#A kingdom under assault

[candysunoo]

ೋ◦ ❀❀ enhypen as a

bridgerton story ❀❀ ◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦dearest gentle-reader ◦ೋ•

❀my name is lady whistledown. you do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. but be forewarned dear reader, I certainly know you.❀

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❀ now, before we shall begin dear gentle-reader there is something you must know. this author has no rights to the Bridgerton stories/ series. thus all of the following are loosely based on them. this author also does not know any of the boys personally; and thus this is not an accurate portrayal or representation of them and their lively hood. thank you in advance dearest gentle-reader. please enjoy. sincerely, your lady whistledown (aka kei ;D) ❀

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Lee Heeseung - Queen Charlotte ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ King Lee Heeseung, 3rd of his name, the ruler of Great Britain and Ireland, your new husband.

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❀❀❀ When your tiny island kingdom falls apart under the scrutiny of the large countries around it your brother has no choice but to marry you off. Marry you off to none other than the King of Great Britain and Ireland. Lee Heesesung ascended the throne young after his father tragically died. Years after finally coming of age, his mother decides it’s time for him to marry and produce the next heir, despite his covertly concealed mental illness. When you arrive it seems as nothing can go your way. From mistakingly talking down to the king after being caught trying to run away, to what was supposed to be your honeymoon night your ladies maid explained. But must you know dearest reader, that love does indeed conquer all and secrets don’t stay secrets for long.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: may 22nd, 2024❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: strangers - to kinda friends- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s societal expectations, arranged/ forced marriage, bitchy mother-in-law, mentions of parental death, mentions of mental health and feeling like an outsider, medical malpractice, mention of feeling unloved and trapped in a marriage, SMUT, sex (lots of it), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), breeding kink , praise, mention of pregnancy and birth, angst and fluff, idiots in love, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: 11.8k ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Park Jongseong - The Duke & I ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Park Jongseong aka Jay, first of his name, The Duke of Hastings.

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Dearest gentle reader, haven’t you heard? The honorable l/n family is finally debuting the oldest daughter. A vision of beauty, just as her mother was, any young man would be happy to have her on his arm.

That being said being the eldest daughter of eight children can be tough. Especially as you are now of age to enter society. It was exhausting really, the trips to the modieste for the hours of standing for the dropping of hems and the countless arguments between your eldest brother, the head of the family, and your mother. After your father died your brother had become especially protective of you and your other siblings; much to the dismay of your mother. The protectiveness only gets worse when you catch the eye of not only the queen but also a certain Duke who is determined to stay out of the clawing hands of desperate mamas and their daughters.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: June 05th, 2024 ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: fake dating- to true love, traditional gender roles, 1700’s/1800’s societal expectations, mention of childhood trauma, mention of parental death, small mention of attempted assault (nothing graphic y/n gets forcibly kissed, it does not go into detail), retired manwhore jay, anxiety, traditional courting, mention of fighting/ light violence, forced to married - destined to stay, mention of having children, lies of omission, SMUT, corruption kink, virgin y/n, jay talking you through it, wet dreams, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Sim Jaeyun - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Sim Jaeyun aka Jake, first of his name, 3rd eldest son of his family, and your longtime friend and crush.

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Dearest gentle-reader, ever since the successful seasons of not only his older brothers but sisters as well all eyes have fallen on the 3rd eldest son of the Sim family. Will this be the season he finds a presentable young lady to hold him down to the mainland; or will he end up on yet another voyage across the sea?

Ever since you can remember you have been friends Sim Hyunjin, the middle daughter of the Sim family. Also since you can remember you have had a massive crush on her younger brother Jaeyun, or as he liked to be called Jake. Everyone who knew you knew that you were nothing less than a soft, quiet, wallflower. Always sticking close to the edge of the room, alone and watching the courting couples dance the night away. Jake was always so kind in that regard; pulling you away from the wall and to the dance floor but never letting it get further. Never officially courting you or even giving you the curtesy of signing your dance card. However when you overhear a conversation not meant for you everything changes. Will Jake be too late to fix what he had broken?

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: ft. Loossemble/ Loona’s Kim Hyunjin as his sister (they share the same birthday lol), friends- to strangers/ acquaintances- to friends again- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s-1800’s societal expectations, mentions of hard family situations, mentions of feeling alone and like an outsider, reader gets called names (by Jake he doesn’t really mean it?), flirting, jealousy, heartbreak, fights between friends, POSSIBLE SMUT I HAVEN’T DECIDED YET, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Park Sunghoon - The Viscount who Loved Me ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Park Sunghoon, first of his name, eldest child of his family, The Viscount. The bane of your existence.

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Dearest gentle-reader, after the ever successful season of his younger sister last year Park Sunghoon has declared himself available to be wed. Making him the most desirable young gentleman of this season. May we wish luck to the other young men, as the nagging mamas and their equally difficult daughters shall be all over the Viscount.

Being the eldest son of a prestigious family was no walk in the park. Especially for Park Sunghoon who had taken over as the head of his family after his father’s tragic death. After the past year his mama had been insistent on him marring. Especially after she found out about a certain opera singer and the way he funded her lifestyle. Entering the marriage market his wasn’t looking for love. He was looking for a woman with at least half a head on her shoulders and child- bearing hips. No need for anything else. He just needed a wife. You and your sister had just arrived in town, sponsored by an old family friend to join this marriage season. Staying with Lady Lee Chae-rin was nothing less than a dream. She was kind and understanding towards you, your sister and your mother. Strong willed and outspoken you were determined to find someone for your sister to wed, if not for her, for your entire family. However what happens when alls not fair in love and war?

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: enemies- to lovers, mention of parental death, traditional gender roles, 1700’s-1800’s societal expectations, arguments, extortion(not by Sunghoon or reader), mentions of family issues, shitty grandparents, rushed engagement, technical cheating (Sunghoon is with readers sister), angst to fluff, Sunghoon is a world class rake, breaking off an engagement SMUT, hate sex, light degradation, some praise, public sex (in a private garden no one else is there)❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Kim Sunoo - An offer from a Gentleman ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Kim Sunoo, first of his name, the 2nd son of his prestigious family, an artist, and perhaps your Prince Charming?

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Dearest gentle-reader, love has a funny way of finding its way around the ‘ton. Of course, when there are so many eligible young men and women how could it not? This author happens to think that one of the eligible young men of the ‘ton may find love where he least expects it. Or rather with whom unexpected love comes with.

When your mother died it felt as if the warmth of the universe had gone with her. The flowers no longer grew and the wind no longer sang a tune as it blew. As you approached the age of your debute into society you had some hope. However it was all crushed into small bits when your father married Seo Minhae. The literal devil in disguise. After that her and her ill-mannered daughter moved into and made you a servant in your own home. Pushed out of your room and into the basement, forced to do housework and cook you were treated as nothing. Finally reaching your breaking point you snuck out of the house. Finding yourself at a masquerade ball and in the arms of a tall, slim, dark haired man. Feeling like royalty and like you were on top of the world you had the night of your life. That is until the clock struck midnight.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: strangers- to lovers, Cinderella type content, traditional gender roles, 1700’s - 1800’s societal expectations, mention of parental death, awful evil stepmother and step sisters, running away, slight escapism, mention of depression and slight religious imagery, masquerade ball, reader is implied to be shorter than Sunoo, abrupt abandonment, angst and fluff, SMUT, soft sex, unprotected sex( wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), praise, dirty talk, overall sweet and fluffy, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Yang Jungwon - It’s in His Kiss ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Yang Jungwon, first of his name, an entitled aristocrat just like the rest; but could there possibly be more lurking underneath his greed for inheritance?

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Dearest gentle-reader, the time has come for the youngest daughter of the l/n family to make her debut into society. Though between you and I founder has it that the youngest of the l/n family is too much to handle when it comes to romance. Loud and outspoken one can only hope the youngest will find someone suitable for her.

Yang Jungwon was the eldest child in his family. He was born for greatness. He planned his whole life as he seen fit on the promise of his inheritance. You however were the youngest daughter, loud, outspoken, intelligent and brash. Yang Jungwon could hardly stand you. That is until he needs your help of course. After his father has taken over the family’s business and title he didn’t seem to want to give it up. Yang Jungwon didn’t know what to do with himself. After all what grounds does his father have to deny him his birthright? Finding a journal from his long dead grandfather, Jungwon finds himself in a bind; the journal is written in an entirely different language and could possibly hold the solution for his predicament. However, the only person he knows who can remotely translate it, even if it’s not perfect, is you. The one person his calm and quiet self can not stand to be around for long periods of time.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: acquaintances- to friends- to lovers, shitty parents, mention of parental death, Jungwon is technically an orphan, threats of disinheriting, mean comments (towards reader not by jungwon), reader is a bit much for Jungwon at times, overall fluffy, heavy petting, make out session, LIGHT SMUT( nothing too in depth just an after scene) MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Nishimura Riki - On the way to the Wedding ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Nishimura Riki aka Niki, first of his name, the youngest son in his family, trapped between the glamorous dream of love at first sight and the harshness of reality.

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Dearest gentle-reader, do you know that true love conquers all? Well this season we are in for a treat, the youngest of the Nishimura family finally has plans on marrying. This old author can’t help but wonder what shenanigans this season will hold.

Nishimura Riki was the youngest of eight children. He had grown up watching all of his sibling find true and meaningful relationships. That was all he wanted for himself. Riki believed in love at first sight. Especially when he saw her Danielle Marsh, your best friend. When his gaze first saw her it was as if he had been struck with Cupid’s arrow. It went so deep in his heart he couldn’t breathe, the entire world was stopped as he watched her from afar. However that didn’t last for long as he witnessed her approach another man, fluttering her eyelashes and giggling at him.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: love triangle, love at first sight, unrequited love- to true love, idiots in love, “let me help you help her”, breaking up engagements, mentions of family issues, love confessions in a garden, heavy petting make out session, ‼️NO SMUT‼️, angst with happy ending, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

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❀ i hope you all look forward to reading the stories! i‘ll update the content warnings as i finish the stories! please ignore any mistakes i may have made as i will start to go through and correct them! also ignore the bad formatting i did it on mobile 😭 - kei ❀

❀ a taglist has been created you can find that post here! that is the current standing of who will be tagged in the first post. feel free to ask to be added by commenting or sending an ask/ message! ❀

‼️‼️ ©️ @candysunoo 2024 DO NOT copy, repost or translate without permission ‼️‼️

[paper-mario-wiki]

genuine question coming from someone who is trying their best to support palestine but can't stomach condoning hamas's actions. how can you justify the murder of civilians and sexual violence that happened on october 7th? i know the fight for palestinian liberation is more important but they said orders to rape israeli women came from higher up in hamas. how can we support these people?

I will not be debating people in the notes of this post or in followup asks. I am not an authority on this subject, I am an individual giving commentary as I see it.

Do not attempt to follow this discourse up with intent to own me. You will waste your time and look stupid, I promise. Just unfollow and block me.

If your intent is genuine, and you are sincerely confused, then I will tell you that the first thing you must do is understand that your perspective of what happened on October 7th was not your own. It was made by a committee of communications officials and sold to you by news organizations to implant within you a version of what happened so that you would feel this precise feeling of hesitation, discomfort, and desire to withdraw yourself from the discussion. And that version is often full of blatant, contradictory, and easily fact-checkable lies. Israel knows that it doesn't have to make everyone support its cause to get away with it: if they can make enough people look away while they commit genocide, this too is a victory.

The sexual violence against Israeli women by Hamas has been vastly unsubstantiated, especially in comparison to the verifiable claims of IDF soldiers using sexual violence against Palestinian women. Go to any news articles and you will see "Claims of [number] of Israeli women raped by Hamas". You don't see firsthand reports, and you don't see consistent numbers, just people speaking for this group of unnamed and uncounted women. Further, many of the photos and videos of violence happening to women you see typically attached to these articles have turned out to be verified as Israeli soldiers assaulting Palestinian women during previous conflicts.

And that's another important note: previous conflicts. The date on everyone's mind has been October 7th, because that's when Hamas made an attack on the concert. Make no mistake, this was not the beginning of this conflict. And Palestine was not the aggressor.

Here is a graph of people killed as a result of the ongoing Israeli occupation of Palestine from 2002 to 2014. Notice, if you will, the yellow vs the pale blue. Can you guess which color represents which group? Just kidding you don't have to guess, the graph tells you.

After WW2, the European-Jewish population (which was 90% of the Jewish population at the time) emigrated to their holy land after over 1000 years. This land, now Palestine, had been under control by Muslim kingdoms since around 640 AD. The UN created a proposition following the Holocaust, submitted to create 2 states within Palestine: 54% would go to the Jewish population, and 46% would go to the Arab population. The Palestinian representatives rejected this proposal, but the Jewish representatives agreed, and over the next few years there would be a massive displacement of Muslims during what was called the Nakba; a cataclysmic event that saw 700,000 Palestinians (80% of them) displaced from the territory that the Israeli occupying force had claimed.

Since then there has been an ongoing pushing and cleansing of Palestinians over time. The remaining land that was not stolen during the 1948 mandate has been shrinking as Israel tightens its grip on the land and the people, exerting the force given to it by the United States to completely absorb the area. The process of which has been torturous and extraordinarily traumatic on the Palestinian population.

This map represents generations of murder, rape, and torture of Palestinians. A people who had their land forcefully taken from them, and have been made to be unwilling neighbors with their aggressors ever since. There are countless articles of IDF soldiers and Israeli citizens alike abusing Palestinians. Stealing their homes, starving their children, mocking their faith. This form of violent nationalism is born from Zionism, which was created by secular men, and has existed for less than a single century. The ideals of Zionism can only be seen out with the COMPLETE annihilation of the Palestinian people, something the terroristic Israeli force sees to go through with.

Hamas, at the moment, is fighting for the unconditional freedom of Palestine from their colonizers. We are seeing, in real time, the furious spirit of Palestine resisting what some of the worlds strongest military forces are trying to make to be their final death. In that impossible fight, they are seeing victories in urban warfare, and extreme coordination in guerilla tactics that we haven't seen since the Vietnam war. And during all of that, it has still been verifiably reported that they've been treating hostages well, many of them speaking positively about their time in captivity and expressing extreme dissatisfaction with Netanyahu's cabinet, something reflected in the staggering lack of direct interviews with hostages released.

Let's not mince words here, Hamas is absolutely killing people. Hamas is killing as many IDF soldiers as they possibly can, and yes, even some Israeli civilians have died. While it's true that these number significantly fewer than Palestinian civilian casualties, I'm not bold as to claim that that is not horrible. But this too is the fault of purposeful abuse of civilian population centers by the Israeli government. Ask yourself for a moment:

Why would Israel, being so aware of the horrifying whims of the savage Palestinians, allow a massive open-air concert to happen DIRECTLY on an unpatrolled border between Israel and Palestine? Why too does Israel insist on housing Civilian populations as close to Palestine as possible? They've already showed us: the military uses the deaths of their civilians as warrant to punish Palestinians in any way and to any extent they see fit.

Even if we're discounting the murderous occupier civilians shooting at Palestinian families and forcing them out of their life-long homes, it's still horrible to see otherwise incidentally innocent Israeli civilians die. Innocent death is inherently horrible. But even in a world where what happened on October 7th didn't happen, Israel intended to ensure the death, innocent or not, of all Palestinians who resist giving up their land. Hamas, Palestinian resistance groups, and now other Arab states have chosen to fight against this. Millions of people around the globe have chosen to unite and fight for them for this reason as well. It is why I support Palestine.

When a society lets mass atrocities happen in slow motion over decades, those atrocities become normal. And when those experiencing these atrocities fight back with economical blows of violence, it becomes a shocking disruption to the normal for those who haven't been paying attention, or were born into it; something the west relies on, and has packaged and sold as "terrorism" in the past few decades.

The modern Zionistic body of Israel has been a terroristic, murderous entity since its inception less than 100 years ago.

Do not let yourself be swayed into believing that murder, if done slowly enough, is not murder.

[targaryenimagines]

My Khaleesi

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,586

Summary:

Warnings: Smut and G!P Daenerys.

Notes: Wasn’t sure if you wanted Dark!Dany (in a sense) or not, but decided to just do it that way for this one shot! If you’d like another one with a non dark Dany, I’ll be more than happy to do that. Also, this is definitely the most graphic smut I’ve written… I apologize if it’s bad.

Ash still falls from the sky like distorted flecks of snow— rubble shifts under foot as you make your way through the courtyard of the Red Keep. You didn’t have to turn your head far to see the destruction that had been wrought across King’s Landing, a destruction that had come at the hands of the woman you love the most in this world.

Fire and blood had come to Westeros, you think, side-stepping a charred corpse. And penance seemed to have been paid in full.

The sights, along with the smells, that assault you the farther you trek into the once great city aren’t something that sits well with you, nor does the knowledge that Westeros had pushed Daenerys, your Dany, to this point. That all of her grief: Viserion, Jorah, Rhaegal, and Missandei, along with all of her men that she lost in the North, had forced her spirit into shattering so completely.

I don’t want to be Queen of the Ashes…

A saying that had constantly been thrown towards Daenerys, that had been used as a means to control her, keep her line, and what better way to do that then remind her of her father’s legacy, a tale that’s haunted her ever since she discovered it, and had been continually repeated until Daenerys spouted it out as if she was simply talking about the weather. Her drive, the passion that had carried her through Essos, slowly being driven out of her the longer she spent in the toxic landscape that is Westeros; forever surrounded by the tales of her ancestors, by the fear and hatred that the people she saved showed her, at the clear refusal to ever accept her as anything more than a Targaryen Whore.

Rounding the corner of yet another hallway, you pause just outside of throne room, or what you believe to be anyway, and think over everything that had transpired. Think of the darkness that had seemed to have only grown in intensity since the Night King had been dealt with. Would Daenerys, after all of this, still wish to see you? Would you still have a place by her side?

Only one way to find out…

With a deep intake of breath, you step fully into the debilitated area that had once been a source of great pride— at the head of it all being the almost legendary throne itself, a mass of melted together swords, and standing before it?

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, Daenerys turns from her perusal of the throne, and a warm smile quirks her lips at your nearing form.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” she murmurs, adoration clear within violet eyes. Slim arms wrapping around your middle the moment your close enough for her to grab. A single gloved finger gently tracing down the expanse of your cheek, rubbing away the hints of ash that still remained. “I’m glad to see you unharmed. I don’t know what I would have done if that hadn’t been the case.”

You lean into the hand still resting on your cheek, a happy smile of your own making an appearance. “Burn down the rest of Westeros?” A dark look flashes through violet eyes, your joke suddenly taking on an all too serious light that you desperately wanted to veer away from. Bumping into her slightly, you disentangle from slim arms, warmed by the smallest bit of hesitance she had at letting you go, you step closer to the throne. “This is it? The Iron Throne?”

Daenerys settles next to you. “It is.” She touches the arm of it with an almost reverent air. “After all these years, all the trials and tribulations that I went through, I’m finally here. A Targaryen is finally the holder of the Iron Throne once more. I’ve brought honor back to my family.”

“You’ve honored them for years already, Dany. You simply being alive is honor by itself.” You angle your head, not surprised at all to see that she had already been looking at you. “This just exemplifies you into the ranks of Aegon.”

Violet eyes gleam with an almost childlike wonder, the hand closest to you touching your cheek with the same reverence she had shown the throne. “Aegon had his wives, he had his queens.” She steps away from you, taking her rightful seat on the throne. “Something that I’ll be in need of moving forward.”

Your head dips. “Anything I can help you with?”

Daenerys chuckles lightly, the sound rumbling from deep within her chest like one of Drogon’s roars. “There is, Y/N.” Gesturing for you to come closer, a command that you listen to without question, she gently maneuvers you into a kneeling position before her, slender fingers tangling themselves within the strands of your hair. “Say yes.”

“Your Grace?”

“Say yes to marrying me, to becoming my wife and queen.” Her holds tightens, forcing your head to tilt back. “Say yes to becoming mine and I’ll make sure everything you could ever want becomes yours.”

A small smile twists your lips upward. “Everything that I could ever want already is.”

At the words a small growl escapes Daenerys, her head dipping downward to press a heated kiss to your lips, maintaining that you’re kept in place by the iron-clad hold she still has on your hair. And, like with everything else, Daenerys didn’t hesitate in conquering what is hers, tongue barely brushing over your bottom lip before she plunders into your mouth, taking you for everything you have. The taste of you, the submission in which you’re showing her, along with the location no doubt, makes Daenerys almost frantic in her need for you.

Barely pulling away, giving you both a moment to breathe, before she’s claiming your lips once more— it’s wet, filthy in a way that makes your mind fog over in lust, and you can’t quite get enough air into your lungs through your nose, something that constantly ensures her scent is all that you’re surrounded by, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to be in any other position than where you are now; kneeling in front of your Khaleesi, her pleasure becoming yours.

Finally, with a ragged breath, Daenerys fully pulls away from you, a thin trail of saliva still connecting you both, before she shifts too far back and it snaps in half. Violet eyes, blown nearly black in lust, pin you in place as Daenerys slowly undoes the buckle of her pants, and jerks it down, the actions clear on what she expected from you. And, without preamble, or any sort of prompting, you help Daenerys with removing them, gently taking off her boots, before pulling her tight-fitting pants off her slim legs. The sight that greets you once you look up almost causing your mouth to dry up completely.

Daenerys Targaryen sat in all of her glory, bare from the waist down, her thick member jutting out from the apex of her thighs. The look in her eyes, in the darkness that lurks just out of reach, tells you all that you need to know, how your Khaleesi wished for you to service her next. Something you didn’t have a problem with doing, damn the consequences of potentially being caught in the wide open throne room.

Taking her into your hands, feeling her warmth, and the way that she twitches ever-so-slightly at your touch, is a heady sort of power that you’re never going to get used to.

Taking her into your mouth, jaw stretched wide to accommodate her girth, feeling the way she arches into the wetness it provides, hands tightening even further into your hair, the wonderful concoction of pain and pleasure, fuels you more than anything ever could.

Bobbing up and down, taking her deeper and deeper into your throat, listening to the breathy sighs she lets loose whenever she completely bottoms out, is a drug you never want to get off of. Her flavor— musky with just the barest hint of sweetness and something spicy— spreads across your tastebuds, your tongue lovingly swirling around the tip of her cock, taking in as much of her as you possibly could.

“Iksā doing sīr sȳz syt nyke.” The Valyrian praise escapes her in a low snarl, hands now guiding you in the exact way she wanted, your own simply being braced on her thighs as you let her use you. “Issare iā sȳz riña syt nyke. Ñuha sȳz riña.”

All you can do is moan in response, mouth completely stuffed full of her, but the vibrations makes her tense even further, another snarl rumbling from deep within her. You know that she’s close, can tell by the way her thighs were beginning to tremble underneath your touch, and the quickening of her thrusts, and your head moves even faster because of it— wanting nothing more than to feel her release down your throat, for your tongue to be coated by her cum.

“Issi ao jāre naejot gūrogon ziry mirre? Gūrogon everything bona nyke tepagon ao?” Daenerys groans out the question, clearly fighting with herself to not succumb just yet to the pleasure of her release. Peering up, you’re instantly met with darkened violet eyes, a rosy hue predominant across fair cheeks. Clearly waiting for a response, all you can do is gurgle around the cock currently in your throat, hoping that your eyes gave her all the answers she needed, which, by the tightening of her hands, absolutely did. “Sȳz riña.”

Within the next moment, jets of Daenerys cum shoots out, going straight into your stomach as you desperately swallow to make sure you don’t lose any of it. The feeling of warmth as her seed settles deep within you is one you’ve long since grown familiar with, but the possessive heat in her eyes as she watches you swallow it all down is definitely new. A reaction that causes your own arousal to come to the forefront of your mind finally, wetness clearly coating your thighs, waiting for your Khaleesi’s touch.

Daenerys pulls her cock from your mouth a moment later— the still hard length shimmering with the combination of leftover cum and saliva— allowing for you to take a deep lungful of air at last. Remnants of her still on your tongue.

Her thumb brushes across your bottom lip, briefly pushing into your mouth for you to suck on, before she retracts her hand and tugs you up onto her lap. Slim arms bracing your lower half perfectly against herself, settling her own body more fully on the Iron Throne.

“You did so good for me,” she murmurs, trailing slender fingers down your thighs. Nowhere near where you needed her the most though. “Do you want to continue?”

You nod. “More than anything, Khaleesi.“

Daenerys hums at the old title, hands gripping your hips in a hold that you know would leave bruises, lips ghosting across your jawline and down your neck.

“You’re mine, right?” Teeth nips into the sensitive flesh beneath your pulse point. “No one else can have you this way, fuck you the way that I can, or hear the beautiful noises you make when you fall apart.”

“Only you, Dany,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose against hers. “It’ll only ever be you. I’m yours completely.”

There isn’t need for more words after that, Daenerys simply hikes your dress higher up your waist, tearing your small-clothes away completely, before rubbing her hardened member against the wetness that has collected between your legs, a deep groan escaping her at the feeling of your clear want for her.

Within the next heartbeat, she’s buried to the hilt within you, a sharp keen being ripped from your chest at the feeling of complete fullness, the delicious stretch as your body tries to acclimate to the feeling of her, and begins to rut roughly into you. Hands slide from their place on your waist to settle on your hips, guiding you up and down as you begin to bounce in response to her thrusts.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, arms wrapped tightly around Daenerys neck, tugging her closer to you, continuing to ride her in complete abandon, wet slapping noise, intercepted by occasional grunts and moans, filled the air, echoing out across the empty throne room. A part of you thinks that you might even be able to be heard down below, the ripped open wall next to the throne offering an excellent siphon to the noises, but then Daenerys twists her hips in just the right way and everything, that doesn’t have to do with the mind numbing pleasure she gives you, vanishes from you mind in an instant.

Nails make crescent moons in the soft flesh of your hips, bruises no doubt already forming on your lower abdomen from how hard Daenerys was thrusting up into you, but the knowledge that your Khaleesi is marking you in such a way, that she’s lost parts of her control because of you, makes you not care in the slightest— you were hers, completely and irreversibly. Her pleasure was your own.

With another strangled gasp, your head falls to her chest, still clad in her formal garb, the metal cool against the heated expanse of your forehead, no longer being able to keep yourself upright. You could feel your climax approaching— coming faster and faster as Daenerys brushed against the spot within you every time she pulled out. Your core clenching around her desperately, trying to keep her within you, milk her for all that she’s worth, and the tight constriction causes a strangled sound of her own to resonate from your Khaleesi.

Feet planted firmly into the floor, she begins to piston fully into you, your body arching into her, allowing her to move you as she saw fit, clearly chasing her second release and your own.

“I’m going to mark you in a way that no one ever has.” Feverish violet eyes meet your own, strands of silvery-gold hair sticking to her heated cheeks, torn from their intricate braids, as her grip on you tightens more. “You’re going to bear my children, you’re going to continue on the Targaryen name. Would you like that?”

You moan. “Yes.”

The thought of carrying her children, of continuing on the Targaryen Legacy, filled you with a sense of purpose, a sense of warmth.

Pushing your head further into her chest, you plead. “Do it, Khaleesi. Claim me.”

With a ragged snarl, Daenerys’s hips stutter and before you know it jets of warmth fill you up, going straight to your womb. The feeling triggers your own release, a broken moan leaving you as you milk Daenerys for everything she has, everything that she’d be willing to offer. Harshly panting, Daenerys settles back onto the throne, hands gently running down your spine, holding you as closely as she possibly still could, still buried inside of you.

“Thank you,” she whispers, nuzzling you before she presses a kiss to your damp temple.

You sigh, content in her arms. “Always.”

Pressing another kiss to your head, Daenerys angles your face in order for you to look at her, the open look of adoration on her face one that’d only ever be reserved for you and her son.

“My beautiful love, my lovely wife.” She drops a chaste kiss to your lips, her hips beginning to move once more. “My eternal queen.”

“My Khaleesi.”

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Summary: Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. (Tagged with Blood, violence, child death)

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Danielle is cursed.

This battlefield is nice. It’s early afternoon and the breeze that comes from the forest to the east is sweet. The fighting has only just begun and the scent of blood is still hovering at the edge of her senses. It hasn’t erased the taste of the dead girl’s last meal – bread sweetened with honey – yet. She’s used to storm clouds the size of mountains roiling overhead, the electric sting of lightning against her skin, the crash of blades against armor and arrows against shields. The sun is warm and honey-sweet against her cheek and there’s no fighting going on right now. There’s only the low murmur of voices from all around and some muffled sobbing.

If she weren’t waking up in the body of a dead girl, she’d call it picnic weather.

Time to pay attention.

“—Chosen One is dead,” a man says. His voice matches the weather more than the situation. Calm. Even. Gentle. A wave lapping at the shore before the tsunami. She can feel his aura undulating through the ground, dark and demanding. Demon King? Mad Emperor? Dark Lord? One of those types. He projects his words over the renewed sobbing. “Do you see your folly now, honorable knights? The wasted months of defiance? You were never going to defeat my army even with years and seven fabled soldiers at your mercy rather than the one. Here, the day of your final rebellion, your Hero lies dead after only one volley.”

Hero. Danielle is cursed, she shouldn’t be feeling pity for anyone but herself. But there it is, the familiar bile in the back of her throat, the prickling of her eyes, the tightening in her chest. This dead girl was their Hero. They made her their Chosen One. From the feel of it, they didn’t school in her magic or train her in swordsmanship. Her muscles are burning from death, yes, but also from overexertion.

What do you want? Danielle asks. All of the right systems are under her control now. The ground is cold against her back, the girl’s tiny curls a tickle against her face. The air is sweet underneath the scent of a dying blow and she can hear the conversations around her clearly. The Dark Lord is still gloating, giving the knights their time to mourn and his own forces time to ready the next attack. Sweetheart, what do you want?

The girl’s soul shudders. I-I’m not dead?

The arrow pierced your heart. You’re dead.

A dizzying swirl of emotions cloud the girl’s next words. Grief-sorrow-panic-relief-fury-horror. Danielle has to reinforce her barrier between her soul and the girl’s to avoid being swept away by it all. All of the dead girls Danielle is called to are strong, and this one is no different. Danielle can’t hear her clearly over the roar of her emotions, but this one is talking very quickly.

…live…wanted to…please…save…

Danielle peeks out from under her eyelashes. It’s bright for a battlefield, but there’s a familiar red staining the ground as far as she can see. The armored feet of both sides’ soldiers are about thirty feet away, a hazy barrier of magic holding them apart.

“Let down this barrier!” Knight David screams. The girl’s knowledge flows into Danielle’s mind like a spring. He’s the head of the kingdom’s number one knight squad, a former S-rank adventurer, and a mentor to the Hero. He bangs the hilt his sword against the Dark Lord’s barrier. It crackles under the assault and doesn’t break. Knight David swears. “You’ll die for what you did! She was just a little girl!”

Another memory: Knight David didn’t think of her as a little girl. He gave her a woman’s sword that took her a month to learn how to lift, much less wield. He told her he had faith in her. He told her she could do it. When she asked how, he pushed a curl behind her ear and told her victory was fated.

The Dark Lord laughs, the sound like the tide retreating into the sea. “Is the kingdom so hard-pressed for soldiers they bring children to the battlefield?”

“She was Chosen,” Knight David says. There are genuine tears in his voice. “Nobody wanted that for her. Nobody.”

“She was nobody,” the Dark Lord says. The magic barrier trembles and he smirks. “Just as you’re about to be.”

Knight David’s magic sets his sword ablaze. “You’ll pay for this.”

The demons chitter behind the Dark Lord, straining against his commands. They want blood. They want to attack. They saw the Hero fall and they’re emboldened by her death. They’ll tear the humans apart.

In contrast, Knight David’s forces aren’t so sure. Knight David’s teeth gnash and he swears at the Dark Lord, but his men look from her body to each other. It was so quick. So fast. Did they demons hold greater power than they were told to kill a Chosen One so quickly?

“Prepare yourselves,” the Dark Lord says. The barrier fades.

“To the death,” Knight David swears.

Danielle presses again. They’re running out of time. What do you want?

Save them.

The words roar through Danielle’s temporary body. Save them. Her magic ignites like coal in a furnace and she gasps, steam escaping from her lips as a dead girl’s heart restarts.

“W-what?” someone whispers.

Danielle opens her eyes.

It’s not a very big war. There are maybe thirty combatants on the side of the Kingdom. She assumed from the girl’s memories that they’d all be knights, but there are adventurers mixed in among them as well as the occasional wizard. They’re all kitted out in the colors of the Kingdom though. Armor painted with the Royal family’s crest, bandanas with the fallen star motif embroidered on, red tassels on their weapons. Maybe they don’t have the Kingdom’s army behind them, but they have the King’s favor.

The Dark Lord is the only one who’s managed to keep his mouth shut after her sudden resurrection. His side is comprised of dark wizards in tattered robes and nearly a hundred demons. Danielle can see wolves the size of horses, goblins with wooden clubs, and vampires hiding in the tree line.  It looks impressive, but the girl’s memories tell Danielle a different story.

This is the last stand for both sides.

“The Hero lives,” Knight David says through bloodless lips. He’s younger than Danielle thought, his beard only just touched with silver. His eyes shine wetly and he raises his sword over his head. “THE HERO LIVES!”

Knights, adventurers, and wizards lean back and scream their jubilation to the sky. Some of them weep openly, staggering as close to her as the Dark Lord’s barrier allows with their hands spread wide as if to embrace her.

The Dark Lord is silent as the kingdom’s forces rejoice. He looks like a human though he’s gone to great lengths to hide that fact. His long, black hair is twisted around his horns, emphasizing them. His clothes are as tattered as his forces’ and there’s dried blood staining the hem of his cape. His nails are long and painted an unending black that makes them look like talons.

If it weren’t for the depth and darkness of his magic, he wouldn’t register to Danielle as a Dark Lord at all.

“Hero,” the Dark Lord murmurs. His red eyes gleam a beat before his pupils swell, turning them black. He doesn’t raise his voice above the noise, but magic makes it so Danielle can hear him easily. “Killing you quickly was the last mercy I had for you.”

“Mercy,” Danielle says. The word echoes from her involuntarily. She pulls the arrow from the dead girl’s chest. The wet and meaty sound of it finally silences Knight David and his allies. She coughs and tastes blood.

“The fates have seen the justness of our cause and protected the Hero,” Knight David says into the silence.

“Fate,” Danielle echoes and coughs blood again.

Knight David doesn’t hear her. His chest swells. A talented orator, he knows just what to say to erase the horror of her death and reinvigorate his squad. “Dark Lord -no! – Demon, you’ve lost.” He points his sword directly at the Dark Lord. “You just don’t know it yet.” The knights cheer.

Oh, Danielle thinks, he knows it.

The Dark Lord stares down the length of Knight David’s blade impassively. His lip curls into a sneer that must look truly demonic to the knights of the kingdom. But from her vantage point, Danielle can see the way his clenched fists tremble. The barrier wavers imperceptibly and then holds. The Dark Lord can’t sustain it for much longer, not if he wants to have enough magic to fight.

As soon as it falls, the kingdom will strike. And, with the Hero on their side, they’ll have the conviction (and the magic) to take on a thousand demons. The Dark Lord only has a hundred.

Danielle staggers to her feet. This body is on the weaker side of the ones she has inhabited, but it’s not the worst she’s had to work with. Her legs hold her weight and the heart beats strongly once she uses her magic to patch it.

Knight David grins at her, the fever of battle bright in his eyes. “Hero!” He holds out his hand. “How glad I am to see you alive! Cast your strengthening spell.”

A memory: They taught her to strengthen her allies and nothing else. Training sessions ran late into the night as they pushed her to expand her range, power them up more, amplify magic higher and higher. This girl knows exhaustion more intimately than the affection of another.

Knight David slashes the barrier. He doesn’t wait to see if she’ll obey. Of course she will. This dead girl has never defied him before. She owes him and his kingdom too much. Who else would elevate an orphan to the heights of a Hero? He strikes again and this time his blow leaves a crack in the Dark Lord’s magic that splinters out like a spiderweb. He grins meanly. “Come, soldiers! Reclaim our land! Defend our home! Defeat evil!”

The knights smash their weapons against their shields and bare their teeth. “For our homes! For our families! For good!”

“Kill,” the Dark Lord hisses as his barrier fails piece by piece. He leans towards Knight David like a snake about to strike. A sword as black as night materializes in his hand. “Kill them all.”

“Hey,” Danielle says, “don’t you think you’re moving on a little fast?”

Nobody hears her. Nobody asks her if she’s alright. Nobody cares.

It’s Danielle’s curse to care.

The Dark Lord’s barrier crumbles. The air fractures and fragments tumble from the top and towards the combatants on either side like sparks. It’s ten feet in the air, eight feet, seven feet--

Her magic billows from her like smoke, scorching the grass as it balloons forward. Blood burns and vaporizes under the heat. The wolves are the first to notice it. They whine and back away from her wave of power, cowering behind their lord. Danielle hisses through her teeth and her power surges a little faster, touching the Dark Lord’s magic before the demons can alert their master. She’s powerful enough to do this even with him fighting her, but that would be…messy. She wrests control of the barrier from the Dark Lord. She builds it back up to twenty feet tall and adds new walls. The King’s forces used to be the only ones trapped. Now the Dark Lord turns and blinks at the misty cage that’s formed around him and his army.

The sudden silence hurts her ears as hundreds of eyes follow the scorch marks from the barrier to her.

Knight David’s sword wavers. “Hero…?”

“Your Hero isn’t here anymore,” Danielle says. Experience tells her to rip this bandage off quickly. She gestures to the dead girl’s clouded eyes. “Did you really think she survived an arrow to her heart?”

She can see from their faces that they did. Knight David opens his mouth and then closes it. He swallows hard. He says, “You’re not—” His face hardens. “Who are you?”

The Dark Lord watches her with black eyes, but he’s not still. His power tests her control of his barrier. He doesn’t find a crack.

“You called it fate,” Danielle says. She limps towards them. There’s an arrow in the girl’s thigh she didn’t notice before. She pulls it out without breaking stride and throws it to the side. The furnace that’s consumed the dead girl’s heart churns with rage. “You lot always believe in fate. Makes everything you do look prettier, doesn’t it? More palatable.”

“It is fate. The Oracles of Trilbia spoke of a girl with untold power who would be our savior. We needed—”

“LOOK AT HER!” Danielle roars. She slams a hand against her chest and then holds her palm high overhead. Red shines wetly on her palm. “She was a child! Fifteen summers and you stand there and call her a savior?”

“I ask again,” Knight David says. His eyes flash. “Who are you?” He draws his sword point slowly, purposefully, away from the Dark Lord. He points it directly at her. “What have you done to the Hero?”

Danielle won’t answer stupid questions. “You’re cruel. What you did to her – nothing can justify it. Especially not something as fickle as fate.”

“The Oracles—”

“Should die,” Danielle interrupts. She bares her teeth. “Or at least be honest. If they wanted a child sacrifice, they should have killed her on an altar with their own hands.”

Knight David hits her barrier. It throws him back and he shakes with rage. “Who. Are. You?”

“And you,” Danielle says, turning her attention to the Dark Lord. She holds her bloodied palm out to him. “You speak of mercy. You think giving her a quick death mercy?”

To his credit, he doesn’t deny it or flinch away. He nods shallowly, eyes never leaving hers.

“There was mercy, I’ll give you that,” Danielle says. She staggers towards him and stops just short of the barrier. They’re barely two feet apart when she says, “It was her mercy that she died quickly. Not yours.”

The Dark Lord’s nostrils flare. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Danielle promises. Her heart aches. This isn’t the time for that. She stokes the fires of her magic until steam escapes from her lips again. Only then does she twist towards Knight David again. “You killed this girl. You threw her into battle untrained. They may have shot her, but it was you who brought her here. This is your fault.”

“You’re some malevolent spirit,” Knight David says. He sweeps one arm out as if to banish her. Behind him, his forces tremble. “A vile devil come to sow seeds of doubt. Our conviction is firm. Oh, monstrous devil! Release our friend, release the Hero and your end may be swift yet.”

Devil? Danielle loses hold of her rage for a moment. Yes, yes she supposes she is. There are forces at play here that she might call devilish. But being called a devil by him?

Ridiculous.

“Maybe you should pray,” Danielle suggests. She nods slowly, warming to the suggestion. “Yes, that’s what you should do. You should pray the big, bad devil away.” She approaches his side of the barrier and the grass withers under her feet. “Pray, Knight David.”

“Hold fast,” Knight David says to his knights. He raises his sword to her and braces himself. “Do not be swayed by—”

“No, don’t pray,” Danielle says. She laughs without humor, chest shuddering with the effort. “Prophecize. Summon a hero to defeat me. Go on. Do it.”

“You will pay for the horrors you’ve committed today. Wearing the skin of the Chosen One damns you to the furthest—”

“Oh, fine, I’ll do it for you. There will be a knight,” Danielle says. She lurches forward and presses her hands against her barrier. Knight David stumbles back when it moves with her, allowing her closer and closer. She laughs again. “A Knight with red splashed across his breast and his shining sword melded to his hand.”

Knight David chokes on a scream as her words become truth. His sword melts under a sudden wave of heat, the silver-plating dripping through his fingers. He falls to his knees and grabs his wrist, trying to shake his hand free of the molten metal. It cools as rapidly as it melted, and he stares in horror as the silver binds his fingers to the hilt forevermore.

Danielle comes closer and the kingdom’s forces flex away from her like a school of fish in the face of a predator. “And this knight,” she says, “will be a Hero to his people. He will rise through his pain and destroy the devil that wore the skin of the little girl he sent to slaughter.” She spreads her arms wide above him, the sun beating down on her crown, and waits. After a beat she says, “Go on. Make the prophecy come true. Stab me. I’m waiting.”

Knight David keens through clenched teeth. “Y-you monster. You w-won’t—” He breathes in deeply and glares up at her. His feeble attempts to raise his arm don’t move his sword more than an inch. “You won’t break me.”

“I don’t have to,” Danielle says. Her arms fall to her sides, and she looms over the fallen knight. The air isn’t sweet now. The smell of burning flesh is more familiar than blood. “She didn’t ask me to break you.”

“Didn’t ask?”

Danielle turns. Unlike the knights, the Dark Lord isn’t backing away from her. He’s as close as he can get, pressed right up against the barrier. He’s rearranged his forces while she wasn’t looking so that the hardier demons are shielding the smaller.

“Didn’t ask,” Danielle agrees. She taps her temple. “Right before she died, I asked her what she wanted. See, nobody here gave a fuck what she wanted before she died. Fate is fake, but belief isn’t. They believed hard enough that the universe heard their pathetic little prayers for a savior. And, at the end, it took pity, but not on them. No one cared so it sent me. I asked what she wanted. She answered. Now we’re here.”

Knight David shudders at her feet.

“Are you a spirit of vengeance then?” the Dark Lord asks very casually. His shoulders are tense, undermining his nonchalance. He speaks a touch too loudly and very carefully doesn’t look back at his army. “Is that it?”

“I’m what she asked for,” Danielle says. She eyes Knight David’s comrades. There’s a wizard somewhere in there valiantly trying to heal Knight David’s wounds from afar. It’s slow going so she ignores it. “Though, between you and me, I think some vengeance is owed here, don’t you?”

The Dark Lord’s jaw flexes. “It is.” He raises his chin. “And you shall have it. I only ask that you let my people go. They are blameless in all this and only had the bad fortune to follow a misguided lord—”

Howls and screams of protest drown out his words. The demons lunge against his orders, mouths frothing and eyes wide in fear. They don’t want their lord to die, they deny his words, they can’t bear to lose him.

The Dark Lord’s power snaps over them and they quiet all at once, voices stolen by his power.

“Let it only be me. Please,” the Dark Lord finishes quietly.

Danielle watches him with interest. “You would die for them?”

“I return the loyalty I’ve been given.” He bows his head. “I will beg if you’d like.”

“What makes you believe I want your death?”

“I know my part in the Hero’s fate,” the Dark Lord says. His lips thin and he stares down at Knight David with more hatred than she thought possible. “Humans brought her here to slaughter, but I gave the order. I called it mercy to kill a child quickly so she need not suffer. We both know I lied. I killed her to keep her from strengthening the kingdom. No matter how I did it, it wasn’t mercy. It was evil and it was…not necessary. It wasn’t necessary but it was easier than the alternatives and so I killed her. I resigned myself to carrying that sin before I ever stepped foot onto the battlefield.”

Oh. Danielle has to blink very quickly as heat rises behind her eyes. The Dark Lord isn’t lying. He isn’t hiding from the truth of his actions nor is he justifying his hand in the Hero’s death. There is sorrow in his voice and his hands are loose at his sides even though his eyes are watchful, waiting for her to strike. He’d let me strike him down. He will stand there and do nothing while I slit his throat.

“It was wrong,” Danielle says. Her throat aches. “It was wrong to kill her.”

The Dark Lord’s head sinks lower. “Yes. It was.”

“She was a child.”

“She was.”

“She didn’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

“She deserved better.”

“Yes.”

Danielle’s chin trembles. This— after all the dead girls, this is a first. “You did it to save your domain.”

“I did.”

“It was evil.”

“Yes. The most evil thing I’ve done.”

“She didn’t ask me to kill you.”

“Ye—what?” The Dark Lord blinks, finally looking back up at her. His eyes are red again, pupils dilated. “She didn’t?”

“No.” Danielle lets the barrier slip out of her control. She can see the Dark Lord more clearly without the wall of smoke and his eyes are more than just red. They’re red-rimmed. Danielle reaches up with her bloodied palm and cups the Dark Lord’s cheek. He shudders at the chill of her touch but doesn’t pull away. “You had no mercy today, but she did. She knew her power would mean the end of your people. She knew she would not be able to resist the order to cast her spell when they gave it. So when the first volley came, she didn’t run. She didn’t raise her shield.”

“Mercy,” the Dark Lord breathes in revelation. His face crumples. “Oh.”

“She died quickly,” Danielle says. The girl’s memories are so hot that Danielle feels burned. All the dead girls are strong. This one is not an exception. “She knew an evil thing would be done today. She chose. She chose.”

The Dark Lord’s voice is thick with tears. “She shouldn’t have had to. She—No!”

Danielle doesn’t know what’s happened at first. The Dark Lord is staring at her in mute horror. His cheek is stained red but her hand is no longer on his cheek. Then she processes that she’s been hit quite hard in the back. She looks down.

A bloody sword is sticking out of her chest. It retracts with a sickly sound and Danielle finds herself on her knees, staring down at the river of blood gushing from her breast. She let down her barrier to speak to the Dark Lord, face to face. She didn’t think she’d be leaving her back open to the other side. Or, rather, she didn’t think Knight David would recover enough to kill her again.

“The devil speaks lies,” Knight David says. His words are thin with pain. He can no longer raise his blade to the sky. His arm is trembling from the effort of stabbing her but still he faces his forces and spurs them to action. “And lies have no place in our kingdom! Our friend, our Hero died for us! So we could win! So we could prosper! So we could—”

He killed her again.

Danielle surges to her feet. The dead girl’s heart is torn to pieces in her chest, but Danielle’s magic surges through her veins like blood. She rises up behind Knight David and shrieks, “Stop killing her!” She drives her hand through Knight David’s chest and rips out his heart.

It happens too fast for anyone to react. The Dark Lord holds his breath and the world goes still. Danielle lets the heart fall and the thud as it hits the grass is loud in the quiet.

Knight David sways once, twice, and then drops to the bloodied ground.

“You didn’t have to die,” Danielle says. She’s looking at the other knights and adventurers and idiots who believed in fate. She’s talking to Knight David. “Even after everything you put her through, she didn’t want you dead. She was good. She was great. And you killed her for it.”

“Mercy,” someone stutters. Then, another. “Mercy, please.”

“No,” Danielle says. Petulant. Like a child. “You didn’t stop him. Not a single one of you tried. She didn’t tell me to save you.”

They combust before they can run. A long time ago, her power wasn’t as controlled. Her fire didn’t get hot enough fast enough. They screamed back then. Screamed and wailed and cursed.

Her fire doesn’t give them a chance to curse her now.

When it is done and she’s satisfied that nothing but ashes remain, she turns to the Dark Lord. He doesn’t flinch from her though there’s fear in his eyes. Even now, he expects her to kill him. Even now he accepts it.

“Bury her,” Danielle says. The fire crackles behind her. “Clean her body and dress her in new clothes. Bury her somewhere where war hasn’t touched and say something kind over her grave.”

The Dark Lord swallows twice before he can speak. He doesn’t ask if this means she’s going to leave him alive. He understands what she means. He says, “I-I will.”

“She saved you,” Danielle says. She wants him to understand that. “She could have wished for anything. Revenge. Peace. A second chance. She didn’t. She wished to save you.”

“She will be honored,” the Dark Lord says. He breathes in deeply and gently reaches out to cup her cheek, an imitation of her earlier touch. His palm is warm against her cold skin. If he is repulsed by the feel of death, he doesn’t show it.  “I will see to it.”

Danielle closes her eyes. Though she doesn’t lean into his touch, she doesn’t pull away. It is the singularly most affectionate moment she’s experienced in decades, but it’s not for her. “Her name is Samira.”

The Dark Lord releases his breath. “Samira. Thank you for telling me her name.”

Danielle lets her curse sweep her to the next dead girl.

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

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to see stories like this or some more serialized stories, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! Currently I’m working on the Cinderella retelling I have posted on here :)

See y’all next week!

[softlyopulent-if]

Softly, Opulent is a dark fantasy romance, an interactive fiction not suited for those under 17.

Demo. [Prologue and Chapter One.]

The Queen dies the night you’re born. And your family locks you away.

All of King Adder’s children are a mystery to the common folk, but you—you are nothing but a ghost. A ghost, that spends eighteen years locked away in the deepest part of the palace, so that no eyes may lay upon you.

And those that do—they do not treat you kindly.

And when you are finally of age, at last, you are betrothed to the child of the King of a far away kingdom, to secure an alliance that your father has been seeking for years.

And you are swept away to a place even more foreign than your own land, to be wed to a stranger that looks at you with contempt. To live in a kingdom of citizens that despise you.

And perhaps, just perhaps, fight a war.

Content Warnings: Softly, Opulent contains many upsetting themes, such as: arranged marriage, child abuse, child neglect, assault, death, murder, suicide, sexually suggestive scenes, and more. Viewer discretion is advised, and this story is only appropriate for those 17+.

Customize your main character. (Name, Pronouns, Appearance, Personality.)

Romance one of four characters. (All of which are gender selectable.)

Overcome your past trauma.

Befriend many side characters.

Learn magic, learn how to fight.

Possibly overthrow your father, the tyrant King.

Attend balls, and witness the viper pit that is high society.

Fight an undead army.

The Betrothed, Aleksandar/Aleksandra. (Gender Selectable. She/Her. He/Him.) - They are the heir to the throne of Aslerea and your betrothed. But it’s the last thing they want to be. They seem to hold something against you. They are serious and spend hours upon hours training—they’re preparing for something. Their engagement to you is quite the hinder, but can you make them see it differently? Their duty blinds them, but you can change that.

The Pirate Captain, Rhys/Rhea. (Gender Selectable. She/Her. He/Him.) - They are a mystery. They are a pirate—the very embodiment of freedom and sea, yet they choose to remain in the kingdom of Aslerea more often than not. They stand to gain something by being there, but you don’t know what. There’s something in you that tells you that you can’t trust them, but their smile is so pretty, and their flirtation so constant that you want to. But maybe—just maybe, if you play your cards right—they will treat you as tenderly as their dearest treasure.

The Shadow, Calixta/Calix. (Gender Selectable. She/Her. He/Him.) - They are your betrothed’s younger sibling, and so no one pays quite as much attention to them. Though they seem content in their sibling’s shadow—content with their lack of responsibility—you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. They are as lazy as a bump on a log, and they likely sleep more than anything else—but there’s an interest in their eyes when they look at you. Is it something deep, or just a longing to claim what their sibling has? You could find out.

The Tutor, Mestra/Mestrn. (Gender Selectable. She/Her. He/Him.) - They are assigned as your tutor and tasked with the great undertaking of making you fit to lead. But they are also close with the people in the palace, and help the servants when they can. They know commoners by name and spend nights in the tavern, surrounded by free drinks. And while they are kind, there is something beneath it all that suggests a person that will go far to protect those they care about. Whether it’s because of their kind nature or something else, they have no enemies.

OTHER LINKS.

RO APPERANCES.

RO HEIGHTS.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Little Warrior

Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarsson (The Last Kingdom) x F!Reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and death, kidnapping, slight Stockholm syndrome, attempted sexual assault, sexual tension, coercion, corruption kink, talk of religious beliefs, female masturbation, loss of virginity, smut. Word count: 4.6k

Summary: When Sigtryggr and his men seize Winchester he takes a special interest in one of their captives (I have essentially yeeted Stiorra from the story and adapted the storyline of how her and Sigtryggr become an item to suit my own). Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

They come in the night. As Winchester sleeps, the Danes descend upon it.

She is woken by the blood curdling shouts and screams of the townspeople, accompanied by the acrid stench of smoke from nearby burning buildings.

Her heart lurches in her chest, panic causing bile to rise in her throat as she acts purely on instinct, scrambling from her bed and out of the house wearing just her nightdress. The only thought in her mind is that she doesn’t want to die trapped in her home as it’s burned to the ground.

Once she is outside, she watches wide eyed with horror at the destruction around her. Buildings are ablaze, people lay dead and dying upon the ground, the thick coppery scent of blood makes her want to vomit.

It’s only when the coolness of the night air begins to chill her skin that she realises just how perilous her situation is - a thin layer of cotton is all that separates her flesh from the horrors around her. She worries about what these Heathens will do to her if they see her in such a state of undress.

She trembles at the thought, dread gnawing at her insides. It’s too risky to go back inside, her only option is to hide. She takes her chances beneath an overturned farmer’s cart, crawling beneath the gap and cowering, waiting for the chaos around her to die down.

Clutching the cross around her neck, she sends up a silent prayer to God to keep her safe. Her destiny is in his hands now.

The aching in her joints for having been crouched for so long is beginning to become unbearable when the noise eventually quietens. She wonders if the Danes have left, if King Edward will return to rescue Winchester or if they have managed to capture it in his absence. Where are the Wessex guard?

She freezes when she hears the sound of approaching boots upon the ground, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage when they come to a stop in front of the cart she’s hiding under.

“I can see your feet, Christian”, comes the voice of a man. He speaks softly and quietly, and it sends shivers down her spine.

Too paralyzed by fear to do anything, she remains as she is, her breaths coming quick and shallow, a rapidly dying hope in the back of her mind that he might give up and leave her alone. But there is no such luck.

“You will come out,” he commands, “or I will drag you out, the choice is yours.”

She clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle the frightened whimper that escapes her, attempting to force herself further back against the wooden confines of her misguided hiding place.

A large hand appears beneath the cart, reaching towards her before wrapping itself around her ankle.

She shrieks, thrashing against the hold it has on her as she’s dragged out. She lays wide eyed on the cold earth, her breathing erratic, as she looks with terror upon the Dane that towers above her prone form.

His long brown hair is wild and unkempt, half of it pulled back, and a ragged scar runs the length of the left side of his face. He regards her with mild amusement and she becomes aware again of her state of undress.

The thought that he might rape her sends her senses into overdrive, pure adrenaline driving her decision making. She knows she’s in no position to run, her only other option is to fight him, so as he crouches down towards her, she lunges upwards, slapping and scratching at his face and shoulders.

He is quick to overpower her, pulling her to her feet and twisting her arm behind her back.

“A fearsome little warrior, she is,” he chuckles, keeping her arm taut behind her as he gently urges her forward. 

He guides her towards the front steps of the King’s estate, where several people are kneeling before a group of Danes. As they draw closer she recognises a few of them; King Edward’s sons and a few of the Wessex guard.

She is certain she’ll be killed. The man presses on her shoulder, urging her to kneel beside the other captives. She takes up her position, the stone step is hard against her knees, and she is all too aware that she is the least valuable of everyone gathered there.

“Send them to where they keep their dead King,” the man says, looking at Edward’s children and then nodding towards the chapel.

“We need to send a message to Edward,” a dark haired, heavily pregnant woman says, as two of the Danish men pick up the boys and carry them off. “We must force him to yield Winchester to us.”

It makes her shudder to think that this woman will be a mother, when she is capable of such atrocities. 

“And what do you propose, Brida?” He responds.

Brida regards her with a look that makes her blood run cold. She has never seen anyone look at her as though she is worth less than nothing, her brown eyes are filled with utter contempt. “Send him her head,” she tells him, “it is more shocking to Christians when you are prepared to kill women and children alike.”

She gasps audibly, stricken by terror at the notion that they intend to behead her, until she feels his hand upon her shoulder.

“You will not touch her,” he says cooly, “slaughter the men, but she stays with me.”

“And what will you do with her?” Brida asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That is for me to decide,” he responds dismissively.

He makes a cut throat gesture at the Danes that flank Brida, then nods towards the kneeling guards, before pulling her back to her feet and directing her inside of the King’s estate.

She winces as she hears the sound of blades making thick, wet impact upon flesh, followed by dying screams of agony. Despite her shock and disgust, she cannot help the twinge of relief that lightens the feeling in her chest that that is not what destiny has in store for her, at least not yet.

The room that he brings her to is what she assumes is a study. It is filled with books, maps and writing materials, the space is occupied by a wooden writing desk, a chair and a settee.

As her eyes travel around the room, taking in her surroundings, she’s startled out of her reverie when her gaze settles back upon him. He is standing so close, silently observing her, his expression unreadable.

Once more she is reminded of how little she is wearing, and now that she is alone with him, fear of what he might do to her returns in earnest.

“S-stay back,” she stammers, backing away, eyes scanning the room for something, anything, that she can use as a weapon.

He smirks, unmoving, as he looks her over from head to toe. “Be calm, little warrior. Do you know who I am?”

Her face contorts in confusion. “No…”

He straightens, tilting his head slightly, clasping his arms behind his back. “I am Sigtryggr Ivarsson. I am a Dane. If I wish to hump a woman I do not need to do so by force.”

She softens slightly, fear does not grip her heart quite so icily as before. His name is meaningless to her, but she is relieved that he means her no harm.

Sigtryggr leans in, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “But make no mistake, little warrior, I will have you, and you will beg me for it.”

She draws back quickly in disgust - not at his words, but at the reaction they elicit from her. The way warmth pools in her lower belly fills her with immense guilt. This man has invaded her home and killed people she knows, people she loves, she should despise him.

Swallowing thickly, unease prickling at her, she elects to change the subject. “What have you come here for?”

“To take what I am owed,” he says simply.

“And what is it you believe you’re owed?”

“Land. Your people drove me from mine,” he explains, anger lacing his tone, “your boy King will give back what he stole, or I shall keep Winchester and send him the heads of his children.”

She inhales shakily, feeling like she wants to cry. “A-and…how do I factor into all of that?”

He softens, shrugging slightly. “You don’t, but I can’t imagine your King will yield quickly, and it is always nice to have company. You are brave, for a Christian.”

“So I am your prisoner?”

“No, little warrior. You are free to leave any time you’d like, and take your chances with Brida.”

The implication is not lost on her. Her freedom is an illusion when the alternative is death. Sigtryggr is her only guarantee for safety.

“Shall we find something else for you to wear?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

She looks down at the thin material of her shift, seeing how dirty it is from having been crouched beneath the cart, dragged out and then forced to kneel on the steps of the estate. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Yes, please,” she whispers.

He nods. “Wait here.”

Sigtryggr leaves her alone in the study, not bothering to lock the door behind him - a sign of his confidence that he knows she won’t try to escape.

He returns a few moments later with a white cotton shift that is similar to the one she is currently wearing, She assumes it belongs to Ælflæd, something he has found within a bedchamber.

“Where is the rest of it?” She asks.

“What do you mean? It’s the same as what you have on, and it’s clean,” he says simply.

“Yes, but this is meant to go under–” she sighs, “nevermind.”

She takes the shift from him and begins to change, noting the way that he turns from her, keeping his eyes fixed on the shelves of books that line the walls of the room. The small mark of respect makes her smile. She had not anticipated such manners from a Heathen.

He pulls a book from the shelf when she is finished, flipping through its pages. “Can you read?”

She nods and he hands the tome to her.

“Read to me.”

“Can you not read?” She asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I can,” he says with a smirk, “but where’s the fun in that?”

She sighs, settling into the chair in front of the writing desk, while Sigtryggr sits upon the settee a few feet away, and she reads to him.

Over the next few weeks their days are spent much like this. She reads aloud to him, though none of the books are particularly interesting, mostly religious texts and historical records of Wessex. She’s not convinced that he pays any particular attention to the words, but he seems to enjoy the sound of her voice.

They find a Hnefatafl board and Sigtryggr teaches her how to play. They while away hours strategising ways to remove each other's pieces from the board. He has a sharp mind, is calmer and more analytical than any other Dane she’s ever met. He bests her with his cunning multiple times, until she finally begins to get the hang of it and he begins to lose to her.

“Another game?” She asks. “How many have I won now?”

He shoots her a sideways glance, a faint smile upon his lips. “I am not keeping count.”

She giggles. She is beating him, but he does not seem to mind.

They sleep upon furs and blankets that Sigtryggr has brought down to the study and fashioned into a makeshift bed. Her stomach flutters at laying in such close proximity to him, but true to his word he never touches her. Shame blooms hotly in her chest as each of the days pass and she finds herself yearning for it.

He brings her food, and the hopelessness of the situation looms over her as with every meager meal the bread tastes more stale.

“Read to me, little warrior,” he requests, reclining on the settee, his forearm slung over his forehead.

She grouses, hunger pangs causing her stomach to rumble painfully. “I cannot concentrate,” she whispers.

“What is the matter?” He asks, sitting up to look at her.

“I am hungry. I’m always hungry.”

He nods, stepping towards her and offering her his share of the bread.

She looks from his outstretched hand to his face uncertainly. “What will you eat?”

“I will manage, and you will read to me,” he tells her, as she takes the offering and he settles back down.

She smiles to herself at the gesture, warmth spreading throughout her. So she eats, and she reads to him.

Sigtryggr disappears each day, leaving her alone in the study. She only leaves to bathe and to relieve herself, but she is perfectly happy to stay put and await his return, especially when she is all too aware of the alternative.

Each day when he returns he brings news of the continuing siege. King Edward and the Wessex guard surround the walls of Winchester, but will not attack as his sons are being kept captive in the chapel. They have yet to yield to Sigtryggr’s demands for land.

She fiddles with the cross around her neck, eyeing the Mjölnir that sits around his carefully. “Can there not be a peaceful resolution?”

"It is more difficult to live peacefully with enemies than to fight them,” he tells her.

“But we live peacefully,” she retorts.

“We are not enemies, little warrior.”

The sentiment makes her heart flutter, though there is the lingering question in the back of her mind; what are we?

He leaves her alone again as usual one morning and she busies herself poring over maps to pass the time.

She turns when she hears footsteps, expecting to see Sigtryggr but instead it is a man she does not recognise. He appears Saxon, so she cannot understand why the Danes have allowed him to move around the estate so freely.

The stench of ale upon him as he draws closer is nauseating. His eyes hold malicious intent as he advances towards her, and her blood runs cold at the sight.

She stands, backing away from him. “Whatever you are planning to do, please reconsider,” she pleads, “Sigtryggr will punish you if anything happens to me.”

“I have allied myself with the Danes,” he slurs, “but at what cost? They treat me like a dog, while Sigtryggr coddles you. Tell me, whore, is your cunt really that good? Perhaps I ought to find out for myself.”

She yelps as he lunges for her, grabbing her and pinning her against the desk. Fury flashes through her as she struggles against him, attempting to free herself from his hold.

“Whatever treatment they give you, you have brought upon yourself, traitor,” she spits.

Her head snaps to the side, a sharp sting spreads across her cheek as he strikes her.

She barely has time to adjust her focus before she feels him forcefully being pulled off of her.

“Eardwulf!” Sigtryggr snarls angrily. “Fucking coward!”

His fist makes impact with Eardwulf’s face knocking him to the ground, before he is dragged away.

She curls up on the furs, shaking as tears stream down her cheeks, waiting for her heart rate to calm. What could have happened to her if Sigtryggr had not returned when he did doesn’t bear thinking about.

She is unsure of how much time has passed when he returns.

“Are you alright?”

She turns towards the sound of his voice, gasping when she sees he’s covered in blood. Rushing towards him, she places her hands upon his face. “You are hurt…”

Softly he grasps her wrists, keeping her hands where they are. “This blood is not mine, and Eardwulf will not hurt you ever again.”

Her lips part in shock at the thought that he has killed for her, saved her life twice now. She studies his face, taking in the stormy blue of his eyes, the fullness of his lips.

She allows her gaze to linger there for just a moment too long, embarrassment making her hot, eager to distract herself. She traces a finger over the scar that runs the length of the left side of his face.

“How did this happen?”

“A man tried to take my eye during battle,” he explains softly, “so I took his life.”

“But you were hurt.”

“Injured, yes. Left with a scar, yes. But very much alive.”

“As am I, thanks to you.”

She drops her hands from his face and he steps away from her, pulling off his blood soaked light armour and clothing.

She feels her throat run dry at the sight of his bare torso, all lean, lithe battle hardened muscle, adorned with scars. She longs to trace her fingers over each of them.

Looking away, she feels ashamed for harbouring such thoughts and desperately tries to ignore the throbbing ache in her core.

As night falls and Sigtryggr lays asleep beside her, the feeling that lingers between her legs has yet to subside. It is maddening, robbing her of rest. Every time she closes her eyes the image of him stood bare chested before her enters her mind.

She has never touched herself before, it is impure to do so, yet she needs relief or she is sure she will go mad.

Sparing a glance in the darkness towards Sigtryggr, she makes sure his eyes are closed before reaching a tentative hand between her legs. She lets out a shaky sigh as her fingers make impact against the sensitive flesh.

She is not quite sure what she is supposed to do, but finds that a combination of rubbing the area and bucking softly against her hand feels most pleasurable, so continues to do that, holding her free hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds she makes.

There is a feeling that builds within her, a zenith that she feels she must press towards, so she continues in earnest, until finally she feels something within her release and her entire body shudders, a soft moan stifled against her lips as white hot pleasure rolls through her body.

Laying there afterwards she does her best to calm her breaths, feeling guilty for having done something so depraved.

She is startled by Sigtryggr’s voice beside her. “If only you’d beg, little warrior, I could do that for you.”

Her breath hitches and she quickly turns away from him. Not knowing what to say, she feigns sleep, clutching her cross and praying silently that he’ll forget.

She is grateful when he speaks of it no further, and life goes back to normal, or at least what normal is for them.

That is until a couple of weeks later when Brida storms her way into the study, clearly having grown impatient with the lack of progress being made.

“It has been more than thirty days since we captured Winchester, and your negotiations with the Saxon King are not working, Sigtryggr,” she glowers at him, “the time for talking is over. We are killing more captives.”

She does not miss the way that Brida’s eyes linger upon her as she says this, a shiver of fear causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“I will choose who we execute, not you,” Sigtryggr tells her.

“You cannot protect this Saxon forever,” Brida retorts.

“Oh, but I can,” he says, placing himself protectively between her and Brida. “She is mine, and I will decide what happens to her.”

Brida scoffs, turning and leaving. Sigtryggr follows, leaving her alone to ponder the fact that he has once more saved her life.

When he comes back several hours later, he looks so tired. The expression he wears is one of defeat and she feels her heart ache for him.

“Read to me,” he says softly, sitting heavily upon the settee.

She regards him quietly, she wants to comfort him. She wants to comfort herself. She has grown weary of denying him.

Before she has time to think about what she’s doing, she crosses the room, and places herself upon his lap, her thighs astride his.

“What are you do–”

His words are cut off as she presses her lips to his eagerly, before pulling away. “I’m begging, Sigtryggr, please. I–”

He surges forward, kissing her again, his mouth possessing hers hungrily as he grasps her hips, lifting her as he stands to deposit her onto the makeshift bed upon the floor, his body caging hers in against the furs.

“I knew you’d give in, little warrior,” he whispers against her neck, kissing his way down her throat to her collarbone.

His fingers toy with the hem of the shift she wears, a silent plea for consent in his eyes as he looks at.

She swallows thickly and nods, nervousness and excitement fluttering ceaselessly in her stomach.

He pulls the garment over her head, throwing it to the side before sitting back on his haunches to admire her.

“Gods…you were worth the wait. So beautiful,” he whispers reverently.

She squirms beneath his gaze, turning her head away at the intimacy of the gesture, feeling shy and uncomfortable.

“Look at me,” he tells her softly. His fingers grasp her jaw, turning her face back to him.

Slowly he undresses, until he is as naked as she is. She feels the familiar ache between her thighs as she drinks in the sight of him, chiseled and battle hardened.

“Now we are equal,” he reassures her.

He reaches for the cross around her neck, toying with it between his fingers, before giving a quick, hard tug, causing the cord to give way. “What we are about to do is no business of your nailed god,” he tells her, tossing it to one side.

He kisses her once more, slower this time, their mouths saving the feel of the other’s against it. Trailing featherlight kisses down her body until he reaches her breasts, he wraps his lips around one of their hardened peaks, sucking gently.

The sensation causes her to moan, a pleasurable sensation shooting through her body, pooling into wet warmth between her legs as she arches against him. 

Sigtryggr repeats the motion on the opposite breast, before descending further down, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

She freezes up when he grips her thighs, placing them over his shoulders so that his face is level with her most intimate of parts.

“What…what are you doing?” She asks anxiously.

“I’m going to taste you,” he says matter of factly, making pointed eye contact.

“You cannot do that,” she protests weakly, “it is an unclean thing to do.”

He grins at her, shaking his head slightly. “Christian,” the word leaves his mouth as a half hearted insult, before he presses forward.

The first swipe of his tongue against her folds causes her to gasp, her hands burying themselves in his hair as he uses his grip on her thighs to pull her closer, his tongue moving against her firmer, deeper, faster.

A groan of satisfaction rumbles in his throat, the vibrations causing her insides to clench as she bucks against his face, chasing the edge of oblivion that his tongue is pressing her towards.

He sucks at her pearl, before laving his tongue over it and she cries out as she spasms against his mouth, ecstasy numbing all of her senses as he continues to lap at her.

Once she relaxes, he pulls away, sitting back between her legs, his chin slick with her juices. His fist runs over the length of his cock as he takes in her blissful state and her eyes widen as she sees the size of him.

He is thick, long and slightly curved. She has never looked upon anyone’s manhood before and she trembles as she wonders how it will possibly fit inside of her.

Sensing her trepidation, Sigtryggr caresses her cheek with his palm. “Relax, little warrior, I have prepared you well.”

He presses the head of himself against her entrance and she braces herself, but then he stops. Her eyes flit to his questioningly.

“Beg for it,” he whispers.

She whines, wanting to hide her face in furs that they lay upon.

“Beg,” he says again, more insistently.

“Please,” he pushes forward, aided by her arousal and release, “please,” he pushes forward again, more of her swallowing him up, accompanied by the sensation of stretching and the slightest of stings, “please,” he pushes forward once more, finally sheathed fully inside of her.

She realises as he settles on top of her, giving her a moment to get used to the feeling of him, that this was merely a means to distract her so that she wouldn’t focus on the possibility of it hurting and grow tense. She smiles, stroking the wild tresses of his dark hair. Always so cunning.

He withdraws his hips slowly, before carefully pushing forward again. He repeats the motion several times, watching her face carefully.

As her breathing quickens, her brow relaxing as her jaw begins to slacken, he increases his pace, hips snapping against hers faster and faster, their kisses frenzied as they pant into each other’s mouths.

She feels him throb inside of her, the sensation pushes her back towards the precipice she’d fallen over earlier, but before she reaches it he is pulling out, spilling pearlescent ropes of spend across her belly.

He wipes her clean with a blanket, discarding it before laying down beside her and pulling her into his arms. A satisfied ache settles within her, she feels she could fall asleep like this, but his voice lulls her back to full consciousness.

“I have released the King’s sons back to him,” he tells her quietly.

“What will happen now?”

“He is sending a warrior named Uhtred into Winchester to negotiate terms, if I accept those terms then my men and I will move on.”

Her heart sinks. She cannot bear the thought of him leaving, not now she knows what it’s like to be in his arms. “Oh,” is all she is able to muster, pressing tighter to him.

They fall into a quiet doze, until he gently squeezes her shoulder. “I must go and speak with Uhtred.”

She watches sadly, quietly, as he dresses. He leans down to kiss her before he leaves and she pushes her lips eagerly to his. If he is to abandon her then she will cling to every last moment until he does.

When Sigtryggr returns later, she is dressed in her shift again, though her cross remains discarded. She is seated by the window, staring listlessly out of it.

He carries a bundle of clothing in his arms and she looks at him curiously.

“To keep you warm,” he explains, deepening her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I have discussed terms with Uhtred and we have reached an agreement. I will leave Winchester, on the condition that you accompany me…not as my prisoner, but as my woman.”

She grins, running into his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck.

As they ride away from Winchester, side by side on horseback, she does not feel as though she is leaving her life behind. On the contrary, it has just begun.

[another-lost-mc]

Okay. I know dark/sketchy Solomon isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. He’s a silly old man who can’t cook and he loves MC just the right amount (and even if it’s a little bit much, it’s fine because he’s so charmingly wholesome about it).

But what about Solomon that unleashes his power against the Devildom (and the Celestial Realm too, if they don’t stay out of it) because it was MC’s idea to go to war in the first place?

Something bad happens and MC snaps or gets fed up with demons and their nonsense. MC wants to fuck shit up, and Solomon turns literal heart eyes towards his darling apprentice, his beloved MC, and helps them because it’s him and MC against the world. Anyone who crosses MC will inevitably cross him as well.

Nearly everyone in the three realms underestimated how powerful they could be together, and the ones who didn’t underestimate them only hoped the day would never ever come when the world’s two most powerful sorcerers teamed up.

It wouldn't be the first time Solomon attacked the Devildom, but MC turning on them is one of the worst things that could ever happen. The Devildom's strongest demons are brought to heel at MC's command, and if Barbatos failed to predict this outcome, he's rendered powerless by his pact with Solomon.

The best case scenario is pact-bound demons are simply rendered useless, unable to act and forced to watch their human masters wreck havoc. The worst case scenario? Their human masters turn them into weapons against their will. Perhaps Diavolo is somehow strong enough to withstand such an assault — between the Avatars of Sin obeying MC and 72 demon lords (and their legions) under Solomon's command — but at what cost? Which of his cherished friends and advisors would be left standing at the end of such carnage when he's forced to subdue the threat to his kingdom by any means necessary?

People love Solomon and how he cherishes humanity and loves MC, but no one said MC couldn’t grow to have the potential for darkness and violence that King Solomon once had. How glorious it would be for him to bask in the flames of MC’s fury while showing everyone else how meaningless they really are. Solomon knows it’s him who will be at their side when MC reshapes the world from the ruins of their destruction to be one finally worthy of both of them.

[us-cj]

𝖘𝖎𝖈 𝖘𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖞𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖘

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. — U.S. Constitution Second Amendment

The militia of the United States consists of all able-bodied males at least 17 years of age... — 10 U.S. Code § 246

Patrick Henry

* “Guard with jealous attention the public liberty. Suspect everyone who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright force. Whenever you give up that force, you are inevitably ruined.”

George Mason

* “To disarm the people…[i]s the most effectual way to enslave them.”

James Madison

* “The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. A well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the best and most natural defense of a free country.”

* “The ultimate authority, wherever the derivative may be found, resides in the people alone.”

Noah Webster

* “Before a standing army can rule, the people must be disarmed; as they are in almost every kingdom of Europe. The supreme power in America cannot enforce unjust laws by the sword; because the whole body of the people are armed, and constitute a force superior to any bands of regular troops that can be, on any pretense, raised in the United States.”

Samuel Adams

* “The Constitution shall never be construed to prevent the people of the United States who are peaceable citizens from keeping their own arms.”

Richard Henry Lee

* “A militia when properly formed are in fact the people themselves…and include, according to the past and general usuage of the states, all men capable of bearing arms… “To preserve liberty, it is essential that the whole body of the people always possess arms, and be taught alike, especially when young, how to use them.”

Thomas Jefferson

* “I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery.”

* “What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance. Let them take arms.”

* “The laws that forbid the carrying of arms are laws of such a nature. They disarm only those who are neither inclined nor determined to commit crimes…. Such laws make things worse for the assaulted and better for the assailants; they serve rather to encourage than to prevent homicides, for an unarmed man may be attacked with greater confidence than an armed man.”

* “The Constitution of most of our states (and of the United States) assert that all power is inherent in the people; that they may exercise it by themselves; that it is their right and duty to be at all times armed.”

**********************************

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution.

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

Ex parte Milligan, 71 U.S. 2 (1866) which yet stands to this day: "The Constitution of the United States is a law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances. No doctrine, involving more pernicious consequences, was ever invented by the wit of man than that any of its provisions can be suspended during any of the great exigencies of government. Such a doctrine leads directly to anarchy or despotism..."

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Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 52: “It is sometimes argued that the existence of an emergency allows the existence and operation of powers, national or state, which violate the inhibitions of the Federal Constitution. The rule is quite otherwise.

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution. An emergency, however, while it cannot create power, increase granted power, or remove or diminish the restrictions imposed upon power granted or reserved, may furnish the occasion for the exercise of power already in existence, but not exercised except during an emergency... The Constitution of the United States is the law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances”

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

Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 177: "The general misconception is that any statute passed by legislators bearing the appearance of law constitutes the law of the land. The U.S. Constitution is the supreme law of the land, and any statue, to be valid, must be in agreement.

It is impossible for both the Constitution and a law violating it to be valid; one must prevail. This is succinctly stated as follows: The general rule is that an unconstitutional statute, though having the form and name of law, is in reality no law, but is wholly void, and ineffective for any purpose; since unconstitutionality dates from the time of its enactment, and not merely from the date of the decision so branding it.

An unconstitutional law, in legal contemplation, is as inoperative as if it had never been passed. Such a statute leaves the question that it purports to settle just as it would be had the statute not been enacted.

Since an unconstitutional law is void, the general principals follow that it imposes no duties, confers no rights, creates no office, bestows no power or authority on anyone, affords no protection, and justifies no acts performed under it... A void act cannot be legally consistent with a valid one. An unconstitutional law cannot operate to supersede any existing valid law. Indeed, insofar as a statute runs counter to the fundamental law of the land, it superseded thereby. No one is bound to obey an unconstitutional law and no courts are bound to enforce it."

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

“All laws, rules and practices which are repugnant to the Constitution are null and void ...if any statement within any law which is passed is unconstitutional, the whole law is unconstitutional.” Marbury v. Madison, 5th U.S. 2 Cranch 137, 180.

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

"Even a state of war and the declaration of secession by the people cannot suspend the Constitution or remove its protection." Houston County v Martin, 232 Ala 511, 169 So. 13.

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 1

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Chapter 2

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, attempted sexual assault (not Joel), somno, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also refered to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

*******************

The first time you met Joel Miller was a flurry of events.

“C’mon Joel, I don’t have it this time but I promise, next month its yours”

Jaimie, your dad, stood in front of Joel, who was unarmed but guarded by his group of fellow raiders who had guns pointed at Jaimie and his men. “Next time you’ll owe me nearly double, I’m tired of waiting, I got a reputation to uphold.”

Jaimie owed Joel money, and a lot of it. The amount of land Joel controlled was expansive, a damn near kingdom at this point that FEDRA didn’t bother with since it was so far out in the middle of nowhere. Joel and his gang of raiders made a near Viking-like living out here. You could either pay Joel monthly with small amounts of food or resources and in return you have a modicum of protection from him and other raiders as Joel’s men patrolled areas under their control, or Joel just raids you and takes everything you have. Easy enough choice. Problem was, if Joel’s men raided your farm or town, in general, they didn’t kill you if you didn’t try to fight. However, if he didn’t get what he expected from you, he was none too thrilled about using his men's resources to protect people who weren’t paying, and that debt could easily end up with someone dead, and that’s how Joel came to your dads house.

“Fine” Joel grumbled, turning to one of his men, a tall redhead. “Kill him”

“Wait!” Your dad shouted, and Joel held up a hand to stop the gunman.

“I’m listening”

“I have a daughter” Jaimie offered.

Joel narrowed his eyes at that. “You think I need help getting my dick wet?” He began to turn to the red haired man again, when your dad shouted the words that really piqued Joel’s interest.

“She’s a virgin!”

Jaimie continued, motioning for one of his men to get you from where you were hiding in the hall. “You can have your way with her, as long as you want, knock off some of what I owe you, and next month I’ll have the rest, unless of course you want her again.”

You’re pulled in before the two groups, and had the distinct feeling you were on display.

A man to the right of Joel, looking a little younger than him but only by a few years, with longer, dark hair, finally spoke. “You pimping out your own daughter?” He said with disgust.

Your dad glared at him. “Judge me all you want, Tommy, not all of us have powerful family to protect us” he turned back to Joel.

Joel held out a hand, stopping the interaction, then turned to you. His gaze was intense, focussed, harsh, and you couldn’t help but be afraid. You were used to this, of course, your dad using you as a bargaining tool, bad men who had used you and hurt you, leaving bruises and scars that were visible even from where Joel stood, but Joel was different, Joel was powerful, Joel was a cold blooded killer, and was not someone you wanted to upset or god forbid disappoint when he took you; you might end up with a bullet in the head if he wasn’t happy with a blowjob. 

Joel scanned you, taking in your body and no doubt the marks that littered your skin. “You let them do that to her?” He referenced the bruises.

Your dads hands were still raised. “Other men have used her mouth, but nothing other than that. Some men just want to toss her around, rough her up a bit, get themselves off like that, but you’d be the first inside her.”

“Joel.” The younger man spoke with a warning. “Don’t”

“I’ll do damnwell whatever I please” Joel grumbled, turning to your dad. “Mouth only, I’ll see if she’d worth buying more off after that.”

Jaimie nodded. “Sure! You can rough her up too, if you want, that’s extra, of course-”

“Shut up, I’ll decide the price when I’m done with her.” Quickly, Joel strode over to you and hanked you out of the other man’s grasp, half-dragging you to another room, your dad calling out to you not to mess this up.

Joel grabs you by the neck and shoves you to your knees, the cold, hard floor stinging against your kneecaps. You try your best to suppress the shaking fear inside you and play good little whore, reaching up to undo his belt buckle but Joel smacks your hands away, yanking you by your hair to look at him.

“Listen to me, sweetheart.” Despite the pet name, his tone was harsh and condescending. “I don’t need you to do anything, you’re just a warm, wet hole for me to get off with, got it?”

You nod.

“Just stay still and this will be over soon enough. Hands behind your back, now.” He demanded and you did as you were told, holding both your hands behind you and opening your mouth.

Joel took his cock out, and an involuntary whimper escaped you; you’d never been with a man this big, and if he liked you, he was supposed to deflower you? How was all that supposed to fit?

Joel must’ve seen the fear in your eyes. “I’ll start slow, but after that, I ain’t taking it easy on you, little girl.”

You nod quickly, thankful for even small mercies. 

Joel kept his word, sliding into you slowly, carefully, pausing when you gag, and allowing you to adjust when his full length was inside. Tears pricked at your eyes, it hurt so bad, but you needed to do good. If Joel didn’t like you, whatever you dad would do as punishment would be way worse than this.

He pulled himself all the way out, and told you to take a breath. “This is where the fun begins”. When he thrust his dick inside you, you heaved so hard that if you had eaten anything, you would’ve thrown up all over him, spit spilling out of your mouth mixed with stomach bile, your scalp stinging from his painful grip on your hair.

“Fuck yeah, gag on it” You can hear him say above you, and it’s not like you have a choice, continuing to make a mess on him and yourself, the drool dripping down your chin.

“Such a pretty little mouth” he grunts with each thrust. “Wonder what that tight little cunt would feel like.” You can’t help but whimper, knowing how much it would hurt to feel Joel stretching you open. His breathing becomes heavier. “Don’t know if I can have you just once, princess, just look at you…” His fingers entangled themselves deeper into your hair, holding you still as he fucked your face. “Might just have to keep you, be my little pocket pussy to use whenever I want, you want that? Hm?” When you don’t respond, you keep your eyes tightly closed, as the pain in your throat grows.

Joel huffs a laugh when you don’t respond, not that you could say much of anything either way. “Well, you don’t really have much of a choice. But wouldn’t it be better? Only me? No more random men? Of course, I’d fuck you, be the first one inside you…” His pace was faltering, imagining breaking you open, your blood on him… “Fuck!” Joel cums in your mouth with no warning, and you begin to cough and choke, cum and spit falling out of your mouth and he pulls you off him by your hair, throwing you to the ground. 

You lay there, heaving and coughing, face covered in spit, tears and cum and maybe a little blood, your throat burns and your just want to curl up and cry, but Joel is pulling you up. “Let's go” he’s yanking you around again, and you stumble to the door, feeling somewhat like a rag doll. Before opening, however, Joel stops, wiping his sleeve roughly on your face. “Can’t let them see what a pretty mess you make, princess.”

When he pulled out outside, where it seems the tensions hadn’t eased, Joel announces he’s taking you.

Your dad immediately protests, and for a moment you think he might actually care about you, until he gives his reason, being that he sells your mouth for extra money, and Joel can’t take that away from him.

“I’ll wipe your debts clean” Joel isn’t even looking at him, yanking you to where his men had loaded resources onto their horses.

“But that’s-”

“And the next three months free.”

Your dad seemed to recognize that Joel wanted you, and tried to trade for more and Joel hoped on his horse, never letting go of your arm. Effortlessly, he reached under your arms and pulls you up onto the horse, and you suddenly realize the weight of the predicament. Joel was taking you, and you weren’t coming back. He was going to fuck you until he was tired of you, then throw you away, if he doesn’t kill you. You were never going to see your friend or your brother again.

“Joel, come on, she’s my only daughter” You dad tried one more time, and you begin to squirm in Joel’s lap, wanting out. “She’s worth a little more than that, untouched.”

“Dad, please, don’t”

Joel wraps an arm around you and points a gun at your dad's head. “Three months, and I don't blow your brains out right now.”

Raising his hands, Jaimie backs down, giving up.

“Lets go” Joel says to the younger man from before, and turns his horse around.

You hear your name called from the house, and turn to find your brother running outside. 

“ZACH!” You scream for help, the fight in you kicking in, desperately trying to get out of Joel’s arms. The horse takes off, and you turn to see Zach getting on his own and starting after you and your dad telling him to stop.

Turning around, in one movement, Joel turns your head into his chest to cover your ears, and shoots.

You scream, and turn to see your brother fallen off the horse, laying still.

The first time you saw Joel Miller, he fucked your face, bought you, kidnapped you, and killed your brother in a span of ten minutes.

“One stop princess, then we can go home, and you get to be my little toy.” Joel spoke, his breath hot in your ear, as if he was your husband taking you home after a wedding, not the man who just uprooted you from everything you know.

The stop, as it turned out, took 2 hours to get to, and you were exhausted and in shock by the time you, the younger brunette and the redhead separated from the group. Joel had tied up your arms in front of you, not that you could escape even if you tried. Joel was much stronger than you. You were nearly nodding off, Joel’s hold on you keeping you upright, the adrenaline rush leaving you bone tired, when you heard a woman’s voice.

“You trafficking girls now, Joel?”

You open your eyes wearily to find a woman on a horse with two others flanking her, she had dark skin and her hair was in braids, eyeing Joel with disgust.

Joel’s hand ran across the top of your chest, closer to your collar bone but enough to make your whimper. It was a display, more than anything, meant to get a rise out of the woman. “What would you do if I was?”

“Not much I can do, it seems.” She seethed.

“Relax, Maria. Her dad was the one was selling her, I bought, she’s staying with me.”

You were dreary, unable to keep your eyes open, only listening to the voices.

“And that’s supposed to be better?”

You could feel Joel shrug. “Maybe, maybe not. But she’s not getting passed around like she was at her dads. We ain’t making a habit of it, if that makes you feel any better.”

Joel motioned the redheaded man over, who Joel referred to Nick. “Take her, just up the hill there, out of earshot, but where I can see her. Do. Not. Touch.”

Falling asleep against your best attempts to stay awake, you feel yourself getting picked up and handed off into another's arms. Over the next few hours, you were in and out of sleep, unable to fully rest but unable to stay away either. Passed back to Joel, who you only knew was him from the smell of his leather jacket, and another long ride for god knows how long, you finally awaken when Joel passes you down from the horse and into the brunette man’s arms before climbing down and reclaiming you. You felt like an object they just passed around as needed, no regard for you. You open your eyes in front of a large house, trying to take everything that had happened in the last few hours, but between your sleep addled brain and the general shock of it, you found yourself unable to. This is where you’d stay for the remainder of your short life, Joel rapeing you and letting god knows who else do the same until you die. Joel starts pulling you inside.

“Please” You whimper before you can stop yourself.

Joel thrust you up against the door, his face right next to yours and his beard rubbing against your skin, burning it. “What was that, little one?”

But you don’t reply.

“Joel…” the younger man says from behind the two of you.

“Shut up, Tommy.” He pulls you back, opening the unlocked door. “You ain’t fucking in charge here. I paid good money for her.” He snaps to Tommy, his large hand around the back of your neck tightening, making you whimper. “And I’m bout to get my money's worth.”

“I know” Tommy steps forward, carefully, like he has experience cooling his leader down. “We just road 4 fours, maybe you should wait, you’re tired-”

“You calling me old?” Joel fully turned around, his hand moving to the front of your throat, pressing your back into his front.

“No, that ain’t what I’m saying, Joel. I just mean you got her as long as you want her, no need to do it tonight, you can enjoy yourself more later.” Tommy’s eyes flickered over to yours, and you saw just a smidge of sympathy before they went back to Joel. “She’s had a long night, Joel, she just lost everything. Give her one night, please?”

You stood there in Joel’s arms, your hands still tied in front of you, feeling the rapid rise and fall of Joel’s chest, praying to whomever that you can have this; if Joel took your virginity tonight, you were sure you’d simply break.

Grabbing your bundled hand, Joel begins dragging you inside, and you see why the door wasn’t locked. In the living room, several more men were sitting inside: some drinking, some playing games, some just… sitting. Joel turns to them ���She is mine, no one fucking touches her.” he demands as he pulls you, stumbling and trying to keep up with his long strides. Opening up a door, Joel thrusts your back to the wall, taking out his knife and you gasp, trying to get away; to where, you don’t know.

“Hold still, woman, or I’ll cut you for real.” Joel cut off your hand ties, and literally threw you onto the dirty mattress. He stomped over, towering above you, and pointing. “One night. Tomorrow I get what I paid for, and you’re mine, wherever, whenever, and however I want you, no matter what Tommy and his bleeding heart think. Understood?”

You nod, but that's not enough for him.

“Say, ‘yes, Sir’”

You swallow, and speak as much as you can imagine. “Yes sir”

“Go to sleep”

And with that, he leaves the room, and you can hear it locking. How are you supposed to sleep after all that? After everything?

Not long after, the door opens again, and you scramble up thinking Joel changed his mind; it was Tommy, but that didn’t ease you at all. Maybe Tommy showed you mercy to save you for himself.

“Relax, I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

He’s got a bowl in one hand and a bag in the other. “Don’t got much by way of a bath tonight, but here's hot water and a towel, you can at least wash your face, and here’s clean clothes and a pillow”

You don’t move, frozen in fear, almost as if he was a t-rex; if you didn’t move, he wouldn’t see you.

A soft smile. ”Alright, I’ll get out of your hair” and with that he leaves you, your room dark save for the moonlight coming through the window.

********************

You know, when I made this side blog it was initially gonna be like. Secret. Like I wasn't gonna tell my mutuals i had a side blog for dark content

But even if I decided to stay anonymous, the fact I have a fic with a song title, a shitty dad and a good brother would've given it away lol

Anyway, if you want to read more, comment to be added to the tag list!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[friendly-stardust]

If you had the chance to change something about the dance of the dragons (TV show or book), what would it be? For example, how a character dies, which team a house is on,or an entire character personally. How would you change it to make the story better, in your opinion?♥️🖤💙💚

Thanks for the ask anon and sorry that it took me this long to reply. This is a tricky one and this can be long.

House of the Dragon is a complete mess and a mediocrity of a show on every level, except for the acting. The writing is at an abysmal level, and I am convinced that it only got the interest and the rating it got thanks to the fact that it is under GoT's umbrella. And the fact that the showrunners/writers decided to be ungrateful and to insult the very show thanks to which their shitty fanfiction is even relevant, tells me everything I need to know about the arrogance and the ignorance existing behind this travesty of a show. The showrunners/writers seem to have completely misunderstood the themes of The Dance dealing mainly with class stratification, the corruptible nature of power, the consequences of blind ambition, and the pitfalls of unchecked privilege, reducing it all to a dumbed-down and pandering fanfiction in which tokenism, outdated and bigoted caricatures, and banal depiction of sexual assault are used casually as tropes, while pretending to write a 'feminist' or a 'progressive’ show. So, for House of the Dragon, EVERYTHING is to be changed.

Rhaenyra should have never been written as the main protagonist: From Episode one, we already have a failure in our hand with the writing as the showrunners decided to solely use Rhaenyra as our main protagonist in a show that is supposed to depict a severe and ineluctable succession crisis at the top of the Kingdom, resulting in the splintering and in the factionalism of the ruling family. Because, at the heart of this story, this IS the main thematic of the Dance - the civil war that will be tearing the ruling family at the head of the Realm apart and, consequently, the Realm itself apart (except for Dorne which was not yet part of the Seven Kingdom). We should have had different POVs to illustrate the deep divide that have been festering within the Targaryen clan itself and POVs from some of the closest families around them helping them rule. So, if it was me writing this, the POVs would have been: • Alicent - for the Hightowers POV, to see things through her lends and because of the important role she will have as a Queen in the future and as the head of one of the factions. • Rhaenyra - She will be the heir, one of the main claimants to the throne, and the head of the other main faction. • Daemon - self-explanatory. Playing his own partition/having his own ambition and need to be in power. • Corlys - to have a POV for the Velaryons and to highlight their side of the story and their narrative as a clan close to power. I would have made the Velaryons more politically savvy and Corlys primarily working with the sole perspective of preserving and consolidating the Velaryons' place of power/closeness to the Throne. As a whole, the Velaryons and Corlys' allegiance will clearly and only be for the Velaryon's name and clan. I would also use that POV to illustrate the Velaryons tinge of resentment towards Viserys and towards the dismissive way House Targaryen have treated them since Aemon's death. • Criston - POV of a lower-class man of Dornish descent getting into the heart of power and having to navigates its difficulties with his set of believes and morals, and how being in the middle of all this impacts his decisions and his ambition for the ascension of House Cole to a more prominent social status.

Using Season 1 as a set-up Season and not rush with catastrophic and mismanaged times skips: Season one should have really been a set-up season, taking the time to really put the foundations into place, while having enough belief in the story to give it the time needed to develop naturally. I believe that it is important to pose the base that the fracture in the clan Targaryen and with the Velaryons have been created since Aemon Targaryen's death which, according to me, is truly the start of this whole succession crisis. The Dance is just the poorly managed resultant of the whole process, seeping through several generations of resentment and hatred for one another. This will also completely negate all the stupid arguments I have seen online of 'if Viserys had married Laena, all this will not have happened'. This is because the show writers have failed the only-show fans who have no clues that the Velaryons have already threatened war during the whole Rhaenys vs Viserys ordeal. It would also emphasise the reason why it was important for Viserys to not shun the Velaryons and to keep a close alliance with them and would explain the reason why Vaemond became that adamant and not too keen on letting Rhaenyra's bastard usurp their ancestral throne. If only the Velaryons were taken seriously by the writers and not solely used as tokens and brownie points to prop-up Saint Rhaenyra?

Being aware of tokenism, bigotry and of anachronistic representations: This show seems to have been written by people who appear completely oblivious to how careful they should have been with how to manage negative stereotypes.

Avoiding Tokenism: From a standpoint of a Black woman like myself, the way the Velaryons were written was quite insulting. The showrunners/writers seem completely oblivious to how bad it looked to have the only House cast as Black being completely subservient, usurped and abused by their white-coded Targaryen counterparts, with no protest from most of them. The only one of them who protested – Vaemond - was villainised by the narrative and was made to say a misogynistic slur to justify his murder in open court. Murder which has no further consequence in the narrative. These showrunners/writers seem to not understand the racial implications that this casting choice creates in this world and seem completely ignorant to how to organically integrate that change into the narration and how to prevent stereotyping those race-swapped characters, so to not reduce the Velaryons to mere tokens. As a result, the writing made the Velaryons act like complete idiots devoid of any sense of pragmatism, strategic mindset, or political intellect, in a world that literally demands those characteristics of the people playing the game of throne. And the way Rhaenyra’s relationship to them was written also reeks of racist undertones. Overall, the way the Velaryons were written just demonstrates the ignorance and the shallowness we have behind this show and highlights the fact that the race-swapping was only made for aesthetic purposes and for some veneer of visual racial diversity.

And the best example to illustrate that vile treatments of the Velaryons is the way Laena and her daughters were written - not that Laenor or Corlys or Vaemond were spared either - but the treatment inflicted onto those female characters, now made WoC, represent better the showrunners/writer’s deep misogynoir, to which I am sure, they are completely oblivious. Laena's role and arc in the source material was completely butchered and diminished, by rewriting and reducing a feminine, beloved and desired (in her marriage to Daemon) woman - seduced and brazenly wanted by Daemon as his wife in F&B - into some teenager seducing the grown man Daemon, all while he only had eyes for the White girl Rhaenyra, actively feeding into the stereotypes about girls of colour growing up faster, having to be needy and desperate for men attention, and having to seek out male attention to be noticed. I mean, as if Laena was not beautiful enough for a man to notice her without her having to throw herself at him? But it doesn't stop there. They managed to erase her relationship with Rhaenyra, reducing it all to some repulsive scenario of pitting two women against each other for a man, the complete opposite of what happened in the source material, in addition of making Laena the ‘other woman’, the lesser desired one, and the unwanted wife, in her relationship with Daemon. And let not forget the trauma-porn inflicted on her WoC body in that violent and traumatic death, which is a complete bastardisation of an invented only-show concept of “a woman dying a dragon rider death” - whatever that means. Apparently, once Laena became mixed-race in the show, she became some thirsty, miserable, completely isolated woman, willing to go along with only being good enough as a second choice to her white husband, and dies violently by suicide instead of the beloved and cherished woman full of strength and humanity we have in her white woman depiction from F&B. The same abhorrent treatment was inflicted onto Baela and Rhaena, both written as some wallpapers and empty headed mute dolls with no layered personalities and no real wants of their owns, just willing to go along with anything, even to their own detriment (this includes Rhaenyra’s bastards sons taking precedent over them for Driftmark), as long as it favors and bolsters the causes and the ambition of Rhaenyra - the woman their father married just few weeks after their mother's funeral.

Avoiding Bigoted depictions:

a) Some of the tokenism arguments can also be applied to the showrunners/writers’ decision to depict Ser Criston Cole as a brown man of Dornish descent, which already comes with its own in-world racial undertones, while being very hell-bent on portraying his character as an emotional, thuggish, and resentment-driven character, who got his positions as hand-me-downs from two white women, instead of the intelligent, calculated man, always in control of his emotions, and above all, driven by ambition, and who got to the highest position of knighthood in Westeros by the merits of his own competence, as he was described as in his White-coded version in F&B. This illustrates once more the showrunners/writers’ incapability of understanding the tokenistic nature of their racial representation. Also, maybe unaware, and oblivious to their own bigotry on display in what they were implying here, the showrunners/writers went with the problematic trope of the savage, misogynist, and violent brown man for this character. And the fact that they decided to deliberately frame this brown man as some misogynist and vindictive man, unreasonable and unjustified in his anger towards his sexual predator when he is the victim of sexual assault in that “Rhaenyra’s sexual empowerment” episode, just disgusts me. As if his feelings and the shame he felt from the whole ordeal the next day, as a person, was to be dismissed or worst, mocked. The optics of the showrunners narratively dismissing his trauma while they have decided to change his race in the show, just highlights once more the racist undertone we have in the writing of some of the characters in this show. It also illustrates how out of touch the people behind this show are when it comes to representing power and racial dynamisms in a sensible way.

b) Larys Strong is the first disabled character we see on screen with his clubfoot and someone in the writing room though that it was a great idea to then transform him into some deviant sexual predator who gets off by fetishizing FEET. You cannot make this up! The showrunners/writers also butchered his character by making him the confirmed and sole murderer of his father and brother, when in the books, 3 other characters, Corlys, Viserys and Daemon, were also plausible culprits for that crime - but they are all Team Black so better whitewash them all and put it all on the disabled and only Team Green character that was also under suspicions for this murder. And all to see Alicent’s feet, ladies, and gentlemen! Instead of the enigmatic, calculated, and ambitious character we have depicted in F&B, the showrunners/writers made Larys Strong into some outdated caricature and despicable representation of a disabled character, embodiment of all of the devious and negative traits, by equating being disabled with being devious in morality and mentally. It is just a vile way to represent disabled characters, quite akin to the way they were viewed in medieval times as bearer of bad intentions/evilness, which also confirms the ableism and the hollow activism we have behind the scenes of this show.

Avoiding anachronistic representations:

a) Equating Alicent to a 'Woman for Trump' - a misogynist and reductive slur used within a very 21st century USA political discourse - while portraying a woman supposed to be within a setting mirroring medieval Europe, just shows the lack of culture, and of historical knowledge we have in this writers’ room.

b) Anachronistic girl boss characterisation: Rhaenys is written as a vessel to peddle nonsensical 21st century notions of White feminism, a hollow wannabe and anachronistic girl boss, spouting anachronistic speeches, while the show completely removed any agencies from most female characters, and took strong female characters from the original story and turned them into some victims of situations, none of their own doing of course, who constantly cry and are afraid of making any decisions, all while most of their negative traits are given to the male characters, absolute monsters and responsible for all woes that afflict the female characters. Also, Rhaenyra is whitewashed into some girl boss and some absurd notion of a ‘modern politician’ - modern in which historical period, no one knows – who spouts drivels like ‘when I am queen, I will make a new order’, to brazenly pander to Daenerys’ fanbase, when both women are nothing alike, except for the fact that both are Targaryen women.

4. Follow the source material and not thematically rewrite the Dance:

No Aegon I prophecy or dream. Maintain the Targaryens as the ruthless colonialists they are instead of trying to justify their reason to brutally colonise a whole continent. As a person from the African continent, this is not the kind of rhetoric I would like to see peddle, justifying colonisation in the name of some superior purpose.

No white stag apparition coming to anoint our Saint Disneyesque Girlboss Rhaenyra to rule. This is insulting to the intellect of people who want to see complex storytelling.

Completely rewrite the dreadful Episode 9 and make it as close as possible to the book’s depiction of the Green Council.

No Girlboss moment for Rhaenys, murdering hundreds of peasants and ruining Aegon’s coronation.

Erasing that bullshit about Alicent confusing Viserys last words and make the Green reason to crown Aegon and Helaena based on tradition and precedents, as in F&B, and not based on some feeble concept such as the King’s word. We are not in an Absolute Monarchy here, but the uncultured idiots we have behind this show don’t even know the difference.

Not erasing fat women representation with Rhaenyra and Helaena when you claim to be such ‘feminist’ and ‘inclusive’ show. Where is the inclusion of different female body shapes? Or are they not worthy of representation? Instead, we have one of your showrunners (the incompetent Sara Hess) using fatphobic language to make it seem like it is weird for a woman’s body to evolve after several pregnancies.

Showing women on the Green side (Alicent or Helaena) going through their pregnancies and giving birth.

Not erasing Helaena in her own coronation.

Not infantilising Helaena and making her a side character in some other characters story (Aegon, Jace).

Showing the Green kids with their dragons in Season 1. As it was portrayed in HotD, most casual viewers don’t realise that in real Targaryen fashion, those kids should have their dragons around them in most official displays (side eyeing the whole dragon pit debacle here).

Where is Sunfyre and a clear view of Dreamfyre?

Making Vhagar roar when Aemond eye was slashed.

Making one of the adult correct Baela’s and Rhaena’s wrong assumption that Aemond stole Vhagar. Why did the incompetent showrunners/writers even insinuate that foolishness in the first place without having one of the adults rectify the Dragon lore? We all know that it was to paint Aemond as the villain in this situation.

Making it more evident that Rhaenyra meant torture when she said, ‘sharply questioned’.

Why was Daeron and Maelor absent?

Not making the Dragon/owner bond murkier with that shitty and useless singing session from Daemon in Episode 10, when it is canon that one rider cannot have 2 dragons at the same time to ride. Surely Daemon, as verse into Valyrian lore as they proclaim him to be, should be aware of that. This is just confusing the casual viewers.

Using Mushroom's accounts for both the Greens and the Blacks – if I am using them at all.

Not erasing Mysaria’s miscarriage as it is part of her characterisation.

Not claiming to wanting to make a 50/50 adaptation when BTS the showrunner Ryan Condal is using gobbledygook such as ‘they made Aegon usurps his sister Rhaenyra’s throne’, when, by all Westerosi tradition and precedents, Aegon could not usurp what is already lawfully his as the first-born son of the King.

For the book version of the Dance, I don’t have much to change to be honest:

I would have significantly toned down the Daemon’s fest.

I would have made the Velaryon more neutral or playing both sides, with a strategic splitting of the House to support both sides.

I would have made some of the Houses change team, like for example, making the Royces in the Vale side with the Greens, splitting the allegiances in the Vale, to better illustrate how profoundly divided the whole Realm becomes with the war of succession.

The Redwynes (which I would have made the maternal side of Alicent) and most of the Reach would have sided with the Greens.

I would have betrothed Daeron to one of the other powerful Houses in the Reach.

No Wolf Hour.

No army pulled out of nowhere in the Riverlands after Aemond reduces them to crisp. Instead, some part of the Vale army would make the bulk of it.

Finally, no Jaehaera death. That was just petty and quite stupid writing from GRRM with no logical justification as to why she needed to die. No need for the “most sexy 6 years old” to ever exist in the story.

Jaehaera and Aegon III will have their children, who mostly have no real impact on the Targaryen line anyways, apart from Daena the Defiant who gave birth to House Blackfyre.

[ukrfeminism]

Boys are watching violent porn on their smartphones then going on to attack girls, police have said, as new data showed children are now the biggest perpetrators of sexual abuse against other children.

Police data shows there has been a quadrupling of sexual offences against children, in what officers say is the most authoritative analysis of offending against youngsters.

The report from the National Police Chiefs’ Council (NPCC) said the offending by adults against children was usually more serious, but said they were alarmed by the growth of sexual offending by those aged 17 or under.

In one case a child of four was referred to police after allegedly using a smartphone to upload an indecent image of a sibling. Police declined to give any more details.

In 2022 a total of 107,000 reports were made to police in England and Wales alleging sexual offences against children, ranging from rapes and, in a quarter of cases, to the making and sharing of indecent images.

The NPCC said 52% of alleged offenders were children, compared with around one third a decade ago.

Police received reports of 14,800 rapes and sexual assaults against children aged 10 to 17 where the suspect was classed as a child, the overwhelming majority being boys.

Ian Critchley, the NPCC lead for child protection, said: “This is predominantly a gender-based crime of boys committing offences against girls.

“I think that is being exacerbated by the accessibility of violent pornography and the ease with which violent pornography is accessible to boys and, therefore, a perception that is [normal] behaviour, and that person can carry out that behaviour that they are seeing online in the most violent way against other peers as well.

“Clearly the accessibility to smartphones has just rocketed, not just in relation to 11- to 16-year-olds, but in relation to under-10s as well. That accessibility has really exacerbated that and I think this is a debate that does need to be had in our society.”

A third of attacks take place within the family, the most common setting for abuse, and eight out of 10 victims knew their attacker.

Police said it is estimated as few as one in six offences are reported to them.

Critchley said the clear-up rate – where someone is charged or cautioned – was 12% where a child is physically attacked and 11% for indecent images offences. The clear-up rate for child-on-child attacks is 15% for sexual assault and 12% for rape.

He said offences involving AI were already being reported to police. These include “nudification” where the photo of a person – usually female – is digitally stripped of clothing to make it appear as if they are naked.

The National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC) announced it was increasing the capacity and raising awareness of its helpline through which adults can report suspicions about child abuse. The charity last month said it was taking 14 months for a defendant in a child abuse case to stand trial after being charged, placing a greater strain on victims.

Wendy Hart, the deputy director for child sexual abuse at the National Crime Agency, said about 830,000 adults in the United Kingdom are estimated to pose a danger to children. “The severity of offending has increased, as have the complexities faced by law enforcement in tackling it,” she added.

“We are now seeing hyperrealistic images and videos of abuse being created using artificial intelligence, for example, while the rollout of end-to-end encryption by technology platforms makes it a lot more difficult for us to protect children.”

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine the beast pirates learning you are a criminal mastermind

Kaido: *going over a cargo manifest* we will sell these in Port Chugal, prepare them for shipment.

King: Port Chugal won't buy pirate goods anymore, the world government found out they've been trading with us, so they replaced the king there.

Kaido: That's the third distribution market I've had to change in the last month. First the Bourgeois Kingdom, then Ballywood, and now Port Chugal. How are they finding my warehouses?

Queen: we don't know at the moment, but we're working on it

You: *King's assistant* I would like to point out something that all three have in common.

King: Silence.

Kaido: let em talk, I want to hear what they have to say.

You: they were all common stops on Captain Rondow's transport route, who was captured almost three months ago by the world government.

Kaido: You think the poor bastard broke under torture?

You: It appears so, and from the other reports we're getting I'm guessing they have figured out how you conduct your exportation operation. *Hands King the reports*

King: *Skims them* we spent years building this system.

You: which means building another will be faster this time. I'm guessing how they're locating our goods is by the fact that while it's labeled under a company that doesn't have any paperwork officially filed in countries we claim it's from.

Kaido: what are we supposed to do, get a business permit?

You: yes, but actually no. Now any new businesses from any nations in your territory will come under scrutiny by the world government. So I think we should find any failing, but long-established companies, and bail them out in exchange for slipping our illicit cargo into their product distribution.

King: that... might actually work, but there's no way we can guarantee their loyalty.

You: that's why you give them a small percentage of the profits and gather blackmail material. Most rich people are sick fucks will have skeletons in their closet, you just have to look for it.

Kaido: I'll entrust the task to you, and in the meantime we'll have Yamato fill in for you with King.

King: what! No! Your son is... not great at paperwork.

Kaido: Sorry bud, but I'd like to see what they can do on their own, so I'm setting them loose.

Returns from setting up the new network seven months later

Kaido: I just got the finance report for the last quarter

You: *literally just got off the boat* Sir?

King: Your network is more efficient than what we had set up.

Kaido: you're getting promoted, so you can manage it from here.

You: But I was really looking forward to working with King again.

Kaido: then you'll work under him not me.

You: I'm keeping my desk in your office.

King: For someone who ruthlessly castrated a man to get him to do what they wanted, you are very clingy and sentimental.

You: I was well within my rights to revoke that man's dick privilege, you had no idea how man people he's assaulted. I did that town a fucking favor by pickling that man's junk

Kaido: you pickled it!

You: Yes I did, how else, so you think I got an entire town to look the other way about our ships coming into the harbor?

Kaido: I never would have thought of that... You know when I met you I never would have guessed you'd be an asset to my operations. You seemed too soft and naive, too kind.

You: *shrugs* Well thank you for thinking I'm kind, but I just so happen to hate you less than the world government, and you have more money than the revolutionary army. And Lin Lin and her family freaks me out.

King: don't forget Akagami and Whitebeard won't hire you since you've worked with us.

You: *clicks your tongue* and I regret it every day.

Coming Soon

[paganimagevault]

Ai Khanoum 3rd C. BCE - 2nd C. CE. More images on my blog, link at bottom.

"These wise sayings of men of old, The words of famous men, are consecrated At holy Delphi, where Klearchos copied them from carefully To set them up, shining from afar, in the sanctuary of Kineas.

As a child, be well behaved; As a young man, self-controlled; In middle age, be just; As an elder, be of good counsel; And when you come to the end, be without grief.

—trans. of Ai Khanoum stele by Shane Wallace and Rachel Mairs.

Ai-Khanoum (/aɪ ˈhɑːnjuːm/, meaning Lady Moon; Uzbek Latin: Oyxonim) is the archaeological site of a Hellenistic city in Takhar Province, Afghanistan. The city, whose original name is unknown, was likely founded by an early ruler of the Seleucid Empire and served as a military and economic centre for the rulers of the Greco-Bactrian Kingdom until its destruction c. 145 BC. Rediscovered in 1961, the ruins of the city were excavated by a French team of archaeologists until the outbreak of conflict in Afghanistan in the late 1970s.

The city was probably founded between 300 and 285 BC by an official acting on the orders of Seleucus I Nicator or his son Antiochus I Soter, the first two rulers of the Seleucid dynasty. There is a possibility that the site was known to the earlier Achaemenid Empire, who established a small fort nearby. Ai-Khanoum was originally thought to have been a foundation of Alexander the Great, perhaps as Alexandria Oxiana, but this theory is now considered unlikely. Located at the confluence of the Amu Darya (a.k.a. Oxus) and Kokcha rivers, surrounded by well-irrigated farmland, the city itself was divided between a lower town and a 60-metre-high (200 ft) acropolis. Although not situated on a major trade route, Ai-Khanoum controlled access to both mining in the Hindu Kush and strategically important choke points. Extensive fortifications, which were continually maintained and improved, surrounded the city.

Many of the present ruins date from the time of Eucratides I, who substantially redeveloped the city and who may have renamed it Eucratideia, after himself. Soon after his death c. 145 BC, the Greco-Bactrian kingdom collapsed—Ai-Khanoum was captured by Saka invaders and was generally abandoned, although parts of the city were sporadically occupied until the 2nd century AD. Hellenistic culture in the region would persist longer only in the Indo-Greek kingdoms.

It is likely that Ai-Khanoum was already under attack by nomadic tribes when Eucratides was assassinated in around 144 BC. This invasion was probably carried out by Saka tribes driven south by the Yuezhi peoples, who in turn formed a second wave of invaders, in around 130 BC. The treasury complex shows signs of having been plundered in two assaults, fifteen years apart.

Although the first assault led to the end of Hellenistic rule in the city, Ai-Khanoum continued to be inhabited; it remains unknown whether this reoccupation was effected by Greco-Bactrian survivors or nomadic invaders. During this time, public buildings such as the palace and sanctuary were repurposed as residential dwellings and the city maintained some semblance of normality: some sort of authority, possibly cultish in origin, encouraged the inhabitants to reuse the raw building materials now freely available in the city for their own ends, whether for construction or trade. A silver ingot engraved with runic letters and buried in a treasury room provides support for the theory that the Saka occupied the city, with tombs containing typical nomadic grave goods also being dug into the acropolis and the gymnasium. The reoccupation of the city was soon terminated by a huge fire. It is unknown when the final occupants of Ai-Khanoum abandoned the city. The final signs of any habitation date from the 2nd century AD; by this time, more than 2.5 metres (8.2 ft) of earth had accumulated in the palace.

While on a hunting trip in 1961, the King of Afghanistan, Mohammed Zahir Shah, rediscovered the city. An archaeological delegation, led by Paul Bernard, unearthed the remains of a huge palace in the lower town, along with a large gymnasium, a theatre capable of holding 6,000 spectators, an arsenal, and two sanctuaries. Several inscriptions were found, along with coins, artefacts, and ceramics. The onset of the Soviet-Afghan War in the late 1970s halted scholarly progress and during the following conflicts in Afghanistan, the site was extensively looted."

-taken from Wikipedia

...

"The silver ingot engraved with runic characters found during the excavations of the Treasury could suggest they were Sakā/Sai. This inscription comprises 21 characters of a script and a language that are unknown and both attributed to nomadic people of Sakā origin, by comparison with a dozen similar inscriptions coming from an area extending from Ghazni in Afghanistan to Almaty in Kazakhstan, and dated between the 5th century BC and the 8th century AD."

-taken from Ai Khanoum after 145 BC: The Post-Palatial Occupation by Laurianne Martinez-Sève, University of Lille, 2018

[oneatlatime]

Atla Season 2 episodes in one sentence

Why is the Earth Kingdom so stupid?

Justice for Song and Songs for Sokka

Azula gets the band back together

The Gaang gets gaslit by swamp gas

In which we meet the Common Clay of the New West

If this little goblin turns out to be a one episode character I WILL start chewing the furniture

Why Zuko is like that

Pretty sure this counts as animal abuse

Zuko learns Uno Reverse

Dude where's my Sky Bison?

A damn good reason to give up pacifism

Sokka nearly breaks the world record for long distance threesome

What'll it be? A penetration joke or a bukkake joke?

Man, fuck this place. Fuck it so much.

Hello children would you like to feel? No? Too bad

Yikes I used the animal abuse line too soon

Not gonna lie I'd trade Jet for Appa any day

I have discovered why the Earth Kingdom is so stupid

Aang breaks the Avatar State while Toph breaks the laws of physics while Hakoda breaks through his son's insecurities while Katara breaks Zuko and Iroh's cover while Azula breaks the Earth Kingdom while Bato breaks just a little more inside because how's a man supposed to hold up under a multi-generational dad joke assault?

Zuko makes the wrong decision for the wrong reasons and it actually kind of works out for once (unless you're anyone but Zuko)

[fantasybooktournament]

Book Reveals for Round 1 of Mystery Book Tournament

titles and descriptions under the cut

The One with The Obnoxious Legal System is A Conspiracy of Truths by Alexandra Rowland

The world's most obnoxious old man has been arrested for charges of witchcraft by the world's most obnoxious legal system. The story follows him utilizing every tool at his disposal to escape death including his fruity apprentice, his ever-tired lawyer, and most of all stories. Half of this book is the old man telling a story to someone he is either trying to sway, trick, or simply entertain.

The One with the Rightful Heir is Magyk by Angie Sage

A child soldier nearly freezes to death and so must join the escape of the rightful heir, a powerful wizard, and the rightful heir's bumbling dad, brother and dog.

The One with No Indoor Plumbing is In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

Have you ever thought ‘hey going to a magical fantasy land might suck a little’? Our intrepid hero has been invited to a school for future heroes in a land of elves and trolls, harpies and mermaids…and there’s no indoor plumbing. Also they’re training children as warriors and have little to no respect for diplomacy.

The One with Vampires and Farms is The Queen of Darkness by Miguel Connor

In the far-flung future, the earth is irradiated and vampires rule the world. Humans are kept in farms, and our protagonist is sent to one to learn about an illness that is appearing in the humans which can infect and kill vampires. There he learns about the human cult, and gets told by them that vampires were once human.

The One with Possessed Nuns is Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson

A young nun in fantasy-France lets a powerful revenant take possession of her body in order to protect her monastery from possessed soldiers. No one believes she can possibly control the evil creature, but as she uncovers a sinister plot at the very heart of her country, she finds herself growing closer to the revenant by the day.

The One that Becomes Queernormative is A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows

Protagonist starts off in a queer phobic society and is bound to marry a girl from the neighboring kingdom against his wishes, being gay. When his sexuality is dramatically revealed after he's being assaulted, the political bets seem off, but the other kingdom is queernormative and instead offers to marry him to his bride's brother instead.

The One with Sisters and Unsuitable Men is An Earthly Knight by Janet McNaughto

The main character's older sister has run away with an unsuitable man so it's up to her to marry a suitable one. But as she worries for her sister and hopes to find her, she encounters a strange man, rumored to have been kidnapped by the fae.

The One with the Magic Italian Notebook is City of Masks by Mary Hoffman

The main character, a young boy, is seriously ill but his life is transformed when an old Italian notebook gives him the power to become a stravagante, a time traveler with access to 16th century Italy. He wakes up in another time and place during carnival time and meets a girl his own age who is disguised as a boy in the hope of being selected as one of the Duchessa's mandoliers. Political intrigue ensues.

The One with the War Against Colonizers is Fire Logic by Laurie J Marks

The last living member of a border tribe, a deadly philosopher-soldier, a truth-seer, a gentle man, and a man who can see the future form a beautifully queer family around a drug-addicted blacksmith who holds the power of the land itself so that she can end the war against colonizers that has continued for 30 years

The One with the Healer's Quest is Dreamer's Pool by Juliet Marillier

The first in a mystery fantasy trilogy about a wrongfully imprisoned healer and her quiet but strong prison friend who get busted out of prison by an otherworld being. In exchange, for seven years she must endeavor to help anyone who asks for it. A gentle local prince has fallen for his fiance through their sweet and poetic correspondence but is shocked by her cruelty when she arrives, can the healer discovers what has happened and help solve his problem?

The One with Imaginary Friends is Hexwood by Diana Wynne Jones

A pre-teen girl who relies heavily on the advice of her four imaginary friends goes into the local patch of woodlands one day and discovers it's much bigger on the inside. There, she meets a depressed sorcerer/assassin who makes a child out of her blood and his to fight against his enemies on another planet. Meanwhile, someone on Earth has started up a machine that's said to be able to make dreams come true, and this is a big problem for the evil interstellar megacorp that's been dumping prisoners on Earth and stealing their flint.

The One with a Time-Traveling Dragon/Furnace is If That Breathes Fire, We're Toast! by Jennifer J. Stewart

A boy moves with his mom to a new place where he meets a girl and a time-traveling dragon/furnace who teaches him about himself.

The One with the Multiverse is Nine Princes in Amber by Roger Zelazny

An amnesiac man finds himself embroiled in deadly political scheming, thrust into a strange multiverse in the hope of trying to claim from out under his various rival siblings feet the throne to the city at the center of reality.

The One with Mage Trials is Spellslinger by Sebastian de Castell

In a magical society one must complete their mages trials by 16, or else become a slave to that society for the rest of their life. The main character is a 15-year-old boy who has one last chance to complete his trials. Only, his magic is gone. With his fate looming, he meets a mysterious traveling stranger who shows him a different path than the one that has been laid out for him by his people.

The One with the Loser Noble Scholar is Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

Loser noble scholar shacks up with the best swordsman of the city and makes him fight a bunch of duels mostly out of boredom but also a bit because of politics. Feels slice of life ish though there are stakes

The One with the Nonbinary Cleric is The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo

In this novella set in an imperial Chinese inspired fantasy world, a nonbinary cleric investigates the story of an empress and her ...controversial rise to the throne, as told by an elderly handmaiden who knew her.

The One with Geese is Thorn by Intisar Khanani

Between her cruel family and the contempt she faces at court, the Princess has always longed to escape the confines of her royal life. But when she’s betrothed to the powerful prince, the princess embarks on a journey to his land with little hope for a better future. When a mysterious and terrifying sorceress robs the princess of both her identity and her role as princess, the girl seizes the opportunity to start a new life for herself as a goose girl.

The One with the Teenage Witch Coven is The Scapegracers by H. A. Clarke

Lesbian teenage witch accidentally becomes adopted by popular girls. They form a coven and vow to get revenge on those who have been wronged. Chaos ensues.

The One with the Angel and the Demon is When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

A demon and an angel decide to go to de goldene medina to search for a girl they know who's disappeared on the way over.

The One with an Unsettling Future is Zel by Donna Jo Napoli

High in the mountains, a young girl lives with her mother, who insists they have all they need -- for they have each other. The girl's life is peaceful and protected -- until a chance encounter changes everything. When she meets a beautiful young prince at the market one day, she is profoundly moved by new emotions. But the girl's mother sees the future unfolding -- and she will do the unspeakable to prevent her daughter from leaving her...

The One with the Bioweapon is Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

It's post an apocalypse, that was started by a cult, that twists people into horrible body horror monsters. A trans boy raised in the cult is infected with a bioweapon by them and shortly after escapes. He joins a group of queer teens where he finds friends a community, and he bands together with them to take down the cult.

The One with Arabian Nights AND Hades & Persephone is Keturah and Lord Death by Martine Leavitt

Arabian Nights + Hades and Persephone! A mysterious danger plagues an unexpected kingly visit, and a young woman embarks on a quest to find her one true love before all is lost...

The One with the Lion is Sarah's Lion by Margaret Greaves

A princess longs to travel so is locked in her room. A lion comes to her. Eventually, she has to choose whether she will stay or go.

The One with the War Veteran is The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold

War veteran with chronic pain contracted by a goddess to save her chosen queen

[reashot]

To celebrate my mother day's Fic for reaching 100 likes and reblog. I can finally show y'all what the Arc kids are supposed to look like and who they are for the sequel:

https://www.tumblr.com/reashot/717409273449234432/happy-mothers-day-feat-jaunes-future-children?source=share

Dusk Belladonna

Gender:♀️

Age: 10.

Semblance: Invisibility (she can made her self invisible for few seconds.)

Weapon: N/A. (She doesn't have or want one.)

Favorite foods: Anything with fish but prefers Tuna.

Likes: Mommy, Daddy, Being alone.

Dislikes: Dogs, crowds, stranger.

Character Desc:

Dusk Belladonna is the daughter Blake and Jaune which means she is also the daughter of both human and Faunus. In her timeline Human and Faunus achieved true equality and mutual respect with one another. It was not easy and although Dusk herself does not know the sacrifice needed to achieve it, even she knows that it's something to be cherished and protected. Quiet, reserved and preferring the company of close associates. She is still expected to one day lead Menagerie and all of Faunuskind. A decision that she is also unaware of. But her parents are against it. Instead wanting her to enjoy her childhood for as long as she can before the fated day.

Scarlett Rose-Arc.

Gender: ♀️

Age: 17.

Semblance: Petal Storm. (An upgraded form of Ruby's Semblance.)

Weapon: Crescent Rose MK. 20. (A.K.A. the Geneva Violator.)

Favorite foods: Strawberry Shortcake.

Likes: Spending time with family, weapons, fighting.

Dislikes: Bully, Bugs, Rainy day.

Character Desc:

Scarlett like Ruby is both a powerful fighter and a genius weapon inventor. Her weapon is the Crescent Rose MK. 20. A Scythe, Voulge, grenade launcher, assault riffle and sniper rifle combination weapon. In practice such a weapon should not be able to work but she and Ruby managed to made it work. This essentially turns her into a one woman army. But even though she’s a formidable warrior she still not yet able to beat her older brother Vermillion in a fight. Something which annoys her.

Victor Arc (formerly a Schnee)

Gender: ♂️

Age: 20.

Semblance: Glyph. (Has been shown able to summon a small army worth of Grimm.)

Weapon: Myrtenaster,

Favorite Foods: Sushi.

Likes: Seeing her mother dead, his little sister, cute things. (In that order.)

Dislikes: His mother, Atlas, Incompetent people. (himself)

Character Desc:

Victor Schnee or now known as Victor Arc was once a former Scion of the Schnee Household. Is the son of Jaune Arc and although he hates to admit it, he is also the son of Weiss Schnee. In his timeline the world is broken in every sense of the word. In his world. War has engulfed Remnant. And the scale of destruction is beyond comprehension. Continents shattered, sea boiled over, even the very air turned against you, All courtesy of the Superweapon created by the SDC. Of course many tried to stop the war from happening and all failed, Even Jaune Schnee died trying to stop it. His dead however is proven to be the catalyst for the tragedy. After his death something broke inside of Weiss. Despaired and Enraged by her husband’s death. Weiss reorganized the Kingdom of Atlas into the Atlesian Empire and declared war on everyone. With Victor serving as her right hand man. Working under her Victor is responsible for many of the Empire’s victory and her atrocity. He himself is directly responsible for numerous warcrimes and even genocide against the Faunus. Victor is also credited for killing Ruby Rose and for capturing Blake. Back home in Atlas he was hailed as hero for this feats. It’s only until much later that he regretted his action. And came to hate his own mother so far as to wanting her dead. While she's the one that broke the world, he still blame himself for helping her doing it.

Aurum Arc

Gender: ♂️

Age: 30-40.

Semblance: Ignite. (He is able to heat up the surface of any object he touch. If you seen the hot knife video on YouTube it’s pretty much like that.)

Weapon: Prominence Flame. (A Greatsword of the big-ass variety.)

Favorite foods: Homecooked meal. (he ain’t picky.)

Likes: Justice, protecting innocents, helping people.

Dislikes: Injustice, Villain, Laziness.

Character Desc:

As the oldest of the 12 sibling, Aurum is also born the weakest among his siblings. Born prematurely many did not expect him to survive childhood. But he refused to give up. Motivated by stories of warriors of old and the story of his father. He continues pushing his limit. And to the surprise of everyone he not only survive past childhood but he actually starts growing taller and stronger compared to other children his age. So strong in fact that in the age of 15 he managed to kill a Dragon Grimm. By the age of 17 he joined the Arc Knights. And in the age 20 rose through the rank and become the youngest captain of the group. A rank that he still hold to this day. Despite his achievement however he still found himself lacking behind his father and he made a promise that he will surpass the Grandmaster, Jaune Arc himself.

Vermillion Rose-Arc.

???

Scarlett's older brother will finally make his true debut in the next fic. So till then just wait my lovely readers. You will be mildly surprised.

And if there's anything you want to ask just leave a message, I'll try to answer it as best as I can.

And do tell me which one is your favorite?