's parents," Anna whispered.

You nodded. "I know, but there's nothing we can do now. Let's go."

Terrian stepped out from the bedside of a nearby patient when the half-breed neared him. "Ah, Mr. Vartan! You came back for your check-up!"

The half-breed, who had apparently signed his patient form as Vartan, nodded.

Terrian led him through the swinging doors and into the back room. Some of the patients who were conscious drew in sharp breaths as Vartan walked by them, looking at him with terror written across their faces. You felt bad for them.

Just when you thought things had calmed down, a few minutes after Terrian and Vartan had left the room, Terrian poked his head through the swinging doors and asked you to bring some more bandages. You frowned to him, but gathered up the bandages and walked through the swinging doors.

Vartan was sitting on a cot, his jacket and shirt discarded and his torso again exposed. At least this time he was wearing pants.

He looked young as he sat there, a little younger than the twenty-three years of age he had written on the patient form. Shirtless and wearing the beret made him look strangely like some sort of male stripper. Dare you even think it, he almost looked cute.

Terrian removed the bandages and examined the wound. It had already mostly closed up, healing rapidly with the amazing Pagoda blood. He carefully cleaned the area, examined it for infection, then dressed it with fresh bandages.

"Take these off in a couple of days. If the wound looks fine, you don't need to put anymore on. If there's any bleeding or discoloration, come here immediately."

Vartan nodded, pulling on his jacket. He paused, looking at you. "Is there a problem?"

You blinked. "What?"

"You have been staring at my chest the whole time you have been here. Is there a problem I should be aware of?"

You went red. You hadn't even realized you were staring. "Oh, no, I'm sorry!"

Terrian looked at you in surprise, then looked back to Vartan. "You'll have to forgive my nurse. She's not used to seeing such finely crafted male bodies. The lot we get in here are very different from you."

"Doctor!" Your face was now burning with embarrassment.

Terrian laughed, and Vartan seemed just a little confused. You were deeply upset. How could Terrian be so casual with a half-breed?

Vartan buttoned his jacket, thanked Terrian again, nodded to you, and left out the back door. Terrian grinned. "Wow, he's so polite!"

"Polite?! I saw him tear a woman's head off the other night!"

"Well, he's still a half-breed after all. At least we're safe. He seems to like us, you in particular."

You were placing the left over roll of bandages in a cabinet. "Me?"

"You haven't noticed?” Terrian asked. “He keeps looking at you. Maybe he thinks you're cute!"

You went pale. "That's not exactly a good thing, Doctor. You know what the half-breeds are like."

"But you obviously think he's cute," Terrian said, still grinning.

"I do not!"

"Couldn't keep your eyes off him."

"I was looking at his wound!"

Terrian laughed. "Why deny it? It would certainly be novel, a half-breed with a willing human."

"I don't like him!" you suddenly screamed. "He killed Miranda's parents! If we hadn't saved his life, he would've killed me too!"

"That's all true, but haven't you ever wondered? How much their human side affects them? I don't think they've ever had relationships like we have. I don't think they understand the concept of family. Maybe if they could experience that, it would awaken the humanity in them."

"But Doctor, how can you make excuses for them? They killed your father, didn't they?"

Terrian looked down, his glasses slipping down his nose. "You're right. Sorry, it was just wishful thinking."

The day wore on, just like the other days before it. You, Anna, and Terrian tended patients, joked with each other, and allowed yourselves to forget about the outside world. And when the working day was over, you parted ways and returned home.

Anna's apartment was on the other side of town, where Miranda was at home waiting for her. Terrian lived in a large house a few blocks away, but spent the night at the clinic whenever a critical patient was brought in. He had often asked you girls to move into his home, but you both had the desire for a little independence, at least for as long as you could maintain it.

You entered your apartment that evening, flipping on the light in the small living room and locking the door up tight behind you. The room was dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it. It seemed like a thin layer of filth covered the whole city, and no one could get rid of it.

There was no television, not for the past twelve years. Your memories of it had become vague over time. Sometimes you and Anna went to Terrian's house to watch old films. As interesting as they were, you found them depressing. People were usually happy in those movies, enjoying a world you didn’t remember, and you couldn't relate to them at all.

There was an unused stove in the corner of your kitchen and a small refrigerator stocked with items like fruit, vegetables, butter, cheese, and rarely some form of meat. You counted yourself extremely fortunate to have what little you had, as produce was quickly becoming a scarcity. The Pagoda managed resources in an extremely strict manner, and even private gardens had been taken over.

You unpacked your things from the duffel bag, then changed into pajamas. You fixed herself a glass of water, placed it on your bedside table, and went to bed. The sheets were cold without the warmth of another person, but you had gotten used to that.

Sleep came slowly to you, and then you were haunted by violent nightmares filled with screams and blood and the half-breed Vartan killing Miranda's father. And then suddenly Miranda morphed into Anna.

"Why didn't you save me too?" Anna demanded, looking up at you with blood all over her face, "Why didn't you save me like you did Miranda?!"

You backed away from her until your back hit a stone wall. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Anna! I didn't know you then!"

Anna shook her head. "That doesn't matter. I needed you. I needed to be saved!"

She came closer, until she was inches from you. Finally, she reached out and wrapped her hands around your throat, choking you.

You awoke with a jolt, sitting up in bed and clutching the sheets in your fists. Sweat dripped down your back. Nightmares like that were surprisingly rare for you. Generally, you dreamed of your parents or of the clinic.

You never got back to sleep that night, and so you were early to work the next morning, even before Terrian or Anna arrived. Terrian came first, unlocking the doors and letting you in, followed soon after by Anna. You and Anna changed into your uniforms while Terrian checked the patients. But just as you walked through the swinging doors, you heard the front door of the clinic bust open.

All of you looked up just as three half-breeds, two men and one woman, walked in. They scanned the main patient area with their two-color eyes, then looked at Terrian.

One of the men spoke with the same mechanical voice Vartan had. "We've received reports that you are harboring those who escaped punishment. Everyone in this building is now officially interfering with punishment.”

Terrian pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. "Girls, I want you to run far away from here. Right now."

Anna started toward him. "But Doctor..."

"RUN!" he screamed, and you grabbed Anna's arm, dragging her toward the back entrance. As the two of you made it through the swinging doors, you began to hear screams and cries, glass breaking, and the sound of Terrian's voice as he yelled for the half-breeds to stop.

#alien x reader #alien x human #x reader #x reader stories #original x reader #original fiction #alien x you

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meltingangelsmods · 3 months

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I've tagged the trigger warnings for this post appropriately, but I'm saying it up here too:

TW Rape Threat

When I published my Top Surgery Scar Tattoos, I got an absolute plethora of horrendous comments and DMs, to the point I was considering closing my DMs entirely.

Then I got a Death threat for those mods.

And then another because I wouldn't share a private mod with someone.

More shitty messages.

Then yesterday, when I tried offering advice to the modder of an LGBT flag mod, basically saying they should consider locking comments before it gets too bad, someone replied to that comment.

They went on an entire rant. I've included the screenshot of their comment here.

They wished they could harass me and the OG modder.

And then they ended that rant with a rape Threat.

I'm glad I prepped mods for my Hiatus and prepared a PowerPoint of inspiration for my commission, because other than that I have no desire to finish current mod WIPs. It's killed my modding energy and mood entirely.

Commissioner if you see this, please don't worry. I'm very much enjoying working on your tattoo set and it has been a welcomed distraction. I hope to have a further sketch for you to see either today or tomorrow.

I just...I don't get it. And I know I've had plenty more lovely comments and support. But I was already feeling shitty after multiple Facebook messages shouting abuse over my beliefs and appearance.

And then I get a rape Threat. Simply for trying to help an LGBT mod maker.

Nexus to their credit, responded within literal minutes and I'm pretty sure the rape Threat commenter has not just been account banned, but IP banned. They also apologised profusely and told me to contact them again if I get anything else like this.

But yeah. I haven't even been modding for a year yet and I've already had a slew of LGBT phobic comments, harassing DMs, as well as death threats and now a rape Threat.

I don't know when I'll post my WIP Astarion tattoo or braces mod WIP. I'm probably even going to take a social media break other than scrolling through Tumblr on my main and reblogging stuff.

I've even muted Discord messages and marked myself as Do Not Disturb.

Straight people wanting Pride pisses me off. You guys don't get harassed and sent death/rape threats simply for existing.

#tw rape #tw death #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk modding #cyberpunk mod #cyberpunk mods #meltingangels mods #modding #mods #nexus mods #mod #cyberpunk #cp2077 #cp 2077

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tiffauthor · 2 months

Text

The Orgasm Bug (dark fiction)

I'd never had an orgasm before and now I'm cumming so hard I'm losing my mind. I'm fevered and delirious, the sex organs in my lower belly quivering and convulsing as this foreign thing does its work. I'm thankful that the vomiting has stopped although I'm still squirming in my own mess, my top and panties wet with what I regurgitated and squirted from my pussy and bum during this violent ecstasy.

They promise to clean me up, but I don't care. I just don't care.

It's a college biology experiment. An experiment that is changing my life.

I am the third girl who volunteered and I knew the risks.

After her eggs were all used up, the first girl had dropped out of school and hanged herself in her parents' basement. She had large vibrating butt plugs in her bum and pussy when they found her and I hope she died cumming.

The second girl spent time in a psychiatric ward and had been discharged.

She told me about the exploration of her abdomen. She told me about it insinuating itself inside her sex organs - all of them - and how the intrusiveness was overwhelming.

"But the best part is when it connects with your g-spot and clit." she said, wiggling in her chair as she remembered that moment, "That's when the orgasms start. That's when you're so happy with your choice."

She stunk of arousal, her bare bum on the chair, her nipples tight and tenting her t-shirt awaiting them to take her to the lab.

"When they offer you the gelatine slurry, drink it. It helps with the vomiting and diarrhea." she said with a smile and another wiggle.

"Does it last?" I asked.

"Hours. But you can go back for more again and again."

"Are you?"

"Of course. Until my last egg."

"What happens then?"

"I'll kill myself." she laughed, "What's the point of living when this is over?"

I sat and listened as she was taken inside the lab. I heard her screams, her raw vomiting, then her orgasmic cries. She came for a long time and the thought of experiencing so many orgasms after never having a single one made me feel dizzy.

I had to wait until end of semester because it wouldn't be possible to attend classes once it was inside me. I drank the Suflave yesterday. At least I think it was yesterday. I spent the night on the toilet until I was empty, then fasted until I came to the lab.

They are reassuring as they give me the jug of gelatine to drink then have me lie down on a table. There's a comfy bed beside it..

"It's ecstasy." they promise, as strong hands hold me down and when I see the bug I feel a rush of panic. It's long and thicker than my thumb, wriggling madly, eager to get at me and in me. Dozens of long tendrils like tails trail its body. When they hold it above my bared midriff, it violently attacks my belly button, ramming its head into my navel, its tongue licking aggressively inside that twisted scar tissue.

I've been fingered and fucked before and it felt mildly pleasurable, but this doesn't. This feels like rape. I writhe against the hands holding me down, wanting it to stop.

Oh god, it's taking my belly button apart! Opening it like a secret orifice, pushing its head inside me, then its body, then its slithering tails. I am screaming at this intrusion, feeling it clawing its way deep inside my abdomen, delving toward my most sensitive flesh.

I am lifted and quickly laid down on the bed as I feel its long insect legs find my uterus and grip it tight and the sensation sends convulsive quivers up my core. No hands remain holding me. I understand. The bug is inside me now and I can't stop what's going to happen in there.

I feel the long tentacles penetrating my uterus, my fallopian tubes, my ovaries. Electrical sensations dance through my belly, my bowels churning, my stomach curling, my uterus throbbing, and my ovaries aching. The gelatine slurry gurgles up my gullet and I vomit. I squirm on the bed as more tentacles penetrate my sex organs in the cradle of my pelvis, my stomach cycling through heave after heave, vomited gelatine flowing down my chin and chest. I feel my anus gape and my pussy prolapse and I convulse, filling my panties with slime as the bug clings to my uterus.

I can hear them talking to me, reassuring me, telling me to just let it happen.

I feel a tentacle insert itself into my g-spot, another burrowing through my vestibule, cavernosum, up the shaft and into the glans of my clitoris. I feel the sudden throb of pleasure that flows through my abdomen, like the soft sun suddenly glowing in my belly and I stop vomiting,

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck, I'm going to cum.

"… fuck yeah …" I cry out.

My orgasm bloats fast inside me. I begin grunting as my entire belly cramps around this sudden ecstasy.

"There it is." I hear one of them say as I squirm in my mess on the bed. He sounds happy.

I've watched other girls cum, their bodies undulating as it peaks then fades in their bellies. But this goes on and on, rolling blossoms of intense pleasure filling me like nothing has filled me before. Waves of orgasmic bliss that never end and never diminish.

My sex organs are so sensitive now that I actually feel one of eggs sucked down a fallopian tube and embedded in the wall of my uterus. I feel the gush that bloats my womb as the egg is fertilized.

I'm cumming, cumming, cumming. A hot mess squirming on the bed, fevered and delirious as wave after wave of impossible pleasure pulses through my belly. I feel my fertilized egg begin to grow. Within it a hundred baby bugs will squirm until I birth an egg the size of a softball that will be taken to the lab's incubator until it hatches, and I will be returned to the table and my tummy laid bare for the next fertilization.

I have thousands of eggs in my ovaries, so thousands of pregnancies, hundreds of thousands of orgasms and I understand the girls who went before me; when my last egg is used and this ecstasy ends, I will happily kill myself.

This is my life now, until it isn't.

https://motherless.com/g/erotickynk_s_inspiration/E8716D3

#alien pregnancy #pregnant kink #emeto kink #@bredtothebrim

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vizthedatum · 10 months

Text

I know I can knock out all my work tasks today. Intellectually, I KNOW. I am getting stronger every day.

But I just put in a request to get disability services from my employer again.

I need to cover my bases.

I hate that anything programming or statistical (essentially my whole job) causes trauma freezes.

I hate that my ex/spouse's lawyer (and my ex/spouse) lied to my lawyer about how we were both responsible for our own health insurance.

I feel like this needs to be reiterated: my able-bodied, autistic, queer spouse kicked out (and threatened, abused, yelled at, made life hell-ish) their disabled, autistic, chronically ill, queer partner (me) out of the home that I paid for (rent, utilities, apt insurance, health insurance, food, etc.) (yes, they contributed money to those things but I did most of the emotional and financial labor of it all). They promised to put me on their health insurance but didn't. They cheated me out of so much. They put me in complete disarray not just for that period of time but for months and months and months. I bet they were hoping I'd just kill myself. They thought I was, you know. That's why they were going to take my medication away but their mom told them not to.

As I told my therapist and psychiatrist several times, I would have absolutely killed myself (if they didn't kill me first somehow) if I didn't leave. I would have done it while telling them I loved them so much. That's how bad the narcissistic abuse was.

I know I've been grieving in all sorts of ways. And I do believe that they need help. They absolutely do. I wish the best for them, and I truly don't want them to die.

But they made my life miserable, and I am trying my best to get my own sense of justice and peace the best way I know how.

I could have (and my friends think I should have) done worse. (aka press charges)

I wasn't even going to file the PFA. I wasn't even going to do anything. I was just going to do what I've always done and start over.

They left me in shambles while they and their ex and their friends all think I'm the "real abuser" and laugh at me. Their lawyer thinks I'm being vindictive and punitive.

They're laughing at a chronically disabled (I pee blood when I'm stressed y'all... amongst other things), autistic, trans person of color who grew up as an immigrant and poor (sometimes middle-class) child in the country who suffered horrific childhood and other partner abuse. My ex/spouse knew all of that. They knew I'd been raped and assaulted and abused.

Do you realize that? Do you know how fucked up that is?

They're laughing while my ex/spouse makes ~150k/yr and has the LUXURY of not going to doctor/dentist/therapy/whatever appointments because they're way more abled than I am....

They wouldn't even be making that much if I didn't emotionally and financially support us while they quit their job to do extra training and education to get that job.

I guess I'm just good enough to be used and tossed away.

They're laughing while my ex/spouse hires a more expensive lawyer just to bully me into not getting enough spousal support and other asset costs, while I'm financially trying to rebuild.

And I am trying my best to live my life now. I grieve and cry every single day. You don't see it in my social media pictures, but I do. My heart and brain are full of love, life, and curiosity... but I am still grieving hardcore. And I will be for a very long time.

Most narcissistic abuse survivors grieve for... years.

#journaling #narcissistic abuse awareness #narcissistic abuse survivor #domestic violence #legal proceedings #divorce #divorce from a narcissist #grieving #healing #disability #autism #ptsd #working while ptsd what a concept

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Justified (4) - Revenge served cold

Summary: Revenge is all you got left. And no one is going to stop you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader ???

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, John Winchester

Warnings: implied, torture/violence, murder, blood, dark!fic, dark!reader, revenge, written in reader’s PoV, John Winchester is awful, mentions of past rape (no description)

A/N: Again. Please heed the warnings for this series.

Justified masterlist

<< Part 3

“Who are you? One of the girls he fucked once?” Mary huffs as I cross my legs. She’s nervous and scared but puts a brave face on. Her eyes give her away. “I know about all his sidepieces. You’re no one special and coming here will make things only worse for you, sweetness.”

“Hmm…you’re such a nice person,” I chuckle darkly. “I wonder if he would’ve stopped that night if you told him so. You’re his wife, the queen ruling by his side.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she dares to say. “Whatever my husband did to you, has nothing to do with me. If you fucked him, it’s not my problem. John never promises anything to the bitches he fucks.”

“Aw, sweetness. What a nice way to describe how your husband extorts young women to do whatever he wants,” I sarcastically reply. “You do know that he does things like this. Right? I know pretending he’s not the monster he is must be easier for you. Especially with all the shiny things you can buy with the money he makes with his dirty business.”

“What do you want?” Mary nervously glances around the apartment. I bet she tries to find out if she can make it to the door before I put a bullet in her brain. “Money?”

“You don't remember me, don't you?” I slowly get up from the couch, gun aimed at her head now. “Of course not. How could you? I was only another victim of your husband’s cruelty. Just a young girl he ripped apart.”

I chuckle darkly as her eyes dart back and forth between the gun in my hand and my face. She knits her brows together and huffs. “Whatever your family got, they deserved it. If you want to do business with my husband, you must follow his rules.”

“Oh, my father got what he deserved,” I press the gun to her chest, smirking. “I let him suffer before I ended his worthless existence. Just like all the others conspiring to hide what Johnny boy did that night.” I can see the color drain from her face.

“You killed your father,” she swallows thickly. I enjoy the struggle on her face. Damn, I made the grand dame sweat. “How could you?”

“Well, he had it coming, Mary,” I shrug. “It was his fault that John Winchester ruined my life. He knew John wanted to come around, and what he would do if he finds only me at home. My mother died because of him, and I, well I died that night too.”

She watches me with big, wet eyes. “I still don’t know what you want from me. John’s business is not my problem.”

“You were there. And imagine, I had hoped you’ll save me,” I unlock the gun, making her gasp.

Fuck, I feel powerful and like the goddess of death tonight.

I know…I know. I sound narcissistic and maybe a little crazy. Who am I kidding? After John Winchester tore my existence apart, I put myself back together. I’m just missing a few important things. I lost my mind and moral compass that night.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she feigns innocence.

“The moment you entered my father’s house, hope bloomed in my chest. He wouldn’t rape me in front of his wife,” I press the weapon harder into her chest. “At least I had hoped so. I didn’t know his wife is a woman urging her husband on to rape an innocent young girl who never did anything wrong.”

She remembers that night and me. I can see it in her eyes as she stares at me like she just saw a ghost. “No. I never did such a thing. You are mistaken.”

“I’ll make sure you’ll never forget my name or face again. Your time is up Mary Winchester,” I narrow my eyes as she starts to beg me for her pitiful life. I won’t show mercy to her. Not now. Not ever.

“Who are you?” John barks into the phone. “I will come for you. After what you did to Adam, I’ll rip you apart. Get out of the hole you are hiding at and face me like a man.”

God, I wish he could hear my voice to realize I’m not some guy. But, at least for now, I need to use the voice change to hide my identity for a little longer.

“John Winchester, self-declared ladies’ man, and the leader of his empire,” I chuckle into the phone. “You should learn to listen for once. Maybe you’ll be a little friendlier after—”

“After?” he yells into the phone. “I’ll get you piece of shit. No one threatens me or my empire.”

“Did you hear, Mary?” I can hear John Winchester gasp into the phone. “He only thinks about himself and his empire. Not his family. What a pity. I had hoped to get a little reaction out of him.”

“If you touched my wife, I’ll rip you apart,” I smirk darkly as my eyes land on what’s left of Mary. She gasps for air as I rip the duct tape off of her mouth. “Not so tough any longer, huh.”

I have to admit. I didn’t go easy on her. She deserved to catch hell, though. I can show no mercy to the likes of her. This isn’t who I am anymore. The kind girl helping people is long gone.

“You already did, Johnny boy,” I purr into the phone. “I was not even old enough to drink when you ripped my life out of my hands and now, I’m going to rip you and your family apart,“ faster than Mary can scream for help I slit her throat.

Her eyes are widening in shock. Until her very last moment, she had hoped I’ll let her go. Well, I never made any promises.

The only noise John hears is the gurgling sound of Mary’s fight against her blood. He calls her name, screaming bloody murder as I put him on the loud speaker to bathe in his pain.

“I’ll send you the video, Johnny. I hope you enjoy it,” he makes an odd noise. John Winchester almost sounds like he’s in pain. “I heard you have a thing for videos showing people who suffer. I’m wishing you a nice evening. Fell well, tada… I’ll see you soon…”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Sam watches his father trash his office. “Sir, what’s wrong? Do I need to call our men?”

“That bastard got your mother,” John points at the box I delivered to his house. Don’t worry, I didn’t send him her head. I delivered the video I took on a silver plate. Literally. “Benny and Jimmy found her at her apartment. That monster tortured your mother. It makes me sick.”

“Make you sick,” the younger brother chokes out. After all the pain John Winchester caused he dares to call someone else sick. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. I’ll take matters into my hands,” John growls. “None of them found any trace of that bastard. What they did to Adam was worse enough. But your mother. This is unforgivable…I’ll flay them alive…”

“Dean, for fucks sake you need to tell him it’s her,” Sam throws his hands up. “Did you even listen?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Dean shrugs. “One way or another, I’ll be next.” The elder brother looks at the bottle of Whiskey in his hands. “I prefer it’s her killing me, to be honest. I deserve her hatred. I never deserved dad’s wrath.”

“You ignored his order and let her go,” the younger brother yells. “Now she’s out for blood. She killed mom!”

“She killed a woman telling her husband to rape a girl right in front of his sons and her. What kind of woman does shit like that?” Dean bites back. “A monster. Nothing good ever came from John Winchester. This includes me.”

“Dean,” Sam gasps. “What are you going to do?”

Dean takes a swig from the bottle. “Nothing. I’ll be waiting for my turn. She will come for me, and I won’t fight her.”

“You didn’t do a thing.”

“Exactly. I ran away like a coward while he hurt her,” Dean drops his gaze. “Back then, I let her go, hoping one day she’ll recover and live a good life. I was wrong, I guess.”

“What if we find her first? We could…”

“We could what, Sammy? Offer her money for our lives,” Dean snorts. “Unlike other people, we know that woman wants something different. She’s seeking revenge on father.”

“Well then, let her have it. She’s sending messages all the time,” Sam says. “I can ask Charlie if she can trace her phone. We can at least try to not die.”

“I won’t drag Charlie into this shitshow. We will keep the girl out of this.”

“What else can we do?” Sam runs one hand down his face. “Dean?”

“I’ll be waiting for her. If she gives me the chance, I’ll offer her dad’s head on a silver plate,” Dean says. “If not, she can have mine in return for your life…”

One month later, in Lebanon Kansas, A bar outside of town, …

“Another one,” I wave at the bartender to get a refill. “Make it a double.” I dip my head to glance at the man sitting next to me. He ignores my presence, but I know he recognized me the moment I sat down next to him.

“You shouldn’t drink so much if you are planning on taking me down tonight,” Dean finally lifts his gaze from his hands. “I had hoped to never see you again after I let you go.”

“An eye for an eye,” I say, and he shrugs. “Why didn’t you bring some of your friends.”

“I’m not going to fight you, Y/N,” I ball my hands into fists. It’s the first time in ages that I hear my name. “If you want to kill me, be my guest. But if you are open to listening to me, I can help you bring my father down.”

“I don’t need your help,” I snap at him. Who does he think he is? Some hero in a cape saving me after the big bad broke me down to nothing. “I never needed it. Not back then. Not now.”

“You won’t get even close to John Winchester. Security is on the highest level. He’s waiting for you to take one false step. You know what he’s capable of. We both know,” he takes my drink and downs it in one go. “Kill me if it makes you happy or helps you cope. I honestly don’t care.”

I look at him for a moment. The young man from back then is gone too. He’s an empty shell. Tired, worn-out, and lifeless. Just like me…

“Fine. Let’s talk. If you are not useful,” I give him a cold smile, “you will die even more painful than Adam…”

<< Part 5

Tags in reblog.

#justified #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #john winchester #supernatural #mafia au #tw: murder #darkfic #dean winchester x reader

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lilietsblog · 6 months

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So I'm probably making myself a target for some nasty shit by doing this, but it's just bothering me a lot to scroll through tumblr in the middle of all this, so here it is: my understanding of the whole Gaza/Israel issue.

Based on tumblr's usual noise, but also on Ukrainian news sources, which I p much trust on this because... well, because of the specific things they say that check out, and also because Israel isn't actually supporting Ukraine in this war, and is apparently also trying to suck up to Russia (it's not working, Putin and Co are too antisemitic for that), so no reason for our news to suck up to them. (Especially the independent opposition bloggers I also follow)

Yes, Israel got itself into the whole mess via its own very special ill-thought-out policy. And they're basically stuck this way because of external and internal political reasons. Here's hope they manage to sort it out in a way that doesn't result in ever more deaths, misery and horror -_-

Yes, there was a violent terrorist attack by HAMAS that resulted in... at least several hundred deaths, including torture, rape etc of civilians, including visiting foreigners.

Yes, Gaza inhabitants are often aggressively antisemitic in a "want to kill them all" way. That's where HAMAS recruits its terrorists from.

Yes, again, it's predominantly the fault of the government of Israel and the decisions it's made. No, it's not the fault of each individual citizen of Israel, let alone every Jew, and it's not the fault of every single person who thinks Israel deserves to exist as an independent country, either.

No, Israel did not bomb the hospital. I have yet to see a single relevant photo on tumblr, but I did see relevant photos in Ukrainian sources, and they're of an explosion in the parking lot. The casualty numbers were grossly overexaggerated in the initial reports, and the actual cause for the explosion was a misfired rocket from HAMAS. There've been corrections from some sources, none from others, but overall I believe that the final version is that.

No, Palestinians are by and large not inhuman monsters who deliberately use their own children as human shields then blame Israel. There are, have been and will be a few fanatics who do do that though - even besides specific reports, I'd be very skeptical if someone told me apropos of nothing that after several decades of conflict there wasn't a SINGLE person who was that far gone. It's just how human variance works. I mean, I'd buy it if someone said that a Ukrainian did that, too - have you read Taras Bulba?

Yes, HAMAS absolutely does use Palestinian civilians (including children) as human shields. It's a terrorist organization that thinks they're in the right and the ends justify any and all means. Of course they would.

Yes, Israel is doing some fucked up shit with forcing civilian population to evacuate within 24 hours, shutting off water and gas, etc. I don't think they're enacting deliberate genocide and I do think they're at least trying to avoid casualties (see: telling them to evacuate instead of bombing as is, and shoutout to Russia for absolutely not doing that), but their solutions are still horrifying and lead to misery and deaths.

Pretty sure Egypt is not helping either, I trust the Ukrainian sources on that. Nothing to gain from lying, there.

The whole thing is resulting in an explosion of antisemitic AND islamophobic AND just overall racist violence all over the world, including riots BY the affected populations in response to it. Everyone is in the wrong, and everything sucks. I'll be blocking people for both sentiments should any make their way through tumblr savior, so fair warning here. Have an opinion based on the understanding of both sides as actual human people, or go fuck yourself with a rusty fork. Thanks.

So this one might be the most controversial, but: I think it'll be good for Israel to get US weapons. They don't need them against Gaza, they can handle Gaza. Those are against hostile neighbours that support HAMAS and are currently, right now, attacking the territory of Israel. I do not think they should get to do that, and I think Israel should continue to exist as a country. A country that could very much stand to improve its internal and external policies, but that the world is better off having than not anyway.

(I'm seriously biased in that last one, because weapons for Israel getting bundled with weapons for Ukraine is VERY VERY GOOD for us specifically, including for personally me in my personal interest of not getting personally blown up by a rocket from Russia. Very much biased here)

(And to be clear, I don't think this bias affects the news sources, because those news were posted before the bundle idea came up)

(And yes, I do think US military intervention / aid can be in the right and make the world a better place. Not because US is flawless, colonialism is good, etc, but - broken clock, twice a day, you know the drill. I think these are both the twice a day in question.)

#absolutely not tagging this

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ackermental · 2 years

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Hi! Hi! I hope you’ve been having a beautiful day or evening so far! How are you? :D I saw this post this morning, and I love how you dissect and go into detail with different accounts of stories or opinions and I was genuinely wondering, is it true that Daemon cheats on Rhaenyra with a mistress? Or was that another false claim from Mushroom/The Maester? Also there is that dreaded claim that Daemon is only after the throne and not after Rhaenyra’s heart! I wanted to know your honest take on this, I love open discussion a ton and it gives me further knowledge and insight truly! :D (Ps LOL am I a sick fuck for actually smiling about the Mysaria comment towards Daemon about Rhaenyra? I’m sorry, but Daemyra could cause me to go bankrupt, I’m absolutely addicted to them, I simply CANNOT. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🐉🐉 anyways! Thank you for taking the time to read all this if you find time, I appreciate it as always! :)) DAEMYRA FOR THE WINNNNN MFSSSS 🔥🔥🔥!!!

Please, don't feel like I'm dismissing you, but I've already answered the question about the ridiculous claim that Daemon didn't love Rhaenyra and only used her to get the throne in this post and I don't feel like repeating myself all over again.

And that post you sent me only proofs that people don't understand the Rogue Prince and the Princess and the Queen at all. My god, only a complete moron can write something like that, exposing their own stupidity for the whole world to see.

Maesters were the ones who used young girls for their own gain. They were the ones who told Viserys it would be perfectly fine to rape Aemma when she was eleven. They were the ones killing women and unborn children left and right. Oldtown Triad has so much blood on their hands, they are the ultimate creeps in this story, they are the ones who should make your skin crawl.

Here you have my take on F&B being a crooked mirror of historical sources in our own world.

How can you read those books and don't notice that Oldtown with it's Citadel, Sept and Hightowers is a reference to Vatican, only worse? Worse because in ASOIAF they are going to the Sept during the day, preaching to other people of Westeros about how they should live their lives while being assholes themselves, and then at night they go back to play with their creepy, dark magic. I shit you not, they are like some frickin’ Illuminati of the Seven Kingdoms. Like, Jesus, did any of those idiots even do some reasearch on Hightowers? Those fuckers are fanatic zealots!

And they are responsible for writing Westeros' history! They are the ones who control all letters aka communication system in that world.

When you hear the word 'maester' you're not supposed to think about some poor, educated fellows who were suffering under their masters' ignorance. You are supposed to think about priests, who were keeping all of the ancient knowledge to themselves, whispering lies to their lords, poisoning their minds and their bodies, while trying to control them.

I've never seen a 'history book' as biased as Gyldayn's. This man is contradicting himself not even every second page, but sometimes every second sentance. Maesters murdered Aemma and Laena in cold blood, at the least. You want to be a defender of women, take it out on some creeps grooming children or old men causing trauma for little girls? Oldtown Triad is right there for you.

And they hated the Blacks with a burning passion.

So you know what? I'm standing over there in the corner with those Black guys.

Here is me ranting to poor @ladyalianora about maesters being suss.

//Not to mention: this whole grooming shit? The brothel visits? Daemon teaching Rhaenyra how to suck dicks? Daemon having a lover? Even Gyldayn doesn't have the audacity to say those rumors are true.

Makes you wonder why did he put Mushroom's nonsense in his 'academic' work at all, doesn't it? (Not that the other sources, them being a septon and yet another maester, are any better). And the real reason he did it, was so the people would come to the same, idiotic conclusions as the person who wrote that post above.

It's insane, isn't it, how easy it is to manipulate history, if you only use the right tools. It's almost like GRRM was trying to make a point with F&B other than telling a story about 'huehue, incest, dragons, big fight'.

So what am I saying? That some of those things didn't even happen in the first place?

Yeah, that's exactly what I'm trying to say.

It's almost like Daemon and Rhaenyra could've become close, fall in love even, after his return, without him teaching her how to fuck dwarfs 🤔🙄😯. It's almost like Hightowers accused him of grooming the Princess of Dragonstone in order to get rid of him for a second time 😮. By lying. You know? Just like they did it all those years before, by providing false witnesses and lying 😱😵. Or they simply had an affair and some Hightower spy told the King everything. Mind-blowing stuff, huh?

By this point I know I'm like a broken record BUT IF YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE THAT DAEMON HAD ROMANCE WITH NETTLES, THEN I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE ALICENT WAS RIDING JAEHAERYS' DICK. IT'S THE SAME FUCKING SOURCE!

Two more asks about this, and I swear to god, I'll put those words above my bed.

#hotd #house of the dragon #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen

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severus-snape-apreciation-blog · 1 year

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Apparently telling someone that the issue isn’t the Harry Potter game and wishing death on every player isn’t okay. And that the real issue is the governments especially the US one and asking why they aren’t getting angry at them. Commenting to the governors instead of getting mad at strangers online who don’t want to crucify their 50+y dads. Could result in them proving they are worse then the game players.

(There is a poll at the bottom)

Telling someone you will watch as they get raped and killed doesn’t make you a good person. I believe people mad about the game are good people. Y’all have reason to be. I just look at the situation differently that the government is a hugely different problem. And it’s proving so. If someone disagrees with me I’m okay with that. But to tell me to die. Or kill myself or that you will watch as I get raped by Nazis. Tells me. You are not as good a person as you think you are. You are just as bad as the Nazis. Cause that is beyond messed up to say to someone.

Even said to me that I’m a traitor to my gender and the community doesn’t accept me. That’s also fucked up to say. Not as much. But still not good. You pretend you have the moral high ground. But ignored everything I said in these comments. Which tells me I’m right. It’s not that you have the moral high ground. You want to feel as you do. Because people that actually care. Would care about how Florida wants to kill parents who let their kids be trans. Or one state banned all reaffirming care for everyone under 18. And if above are not allowed to have any mental illness. Or that trans people are not allowed in the correct bathrooms. And have to put their lives in danger just to go to the bathroom. Cause a dad might not understand why a buff man is using the woman’s bathroom. Or what’s happening to Zooey Zepher. Or the fact that all “pro trans” business have been really quiet and proving they aren’t really. Except funny enough. BudLight

@penisgoblin

Anyone who wants to read the full Exchange it’s under one of my posts explaining where Sirona comes from (also before anyone sparks that again. It’s not a transphobic name. But was a horrible choice for them to do)

For everyone wanting to learn more about real issues going on that are really anti trans here’s a link of all anti trans laws they are doing

I would post more articles but the apps not letting me paste atm so feel free to google it

To address some of the other stuff expressed to me in the comments.

Someone told me the whole gaming and media industry isn’t needed and that they would be okay if the whole thing collapsed. I will explain why it is needed. People watch/play for many reasons. It builds serotonin. Entertainment and joy are vital in helping lowering suicide and depression.

And the media industry is one of the biggest in the US and it is hugely vital for the economy. The writers strike will help cause another depression (not blaming the writers but the asses that refuse to pay them) and people don’t even realize that outside the writers that are striking. Thousands of others are losing their jobs. Editors. Animators. Costume design. Set design. My sister. (No seriously she lost her job editing frames for shows)

If the entire industry collapsed so would the US. and even other country’s. The sad part is when I explained that. They didn’t even care. They don’t care that people will go homeless and starve with their families. It was messed up.

Or one person said they hoped everyone who played the game or worked on it dies.

Saying stuff like this shows me you are on a false moral high ground. That you are just as bad or worse then the people you are upset at.

Disclaimer: I do not support jk assface. She is a cunt and a bitch. I understand why people are upset about the game. I am not disagreeing or mad at you. I personally have never played the game. Will I someday? Idk. Probably not. I am Non Binary and Pan. I am more upset at the US government then my elderly father.

#hating on people who literally just want to play a game is dumb. especially if they themselves are trans or Jewish #bring cruel yourself doesn’t mean you are better. just means you are worse. go f yourself #harry potter game #not Severus snape

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companionjones · 2 years

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Understood.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Summary: You were taken, and Daryl was desperate to get you back. You escaped. But you were changed forever.

Warnings: ***THIS CONTAINS HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER*** Many, many references to rape.

Author’s Note: This takes place during the stretch at the prison. Inspired from when Maggie and Glenn were captured by the Governor. Not all details will be like in canon.

*******

Daryl didn’t stay at the prison much since you had been taken. He had actually spent more time watching Woodbury than he had in his cell. He had been convinced by Rick not to bum-rush the town out of fear you might get hurt because of him, so Daryl busied himself with frequent runs and keeping an eye on Woodbury as often as possible to hopeful get a glance of you, which he never received.

Despite all of his time keeping watch, Daryl apparently wasn’t at Woodbury often enough because when he arrived back to the prison after he spent three days gone on a run, there Glenn and Maggie were; the two people had been taken along with you.

“Wha--Is she here?” was Daryl’s first question, despite being so shocked.

“She’s up in her cell,” confirmed Maggie, “But--But Daryl!”

Dixon had already taken off running in your direction. He vaguely heard Glenn calling out to him too, but he didn’t even think about it.

It was Rick that finally stopped him--by getting in his way and physically holding him back. “Daryl! Daryl, there’s something you should know. It’s about Y/n.”

Hearing your name was what stopped Daryl from fighting against Rick. “What is it?” he asked, panicked. “Is she bit?”

“No, she’s not bit, Daryl,” Glenn answered as he and Maggie caught up to where Dixon had ran to. “But something did happen while they had us.”

Maggie continued, “The Governor tried getting information from all of us in different ways. He used me and Glenn against each other. But for Y/n...” She trailed off. The look on her face was grim.

“What? What did he do?” Daryl was aggravated.

The group told him.

What Daryl heard made his whole body freeze up.

From inside your cell, you heard angry yelling, crashes, and bangs. Daryl was back. He didn’t call your name the whole time he ran to you, but you heard him stop outside your cell.

“One of us has to talk eventually,” you croaked once it became clear that Daryl wasn’t going to make the first move. You faced away from him in your cot.

He was quiet for a few moments more before speaking, “Are...are-are you--”

“Okay?” you cut him off, impatient because he was still so slow to talk. “No, I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay again. But I’m alive. And that’s all that matters anymore, right?”

It was quiet in your cell again.

Again annoyed, you were about to speak, but Daryl beat you to it.

“You’re gonna be okay again.”

That made you scoff. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re you.”

You turned over so you could look at him.

“You migh’ not feel it now, and it migh’ take a lon’ time to feel it again, but you’re still yourself, and you’re going to feel okay again.”

Tears quickly filled your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Daryl replied as he approached you and took a seat. “...Can I touch you?”

A shudder ran through you at the words. “I’m sorry. I-I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“That’s alrigh’. You take all the time you nee’, alrigh’?”

You nodded, and a comfortable silence filled the cell.

Daryl was the first to speak then. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m gonna tear him to pieces.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why?” Daryl turned to you as the sunset lit the inside of the prison.

You turned to him as well and stated matter-of-factly, “Because you’re going to stand back and watch as I do it myself.”

Daryl chuckled, then nodded. “Understood.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, you should check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl #daryl x reader #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead amc #norman reedus #companion jones #understood.#understood #tw rape

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accessibleaesthetics · 8 months

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accessibility nightmare: psych ward edition. big tw for psych wards, medical trauma, suicidal ideation, medical abuse

i have type one diabetes, so need insulin injection multiple times a day, blood sugar tests multiple times a day, and when hypoglycaemic need fast acting glucose. i was in a psych ward for a month-ish when i was 15, where i wasn't allowed to have my insulin, my blood sugar metre and lancet, or fast acting glucose with me. i understand the insulin as insulin is an easy thing to OD on, however the lancet for blood sugar testing is very small and not very sharp, and not having the ability to test my blood sugar on my own or treat hypos was terrifying for me as i have ptsd from a past severe hypo that almost killed me. the nurses also knew very little about diabetes despite telling me that they did. they tried to prick my finger for blood sugar testing with the needle that goes into a lancet but without the lancet around it and when i tried to say that was Wrong they didn't listen to me so i just used it like that. i constantly had to correct them on things to do with my diabetes management as did my mum, and the worst part was when they tried to give me a dose of insulin that would have killed me. it was a bolus for a meal that i hadn't eaten and therefore would have sent my blood sugar very low, to the point of coma or death. i told them that it was too much but they said it would force me to eat and were getting to the point of going to restrain me but after asking them multiple times to call my mum they did, and she explained why i was correct. they told her she was "giving in" to my ED, and being manipulated by me, and they said, with zero shame, that they were trying to use my hypoglycaemia trauma to force me to eat. she said she wouldn't leave me if they gave me the insulin so they ended up not and the next day i left with my mum since it was obvious that the risk of me harming myself was going to be less at home because of the mistreatment from the nurses. on my discharge forms they blamed me and my mum for resisting/not wanting treatment and didn't mention anything about what happened with the insulin. they were also just absolutely horrible in general (eg i got DRESS CODED because my pyjama shorts were too short and told that even if i don't see myself as a girl boys will still be attracted to me so i have to cover up or i'll be assaulted. i had to sleep in jeans and then ask my mum to get me something different for the next night.)

Anon I am so, so sorry this happened to you. Terrifying doesn't even begin to cover what you just described; you are correct, the staff was —at best—extremely misinformed about eating disorders. And diabetes. And...a lot of other things. Though even that doesn't excuse the weird, overt rape culture they had going on there. What an absolutely dreadful institution, I hope if you ever need that care again you find a better one.

But I'm overjoyed your mother was such an ally to you, and was able to get you out relatively quickly. I hope your journey to recovery has continued since, with at least some ups.

#psych wards #medical trauma #suicidal ideation #medical abuse #accessibility nightmares #just nightmares in general actually #ableism

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0pin0n-custard · 2 years

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Harley Quinn Season 3 Episode 2 and DC’s Refusal to Address Harm

**TW Discussion of Sexual Assault, Victim Blaming, Mental Health Issues, and Suicide**

Please note that I am writing this as a survivor of rape, and as someone who suffers from PTSD and dissociation

Hearing that Nightwing was making an appearing in Harley Quinn really got me excited. I wanted to see how they’d depict him and what they’d do with his character.

Overall, my feelings are mixed. And it’s all because of one line.

Yep. The “I let Vigilante kill Blockbuster” line that had “I let Tarantula kill Blockbuster” in the closed captions.

I could get on my soapbox for hours about Nightwing 93 and its absolutely abhorrent handling of rape. Devin Grayson did a fucking horrible job, and her victim blaming commentary did nothing to help her cause. She’s since addressed this, but I personally can’t bring myself to forgive her for the genuine harm she caused.

As an aside, please don’t go harass her. That isn’t ok. You don’t have to like her; just don’t harass her.

Back on topic, DC handled Nightwing’s rape by pretending that it never happened. Nightwing 93 isn’t in print and the assault was never addressed in the comics again.

So you can imagine my genuine shock when the I was watching Harley Quinn (with subtitles on because auditory processing is a bitch) and I heard/saw that line drop.

I want to make one thing very clear. I’m not opposed to DC acknowledging its fuck-ups. They made Dick’s rape canon, so it’s better to address it and handle it in a proper, respectful manner than to just shove it away and hope no one remembers.

But the way that it was handled in the show frustrated me for two reasons.

1. The lack of acknowledgment (again)

Yep. DC really fucked up in that regard. No surprise there.

The people behind Harley Quinn all collectively decided that mentioning Nightwing 93 was a good idea.

And I agree! Harley Quinn has plenty of moments where they address serious subject matter (like… ya know.. how the Joker treated Harley.) They managed to pull that off in a way that kept the humor, set the stage for the show, but also remained respectful towards survivors of domestic violence. It’s a perfect platform for the long-ignored assault to be processed.

But then they pulled a Devin Grayson (although to a significantly less harmful degree) by simply not acknowledging it.

Dick wasn’t upset because of what Tarantula did. He was upset that he let Blockbuster die. Just like in the comics.

And to make matters worse, somewhere along the line, someone had the bright idea that “hey maybe we shouldn’t mention Tarantula because of what happened.” And the voice line got changed to “Vigilante.”

This doesn’t work for a variety of reasons. Nightwing 93 is infamous in the fandom. You mention Blockbuster’s death, and fans are gonna know exactly what event is being referred to. You can’t just bring it up and change the name around. We all know what happened, and, to me, it feels like the show erased Nightwing’s trauma (again.)

Not to mention, the subtitle wasn’t changed. So… that was kinda a dead giveaway.

Either the creators realized midway through development that mentioning Tarantula would be a bit ~controversial~, had Nightwing’s VA do a quick redo, and then forgot to change the CC, or the DC higher ups weren’t too happy that Tarantula was brought up, told the Harley Quinn team to change it, and they did but also kept the CC the same. Idk which.

Not to mention, the fact that it was changed somewhere along the line means that DC recognized that Dick had been raped in Nightwing 93, and made the deliberate decision to silence him once again.

Either way, DC fucked up the soup by sticking their toe in it, then trying to pretend like they didn’t.

2. Dick Grayson’s Characterization

Harley Quinn is a dark comedy. It pokes fun at its cast all the time. Dick being dramatic and trying too hard to be like Batman is a really funny concept; I like how the show ran with it. Dick being overly confident and fucking up the chess? Honestly, pretty damn hilarious and a good in-character caricature.

It’s his subsequent breakdown that I take issue with.

Because despite someone’s best efforts, Tarantula was mentioned. And as I said before, almost every DC fan knows what Tarantula did to Nightwing.

The moment that the Blockbuster incident was brought up, Harley Quinn’s version of Nightwing became a survivor of sexual assault. You can’t separate the two incidents; trust me- DC has tried.

And so, Dick’s breakdown in the escape room gained a new, darker context. Dick’s emotional instability wasn’t just due to his allowance for Blockbuster’s death; it was also because he’d recently been raped.

Dick’s suicidal behavior wasn’t just him being overly-dramatic. And that scene became significantly less humorous with the added context of Nightwing 93.

The resolution felt really half-baked as well. Even putting the rape aside, Dick was still really traumatized by what happened with Blockbuster. His fear over his family’s reactions wasn’t addressed. The ending felt rushed and, to a degree, unsatisfactory.

I know that some of you might be saying that I’m looking too deep into this, and that it’s just a TV show. But to me, it’s not.

I have wanted DC to actually address Nightwing 93 for years. Dick Grayson has been the victim of several instances of abuse, assault, and rape. The character has endured so much trauma, and yet DC ignores it; they allowed it to happen, but they refuse to give him the time of day to actually address it.

I can’t tell you how many comments I’ve seen made by fanboys about how “lucky” Nightwing was for being raped by Tarantula and Mirage. About how his relationship with Liu wasn’t statutory rape. Etc. etc.

It’s fucking disgusting, and DC is partially to blame. By continuously making Nightwing the victim of sexual assault, and then never addressing it as such, they are sending out a very harmful message.

By never acknowledging the trauma, they’re implying that it wasn’t trauma. By ignoring the rape, they’re leaving the door open for assholes to say that it wasn’t rape to begin with.

This has real world consequences.

Male survivors of sexual assault, domestic violence, abuse, rape, etc. are constantly invalidated and ignored by society. (Non-male victims are ignored and invalidated as well; I’m just specifically discussing male victims right now.)

Boys are called lucky if their female teacher rapes them. Men are called weak if a woman rapes them. Men are emasculated if another man rapes them.

Even “safe” spaces aren’t safe for them. Most survivor resources use female-only language, thus making many men and gender non-conforming people feel unwelcome. I’ve experienced this IRL.

By never addressing the harm they caused, DC has allowed Dick Grayson to become a symbol of a silenced victim, never allowed to share his story or process his trauma.

But despite all of that, many survivors, myself included, have found comfort in Dick Grayson.

*just a warning for some trauma dumping from my own life, but it’s relevant to the topic at hand i promise*

In 2020, I moved to a new state (I live in the U.S.) I was all alone; my entire support system was over 500 miles away. Only a few weeks after I moved into my new apartment, I was sexually assaulted only a block away.

When I called my mom, she blamed me and took the time to shame me for being on testosterone. My (now ex) boyfriend blamed me and refused to visit me. My friends were only able to offer surface-level support. I was completely alone.

When I say that Nightwing saved my life, I genuinely mean it. For years by that point I’d been processing my trauma and life in general through the lenses of media and fanfiction. Reading fanfictions that actually addressed and expanded upon Nightwing 93 became my primary coping skill. I can’t thank the fanfic authors enough tbh. I projected myself onto Dick Grayson. I, a man who survived sexual assault and dissociation only to be invalidated, saw myself in that fictional character. He was more a hero in my eyes than ever before. Nightwing got me through that shit. Fanfictions that actually addressed and handled Nightwing’s trauma got me through that shit. Was that entirely healthy? No. But I didn’t have many options at that point. They kept me alive. That’s all that matters.

*ok trauma dumping is over sorry about that.*

I wish Harley Quinn had been different. I wish that the show had been the one to finally give Dick a voice in DC. I wish that it hadn’t censored out Tarantula’s name. I wish it had handled it like it handled Harley’s trauma. I wish it had given me and other survivors representation.

I wish that it hadn’t subsequently turned Dick into a suicide joke.

Approximately 33% of women who are victims of sexual assault contemplate suicide. 13% of them attempt it.

I’d give you a statistic based on male victims or a non-gendered sample, but such a study hasn’t been published. (At least, not based on 20 minutes of searching both google and academic articles.)

I understand and fully embrace that Harley Quinn is a dark comedy. It makes dark jokes, and a lot of them get a laugh out of me. But given the context of.. everything, that scene just felt in poor taste. Especially since his suicidal behavior wasn’t addressed again.

Thankfully, Harley Quinn isn’t over yet. I’m really hoping that DC will actually explore Dick’s trauma and give him a respectful, kind, long-overdue resolution to Nightwing 93.

But based on DC’s past and current behavior, I’m not getting my hopes up.

And please know, this whole rant is not me saying that Harley Quinn is a bad show or that the creative team is like Devin Grayson or that they need to be cancelled or anything like that. Not at all. I’m still going to continue watching and enjoying the show. I think it’s really good, and I love what it’s doing for Gotham characters. I blame the DC higher-ups wayyyyy more than I would ever blame the Harley Quinn team.

I just wanted to put my thoughts and frustrations out into the universe, because I’m very tired of survivors (regardless of gender) being silenced, ignored, and mocked.

#tw rap3 #tw sui ideation #tw sui implied #dc comics #dc #harley quinn #batfamily #batfam #gotham #poison ivy #dick grayson #batman #bruce wayne #nightwing #nightwing 93 #dc i will never forgive you #devin grayson #i hate her so much

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thoumpingground · 3 months

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The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Thoughts: Chapters 38-42

Helen is plotting her escape, let's gooo!! But first, drama. I knew Lowborough would end up suicidal. The way Helen describes him struggling not to kill himself in the room the night after he discovers the adultery is bone-chilling. He's pretty serene all things considered, though. Forgives Helen fairly quickly for keeping him in the dark, turns out Hattersley's plot to "take care" of Huntington (lol), by the looks of it gives Annabella a generous alimony if she's able to keep partying in London. It made me sad that he's happy to keep his son but not his daughter (because she looks like her mother, I guess? idr what Annabella looks like) but the story is bleak enough as it is and unless I'm contradicted later I'm choosing to believe he gets over it for both of their sakes.

Hargrave... vindictive little scumbag. I'm so mad at myself for feeling bad for you. In a book full of hateable men it's impressive how quickly he made top of the list. I wanted to scream when Helen told him about her escape plans. For a second I thought he might help her... but of course not. I have to go back to the Gilbert parts and see if he calls Helen "his angel" because that's clearly a red flag (Huntington did it too, that much I remember). I hope he goes back to Paris and some french opera girl drains him of all his money.

Hattersley is all over the place in these chapters. Such a chaotic redemption arc. Offering Lowborough to be his fucking hitman (again, lol), defending Helen from Huntingdon when they think she's cheating with Hargrave (so many bloody H's in this book), encouraging Huntingdon to turn a new leaf while they ply his son with alcohol... I know he had that conversation with Helen about Millie not feeling anything a few chapters back, so it doesn't exactly come out of nowhere, and he loves his kids, and he's still a dick through his good moments (plying toddler Arthur with alcohol, calling Helen names even while defending her...), but it still feels sudden. And when did he start loving Millie to the point the idea of making her happy pushes him over the edge into reform? He only married her because she was a doormat, and he's been deluding himself into thinking she was dead inside (that or she has a poker face that would put Vegas out of business), and I know he's been strugggling with that, but still. I'm glad Millie gets a reformed husband by the end of this section, but wow. What a trip.

Huntingdon commitment to get worse is impressive. I was surprised he pawned Helen off to his friends. Again, I'd read Arthur wasn't phisically abusive, and it appears he never rapes her, but this sounds an awful lot like he's giving his friends leave to. I have a half-formed thought about how Huntingdon keeps making masculinity and power about viciousness. He's making a show out of corrupting little Arthur to hurt Helen, but I think he sincerely beleives it's making a man out of him, and if they were on better terms he'd be doing it covertly. "A Misadventure"... Hooly shit, if there was ever understatement. And a reason to title the following chapter "Hope Springs Eternal in the Human Breast"! If the book hadn't started after Helen made her escape it might have made me cry. The bitter, sinister delight Huntingdon takes in stripping Helen of every mean of escape, and how casually he's able to do it, how ties his masculinity to it... I don't understand how this book isn't better known. This should be taught at schools.

I hate the way nobody's allowed to talk about the abuse. I swear, this is 1984 with petticoats. Helen and Millie urging Esther to be careful who she chooses while insisting that they're happy themselves... It reframes all Helen's and Aunt Margaret's interactions from early in the diary, though Esther seems more receptive than Helen (thank god...). Helen trying (usuccesfully) to hide her unhappiness from Aunt Margaret is so sad. So is her guilt over giving her aunt grief in her old age. On brighter news, Frederick to the rescue! I knew something good would come of Huntingdon fucking off to London for half the year! I knew Lawrence was Helen's brother! It's gonna be fun when she finds out that Gilbert struck him in the face. It's gonna be fun when Gilbert realizes who he struck in the face!

#currently editing previous installments to correct the misspelled surnames #at one point hattersley became harville #i don't know who harville is #helen graham #arthur huntingdon #tenant of wildfell hall #anne bronte #wildfell weekly #bronte blogging

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