#// this is that one scene in Uprising

[murderbees]

[yourleaderandbeacon]

Title: Creature Comforts Pairing: Clu x Dyson Summary: Dyson, having been shaken by events in Argon, seeks comfort from his Luminary. Notes: Takes place at the end of, and immediately following the events of Scars pt. 2. Slightly AU. Rating: F for general fluff     Clu hears the doors to his throne room open and he knows from the footsteps alone who it is. “I have returned from Argon with a message from an Old Friend. I saw him with my own eyes.” Clu looks over his shoulder at Dyson, whose head is bowed out of respect. But the Luminary hears the wavering in that voice he knows otherwise to be so confident.     “Tron…Lives.” Clu has had suspicions based on the reports he got from Argon. But at the same time, Clu knew this…Renegade was not Tron. “Interesting… Who else knows about this?” Clu hears the disc being drawn and the single Sentry being derezzed.  

 “Nobody…only us.” And there is so much emotion on that last syllable that it compels Clu into action. He turns and holds his arms open, “Come here, Dyson.” And then Dyson moves to close the distance, trusting himself to those arms which fold about him.     “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Clu almost purrs as he rests his cheek against Dyson’s head. No one else but them need know that their Old Friend still lived to resist them. Especially since it was more than likely said Friend would be joining them all too soon.     “Sir?” Clu lifts his head to look the Guard in the eye. Dyson’s hands travel up Clu’s arms to his shoulders. Gloved fingers line in red cradle the Luminary’s face and then Clu is not quite prepared for the sensation of a mouth pressed against his own. But he adjusts accordingly to return the gesture.     Their lips part just enough to maintain closeness but to allow them use of their mouths. “If I may be so bold as to request some downtime? Given…recent events, I need some time to myself.” “I understand, Dyson, but you know where to find me should you need the presence of another.” Clu replies as his gloved fingers brush over one particular side of the Black Guard’s face.     “He was…so different then what I remember, Clu. One of his eyes looked dead from scarring but…there was such…anger in them. Directed at me.” And Dyson moved his hands from Clu’s face. The Liberator raised an eyebrow before pressing a small, light kiss to Dyson’s forehead. “He’ll come around eventually. Take all the time you need.”

    “Thank you, sir.” And Dyson makes no move to pull away once the request has been approved and Clu makes no move to make him.

[backpackingspace]

Okay but xie lian really do just being lying the whole series

[beebsops]

POV: I AM LOOKING AT YOU THROUGH THESE GIFS

[whumperofworlds]

Demon Whumper torturing Angel Whumpee. Whumpee, being defiant, tells them:

"Go home!"

(For those who don't get it, demons are usually in hell. Basically, Whumpee is telling Whumper to go to hell.)

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

BIG AGREE W UR TAGS ON THE POST U JUST RBED FROM ME ive watched that specific deleted scene sooo many times and its still infuriating 2 me. like he gets yelled at by the tech he runs into for being 'incompetent' basically, jake, nate, amara and jules just fucking STAND THERE? like!! even if he wasnt their fucking HEAD SCIENTIST, what way is that to treat someone? to just stand there and even have the fucking gall to say "yeah gottliebs a weirdo" HES JUST PICKING UP THE PAPERS HES DROPPED. WHICH BY THE WAY. HAVE THE INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT CALCULATIONS AND NOTES FOR UR NEW FUCKING FUEL. god. anyways. hi moss <3

HSGAJDJSKS HI COSMAS AND YES YES YES YOU GET IT OH MY GOD???

LIKE YEAH HE’S LITERALLY A HIGH RANKING OFFICER HELPING ALL OF THEM FURTHER THEIR TECH AND THEY PUBLICLY HUMILIATE HIM FOR TRIPPING????? and on top of that in what world are we meant to feel sympathetic for a cast of people who watch a visibly disabled man get knocked over by heavy equipment and then call him a weirdo for what??? being embarrassed??? picking up his INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT RESEARCH PAPERS ON FUEL TO POWER THEIR JAEGERS??? (UR SO RIGHT THOSE HAVE TO BE IMPORTANT) it’s such a deeply uncomfortable and pointless scene that literally only exists to poke fun at a disabled character and while i get they were probably trying to showcase hermann being awkward (because he is!!! he is awkward and odd and that’s his charm in pr1!!!) this was THE worst possible way to go about it gbdkfkdkfkkd anyways thank u for also being pissed about this <3

[fortunefavorsthebrave-dude]

saw furiosa it was. a movie.

[thehmn]

I finally got to watch Viften (Empire) and it’s such a fascinating movie. It was written by Anna Neye who also plays Anna Heegaard, a rich free black woman who’s dating the Danish governor of the island.

It’s sold as an absurdist comedy and I think there’s no other way to describe it. There aren’t any real jokes but you often end up laughing at the absurdity of it all.

It’s extremely honest about the horrors Danes put the black population through but thankfully it only shows it in quick flashes of art as seen in the trailer. I once watched a video where they explained why most women aren’t into slasher movies and why black people generally don’t rewatch movies about racism and slavery. It’s because the the horrors shown are very real fears and a fact of life so the only people who can really enjoy watching a woman get horribly murdered as entertaining are men and only white people can watch a black person getting whipped to death with cinematic lighting and have a fun night out. By showing the horrors in art they get to be clear about exactly what is going on without coming off as exploitative.

But it’s also very honest about the ways a society based on slavery fucks with everyone. Most of the servants at the manor are slaves except the cook who bought her own freedom years ago. She tells the housekeeper Petrine that some day she too will be able to buy her freedom and get her own slave. That’s right, the freed black people aspire to get their own slaves because that’s the sort of values a society like this instills in people. And Anna tries to be as nice as possible to her own slaves but doesn’t take her own success for granted and is more afraid of an uprising than her white lover and ends up doing some really horrible things to her slaves to keep them down.

It also touches on how people viewed being black or white back then. That it wasn’t all about skin colour but also status. That’s why all the white people treat Anna as one of them. She’s a rich, educated lady so of course she’s “white”. Even Anna express contempt at being called black because she doesn’t work in the field. The poor freed black people also call Petrine white because she dress and acts like a Dane. Not as in “you are pretending to be white” but as in you are white.

And hats off to the director Frederikke Aspöck. There’s a scene where a woman buys her freedom and they put on a symbolic slave auction where she gets up on the podium and bids on herself. All the white neighbors have come to witness it because it’s seen as this joyous day and they all clap, she’s offered to drink with them and she’s all smiles. The director managed to make the scene wholesome while highlighting the absurdity of it and all you can do is chuckle because what the fuck? The white people think it’s a good thing that she’s free but continue to keep and mistreat their own slaves, and she no doubt dreams of getting her own down the road. It’s very much depicted as institutionalized racism and not just “a few bad eggs”.

And I didn’t know where to put this but there’s a lot of interesting symbolism going on with Anna’s dresses. She always wears dresses that match the colors of the rooms she’s in, establishing her as fully part of the system, but as she begins to realize that the Danish state will never see her as fully equal her colors start to clash with her surroundings.

I watched it on Netflix and it has English subtitles so it should be somewhere for English speakers to watch if you feel so inclined.

[mirnightghost]

Tw: blood

...it was supposed to be a comic, but a lot went wrong, so..keep this little description:

Sticky, warm blood spread across his chest, trying to hide the terrible wounds left by the cold metal. The eyelids grew heavy, and the boundless darkness crept up to forever take the knight into his silent realm of death. "Ambrosius...I'm...sorry."

Hands gently but tightly wrapped around his body. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay"

Oh, that voice. So dear to him voice now repeated these words with pain like a mantra, as if it could change something. But breathing became harder and harder every moment. “Oh no no no no don’t leave me. Bal, please don't leave me alone!"

Now it was like a prayer. A prayer that heavens will never hear. But the knight in dark armor heed this prayer. And hundreds of thoughts and words that he would like to say ran through his mind. And then everything went quiet. And he plunged into darkness.

I have to say that I am not a writer, so the structure of the text and the words may seem strange. Sorry~

Anyway, I would like to share with you the context of what is going on here and why!

I thought that, as in all existing societies, there will always be those who are against changes. It so happened historically that not all people are ready for changes, because changes are always scary. And, of course, no matter how heartbreaking the scene with Nimona is, you can never get the respect of the entire kingdom. Especially the elite, which can lose control. Since Ambrosius remained the only "main" person of the kingdom, he did the main work of changing people's minds. And that part of the elite that was against it, saw it as a conspiracy. Allegedly, Ambrosius did this not for the benefit of society, but for the benefit of his partner. Therefore, the ranks of the conspirators grew and became stronger. And when they gathered enough strength, the uprisings/resistance to new arrangements and power began.

And it is in one of the clashes with these conspirators that Ballister is mortally wounded...or not?

Yes, yes, you understood correctly, I have two endings. Of course.

Anyway, I find this concept more interesting, as it brings me a little closer to political things, making things darker and therefore more interesting. After all, what is happiness worth if you don’t have to fight for it?

▪︎

▪︎

Oh...I don't think I want to write about how difficult it was to draw all this...just say i'm glad I finished it.

Thank you for your attention

See ya~

[brainrot-hq]

Okay okay okay Barbie 2023 theory:

It's been established at this point that Margot Barbie is the main Barbie in her world, whether she knows it or not. Obviously, she's the main character, but she's also the central Barbie. She's the one hosting the party, she's the one that's got a spotlight on her, and she's also the one who looks most like classic Barbie, hell, she's the only blonde Barbie other than Kate McKinnon Barbie (I may make a post about thoughts I have on that at somepoint) but I think that her leaving Barbieland will cause some kind of power conflict: and I think that the Kens will try and rise up to take power.

In this pic, we can see that when Barbie is leaving, it says Barbieland,

But here it says Kendom!

Also, it appears that Allen, Alexandra Shipp Barbie, and another Barbie that I can't tell the identity of are in the car, as opposed to Margot Barbie and Ryan Ken like I had thought, but I'll get back to that later.

(Also, as far as I'm aware, no one else has pointed out the Kendom thing! I may have just missed something though)

I think that the Kens will possibly succeed in taking over, leading to the previously seen Barbie flags:

To become the Ken banners seen here:

And I think this will somehow lead up to the big Ken beach fight, which I think will happen if Ryan Ken and Margot Barbie return to Barbieland, as we see him and Simu Ken fighting (doing some weird?? Glitter thing?? Idk) here:

And I think there may be some espionage here, with this scene showing Barbie and America Ferrara's character seemingly sneaking around with the other Barbies seen in the car (and Allen) headed towards the "Kendom" earlier (seemingly in Barbieland, if the colors are to be believed)

TLDR: I think that once Margot Barbie and Ryan Ken leave, there will be a Ken uprising.

Or maybe I'm losing my mind over the like 6 minutes of content we have idk

[tonixe]

MOTIVE...

a/n: ZOOWEMAMA, NEW CELEBRITY CRUSH UNLOCKED. Yes, I DID JUST WATCH THE NEW HUNGER GAMES, AND THIS is PROBABLY LIKE THE ONLY TIME I WILL SAY, THAT ONLY THE YOUNG CORIOLANUS SNOW IS HOT; the movie was good asf, low-key jealous of the actor who played Lucy like I would love I mean love to just be proximity 5 feet or less like he is just so hot. **

warning: mentions of violence (threats), smut, p in the v, penetration, fingering, bathroom sex, enemy lovers trope...proofread (?).

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word counter: 1.8k

You were perfect, the embodiment of a perfect daughter, student, and personality. You carried yourself with grace, and made yourself known as an individual with class and intelligence.

You have an outstanding academic standing, high grades, good social points, and were popular with your peers. A person with all that must have someone to be rival with or a person trying to one-up them. In this case, it was true for you, the last name Snow, made you snarl. The name Coriolanus Snow, made you grimace even. He was always one step ahead of you, if you were two, he would be one. It made you resent him in every single way.

Today was reaping day...the anniversary of making the district pay for their uprising against capital control and authority. You were wearing a black dress with a scoop necklace and small cut diamonds sowed on your dress, making it look like the night sky, it fell to your knees. Pearls waiting on your neck with matching earrings and a dashing pair of bloody red lips to match the blood that was ready to be spilled in the arena.

The building was busy with students, excited for the games to begin. It was supposedly going to be last, but you knew it was a lie. Why would the capitol stop the games, weren't their enemies not rebelling against them enough? Vigilantly waiting for it to start, holding onto a delicate glass cup with some liquid poured into, it as you sipped from the glass. You were conversing with a few of your peers, not friends. You weren't considered them anywhere near you, there were just walking money bags that socially and economically fueled you.

"Y/N, how would you prophesize this year's hunger game will turn out ?" Festus said, you looked at him. "Well...I, presume that it going to end as fast as it started" You declared, smirking against the glass before you sipped the liquid inside your cup, "I don't expect any of thoses things to survive fast" Felix agreed with your thought, "The same" Arachne added.

You loved basking in the attention of others, made you feel like you had some power, and if people liked you. They would agree, give, gift, allow, and offer anything to you. It was shortly outlived, "Finally, the star pupil," Arachne said, their attention turning to Coriolanus, and yours flickered to him as well.

You bit your lip at the scene, glaring at her before you looked at him. "That's a snazzy shirt, what are those buttons.. tesserae?" Arachne marvels at his shirt, picking out several details, you put your hands covering your mouth to hide your smile.

"Hm..that's why they remind me of the maid's bathroom," Coriolanus remarked, looking at the button, turning his attention towards the group, "Not surprising with the people you associated yourself with, Coriolanus" You commented, taking a sip from your drink, faintly tilting your head to the side, denoting Sejanus's presence from afar.

"How malicious of you, y/n. That was the most humane thing you ever displayed to me" He said, his eyes and yours making contact with each other, making the room oddly tense up. "I'm tender-hearted but not a charity" You affirmed, the grip of your glass getting harder as you spoke to him.

Were you jealous, no, never. Why would you ever be jealous of him? Maybe it was his high intelligence, the way he carried himself, his charm on everyone he talked to? or everything that was neatly wrapped in a silky satin red bow, that was an embodiment of himself. It was funny to you, that you had this 'discreet' loathe for someone, and that person was in less than 6 feet of you, proximity 2 people away.

"Well, I heard this year there is something called the 'Plinth' prize" You turned your attention to Felix talking, "Something about Doctor Gauls' being in the building, Plinth.." Felix turned his head, "I mean just look at his spawn" I turned my attention to Sejanus from afar. "Who knew you could buy your way into the capitol?" Felix finished, "Well, money does control everything" you muttered, cocking your eyebrows.

"Well, you can't buy class, I mean...have you looked at his mother's outfit, Oh sorry, his ma's..." Festus mocked before the group snickering, "Dress a turnip in a ball gown, and it will still be begged to be mashed" Coriolanus joked, flickering his eyes away from Sejanus.

"Don't do that we all know you like him" Arachne commented, " I don't like him, Arachne. I tolerate him. He's District" Coriolanus finished, cutting her off completely, made you amused. "That's a low blow" You mockingly did a sad face at him, "The low blow is being district" Coriolanus muttered, you smirked at his actions.

"Tolerate him, just don't encourage. I heard these games how immoral these hunger games have been, putting him in the arena must—" Festus spoke he cut himself short as Sejanus walked toward the group. The whole thing was funny, snarky remarks being thrown, and your lips were graced with a smile every time.

Your ears heard the ringing of the bell signaling the start of the reaping. You got into your seat, sitting right next to Arachne.

It went delighting, well for you. You got a capable-looking tribute, she looked promising to you, and her name was Hera. Interesting to give a poor girl, a high-class name. You were in the bathroom, powering your nose, fixing up yourself. Puffing the power puff on your face, leaving your face having a matte finish. Applying your signature color on your lips.

Your ears heard the door opening, but your eyes didn't bother to look at the person who came as you were too busy with yourself.

Feeling a pair of hands on your waist, your eyes flickering to the mirror, looking at the one who was responsible, only to met with the eyes that you so daintily hate. You quickly turn yourself around, "What are you doing here?" You exclaimed, turning your attention to the blonde that came in, Coriolanus. "Do you know what bathroom you're in Coriolanus?" You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

"It didn't bother you then, why now" He walked closer to your awaiting form, "Then, I didn't resent you," You stated, feeling his hands on your bottom, lightly spinning you in a halfway motion. "Are you serious going to this in the bathroom.." Your eyes darted away from him, "What if I said, yes?" He lifted your head up narrowly so that your eyes met his "...what if we get caught?" You really did hate him, how he made you feel, how he controlled you, but it felt natural to be obedient to him, his cold stare meeting yours.

"Let's wait still we do" He leaned towards you and whispered to your ear, before taking you by surprise, taking your body and placing it on the marble of the cold bathroom counter. Making you hiss from the temperature change, his actions were rushed taking your tights off with the motion of matching colored panties, discarding them somewhere else.

His lips latching onto yours, leaning you back to the mirror, your arms holding down for support. Moans trailing down from your lips, groans from his, your hands on your cheeks, feeling his tongue exploring the caverns of your mouth. Opening your eyes slightly from the hungry kiss, catching your gaze at the growing size that was bound to be released from his constricted black pants. You withdraw from the kiss attempting to catch your breath, feeling yourself unravel in front of the blonde gentleman. "Just put 'it' in already" You whispered, hanging your arms that lack strength on his shoulders, "Not yet, my dove" Feeling his fingers dancing under your dress, his finger making contact with the sensitive parts of you, making you shutter.

"Coriolanus....be gentle, you know im sensitive" your lips pouting before feeling the intrusion, making you jump in your skin. Your languid moans being ripped out from your throat, while he pushes you further, pushing the digit further in and taking it out, thrusting in a frantic style.

Your body jolted and bounced back from the force he used. He edges you on, till your skin is covered with a layer of sweat, and everything around you makes you feel hot. You needed to get out of his dress in some way, it was another layer that denied you, the friction you needed.

His slender fingers carved a way into you, reaching into parts of you didn't know you had, your head hung low, feeling embarrassed from the vulgar things you both were doing in the bathroom, the feeling of being caught was only a chance but was never low. Your eyes hesitantly look at the door, feeling your skin pricking, distracting you. "Coryo...I'm close" you whispered, something in him erupted when you said that, that..very nickname. His fingers removed themselves from you, making you quiver, dissatisfied.

"Y/N..I want you to use that name...every time I thrust into you" He spoke, his very words made you wet, if not impossible more attracted. His hands on your upper thigh, pulling you towards him. Propping your hip at the edge of the counter, your cheeks were flushed, knowing what was next.

Next thing you knew his pant were discarded like your panties, and feeling him lining up with your slit. His hand is on your waist massaging the muscle, before he pushes his hips to yours, the intrusion feels better, moans trailing down on your lips. His hip colliding with yours. Your ears hearing him groan in pleasure, your own mind on cloud 9.

Feeling yourself getting needier for a sort of release or satisfaction.

"C-coryo, I'm close" you whimpered, your skin feeling more hot, your dress making you uncomfortable. His cock fucking into you, your body jolting at the frantic push into you. Hooking your arms around, feeling yourself almost unraveling, "Me too, my dove" Coriolanus groans out, his hips snapping back into you. Before you felt a crash of waves coming down on you, your gummy walls clamping down around his cock. Hearing his groans in your ear, as he thrust into you a few more times before pulling out of you, and spilling himself on your stomach.

Heavy breathing was all you heard, no words just your body growing tired from the minute. "You did well" his hands caressing your cheek gently. Your lips parted, as you stared into his icy-like eyes. Your chest heaves out, placing your hands on his, leaning into his embrace.

You hate it, but you can't understand why you love it at the same time...it fills you with confusing thoughts, but every time you look at the same blonde gentleman you thought you were to loathe, but your heart skips a beat.

You gave him back a small smile. Finding yourself surrendering and freezing into the snow and frost—and your heart being held with a lock and key.

[lilacsupernova]

In recent years, I've seen the erasure of lesbian and gay activists. And all the work we did for gay liberation is credited to two people: Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson. Even statues are planned to be elected in honor of them in New York. These two are now hailed for having organized the Stonewall Riot and the GLF [Gay Liberation Front] and even the historic gay occupation of Wernstein Hall at New York University in protest against the administration's homophobia. All of this is false. I know, because I and the women and men I worked with were there.

Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson are today widely celebrated as transgender people of color. However, Rivera identified as a transvestite male, not transgender. Malcolm, aka Marsha Johnson, was a self-proclaimed gay man, and drag queen, up until his death in 1992. Johnson deserves to be honored with respect and integrity, not rebranded as a 'trans-woman' postmortem. Johnson was probably transgender, though there was no such terminology at the time. Toward the end of his life he was considering raising funds to go abroad for what was then called a sex change surgery.

Nobody led the Stonewall Riots. It was a spontaneous uprising. Neither Rivera nor Johnson appeared on the scene until the riots were well underway. Neither Johnson nor Rivera attended any of the early meetings of GLF in July 1969. I was one of the founders, along with five other women and 13 men. Ellen Broidy and I were among those who called for the occupation of Wernstein Hall in September 1970. Johnson and Rivera were not present. They joined in after a group of us had already entered the building, and it was after the occupation that I first noticed them at GLF meetings. They were inspired by our Wernstein Hall action to start a new group, Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR).

This was important work they did and how they should be remembered. Through STAR, Rivera and Johnson labored on behalf of homeless street queens who, like themselves, often had to support themselves through prostitution, often strove to overcome drug addiction, and often found themselves in trouble with the law. They provided shelter and counseling, and visited those in prison. They were heroes in their own right. But the false legends have been widely promulgated in the international press, and give them credit for the work of hundreds of others, and never ever mention what they actually accomplished. The city of New York has not built any statues to any of us lesbians or any of the gay men who were involved in GLF. Just those two are the heroes. Stormé DeLarverie who is considered responsible for starting the first Stonewall Riot on June 28, 1969, after a crowd reacted when she was arrested by police, was a woman of color and and butch lesbian. She didn't get a statue either.

These smaller fabrications are perhaps not as dangerous as the ones that lead to war. But what is dangerous is that, by depicting one or two chosen individuals as great leaders and expunging the rest of us from public memory, they strip us all of the knowledge that we ordinary human beings have made history and can do so again.

– Martha Shelley (2021), 'An Honest History' in Renate Klein & Susan Hawthorne (eds.) Not Dead Yet: Feminism, Passion and Women's Liberation, pp. 379-80.

[zazter-den]

Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Issue 6 (2024)

By Erika, Marjorie, Axelle, and Noi

Now Available!

Itch.io - Google Drive - Keep Reading below

Did you know that you can learn a neat fun fact about IF on the itch.io version?

EDITORIAL

Not a content machine…

Though we manage to fill our pages with many projects appearing on the scene or updating regularly, it is important to remember that creators are not content machines.

They are like you and us: people, with ups and downs, with period of great productivity and creative struggles, with life affecting all of it. They put a lot of effort into making really cool stories (and most of them as a hobby!), so much more than we do with this!

And they share with us this labor of sweat, blood, tears and love, with little in return: a sign that someone played their project and enjoyed it.

Whether it is a quiet like or rating, a loud review or comment, a simple share (that can trickle away towards new eyes), or even a few coins their way, there are many ways we can tell them:

We see you, and we appreciate you.

Let's try to do this more, yeah?

We hope you enjoy this issue!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

EVENTS

CONFERENCE

You can now register for the Narrascope! It is happening June 21-23, in hybrid. They've also released the schedule of talks!

ONGOING (VOTING)

The voting period for the Text Adventure Literacy Jam ends in less than a week. The competition is looking for beginner players!

ONGOING (SUBMITTING)

If Spanish is in your wheelhouse, the Spanish IFComp (Rayuela) is currently ongoing! You can submit a game until the end of June, with the themes Es un sólo botón and/or Conexión.

Also ongoing is the ParserComp, which are looking for parser games, both with a classic feel or a more experimental approach.

If you are looking to make a Visual Novel, the Otome Jam will be looking for entries until July 1st.

🔥 Fuck Capitalism Jam 2024 🔥 is also a fun jam to participate in, and ends in a short week! (We know it's not technically IF, but they took IF entries before)

Today ends the REALLY BAD IF JAM, hosted on itch.io, where the goal is to make bad art (IF-style).

A Visual Novel focused version, “Worst Ever VN“ Challenge, will still accept entries until next week..

ENDED

The Locus Jam (@neointeractives)ended this week, with 15 short games! All entries were only allowed one location!.

There were also two entries that came out of the Text-Based Game/Visual Novel Jam, which you can find on itch.io.

The Narrative Design Award competition has just ended, with 26 entries with nautical themes.

OTHER

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running, with new submissions, since last week! It is happening on itch!

GAMES

NEW RELEASE

Do you like Call of Duty? A short fanfic in the CYOA format can be played on Tumblr. (@gauloiseblue)

Juniper's Under Story (Ren’Py) is a short beautiful slice-of-life visual novel. (@romanhyacinths)

The Final Song (Twine) is an educational historical fiction story set on the last days of the Siege of Leningrad.

Power Quest (Twine) is a short educational piece about renewable energy.

Don't forget about the cool games released in the events mentioned in the previous pages!

NEW RELEASE (WIP)

A Twisted Wonderland fanfic interactive project where your choice can affect the story is ongoing on Tumblr. (@sanalang-ao33)

Blackwood Manor (CScript) is a dark Victorian mystery project, where you play as the new Housekeeper of strange noble siblings. (@ang3lwithapen)

GAMES UPDATES

Thicker Than (CScript) has updated, passing the 300k total words mark. (@barbwritesstuff)

The Lonely Shore (CScript) has released an update with more activities. (@thelonelyshore-if)

Spellbound (CScript) is another project that passed the 300k total words mark.

Life as a Lich (CScript) is looking for testers ahead of release.

First Bull Run (CScript) has updated.

A Dance with the Devil (CScript) has updated its demo.

The Ultimate Magic Student (CScript) added over 30k words of content.

Core Uprising (CScript) completed a route.

My One and Only (CScript) has updated. (@reds-corner)

Aquarii (Twine) added Chapter 2. (@aquarii-if)

Valiant (Twine) has updated Chapter 2. (@valiant-if)

The Thousand of Us (CScript) added more content to the demo. (@ivanwm-05)

The Mouth of Elysium (Twine) has released its demo. (@blood-teeth)

Our Life: Now and Forever (Ren’Py) has updated its demo. (@gb-patch)

Mission Light (Twine) has released its demo, currently a prologue. (@mission-light-if)

Crash Course in You (Twine) released the rest of its First Chapter. (@fakeyellow)

Everbloom (CScript) has been fully released for free. (@darielivalyen)

Skin and Scales (Twine) has added Chapter 2 to its demo. (@skinandscales-if)

The Reaper Watches Me (Twine) also added its second chapter. (@thereaperwatchesme)

Dragon of Steelhorne 2 (CScript) is opening a private beta head of an IFComp release.

Blood Legacies (CScript) has almost doubled the wordcount of the demo. (@bloodlegacies)

Sense and Sorcery (CScript) has added new routes.

OTHER

Kit, author of The Nothern Passage (@northern-passage), is setting up a charity raffle for Palestine and looking for creators and artists for prizes.

The Neo-Interactive (@neointeractives) group has announced their Neo-Twiny Jam will raise money for LBGTQ+ causes through donations and submissions (announcement).

BLESS (Blood+Flesh+Soul) is turning into a Kinetic Novel. (@mahadeoh-blog)

Fields of Asphodel (CScript) has been submitted to Hosted Games. The demo is not available anymore. (@chrysanthemumgames)

We apologize if we missed an update or a release. We are but volunteers trying to find as much info as possible, but sometimes news pass through the cracks.

Please, let us know if something should have been added to the zine, and we will shout it out next week!

HIGHLIGHT ON...

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Ascendance by Ascendance-if (@ascendance-if - Twine)

“Well, it's cool because there are really nice side character friends and those moments with them were absolutely lovely. Also, the premise of the story of being a creature who had experienced various lifetimes as different species in different worlds and having met and interacted with the LIs and be able to still reconnect with them no matter who or what you were and are is lovely as well.”

submitted by FeveredRain

Posey Picks and the Bus Stop by indooranimal (@derekachoy - Phaser)

“Such a cute VN. It's like giving a heartbalm after playing really dark stuff. It's so silly and the endings are so funny, but I like it a lot. And it's like surprising large and branching for a VN. You should play it.”

submitted by Isaac

The Impossible Bottle by Linus Åkesson (Dialog)

“Truly one of the best parser I have ever played. A magical experience where I didn't feel frustrated once. I am in awe of how accessible it was for a (then) non-parser player (click to action). And the twist… … so so cool. Best winner of the IFComp for sure.”

recommended by Eric

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserve some highlighting? Tell us about it! A old or recent game that wowed you so much you want to spam it to everyone? Tell us about it!

We'll add it to the page!

FINAL WORD

Before we end this issue, we would like to thank:

@elegantunknownphantom, Eric, FeveredRain, Isaac, and a couple of anonymous users!

Your shared news, helpful tips, cool links, filled form, written Sheet line, sent emails… all these little attentions toward the Zine help us so much!

We also would like to thank all of you who told us of cool recs that didn't appear this edition. We'll try out best to fit them in next week!

And a final thank to all of you who not only read our zine, but liked it, shared it with others, left a little sweet reply or dm, or even rated it on itch! Those little bits of support really help us so much!! Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~

As a final parting word, we thought of bringing back this little challenge for you all:

If you enjoy a game or a project, or if you admire an author and their work, try to send them a little message of appreciation this week. A little comment or rating for their game, a compliment in their askbox/dm, gushing in the tags of a reblog or in a review…

Spread the kindness!

See you again next week!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 6

[ellieslaces]

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. (prologue)

presenting: Umbrella’s Hunger Games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: the Hunger Games, an annual show of brutal control the Capitol has over each of the twelve Districts. the Games’ number one sponsor: Umbrella Corporation, the creator of the Games’ most horrific torture strategies and nightmare inducing deaths. these games have always been cautionary, always a far away but constant threat — until you find yourself Reaped and thrown into an area full of your worst fears with 23 other Tributes, all out for blood.

content warnings (future): harsh language; heavy violence; gore; torture; heavy themes of murder; infanticide; social injustice; class discrimination; brief mention of suicidal thoughts; angst; character death; eventual smut; enemies to lovers

notes: this is inspired by the Hunger Games (no 1) and takes place in the universe; if topics such as violence murder infanticide etc trigger you, skip this series; the reader is said to be a Career Tribute

Chloe talks: posting a my prologue for my new Leon Hunger Games series before the next strike tomorrow! please enjoy, I’m convinced this will be my magnum opus :)

word count: 768 (it’s a prologue, so it’s short)

now playing: can’t catch me now ; olivia rodrigo

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

Images of dark alleys, of scorching hot deserts, of raging icy tundras, of sickly beautiful yet dangerous forests haunted each child’s dreams. Not for any reason in particular other than the fact that the images were fed to them since birth. Spoon fed into their heads — the showings of each years annual Hunger Games.

Decades upon decades ago, the ocean swallowed nearly half the continent in a devastating and unprecedented tsunami. States and even smaller countries were lost to the depths of the sea, leaving the remaining forty percent of the country overflowed with a surplus of population.

Women, men, and children with nowhere to go, now crowded the north part of what once was the United States. Now twenty of the fifty states remained, thousands upon thousands of casualties, leaving too many for the forty percent of the country to support.

The government handled it with the worst of ideas, their support was lost, their lack of understanding and empathy led to an inevitable uprising. People stormed the gates of the White House, threatened to kill — and did kill — senators, and representatives, and judges, and even their families.

This uprising nearly destroyed the country as a whole. Thousands were slaughtered, bloodlines were destroyed, families killed by the rebels. Until a group of unknown power that had been hiding behind the scenes for decades stepped forward, taking control of the people. This led to a bloodbath of violence, political control, and the people finally were forced to accept their defeat.

From then, the country was divided into thirteen Districts, each with its own purpose of serving the new country’s Capitol. This new country — Panem — was run with a ruthless government, a controlling President with no mercy and a clever mind. He was cruel, and heartless, and as dangerous as he was calm.

No one dared to object him, no one dared to take his power for fear of the consequences. So, for decades, President Ozwell E. Spencer ran the country. His company — one he started long before he was elected as President — Umbrella was the sole sponsor and creator of the annual Hunger Games.

Where each spring, twenty four children between the ages of twelve and nineteen were picked at random by pairs to represent their District in a fight to the death.

One boy, one girl from each District, chosen by random to be plucked, and bathed, and painted, and paraded, and eventually murdered for the sake of entertainment. Once, these Games were a reminder of what revolution could do, how it could crumble a nation. But that notion was long gone, all that now remained was the entertainment value of their deaths. Deaths none of them deserved. Deaths you never imagined you’d actually witness, much less cause yourself.

The intricacies of these Games were lost upon you, all you knew was to survive. Despite being a so called ‘Career’ and had as close to luxury as you could for someone from one of the Districts, you hardly had the stomach to commit things such as murder. Much less upon other children, people your age.

District One, luxury items, riches, and favor of the Capitol itself. Careers, the title of the Tributes that were put into the Games each year. These Tributes were raised with advantage, raised with early training available to them. Available to you.

For the majority of your life, since you were able to understand what the Games meant, you’d been trained by Victors, the Redfield siblings. Chris and his sister, Claire, were once Tributes themselves, in consecutive years.

Chris Redfield won at nineteen with pure brutality, physical strength and power, partaking in the bloodbath and taking out a good majority of the other Tributes in the beginning. Chris’s Games lasted a mere week.

While Claire Redfield managed to outsmart each and every other Tribute in her arena, successfully becoming the Victor by simply waiting for them all to die by natural causes, or killing themselves with their own stupidity. Her Games lasted three, the ending of said Games pushed quickly to be brought to a conclusion. Leading the girl to become Victor at a mere thirteen.

So, despite the fact that you weren’t technically supposed to be trained by Mentors unless Reaped, the Redfield siblings trained you behind the curtain. They prepared you for the possibility of you being Reaped, of being subjected to the horrors they’d seen. To the murder they had to commit to stay alive. They wanted you to win, to have a chance of survival.

But, maybe they should have just let you die. Maybe they shouldn’t have taken you under their wing when they found you shivering in the rain after a school bully had taken your pack and shoes and jacket.

Maybe they should have just let you be killed. Then you wouldn’t have to live with the memory of him.

[deception-united]

My biggest difficulties are some of these things in my medieval fantasy story: how to start a war? When to introduce the war? Any tips on the ideal length?

Starting a war in a medieval fantasy story can be a difficult process. Here are some tips to help you get started:

Starting a war:

Establish tensions: Build up political, economic, or ideological tensions between nations or factions before the war.

Create a casus belli: Provide a clear reason for the war, such as a territorial dispute, a betrayal, or a religious difference.

Show the buildup: Depict the mobilisation of armies, diplomatic efforts, and the like to create a sense of urgency.

Here are some ideas you may want to consider:

Political tension: Wars often begin due to escalating political tensions. Create a backstory involving conflicting interests between kingdoms or factions, such as disputes over territory, resources, or succession rights.

Economic reasons: Economic struggles, such as famine or trade embargoes, can drive nations to war. Control over vital resources, such as fertile land, water, or trade routes, can be a powerful motivator.

Assassination or kidnapping: A high-profile assassination or kidnapping can serve as a catalyst for war. This act could force one side to retaliate.

Religious/cultural differences: Deep-seated religious or cultural differences can lead to war. One group might feel oppressed or threatened by another, leading to an uprising or a holy war.

Personal vendettas: A personal vendetta between powerful leaders or nobles can escalate into a full-scale war, especially if they rally their followers to support their cause.

When to introduce the war:

Early introduction: Have the war present from the onset of your story it's central to your plot, so the rest of the narrative can focus on the consequences, battles, and the impact on your characters.

Rising action: Having a gradual build-up to the war by developing the political social tensions over the first part of your story allows for deeper character development and more detailed worldbuilding.

Midpoint: Consider starting the war at the midpoint of your story, marking a turning point in the narrative to drastically alter the direction of your characters' journeys.

Climax: Introducing the war as a climatic event is effective if you're focusing your narrative on the events leading up to the war. It can also leave room for sequels.

Ideal length:

Pacing: Balance action, dialogue, and description to maintain a steady pace. Alternate between intense battle scenes and quieter moments to develop characters and explore the impact of the war on their lives.

Relevance: The length of the war should be proportional to its importance in the overall plot. If it's the main focus, it should take up a significant portion of the narrative.

Scope: Consider the scope of the war: a small skirmish or a epic, continent-spanning conflict?

Character arcs: Ensure the war serves the character arcs and story goals—don't include it just for the sake of a plot element. The length of the war should also allow sufficient time for character development. Show how it personally affects your characters and how they grow or change as a result.

Subplots: Use subplots to add depth to the war narrative. Political intrigue, espionage, romantic entanglements, and personal vendettas can enrich the main plot.

Additional tips:

Make it personal: Connect the war to your characters' motivations and emotions. They may have a friend, family member, or significant other participating in the war, or you can make it impact them directly in some way.

Show the consequences: Depict the impact of war on civilians, soldiers, and the environment.

Research: Draw inspiration from historical wars and medieval history to add depth and authenticity.

Resolution: Plan for a satisfying resolution to the war. Consider the aftermath and how the world and your characters are changed by the conflict. This will provide a sense of closure to your readers.

Remember, the key is to make the war serve the story and characters, not the other way around. Thanks for asking! Hope this helped ❤