#Canal Insult

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

ℌ𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔠 - ℭ𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔷𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔐𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔯

[dartalias]

One of the reasons i love reading Kyoshi is her inter monalogue and something i love about it is that she knows about agriculture and its just randomly using this knowledge in her head

(And in her pettiness)

Like in the Daofei city they were worriedly explaining to her how sad and bad it is that they are tied up with a gruop called "Autumn flower society" that have "moon peaches" as their simbol, and how dangerous they were

And Kyoshi first thoght was "moon peaches bloom in the spring, idiots, but of corse they wouldn't know that, they're daofei not farmers"

Or the amont of times they go to a new place and the firt thing she does is cassify the soil as good/bad to plant things

Kyoshi herself acknowledge this trait of hers sometimes

Like she is doing a ditch with earthbending and being like "See that Yokoya??? I can plow land too, i could be a great farmer"

Or when shes eating dust being like "its not eating, its testing, spirits why did i have to know that???"

Love my avatar farmer girly with criminal and artistic genes

[thedemoninme141]

Woeful Tooth. (set in the "Not A Bad Day" universe)

Summary: Wednesday doesn't want to go to the dentist.

Theme: FLUFF!!!

Pairings: Wednesday x Fem Reader. Theme: Fluff! Set in the "after dating" period.

Warnings: Root Canal?!?

Thanks for the insight @cobaltperun

You weren’t one to overthink—well, not much. But the subtle shift in Wednesday’s mood was undeniable. After dating her for months, you had come to learn every expression she wore, no matter how imperceptible it might seem to others.

And right now, something was wrong.

And while Wednesday Addams wasn’t exactly the conversational type, her words now came in curt whispers, that might not alarm anyone else, but it worried you.

In the past few days, her choices leaned exclusively toward soft foods like soups, puddings, and smoothies. And Wednesday eating puddings? That scared you.

“Mashed potatoes, Wednesday?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She leveled you with a glare. “They are not mashed potatoes. They are boiled tubers, pulverized into an unrecognizable state… much like most victims in my books. I find their texture fascinating.”

“You hate soft foods,” you countered, leaning forward. “Last week, you said pudding was ‘an insult to the human palate.’”

She didn’t respond, instead taking an excruciatingly slow bite, her jaw moving in a way that looked… wrong. She was chewing… carefully?

“Oh my god. You’re in pain,” you blurted, a mix of concern and frustration bubbling up.

Wednesday’s hand twitched, the only sign that you’d struck a nerve. “Your imagination is as dramatic as Enid’s wardrobe. I’m fine.”

“She’s not fine,” Enid chirped from her side of the table, “She’s been super moody these days.”

You shot her a look. “When isn’t she moody?”

“Good point.”

Wednesday stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “If this riveting discussion of my character flaws is over, I have more pressing matters to attend to.” Without another word, she strode off, leaving you and Enid.

You didn’t confront her again until later that evening in her dorm, “Alright, spill it.”

Wednesday raised a single eyebrow, still not looking at you. “I’ve spilled nothing.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, weirder than usual. You’re always quiet but how did you get quieter than quiet? And don’t get me started on your sudden love affair with soft foods. Care to explain what’s going on?"

"Is this a lovers’ quarrel? Do I need to—" Enid just entered the room,

"Enid, no," you interrupted. "Enid, yes," Enid countered, smirking. You ignored her and turned back to Wednesday. "I’m serious. Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been eating soft foods, avoiding anything crunchy, and barely talking. That’s not you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Wednesday.” Still nothing.

“Enid, start blasting pop music until she cracks.” You ordered,

"On it mam," Enid smirked going for her laptop.

At that, Wednesday sighed—an actual sigh—and turned to face you. “You are as relentless as the Grim Reaper, though far less charming.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “If you must know, I’m experiencing a mild inconvenience. It’s nothing worth discussing.”

You tilted your head, studying her. “Define ‘mild.’”

“An intermittent, dull ache.”

“In English?”

She scowled. “A toothache.”

“Wait, you have a tooth problem?” Enid’s grin widened. “This is hilarious.”

“I fail to see the humor,” Wednesday deadpanned.

“I’m calling the dentist,” you announced.

“No, you are not.”

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She crossed her arms, “Pain builds character.”

“Pain builds cavities if you don’t deal with it,” you shot back.

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I enjoy the pain. It’s a constant reminder of mortality, a delightful ache that—”

“Stop. Just stop,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re not romanticizing a toothache right now.”

“You are overreacting,” she said coolly.

“And you’re underreacting!” you replied, unable to hold back any longer.

Enid laughed. “This is way better than the TV shows Yoko watches.”

You pointed a finger at Wednesday. “If you think I’m letting that tooth-problemed mouth anywhere near my things—” “What things?” Enid interrupted. You ignored her, focusing on Wednesday’s icy glare. “—then you’ve got another thing coming.” Wednesday stood abruptly, somehow towering over you despite her "height".

“I refuse to be dragged into some sterile torture chamber.”

“Oh, you’re being dragged, alright.”

You grabbed her hand, your grip firm despite her half-hearted attempts to wriggle free.

“This is a violation of my autonomy,” she hissed as you pulled her toward the door. “You’ll thank me later.” “You’re insufferable,” Wednesday muttered. “I love you too,” you replied Behind you, Enid called out, “WHAT THINGS?”

"This place reeks of mundanity," Wednesday muttered. You sighed, gripping her hand, which she allowed but did not return. "Wednesday, it’s a dentist’s office, not a dungeon." "I would prefer the dungeon," she replied dryly. Before you could respond, you heard the assistant's voice, "Wednesday Addams?" "That’s us," you said, standing and tugging Wednesday up with you.

"Well, I have some good news and some bad news," The dentist began. "Start with the bad," Wednesday said flatly. "Your tooth isn’t just decayed—it’s broken."

You blinked. "Broken? What do you mean broken?"

"It looks like it was fractured with blunt force—something hard enough to crack it deep into the root. That’s likely why you’ve been in so much pain."

You whipped around to face her. "Blunt force? What the hell, Wednesday? What did you do?"

Wednesday’s eyes flicked to you, her expression carefully blank. "Nothing of note."

"Wednesday…"

"I fail to see how this line of questioning is relevant," she replied.

You opened your mouth to press further, but the dentist interjected. "I understand this might be a surprise, but for now, let’s focus on treatment. We’ll start with a root canal to clean out the infection and save the tooth. It’s a multi-step process, so today we’ll address the infection and prep the area. Afterward, we’ll schedule a follow-up to place a crown and finalize the procedure."

You sighed, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to interrogate Wednesday. "Fine. Let’s just get it fixed."

The dentist nodded. "Alright, Wednesday, I’ll numb the area first, and then we’ll get started."

Wednesday didn’t even flinch as the needle approached. Instead, she shot you a pointed glance, as if daring you to comment. "She’s handling this easily," The dentist remarked as she drilled the decay. "Most people squirm a little." "Wednesday doesn’t squirm," you muttered, half in admiration, half in exasperation.

After about half an hour, the dentist stepped back, wiping her hands. "That’s the worst of it done. I’ve placed a temporary filling, but she’ll need to return for the crown placement. I’ll schedule the next appointment before you leave."

"Thanks, Doc," you said, relieved.

"Avoid eating anything hard or chewy until the permanent crown is in place. And no blunt force trauma to your mouth, please."

You shot Wednesday a look. She remained silent.

The bus ride back to Nevermore was quiet, You sat beside Wednesday, leaning your head against her shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you. "That wasn’t so bad," you murmured sleepily, your eyes drifting shut.

Wednesday didn’t respond, her gaze fixed straight ahead. But as the minutes ticked by, her eyes softened, shifting down to you. Your breathing was slow and even, your face peaceful against her shoulder.

Beating those boys in Weathervane, who Enid mentioned had made comments about you, was worth it. Even if it had cost her a tooth.

[Author's note: Trying to improve my one-shot writings more, how do you feel about this one? You guys can consider this is set in "Not A Bad Day"s universe, prolly after you two started dating, maybe I can write a one set on how Wednesday asked you out]

MORE ONESHOTS HERE--->WORKLIST

[kiame-sama]

I find Rollo a very interesting character because of his views on magic (My brain goes brrr for Rollo, Idia and Malleus)

Start of NRC: Darling being insulted by Ace *and basically everyone else* and is looked down upon because she doesn’t have any magic in a MAGIC School

Meanwhile in the Glorious Masquerade

Darling *Wearing a dress similar to Esmeralda*

Yan!Rollo *Looks at Darling like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world*

Yan!Malleus *Jealous Dragon Noises*

- Rollo is absolutely asking for a dance and doing everything he can to get to his beloved darling. What a vision of beauty untouched by magic and uncorrupted by the frivolous ways of mages. It broke his heart to hear his beloved was not only used to the behavior of mages but resigned to the chaos that always followed wherever they went. How could someone so pure and kind be friends with that loathsome Malleus Draconia?

- Malleus is displeased as can be if he sees his darling dancing with Rollo. Now, just because he hasn't made his claim over his beloved official doesn't mean she isn't his. Rollo not only insulted Malleus' pride with the false invitation, he also hurt Malleus' darling beloved by dropping them in the canal after the initial release of the fire lotus. Rollo was dangerous and Malleus needed to keep a closer eye on his beloved.

- Malleus has excellent eyesight and will not miss how Rollo swoons over you all night, furious to see the contending human male even try to get close to you. Rollo knows you are aware of his misdeeds and he bemoans the fact that you had seen him at his worst when he released the fire lotuses. He is hoping that your unending kindness will bring you to forgive his misdeeds and make an honest attempt at winning your heart. Malleus is painfully aware of this misguided thinking on Rollo's part, seeking to stop the arrogant human from even making an honest attempt.

[jyoongim]

~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life!fluff, smut, slow burn plot, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

————————————————————————

Chapter three chapter five

Chapter Four

“Oh darling look at you! And here I thought you wouldn’t give me grandchildren” your mother laughed as she hugged you.

Your mother had invited you and Alastor over since you had sent her a letter about some exciting news you wanted to share.

You didn’t know whether to take her comment as a compliment or insult.

”Why ain’t your husband with you? I know that man ain’t have you travel here all alone in your condition” she frowned displeased.

”Momma you know how busy Al is. He’s been trying to catch up on work so he can take time off for the baby” you pouted.

She sucked her teeth, before a smile dawned her face

”well that means we can go shopping! Have you decorated the nursery? Do you have a nursery? Oooh honey why don’t you come home when you have the baby? A newborn is a lot of work” she was ranting and you sighed, rubbing your heavy stomach.

”Momma im perfectly capable of taking care of my baby.  I’ve read all the books” your mother gave you a funny look

”books? Oh girl those books ain’t gonna help you. You need experience. Youre a first time mom, you have no instincts in raising a youngin ”

You pouted. You felt like a teenager being chastised.

You knew your mother meant well, but sometimes you had to stop her ‘good intentions’.

”Ill be fine. Alastor’s gonna be there and Im sure we can figure it out. Aint that what parenthood all about?”

She hummed “If you say, now lets head to town. I want my grandbaby to have the best!”

—————————————————————————-

You fanned yourself as you finally sat down. The summer heat was not kind to you as your mother had dragged you to every shop in town.

The two of you had finished up shopping and were now at a little restaurant. You smiled in thanks as the waiter sat a glass of cold water in front of you.

Your mother cooed as she looked over several items she had bought.

You think she was more excited than you and you were the pregnant one.

”Momma I think you overdid it. There’s no way the baby is gonna wear or use any of that” you mused, sipping the water.

She waved you off.

”so…how has Alastor handled the news?” She asked.

You blinked “he’s very excited. He says he don’t care about the gender, but he’s taken to thinking it’ll be a girl” you giggled.

”haha a girl? Oh no you’re definitely having a boy darling” she laughed.

You titled your head in confusion.

Your mother smirked “Your belly is big and low and you’re not even halfway through your term, that means you’re having a boy. ”

She continued “Most men want a boy on the first go. A scrappy boy is the jewel of every man’s pride”

You rubbed your stomach, smiling “Well it don’t matter im sure hell adore the baby no matter what”

She hummed and picked up the newspaper that was on the table.

The headline read ‘fifth body found in canal’

”Such a shame the authorities can’t find killer. Those poor souls. This is the fifth body that’s been found and practically in your backyard. You really need to careful dear” she said grimacing.

You weren’t too worried. All the victims were random, but they weren’t pregnant women. “I don’t think the killer is slaying harmless pregnant women momma”

She shrugged “Can never be too sure dear”

———————————————————————————

Alastor whistled as he cleaned the kitchen. Bright red water filled the sink as he wronged the sponge. You would have a fit if you saw the state of your kitchen and Alastor couldn’t have an upset wife.

You had went to visit your mother, thinking it was time to tell the woman that the two of you were expecting. You had wanted him to come along, but he thought it would be better if the two of you spent some time together.

So he took the time to go hunting. It had been a while since he had a good hunt and he had a taste for deer meat.

Once the kitchen was spotless, he discarded what he didn’t need into a bag. He headed down to the cellar with the rest of the trash.

He tied the bag and reached for the other one.

Hauling it back to the kitchen, he turned on the radio to listen to some tunes as he prepared to cook. You should have been coming home in a few hours and he was sure you would be hungry. It was rather hot today, so instead of slaving too much over the stove he opted for a simple stew.

He pulled the meat out of the bag and began to cut it.

He pulled a pot from the cabinet and filled it with  onions, carrots, and a little water were added into the pot as he cleaned the meat.

As the pot boiled, he plopped the meat in a pan to cook it down.

The kitchen filled with the smell of herbs and meat as he worked.

He added some seasoning to the meat and transferred the chopped meat to the pot.

He turned the heat low and let it simmer.

He nodded in satisfaction and took a look at himself. Disgusting

He was covered in blood. He sighed and went upstairs.

Light red swirled down the drain. Alastor rolled his neck, a soft pop was heard and he sighed in relief.

Once finished in the shower, he gathered the dirty clothes and headed out back in the yard.

He waved to the passing neighbors as thee fire crackled, a pleasant smile on his face.

Once the fire died down, he headed back inside to check on the stew.

He stirred it and turned it off.

He fixed a cold sweet tea and took a seat at the dining table.

His mind wandered to you. He wondered how you were fairing in this heat. He was sure you were ready to come home and relax. Your mother was a handful.

Your pregnancy was coming along nicely.

You had rounded out and now you sported a big belly. His cock twitched in his pants. He couldn’t believe how insatiable  he had become since you had become pregnant. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

You had transformed beautifully. You always seemed to be glowing, though you swore it was sweat. You had become incredibly sensitive, your mood swings putting you both through the ringer.

You had voiced your concern about your image as you had filled out nicely, gaining weight from the baby you now carried. You couldn’t fit any of your usual form fitting outfits, opting for loose dresses.

Alastor reassured you that you looked beautiful no matter what. He enjoyed a little meat being on your bones. 

You were softer and he loved every minute of it.

His eyes traveled to the pot, he wondered if you had ate. He really wanted to see how you would react to the meal he prepared. While you love his cooking, the baby was picking, which resulted in you being sick a lot.

The buzz from the hunt still rippled through him as his lips curled in a smile.

yeeesss how would his little wife enjoy the meal he prepared for her?

He made a mental note to take out the trash later but for now, he waited for you to return home as he opened a book about parenting. 

He should ask you what color you wanted the nursery….

——————————————————————————-

Your mouth watered as you came through the door “What did you cook Al it smells really good”

Your husband chuckled as he closed the book and walked over to you. You were trying to beeline it to the kitchen, but your husband wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to yours. He grinned as your stomach created a space between the two of you, running an affectionate hand over the bump “Well hello to you too my dear. How was your mother? I see the two of you went shopping” His eyes took in the amount of bags you brought back.

You huffed “Yea Ma would have bought out the entire store if I let her, i tell you I think she’s more happy about a grandbaby than when we got married”

Alastor coaxed you to the couch, smiling as you sighed as he massaged your aching back. He pressed soft kisses to your exposed shoulders “I didn’t know if you had ate already, so I made a stew. Let’s hope the baby like it. I read that warm foods were better than the ice cream you’ve been sneakng” he snickered as you pouted.

”Just relax a bit and Ill make you a bowl”

You smiled at him “I want crackers too!” You called after him.

Alastor returned with a steaming bowl of stew. It smells so good and your stomach growled in hunger. “I tried a different meat but I hope you like it my dear”

You thanked him and rolled your eyes as he picked up the spoon and held it to your mouth. You blew on it softly before chomping on the spoon.

Your tongue tingled as you savored the flavor. 

The meat was softer than you were use to, maybe pork or a different beef?

Whatever it was it was good!

”Mmmhmm this is so good. The texture of the meat is a bit off but its really good Al” you complimented.

He beamed at you, pearly whites glistening at you. “Im happy you like it and you didn’t throw it up im proud baby”

You quickly finished the meal and showed him everything your mother bought for the new arrival.

Alastor smiled in content as you happily showed him the baby wares; clothing, toys,and other gadgets. Seeing you so excited filled him with an unexplainable feeling. His hand caressed your belly as you ranted.

”Did you know that there’s a killer on the loose?” Your sudden question brought his attention back. Your face was filled with worry.

Alastor tensed, but relaxed “We had gotten a few reports down at the studio but no real leads. Why do you ask dear?”

You placed your hand over his that was on your bulging belly. “I-Im just concerned. I mean we do have a child on the way and i dont really feel safe walking the streets in this vulnerable condition. My mother suggested we move into the summer house.” You looked down, Alastor kissed your forehead “Im sure well be fine. Besides it seems the killer has a little mortals. No woman has been harmed. So dont fret my dear” he assured you. 

You sighed, he was right.  There was no need to worry.

“I would never let a soul hurt you” he whispered against your forehead.

You hummed and started giggling as he nipped at your ear “Al!!!”

You tried to wiggled away, but your husband softly pushed you back on the couch, being mindful of your belly.

”Now why dont I show you that I am more than capable hmm?” He grinned down at you.

—————————————————————————————————-

@nightshadelm@th3-st4r-gur1@southern-bayou-beau@yourdoorisunlocked@alishii@nettaw@simphornies@jellibean2018@purplecatsandhearts@missgurlsstuff@alastor-simp@alastorsgirl48@dasimp777@hazelfoureyes@thewinchestah@catherine1206@peachedtvs@luzzbuzz@markster666@preciousbabypeter@dennsfz@nanami1chu@chewbrry@smoky000@karolinda007-blog@alastorsaries@altruisticalastor@evedenn@alastors666creampie@siiv3r@yunimimii@popamolly @okay-babe@catmunist@wonderlandangelsposts@certifiedcrybabyyy @theangeliclibrarian@ilikemyteawithmilk@boney-horse@blubugg13@zombiesnips-blog@rulesareshadesofgrey@doggone-devil@amurtan@yuzurixx

[inbabylontheywept]

xc lends itself to stories well because it has all the weird overlapping insanities of group dynamics and hypoxia and Male Bonding and definitely a little bit of masochism.

and for my second xc story in like a week, we used to do this run down to the local public pool in the summers of hs because the temp was like, 110-115. fucking bastard heat. and this one girl had The Audacity to wear this extremely normal and fine two piece swimsuit that showed approximately a half inch of waist and a bellybutton. this of course was a mortal insult to one particular group of mormons who were so scandalized that they talked to the coach who in turn talked to the group about how Someone Wore a Two Piece Swimsuit and it made Some People very uncomfortable and that the dress code was now one piece swimsuits. and of course the poor girl was absolutely mortified.

now, the varsity were actually really good people in general, but one of them, who i shall name RJ, was just awesome. that sonofabitch could run like a 14:00 5k, but he still had this big ol potbelly, and he was the only person i knew who didnt get nauseous after running. the absolute brainfuck of running in the 110 degree heat along the canals, just struggling to breathe, and then getting smoked by this potbelled toothpick eating a bag of flaming hot cheetoes is just hard to understate. hed go up into the stands during track and buy hotdogs. just a legend. fuck that guy, but you know, in the way where im really just jealous of him.

anyway, RJ took genuine offense to this girl being called out for her totally normal swimsuit so when the next public pool run came around he showed up in a speedo. and it was the xc hivemind thing, where we all knew if we could just, somehow, keep the coach from noticing this guy until we actually pulled out and started running down the block, we were golden. so me and a bunch of other guys gathered around him like the secret service, and we did our stretches, got ready and left, and then RJ, being the beautiful majestic man muffin that he is, popped his shirt off, ran directly to the front of the mormon group, and proceeded to give himself the most brutal wedgie i can describe. practically stretched the speedo over his shoulders. you couldnt get a clearer vision of this mans ass with the hubble telescope.

so the mormon group tried to pass him, which was like stupid of them - nobody passed RJ unless they were willing to piss blood. they tried, they tried so hard to get around him and avoid the blaring eyewatering burn of this mans ghost white ass, but it didnt work, so they tried slowing down which is also something RJ could do indefinitely so eventaully they just kind of gave up and tried not to notice the extremely noticable hairy white butt camped in front of them for the entire three mile run to the pool.

the coach did notice about halfway through the run, but by then there wasnt much he could do. we argued very eloquently between panting and coughing and generally suffering that a speedo is, in fact, a one piece swimsuit, and thus the letter of the law had been fulfilled. id say, i dunno, maybe a hundred of us argued the case.

surprisingly, there was no follow up conversation banning speedos. RJs disapproval of the ban wouldve been enough, but the speedo underlined it in red a few times and at the next run to the pool, several other girls wore tankinis and nobody said shit.

(RJ told me if they had, the next run to the pool wouldve just been him winnie-the-poohing it, and i almost dont doubt it.)

[imlittlebitdie]

When I first saw the Canal+ reporters comment about Max “letting Lando through” my immediate reaction was that that was offensive to Lando.

Legit. My first thought was how insulting because what racing driver wants to win like that? And what racing driver would willingly just let their opponent through without defending?

And then I saw that Lando said it himself.

And well…my reaction to that? it’s just a bit sad really

[high-dragon-bait]

Taash asks my Rook invasive questions about her Zuko scar

This is Francesca de Riva, Cissy for short, my secondary Rook

It's pretty rare that I write fake banter between canon characters and my own OCs, but I did between Cissy and Taash for how Cissy got her scars. Enjoy!

____

(During recruitment)

Taash: Have any of you fought a dragon before? 

Cissy: How do you think I got these burns? 

Taash: Not from a dragon? 

Cissy: See that’s where you’re wrong- 

Taash: I’m not.  

Cissy: C’mon, let me tell the story! 

Taash: But your story’s bullshit. 

Cissy: I haven’t told it yet. 

Taash: Don’t need to. You get caught in dragon fire and you don’t have skin to scar.  

Cissy: Oh, so you’re the expert on dragon burns now? 

Taash: Yeah?

——

(From here on is post-recruitment)

Taash: So what actually happened to your face? 

(Second companion dependent) 

Neve: There are subtler ways of getting information. 

Emmrich: Taash!

Harding: Okay! Probably were nicer ways to say that. 

Lucanis: Up front. I like it. Saves time. 

Davrin: I’ve met Darkspawn with more tact than you, Taash. 

Bellara: You don’t actually have to say if you don’t want to, Rook! 

Cissy: I burned it. 

Taash: Yeah but how? 

Cissy: With fire. 

Taash: Is it embarrassing? Did you like slip and fall face first onto a stove? 

Cissy: No, that would’ve been funny. 

Taash: So it’s not funny? 

Cissy: No. 

——

Taash: Bellara said I should say sorry for asking about your face. So, sorry. 

Bellara, if present: You know, sorries don’t sound as good if you say someone else told you to say them first…

Cissy: It’s alright, I actually don’t mind talking about it. 

Taash: It kinda seemed like you did. 

Cissy: No, no, it just always makes people get weird. 

Taash: I won’t get weird. 

Cissy, through laughter: I’ll think about it. 

——

Cissy: Someone set me on fire. 

Taash: Shit was it me?

Cissy: No, Taash, I’m talking about my face. 

Taash: Oh! How? 

Cissy: A guy took me off the street, poured whiskey all over me, and then set me on fire. 

Taash: Wh- Why’d he do that? 

Cissy: I don’t know. I was seven. Thought I was minding my urchin business. Guess he was bored. 

Emmrich: Filth.

Neve: No motive. Just cruelty. Wish I could say it was rare. 

Davrin: Guy sets little girls on fire as a hobby, yeah, even the wardens wouldn’t want him. 

Spite: I’ll burn his face. Peel it off first!

Harding: Varric never… That’s what happened? 

Bellara: Wait- I didn’t- I’m so sorry. 

Cissy: See? People get weird! 

Taash: It’s a weird fucking thing to do! 

——

Taash: So how’d you get away? 

Cissy: Shit did I look that bad? Don’t tell Viago-

Taash: No from the fire asshole. 

Cissy: Oh! I ran. 

Taash: While you were on fire? 

Cissy: First thing I did was jump in the canal to put it out but then I nearly drowned. Didn’t obviously but then I got sepsis. 

Taash: Damn, you weren’t kidding. This story really isn’t funny.  

Cissy: I told you. 

Taash: So how’d you not die?

Cissy: Viago found me. 

——

Cissy: The way Viago found me is a little funny. 

Taash: Yeah?

Cissy: I’d been in the gutter for days at that point. Couldn’t move so I just marinated in my own filth and rot the whole time. 

Taash: That isn’t funny. 

Cissy: I’m not done! 

Taash: Okay. 

Cissy: I was lying on a little bit of stone by the water and its like a full storey down from the actual walkway. 

Cissy: The only reason he noticed me was because I smelled so bad he got a whiff from all the way up there and thought I was badly disposed a corpse. 

Taash: That… still isn’t funny. 

Cissy: Oh come on, it's a little funny. 

——

Taash: Whatever happened to the fire asshole? 

Cissy: I don’t actually know. I wanted him to be my first contract, cliche that that is, but Viago said no. 

Taash: Why’d he say no? 

Cissy: He said a man like that would be “An insult to my skill” and because he trained me that makes it an insult to his skill. 

Taash: Why’s that matter? Killing is killing. 

Cissy: Not if you’re a crow. 

[lordadmiralfarsight]

Trumpolitics and geopolitical implactions

Grrreeetings my dear students ! I AM RETURNED !!! With another lesson ! This time, some of you made the horrifying mistake of inciting my teaching urge on the geopolitics of trump drooling on Greenland, and I decided I would take a good long look at that AND at other targets of potential expansion for the USA. I am sorry to inform you that memes will be sadly not that present in the first two points, because they're where I put down the structure of this thing. First off, Context ! 1) The Context As you may have seen, Trump has recently been on a tweeting spree about territories he'd like to add to the USA or bring under control in some way. From calling Canada the 51st state to claiming that controlling Greenland was "an absolute necessity", and even making open threats to Panama about taking back control of the Canal of Panama.

And considering what is being looked at, I'm going to add Mexico to the mix, because it's been targeted with threats of invasion-and-or-intervention to deal with the Cartels. 2) The Goals The goals of all these outside operations can fit in a clean-enough categorization : - Security : this is about protecting US security against an external threat, whatever form it may take - Ressource availability : the access to the territory's ressources is important to Trump or his administration - Trade control : the territory offers the ability or potential to control global trade routes Those are the three big geopolitical aims of an expansionist policy in regards to the USA. Other countries, such as Russia for instance, could have demographic aims to counteract a demographic collapse, but that's not the case of the USA. Of course, there's also Trump's personnal goal, common among strongmen : looking like a badass warmaster that does war so good and is so successful, wow, such medal, much military.

3) Oh, CANADA ! Canada, land of snow and forests, maple syrup and poutine, land of the eh and dedicated contributor to the expansion of the Geneva Convention. Trump has been pretty insistent on "joking" about it becoming the 51st State, despite a great many Canadians signaling very loudly that they do not find it funny. On one hand, making insulting jokes about your allies and ignoring their protests and then wondering why you aren't popular is violently American (As a French, I have close to 18 years of personnal experience on that), but on the other, this is Trump, so is it really a joke ? So, what would be the benefits of invading Canada ? Well, they would be many from a geopolitical point of view. It"s just that there are as many, or more, inconvenients. The big question being, will Trump even LOOK at those inconvenients ? But that's for later. First off, resources. Canada is ridiculously resource rich, owing in part to its very large size. I'm sure you've seen a few memes about Americans finding the biggest deposit of X or Y resources at random, well the only reason Canada doesn't do that too is because it is far less populated and its population is far more centralized. But the potential is there, absolutely. And even better, those resources are VERY varied : minerals, hydrocarbons, and absolute fuckton of wood and, perhaps less often thought about, fresh water. So on that front, Canada would undeniably be a very attractive catch. Second, security. Canada would allow the USA control of roughly a third-to-half of the entire Arctic region, allowing extensive protection of the northern flank, something that may be of interest in current times due to how light and under-strength the Canadian armed forces are, which also serves to make it a (seemingly) easy target to occupy. Third, trade control. Oh that's right, Canada has the trifecta. See, with the Arctic melting, the near-mythical North-West passage is opening, allowing for way faster transit from the Bering straight to the Atlantic, and yes this is damn important, the Panama Canal was opened in part because that passage didn't exist, but now it does for longer and longer periods of time, and Canada controls roughly 80 to 90% of its length. And control of that trade route means cash from ships that take it (taxes, maintenance, rescue when need be ...), it's a whole thing. A minor interest, though not put forward by Trump would be the "natural borders" approach, or territory continuity. Basically, considering that Canada is, by its geographical situation, American territory-to-be. That's ... pretty disturbing, and like I said, Trump didn't put it forward, but keep in mind it's part of the debate.

Now, for the inconvenients, which uh ... well they aren't few. First off, Canadians. The "eh" dudes are often represented as passive and friendly and polite, but they are certainly not interested in becoming Americans, especially by force, and considering just how many guns they have, well they have the means to make that displeasure known quite virulently. Which creates an entire administrative mess where they have to decide if they confiscate weapons inside Canada, or only those of Canadians, and what happens in the rest of the US, and what if ... so complicated. Messy. Either way, while the invasion wouldn't necessarily be that difficult (due to smol, US-dependant Canadian forces), the occupation would be WAAAAAAY harder. Especially since Canada is rather big and empty, giving PLENTY of room for partisan groups to spread, hide and ambush anyone that leaves urban centres. Second, Nato. Now, do I think Nato would mount a task force to push US troops out of Canada ? Lmao no, we're way too dependant on US security infrastructure for that. And since so many people still seem to think that, when France tries to push European strategic independance it's actually a French bid for control of the EU or us trying to shill our industries, well I don't see it changing without some major shock, even as things are. Poland does seem to be speedrunning this bitch though, so maybe we can do something there. But no, Nato wouldn't stop the invasion, but the invasion WOULD collapse Nato, and I can already hear the Vatniks and Tankies getting a stiffie just from imagining it.

Nato wouldn't survive because, in this scenario, the most powerful member of the alliance attacks another member. At that point, there's no confidence left, no trust, nothing. And that has ... rather big ... consequences. For instance, Russia feeling entirely uninhibited and allowed to invade as they please. To avoid that, the only option is to have a truly gigantic "fuck off" button, and only one such button exists : the nuclear one. So that's nuclear proliferation going back onto the table and at least half of the eastern part of the EU reaching for nuclear programs. Poland at the very least, Finland most likely can too. And then there's the rest of the World. Unless the French president at the time points out that our nuclear umbrella does actually extend over our eastern allies (it does) and actually manages to convince both Russia and our allies that it's true, and that's where I am profoundly unsure, considering how successful the US has been at propagandizing against France and presenting us as cowardly or unreliable. Remember when I said I had personnal experience with insulting jokes from the US ? At this point, I'm half convinced that the only way to convince Poland and co that we're reliable would be to help them develop nukes or just give them some, which ... same result anyway. So yeah, bad shit right there.

4) The land of LIES Greenland, or Groenland, an autonomous dependency of Denmark. A big place with not that much population. But, here again, geopolitical benefits can be found in taking it over : First off, resources. Though its resources aren't as varied as Canada's, Greenland is still very much a resource-rich place, and global warming makes more and more of those resources accessible, making it a very attractive target indeed. Security is the main reason put forth by Trump, and uh ... well it reveals a LOT in my opinion. See, the main security interest of Greenland is the ability to project control over one of the two main exits of the Arctic sea. With Greenland, Norway and Iceland, an arc is formed allowing control of that exit, as much as such a large span of sea can be controlled. The reason I say it's worrying is because there's already a US airbase there, Pituffik airbase, and Greenland is part of Nato. There's already an entire system in place to counter if the enemy is Russia. So the "absolute necessity" of controlling Greenland would indicate he has another enemy in mind. See why I'm worried ?

Now, would it be difficult to control Greenland ? No, not THAT much, it only has 57 000 people, so occupation wouldn't be too hard, hell, it would even be colonizable fairly easily. You know, the Russian model, displace parts of the local population to send them into the territory of the ethnic majority so as to isolate them, all while bussing in masses of ethnic-majority colonists to fill new jobs created by the occupation. Speaking of, Trump claimed Greenlanders wanted the US there, which contradicts local testimonies and declarations. Hmm, a strongman leader claiming a foreign territory for "security reasons" and saying the locals want his troops there, where have I seen that rethoric before .... Of course, here, we also see the collapse of Nato, with similar, or identical, consequences. It's possible, but rather unlikely in my opinion, that the Danish government could sell Greenland to maintain the illusion of still having Nato, but like I said, I don't buy it. Once again, Nato would have no real way of stopping it, since the US are the big fish in this pond.

And now that we've seen the two scenarios where Nato collapses, what would that mean for the US ? A whole lot of bad, actually. Because, see, if the USA feel free to invade Nato allies, then their military bases become liabilities, pre-established beach-heads from which they can prepare and launch offensives. So that would mean most, if not all, US bases in Europe getting closed damn near overnight, an d a rather difficult to manage diplomatic mess. That could also spook non-Nato countries into kicking out US forces, reducing the power projection capabilities of the US tremendously. Once allied ports would close to their ships, like the many, many, many French and British naval bases spread all around the globe that the US navy can use to resupply, refuel and rest. Airbases would close, forcing longer, more logistically difficult flights ... There's also the breakdown in training agreements, like the agreement that allows US special forces to train in the jungles of Guyane. Bet you didn't know about that. And then there's the military supplies in terms of equipment that becomes uncertain, because yes, the US military doesn't buy exclusively American, for instance they love Thales radars, which are French. And yes, they also buy from other European countries, it's just that since I'm French, I mostly think of French exemples. Fellow Europeans, add in the notes what you country produces that ends up on the US military shopping list ! So yes, while the collapse of Nato would leave Europe damn near butt naked in the face of Russian aggression, with no other option than to go balls to the walls, it would also hamper the US rather severely.

5) Panama, the Canal The Canal of Panama was made by the US, completed in 1914, and apparently Mister Trump wants it back because, le gasp, China allegedly has too much influence on it and, le gasp², US ships pay fees like everyone else. The Canal is, all things considered, the most straightforward option. It has one benefit only : trade control. But considering the location, that benefit is sizeable and long lasting. See, the Panama Canal is a reliable and rather safe option when compared to the intermitent and iceberg-filled Northwest Passage and the shit-weather festival that is the Cape Horn (which can also have icebergs, yay), so it's basically a guarantee for LOADS of maritime trafic. Control of that canal would allow to levy fees and, potentially, block passage to the ships of rival polities, like, say, China. Except China already has routes to feed its products to Europe and Africa that don't go through Panama, and for the eastern part of South America, I can absolutely see them throw a giant wad of cash at yet another pharaonic railway project. Not immediate, but not impossible either. And if it goes into the realm of dick-measuring contests (it will, Trump is involved), Xi absolutely will, on principle.

That doesn't mean control of the Canal isn't interesting, it absolutely is, but it's not AS interesting as he perhaps thinks.

And then there's the issue of Panama not being particularly enthused by the idea, weirdly enough. Would Panama's regular military be able to stop Trump ? Haha, no. I don't have any illusions on that, you don't, and I guarantee that Panama doesn't either. What they CAN do, however, is make it unsufferable to use. Cause collapses, force ships out of alignment to Evergreen it up in this bitch, guerilla-warfare patrols into an early grave, loads of stuff. And they would have volunteers from a lot of Latin America, due to flashbacks of US-backed dictatorships giving motivation to a lot of people.

In short, it would be a forever war for control of a string of water that would quickly end up costing a LOT more, in cash and lives, than it brings. 0/10, do not recommend, would not imperialism.

6) Mexico, Cartel time Ah, the Cartels, Mexico(s number 1 problem, and a big talking point for US conservatives. They have floated the idea of sending the military to deal with them several times, and it was even suggested recently to classify them as terrorists to justify the military intervention.

Here, again ,there's a single interest : security. The idea being that, if you off the drug dealers, then drugs won't be a problem anymore. Surely this simple and obvious reasoning has no flaw to it, right ? Well … First off, Cartels aren't easy to manage, due to how spread out they are. Then there's the fact they are rather heavily armed, which is part of why Mexico hasn't been able to deal with them. Cartel armories include some heavy weapons, and I can GUARANTEE that they've expanded those armories in preparation of a potential US army intervention, and that WILL include US weapons. So if that happen, prepare for the humiliation of losing Abrams tanks to gangers. Moreover, the afforementionned US-based trauma would also awaken here, ensuring that, despite how unpopular they are, the Cartels WOULD receive volunteers to reinforce them, simply on the basis that they'd be fighting an expansionist US.

Now add in that they have people inside the US, not just direct network members, but also affiliates and customers. Those groups are also violent and armed, and can be agitated fairly easily. If the US launch a military attack on the Cartels, I expect those affiliate gangs would mount assault on police precincts at the very least, and based on the performance of US cops at Uvalde and other cases, where they cowered when faced with a SINGLE assault rifle, I wonder how they'd react when faced by many, and potentially outnumbered. Would they all break and run ? No, most likely not. But enough would, since that would most likely happen all over the country. This would create a feeling of insecurity and danger that would be devastating for Trump. It would make him look weak.

So all in all, far from ideal.

7) The Rest of the Consequences

Yeah, I didn't look too much into the global effects … yet. Basically, Expansionist US = massive uncertainty, meaning economic confidence collapses, meaning stock prices go down in many places, economic paranoia blooms, worry takes hold of the planet and, oh would you look at that, a financial crisis. Is it a guarantee ? No, but depending on the scenario it's more or less likely. For instance, if it's the Greenland track, it's unlikely to cause a financial crisis, at least not immediately, it will have to wait until Nato openly and officially collapses (AKA the moment maintaining the charade isn't worthwhile anymore). The other three options though ? Yes. Canada is a major economic player, if it's invaded, economic actors will be scared. An invasion of Mexico is such a gigantic upheaval that it will cause shakeups in the worldwide economic network. And the Panama Canal being seized by a military intervention is basically like collapsing a cliff face into a fjord, the effect will be rapid, devastating and spectacular.

Then there's the loss of soft-power. In the first two scenario, the US immediately lose all credibility as an ally, anyone on their list of ally is informed that they'll be invaded the second it becomes beneficial, AKA an alliance with the US is utterly worthless, or even dangerous, unless you force yourself into a position where invading you is a waste (AKA poverty), and even then, your resources might spark an invasion anyway. In the last two, it erases all efforts made to improve and moralize the US foreign policy, and it severely weakens the diplomatic position of the US. Trump can negociate whatever he wants after that, it won't change the fact that trust in the US will drop severely, and yes that will include European countries.

8) conclusion Now, am I sure that Trump will invade someone ? Yes, but that's a personnal bias. There are no certainty until it's a done deal. It's possible that this is just Trump trying to be relevant, or like one of the linked articles said, trying to create chaos. But I'm not convinced. Trump feels empowered, allowed to do anything he wants. He won't feel like he has to hold back. So he may decide to actually invade a country. Do we have certainty on the consequences of such an invasion ? No, because here I looked only at the invasions and their geopolitical consequences if nothing else changes. The world is a constantly churning mass of variables that interact in exotic and sometimes very roundabout ways. But I think my analysis is solid and credible, and it would take a hell of a change for what I described her to not happen. I guess we'll have to see what Trump decides to do.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ WHEN ANGER

TURNS TO HONEY ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

daemon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: tensions rise between house targaryen and house royce after the death of your sister, lady rhea. the night of princess rhaenyra's wedding feast, accusations come to light, a finger pointing to the brother of the king  — who just so happens to be your lover.

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, loose enemies to lovers trope, scratching kink (??), graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of loss of virtue, daemon being daemon, the usual hotd shenanigans

a/n: yet another installment of 'birth of violence' that has me fanning myself silly. bear with me if there are any mistakes or if you find anything to be incorrect, as i am still slowly easing my way into the fandom. enjoy friends <3

“I am making an accusation.” 

The moment those words were spat out of your cousin's lips with the utmost venom he could muster, you had suddenly wished you were hidden behind the thick walls Runestone provided; mourning the loss of your older sister. 

Gerold Royce should have bit down harshly on his tongue the second his heart burst in flames with overwhelming heat — hatred for the man before him, eyes narrowed with murderous intentions he so desperately wished to act on. 

This occasion was anything but the correct time to address such serious matters, especially under the scrutinous eyes of the King, his heir, and his Hand who had watched with such caution that you had opted to distract yourself by digging your fingernails in the wax-coated skin of an apple you had plucked from the vast array of foods. 

The rhythm of your breathing had grown uneven, breasts squeezing uncomfortable against the upper trim of your dress, pillowed lips pressed in a thin line.

 Daemon Targaryen leaned back in the finely carved wood that made up his seat, nodding in faux understanding at your cousin's bold choice of words. Craning his head slightly to scan his violet eyes across his elder brother and Lord Lyonel Strong, his lips jutted before parting to speak. 

“In King’s Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you.” 

There it was. The infamous insult that sharpened the blade — stabbing it into the already agonized heart of your relative, as well as your own through the sonorous music pouring in the canals of your ears. 

You had known this so-called slander to be true; knowing his profound hatred for the Lady of the Vale had finally been acted upon in the treachery of her brutal murder. It was an unfortunate occurrence you had trampled upon. 

Her skull was bashed to bits, remnants of brain matter scattered about in thick clots of crimson that had decorated the grass and watered the dirt. You had touched with the pads of your fingers, still slightly warm to the touch. Deep within the pits of your stomach, weaved in your intestines, you had known the silver-haired man before you were to take the blame for her untimely demise.

However, you were in no position to come to such a decision, and nor would you ever be. Therefore, Daemon Targaryen would walk away with every limb intact, and you would continue to suppress your fury, forever scarred by the loss.

It was only then that you had sharply stood from your seat, apple long forgotten as it dropped onto the table with a quiet thud, momentarily attracting the curious gazes of those across from you, the others none-the-wiser as they continued to prance about. 

Piercing, violet eyes caught yours for a fraction of a millisecond and if you weren’t as aware as you were now, it was something you were sure to miss. 

Destastation never consumed you so… barbarically.

Gerold stepped forward, chubby fists clenched and shaking with contained wrath. 

Daemon took it as no threat, offering an amused smile as if to mock his feeble attempt at intimidation and defense of his house, his name, and his cousin.

“The truth is, I’m glad you’ve come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance.” 

“What inheritance?”

“Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband whatever she was due now passes to me.”

His words to you became a jumbled nonsensical mess.

Surely he had too much wine to drink before he had strutted through the thick doors of the feast hall, all mighty and proud of his feats and dirty achievements.

Before you could stop your actions, you strutted up the four short steps, forcing position next to Gerold whose jaw had grown taut with anger, teeth grinding against each other, practically shaking in place. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten that Lady Rhea has a sister,” Your sharp words cut through the pause of uncomfortable silence that had settled despite music still echoing in the expanse of space, dimly lit, cozy yet unnerving at the same time. “and truth that no heirs have been brought forth, I have a right to claim. As long as I continue to breathe, you will take nothing.” 

The finality of your statement seemed to have temporarily embedded itself in some part of Daemon that wasn’t as rot-ridden as he was, as he had nodded curtly at you, taking longer than necessary.

His lingering stares had never failed to send a chill down your spine, numbing you at the very core of your existence whenever you’d catch his gaze. He had preferred your presence over your sisters, despite the little time you two had spent together. Though he quickly figured that since you and the eldest bronze bitch had come from the same cunt, you were bound to have the same irritating little quirks — he just found you more tolerable, more sheltered than Rhea.

After all, the eve he had flown on the back of Caraxes back to King’s Landing, he had filled you — had given you something to remember him by. It showed when hues of purples and blues decorated the expanse of your stomach, under your ribcage, everywhere he could reach until you could no longer take everything he had to offer.  

Daemon loved to ruin pretty things. And even though he had stated that the sheep were much prettier than any of the women in the Vale, he had not thought of you. 

Roughly circling your arm around Gerold’s bicep, you tugged him away, and back to your designated seats, pulling him down to sit with as much strength as you could. 

“Do not ever make such accusations in front of other lords and ladies of the realm.” You seethe, feeling him stiffen under your near-suffocating grasp, lips pressed together tightly before he nods. 

“Good. Now eat, you’ve been neglecting your needs.” 

And without a word, Gerold obeys. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

There’s moonlight casting shadows over the gargantuan towers of the Red Keep, basking certain spaces with a luster so gentle, it almost felt as if you were on your homeland, feeling the grass between your bare toes, inhaling as much fresh air as your lungs could home. 

You could not do that here. 

You could not taint your body with such putrid, toxic air as what loomed over in King’s Landing in thick clouds, dusting over the already sinful streets, waiting to discreetly make its way down your throat until it attacked every single cell in your body. Refuge from the disastrous occurrence of tonight's feast was not to be found here. 

That was something you had quickly come to realize when you had picked at your fingernails draped over the ornate decoration of one of the many balcony railings that riddled the large fortress, mind wandering to other things that developed a small bubble of guilt. 

You wouldn’t feed the monster. No. You couldn’t feed it the small handful of ill-at-ease altercations you’ve had with your brother bound by marriage, and the way he looked at you only intensified it to the point where you were sure it was to burst open, spilling your intestines and long-kept secrets. 

“There you are. You know, you’re very hard to find.” 

Clutching at the fabric of your dress, you rubbed it between your thumb and pointer fingers, spine straightening with such haste that it cracked slightly, back still turned to him. 

That voice had haunted you in your dreams once, maybe twice if you could recall correctly despite your enthusiasm to find a way to rid them from the tissue of your brain. It had chosen to gather in the outer fluid of your skull instead, sloshing around the forefront from to time whenever Rhea had mentioned her cunt of a husband. They had not consummated their marriage, as he had no interest in sticking his cock in the likes of your sister, an eagle with wings far too big for her body. 

That was something he despised about her, amongst many other things. Yet, he couldn’t find it in his dull, black heart to take any of it out on you, a vision among many; a person in his dreams he wishes he could call a stranger.

You had robbed him of something, and although Daemon wasn’t quite sure of what exactly it was, he’d figure it out in time.  As he always did, no matter how rash. 

“Should I be honored to be in your presence after you’ve sought me out, then?” 

A brush of wind passes, seeping through the thin material of your clothing, through your skin, and wrapping itself around your bones. 

“I think I should be … lady of the Vale.” 

Turning your head in his direction, you narrow your eyes into slits as he makes his way toward you, hands clasped together firmly behind his back, hair slightly disheveled. 

There’s a lump in your throat that you swallow with difficulty, heaving out a large, dramatic sigh, keeping your eyes locked on the side of his face, the slope of his nose. His brows were furrowed, the lines of age even more visible on the face you’ve only had the pleasure of touching once when he had thrust into you. 

The mere thought of it calls upon the guilt again. So, you resist.

“I am in no mood for jesting, I only wish for a moment of peace. That is all I ask.” As tired as you had sounded, you had felt even more defeated knowing that no matter how much tea you’d ingest when you reached your temporary chambers, it would not be enough to keep your rumination at bay. 

There’s a whistle somewhere nearby, a momentary distraction from how close he’s standing to you, shoulder to shoulder, body heat practically radiating like the fires you’d set deep within thick branches and high grass. 

“You have a sly little tongue on you, don’t you?”

“Only when one claims what is to be mine.” 

“Hm,” He hums, turning his head slightly to stare you directly in the eyes. “So eager to replace that dear sister of yours. Tell me, how did she so tragically pass again?

Daemon was trying to get under your skin. It was a skill he was best suited at, especially in a time of vulnerability such as this, with no one else around to diffuse the fire sparking between the both of you as your chest expanded so wide, that your lungs burned, 

Grinding your teeth together, you could taste nothing but wine on your tongue as you pressed it against the roof of your mouth.

“A snapped neck and a crushed skull.” He tutts, “Such a shame.”

“Do not speak of my sister in ill manners when she has no way to defend her honor.” You spat, hand shaking at your sides, nails digging into your clammy palms – leaving crescent indents in their wake. 

“Is that not why she has a sister to take her place when it suits her, to fuck her husband without remorse.” The smirk that appears at the corner of his lips has your chin wobbling in anger, a hand outstretched to clasp at the lining of his blood-red sleeve; the same blood-red that painted your sister's head when it laid cracked open on blades of grass. 

“Laying with you was an insult to my virtue.” 

Slowly, as if you were to strike him at any moment, Daemon raised a hand, gently pressing it against the pillowed flesh of your bottom lip, wet with saliva and ready for him to devour all over again; the taste of citrus coating his taste-buds. 

“I rather enjoyed our time together.” He admits with amusement as if the agony written on your face was purely a source of entertainment. 

With unshed tears burning behind your irises, you blink, wrinkling your nose in mild disgust at the man in front of you. “Fuck you.” 

And with that, he presses his lips against yours, teeth clashing against teeth as the heat of his mouth overpowers your will to resist. You’re putty in his arms and he knows it by the way his free hand grips your hipbone, gripping as if you keep you in place. 

It’s messy, yet delectable all the same as his tongue mingles with yours, hot and needy as they dance, heads growing hazy from lack of breathing. A quiet moan escapes you when Daemon tugs your bottom lip between his teeth as if he were starving, pulling you as close to his chest as he can manage.

You’d burn for this, surely; for fitting in the arms of your sister's husband as if you’d belong there — for feeling some sort of desire — lust all for the man who had taken her from you. It had become all too real to you when he had brought you into his chambers and unclothed you slowly as if you were a sight to behold, drinking you in like the most expensive wine he’d ever sought out in all of the Seven Kingdoms. 

It had all become too real when his hands had greedily palmed at your breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth with such enthusiasm, that you were positive this was an entirely different man from the one you had come to know. His cheeks were hollow as he sucked, nipped, and swirled his tongue around your hard bud, an arch in your back only encouraging his movements.

The organ in your chest was beating erratically, practically pounding on your ribs, hoping to crack them one by one and leave you a shell of yourself before you were to return home. 

Just for tonight. 

You’d feel his touch one last time before you’d beg for forgiveness for the rest of your life. 

When Daemon removes his mouth from your chest, he finds himself sucking the skin at the base of your neck, paying attention to a particular spot you had reacted to, bruising all he could to claim you just like he told you he would the first, and only night he bedded you.

The sensation of the bare skin of your legs wrapped around his waist sends him into a frenzy as he inhales sharply, slapping his hands at the meat of your thighs before trailing one between your legs to palm at his hard cock, dripping with pre-cum and ready to bury you to the hilt.

“One last time.”  You whisper, letting it mix in the heavy air, watching the way his brows furrow before the only emotion in his dark eyes dissipates. 

He wastes no time, gathering your arousal on his tip before he’s sheathing himself into you, groaning lowly in the crook of your neck as your walls shape around him. Your insides are on fire with the way he’s stretching you, left hand gripping at the sheets near your head.

“I’ll never grow tired of this.” He says it as if he’d have you for the rest of his life, a soft lilt to words that you’d find praising if they weren’t coming from him, a Targaryen — a dragon conqueror.

Biting down on the soft flesh of your lower lip, you stared at his features, clouded with a certain haze of carnal desire. The feeling of your heart beating quickly against the bones of your ribcage subsided when a flow of arousal made itself known at the burning intimacy of the action, causing you to clench around his cock buried within you, your nails dancing down the nape of his neck to the expanse of his back.

A groan left his throat when that not-so-innocent sound he relished reached his ears, and it was hard not to pound you into the satin sheets right then and there. Instead, he pressed his bare chest against yours, skin hot and flushed, his wet lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

As the muscles in his back flexed, the light sting of where your sharp nails had once been clawing desperately reminded him just how much he loved the feeling of your nails breaking the skin there the first time. The sadistic action secretly becomes one of his favorites as you do it now. It was physical proof that he could please you in a way no one else could touch you in all the right places, and watch your pretty eyes roll into the back of your head. 

Every single reaction you had to even the slightest touch  — was all because of him. He’d want his touch to be all you’d ever know. 

“So good, sweetling,” He drawled lowly. A quiet but adequate praise before he removed one of his hands from your side, producing a sharp hiss from you as his palm slapped against the outside of the fat of your left thigh once more.

You whined, the pulse between your legs aching with arousal, your slick pooling at the base of his cock when he’d fully unsheathe himself only to ram, back into you again. “Such a tight little cunt, huh?”

Wrapping your legs around his unclothed torso as much as you could manage, you crossed your ankles, pushing him in until he touched a spot so deep within you that you choked on your breath, the air seemingly knocked out of your lungs by his harsh movements as he continued to stretch you.

With closed eyes, you let your eyebrows furrow in concentration at the euphoric feeling he brought to you, a relentless pace that sent your toes to curl involuntarily. 

The air was hot and the sheen of sweet blooming between the both of you did little to quell the intense heat. Skin slapping against skin and your lewd moans echoing off the thin walls and right back into your ears was all that could be heard aside from his panting.

It was only when his hand had slipped near your neck to cup your jaw, that you had let out a sob so pathetic that he had chuckled right into your skin, tears distorting your once clear vision of him as he continued to pump himself in and out of out.

 “Look at you.” He cooed, “So pretty with those tears in your eyes.” 

Your fingers had flexed uncomfortably near the top of his spine, nails scratching against the expanse, and moving toward his scalp, twirling wisps of loose silver hair around your finger as the frame squeaked beneath your bodies. 

His guttural groan vibrated throughout your chest, rattling your body.  The burning sting that seeped through the minor, raw wounds encouraged him to hold your hips down, ramming so deep into you, that you had started to writhe beneath him.

Daemon could tell you were close. 

How could you not be with the way he was abusing your cunt; rocking you through your orgasm.

The slow, deep breaths he took to steady his breathing helped you focus on calming your own as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, thrusting one, two, three more times before emptying himself in you, painting your walls with his seed, filling you to the brim before swiftly pulling out of you.

Your gaze never left his fit, naked figure as he ran a hand through his hair, shuffling toward the end of the bed, back hunched and toward you as the silence and realization of what you had done ate at you. 

Never again. That was a promise you intended to keep. 

Never again.

[destiny-aesthetics]

LORE: THE GARDEN-WAY

1. Judgment (1/6)

This being the recollection of Irrha of the House of Slayers, apprentice to the Baron Kiiraskes.

This being the recollection of Irrha of the House of Slayers, apprentice to the Baron Kiiraskes.

[This is so exciting! I will translate as best I can. -Eido, Scribe of the House of Light]

_____________________

It was a beautiful day at the end of the wet season, and the waters had risen high in the canals such that the Palace of Judgment sat on a limned mirror.

My pilot rowed us steadily between the raised walkways. The banners of the great Houses flanked us on either side of the channel. Nearest to the landing, the banners of Kings and Judgment cast long shadows down upon us. It was through them that our unity was possible, and we were not to forget it.

I had spent five days traveling to reach Riis-Ath-Lodrii [1], and just as long before that receiving instruction in the formalities and proper courtesies to be observed in the presence of the Scribes of Judgment. But I was greeted at the landing not by a formal assemblage, but by a lone thin figure dressed in the layered finery of Judgment's officers.

He reached down to help me up out of the watercraft before I had time to bow, sparing only a moment to dust Ether accretion from my cloak.

"Velask, Apprentice Irrha," he said, in a tone that conveyed I had already erred in some way. "Please hurry."

I was led to a side entrance into the Halls of Judgment, where my escort expertly navigated a maze of corridors that led into a small, unremarkable reception room. We stepped into the hushed silence of stifled argument.

There were two figures waiting for us in the room. The first was dressed in the mantle of the city Peacekeepers and the ornamented headdress of the House of Stone [2].

Members of the House of Stone were the foundation upon which the city's defenses were built, and I thought then-as I still do-that the virtues of that House showed in none more nobly than its Kell, Chelchis. She stood twice as tall as I, her limbs as thick as the support beams above us. I could have believed any number of stories about her.

The second figure was clad in a void-black cloak and a pytha-hide [3] crest. The absence of a House symbol marked her as a Baron of the Order of Slayers.

The Slayer Barons had tamed Riis back when it grew wild and disordered in the first century of the Great Machine's Ether Flood. First Riis, and then the moons beyond our sky, which were often hostile to us. Within the hatchling-schools, the minders showed us shadow-stories of cunning hunters, adepts of the Great Machine, working in tandem to bring down the biggest monsters of their age.

I did not think so highly of Baron Kiiraskes when I saw her-leaner than Chelchis, but twice as scarred-until she raised her head and I saw the gleam of her eves beneath her cap. There was a feverish cunning in her scrutiny.

"You brought me a hatchling," she complained.

I felt a hot, familiar resentment—and desperation. It was more important than anything that she not turn me away.

"I have been two solar cycles studying," I pleaded.

"I think Chelchis here has carried clutches for longer than that," said the Baron.

Chelchis' irritated tolling [4] would have withered me in my shell, were it directed at me. All the same, I felt a sick humiliation for having been slighted in front of her.

Nearby, the Judgment official bobbed his head in disapproval.

"You have been assigned what you require," he said. "When was the last time that you needed to be summoned out here, that our Peacekeepers could not handle matters? Apprentice Irrha will suffice."

Kiiraskes gave little indication she heard the official's words. "What is your House?" she asked me.

This moment was inevitable.

"I do not have one." It occurred to me at last that I might have been brought here as an insult.

Kiiraskes regarded me steadily. "We can't all be Kings."

The official rubbed his hands together in agitation. "It will be quick work, Baron. Travel to the farm of Haaksis and dispatch the animal that troubles him. If you require reinforcements, send for the support of a House."

Kiiraskes grunted and turned away. I began to bow and felt her claws latch onto my arm like a star-steel cuff, pulling me from the room.

"Be careful, Slayer Baron." The small chimes on Chelchis' headdress rang softly as she turned her head.

I did not see the gesture Kiiraskes made in response, but I heard Chelchis' amused hiss.

_____________________

[1: "Veins of Riis," or the Channels Through the Body of Riis. One city of many!]

[2: The famed House of Stone!]

[3: A vicious predator native to Riis. Variks says that these were delicious.]

[4: To click a warning at an Eliksni that they can feel in their shell. I bet Humans can feel the vibration in their sternums!]

[I was going to translate everything very literally, but Variks told me I was "ripping the soul from every word." Please forgive me some poetic license! -Eido, Scribe of House Light]

[sakyhana13]

Excerpt without context from the Gelphie fanfiction in the style of "I need to save my girlfriend who was cursed to be a monster"

(Idea based on the fact that I'm a dumbass for witches trying to rescue and detransform their girlfriend cursed by a maniac, anyone who assistiu Dungeon Meshi knows what I'm talking about. that nobody asked for, but I need to share it or I'll explode.)

Elphaba watches Glinda sleep. It's so funny, even when she's in the form of a giant cat, with a high chance of snoring and drooling. But Glinda doesn't do that; she just sleeps quietly, with short breaths and the occasional snort. Her tail twitches happily every now and then. Elphaba wonders if, in this form, Glinda still has dreams and what she would dream about. There was a time when Elphaba knew the answer to all these hypotheses. Glinda dreamed. She dreamed big, of a life of adoration by the masses and unlimited influence. She dreamed of dinners and balls, of the burlesque life that the Emerald City had to offer.

They dreamed together, one day, of building a life in this place: Elphaba as the Wizard's apprentice, and Glinda as a socialite loved and well-liked by society. One day, Glinda dreamed of marrying Fiyero. One day, Elphaba dreamed of being like Glinda. Elphaba once dreamed of being loved and respected. But that had changed, at least for Elphaba. Ever since she left Glinda in that tower, her dream after ending the wizard's tyrannical rule had always been to one day return to her arms, at least one last time. To return to Glinda and to their dormitory, to hear the clicks of Glinda's heels hitting the floor. To Glinda's nimble, delicate fingers in her hair as they rested under their favorite tree on the Suicide Canal, while Elphaba read aloud from one of her books. Elphaba's dreams were filled with nights sharing a bed with Glinda beside her, whispering secrets and nonsense. Sometimes Elphaba would wake up smelling Glinda's perfume, as if her nose were buried in her blond curls, and the heat of her body just above hers. Elphaba didn't like to dwell on the past, or to ask silly questions, but she wondered how and when she had lost all of this. She knew the answer, but sometimes she still felt disbelief that she had lost Glinda. It wasn’t even her fault. It wasn’t even Glinda’s fault. They were just the right people at the wrong time. Always at the wrong time. Could they never exist without causing each other pain? Without hurting each other or becoming fractured? Not after Shiz.

Elphaba still remembers Glinda’s raw anger at their last meeting. She hadn’t expected the slap, hadn’t expected Glinda to hurt her. But Glinda had. Elphaba hadn’t expected to hurt her sweet girl either, but she had, because in the end, she had fought back. Her hand hadn’t touched Glinda’s face to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. No. Her hand had returned the insult in kind. It had always been that way between them, hadn’t it? Always fighting back and giving back what they had received from each other. Always trying to balance the scales. If heartbreak corrupted one heart, the other would soon follow. Just as affection in one could not blossom alone. Elphaba wonders why they were destined to this. Why were their destinies so singular, yet so rhyming? Why did Glinda's song always rhyme with hers? Why couldn't she just be alone? Why couldn't she exist with a heart of her own? Why were she and Glinda woven together in the universe, even when they were in opposition? Even when they were far apart? Why was their pain shared? Why was Glinda always following her, even when she didn't want to? Even trapped in this form where she was not remembered, where all Glinda knew was that someone had taken care of her when she was hurt. When all that was left of Elphaba in Glinda's psyche was a stranger. When they had already been so much more than that… She doesn't know how to reverse this, doesn't know how to heal her. She needed the Grimmerie to even look for a hint, a suggestion, but she also didn't want to try to use the damn book and make things worse.

[newyorkstate-official]

I also want to give some recognition to the countless number of people in swing and red states who turned out to try and get their voices heard, only to be met by a backhanded slap to the face.

To be transparent, I am from upstate New York. I'm sure that much is obvious judging by some of the posts on here. And as many more of you know, it's fucking redder than all hell here. I saw Trump and Vance paraphernalia on countless cars and houses. I've seen the 'protect girls sports' signs. Confederate and Thin Blue line flags are common decor. So-called democratic cities are still disgustingly systematically segregated. It's the ugly side of New York they make sure they hide and never talk about.

Now, it's one thing to put up with decades of having your own state government neglect an entire region that houses over 6 million people unless it has something economic to offer the rest (ex. Micron, Erie Canal, Niagara Falls, etc.). It's quite another thing for self-labeled downstate liberals to completely disregard us as being a lost cause. I am just as fucking angry with the state of things here, but it's unbelievably insulting to say that an entire region is asking for it when the lack of government involvement keeps upstate-born folk systematically poor and under-educated. The phenomenon of poverty does not stop at fucking Yonkers, guys.

So yeah, to our southern and midwestern neighbors: I get it. To our brothers, sisters, and siblings who were born, raised, or consider their cultural identity as rural as cornbread and grits: I fucking see you.

I get having to put up with northerners telling you to "just move," as if there's anywhere on Earth that could possibly replace the unique culture and people you grew up with. Believe me, rural communities here in the North experience that shit first hand on the daily. Honestly, the fact that an alarming amount people are comfortable with disgracing and insulting an entire folkgroup— one that has vast communities of color and progressive contributions held-hostage by conservative gerrymandering— is fucking shameful. Civil rights are not a good-guy award that can only be won by good northerners. Half of that effort and progress is being driven by those dumb, rural folk because they're the ones living directly on the battleground.

To those feeling absolutely disheartened at the state of things right now, Do Not lose your Will to Fight. The voter turnout was so incredibly high this time around, and I AM proud of you all for that. Hell, Syracuse kicked that stupid bastard Brandon Williams out of office, which is INCREDIBLE.

I'm sorry that some of the biggest fascist cunts on planet earth are weaponizing your home states against you. Even to our beloved sister state to our south, Pennsylvania: I love you, and I'm sorry you couldn't pull through again for this election. I know so fucking many of you tried.

And to be very, PAINFULLY clear: this blog does not tolerate any form of hate. You WILL be blocked if you spouted bigoted shit OR any kind of speech shit-talking rural and southern folk. I do not post nkr respind to anon hate. I do not give that bullshit a platform. I know this is a blog focused on Everything New York, but I want to make it clear that this will never, Ever be a genuine hostile space to people from other states. Yes, even you, massachusetts-official.

I started this blog as a love letter to New York State, and I know there are people out there that see the good in their own states too. Please keep it going. Keep fighting for the collective wellbeing of our nation.

[egret-orchids]

for the love of language

Kaz Brekker was stubborn. When he had his mind set on doing something, he did it. No matter how difficult, no matter how simplistic. He wasn't sure what category 'learning his girlfriend's language' fell into.

Kaz lovingly and painstakingly learns precious few words in Suli just so that he can surprise his Wraith with them.

| AO3 | SOC Sideblog |

word count: 948

It wasn't an unknown fact amongst the Dregs and Crows that Kaz Brekker knew one language, and one language alone.

He was stubborn, and though his rough voice and the hints of an accent that stemmed from southern Kerch were normal for him, hearing him reciting words in Suli was... odd. Jesper recognised the language from the few times he'd heard Inej muttering the melodic syllables, although he suspected most of it was just curses and swears, much like Jesper's messy Kaelish.

Jesper didn't want to run the risk of Kaz murdering him for snooping, but he did regale this to Wylan over cups of tea in the merchling's basement workshop.

"I was just walking past- y'know, because he'd asked me to grab a map for a job, and I hear him mumbling in Suli." Jesper said, sighing dramatically. This elicited a small chuckle from Wylan, who sipped his tea and then replied; "I think he has some sort of plan. He's never bothered learning more than basic decencies in other languages, and even then they're not great in terms of pronunciation."

Jesper nodded. "He tried to say hello to my Da in Kaelish and I'm pretty sure he accidently insulted him." Even if the anecdotes his father told him weren't exactly true, Colm Fahey was probably justified in his distaste. Some words in Kaelish were similar to others, and a slight error in wording could lead a pleasant hello to turn into somebody's mother getting called a whore. And it was also Kaz, who would probably do something like that purposefully; fully aware of what he was doing yet still taking the chance to be an ass.

Wylan smiled at this. "Are you going to ask him about it?" he asked.

Jesper shook his head. "He'd probably break my arms and threaten to gut me and leave my intestines for the crows or something like that."

"It's Kaz, of course he'd say that..." Wylan laughed quietly.

"I certainly wouldn't put it past him." Inej said with a smile from the doorway, and Jesper nearly jumped out of his skin as Wylan waved to her with a small, shy grin on his face.

"Saints, Inej, do you have to do that every time?" Jesper complained, rolling his eyes fondly. Inej didn't reply, simply shrugging and stepping towards the two. She sat on Wylan's workbench and looked at both of them with mock-sternness.

"Kaz has a job for you two. Some merchant from Shu Han." Inej passed Jesper a small, folded slip of paper- Kaz's signature way of informing them all of jobs.

Jesper flicked the note open and cleared his throat. "Shu Han merchant ship docked in Second Harbour- Saints, it's like he doesn't want us around all day today- unloading into the Stadhall. Jesper has the map." he read aloud, and the way Wylan immediately hung on the gunslinger's every word with such affection in his eyes almost made Inej laugh aloud.

Wylan hummed in response. "So this merchant if working with somebody in the Merchant Council, then."

"Yeah, and he's obviously going to be..."

Inej slid off the table and walked away, leaving the other two conversing about Kaz's latest job. It didn't need her skills, and she had a feeling that Kaz wanted her nearby.

She pulled up her hood, opting to meet Kaz, wherever he was. She didn't bother climbing the rafters and jutting beams to get to the window or the roof of the building next door and have to climb around searching for him, not in this weather. Besides, she knew Kaz would either be in his office, or somewhere on the Zentsbridge.

As it turned out, Kaz was leaning on the bridge's railings, gazing into the murky grey-green of the canal. He didn't move as Inej's neared his left shoulder, but he did shift his bad leg slightly. "Hello, Inej. Don't you have a job you need to help out on?" he said quietly, though the slight smile in his voice betrayed his joking manner.

Inej breathed a laugh, leaning on the railing next to him, back to the canal. "I wanted to know what you were planning. You normally make sure I'm with Wylan and Jes just in case either of them get distracted, be it by each other of something else." she replied.

Kaz shrugged. "Who's to say I'm planning something?"

Inej rolled her eyes. "Kaz Brekker, do you need to be so stubborn?"

Kaz tilted his head, meeting her eyes. "No." he said simply. "But stubbornness got me where I am today, and it got you out of the Menagerie, didn't it?"

"My stubbornness or your stubbornness?" Inej chuckled.

Kaz didn't reply at first; instead he moved away from the bridge's railing, and turned to face Inej, face almost expressionless but his eyes were less cold then they normally were.

"Volim te." he whispered, just enough for Inej to hear.

She swore her heart stopped beating for a solid five seconds when he said that.

It was a known fact that Kaz Brekker, that Dirtyhands knew Kerch, and Kerch alone. His accent was southern, from somewhere like Lij, but his language was that of someone born and raised in Kerch.

My mother is Ketterdam, he'd said, she birthed me in the harbour.

"What?" Inej murmured, too surprised.

My father is profit. I honour him daily.

"Volim te." Kaz repeated, and Inej can't help but laugh.

"Your pronunciation is awful, Saints."

Kaz glared at her, but it wasn't serious.

Inej moved towards Kaz, about to hug him. She stopped. "May I?" she breathed.

Kaz nodded slowly, and Inej pulled him into a hug.

"I love you too, Kaz Brekker."

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Navigating the next month

December 27, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

Handling the news cycle over the next month will be a challenge. The American public is understandably turning away from legacy media in droves—both from exhaustion and disgust. See HuffPo, Americans Are Exhausted By Political News. TV Ratings And A New Poll Show They're Tuning Out.

The temptation to look away is understandable for both political and personal reasons. As Democrats honor the Constitution by facilitating the peaceful transition of power, the first president to interfere with that process will be inaugurated in little less than a month.

While Democrats follow the rules, Trump is ratcheting his obnoxious behavior to unplumbed depths of depravity and lunacy. His race to the bottom does not faze business leaders and major corporations flocking to Mar-a-Lago like gulls after a storm scavenging for scraps at the nearest landfill.

In short, it stinks.

My modest goal over the next several weeks is to help navigate through the unpleasant reality of the transition from the Biden to the Trump administration. We can’t look away completely, even though the urge to keep the odiferous news at arms-length is an act of self-preservation. But we have a democracy to defend and cannot do so unless we remain engaged and aware of the threats to the rule of law.

Out of respect for those of you who are gingerly re-entering the news bubble after the holidays (or the election), I offer a 60,000-foot summary in one paragraph below. Details follow. Jill and I are still hosting family through next week, so I will be briefer than usual. (You are welcome!)

The news from 60,000 feet

Trump is making reckless statements about US expansion into Canada, Iceland, and Panama. The 119th Congress will convene on January 3, 2025, and will elect a new Speaker (or not). A joint session of Congress will convene on January 6, 2025, at which time the President of the Senate (Vice President Kamala Harris) will announce the electoral votes by state. By operation of the Constitution and enabling statutes, if a candidate receives a majority of the electoral votes, that person will be elected as the next president upon the announcement of the vote totals by the President of the Senate. The president-elect will be inaugurated on January 20, 2025, at a taxpayer-funded ceremony—which will be followed by obscene galas underwritten to the tune of $150 million by cowardly businesses and CEOs eager to curry favor with a man none of them would hire.

Trump unleashes Christmas Day torrent of insults and threats

As has become a tradition with Trump, his Christmas Day messages quickly traversed the unhinged mental landscape from “Merry Christmas” to attacking the Radical Left Lunatics—a.k.a. “American citizens” whom he was elected to represent.

At one level, it is tedious and off-putting to recite Trump's crass statements on a day that most people associate with peace and hope. If you would like to read the details, they can be found in these articles: New York Magazine / Intelligencer, Trump Christmas Message Was Basically a Villain Monologue, and Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, President-elect Trump continues tradition of Christmas attacks, takes aim at ‘Radical Left Lunatics’.

At another level, Trump's ugly missives matter, especially when they involve threats to expand US territory into sovereign nations—like Canada, Greenland, and the Panama Canal. Yes, in case you missed it, Trump has directly or indirectly threatened to invade or absorb those three nations into the United States. See Rolling Stone, Trump Threatens to Take Over Canada, Panama Canal, Greenland in Christmas Day Message.

I know that many people have decided to “tune out” Trump's crazy statements—and each of the above falls well into the territory of delusion and detachment from reality. The problem is that there are sovereign nations on the receiving end of those reckless taunts—and their leaders cannot allow Trump's statements to go without response. The response, in turn, will provoke Trump to further lunacy. Wars have started over more trivial matters.

Charlie Angus, Canadian Member of Parliament in the House of Commons, was asked about Trump's threats to make Canada the 51st US state. Angus said,

[T]he message that I'm hearing from people across Canada is they're not afraid of [Trump] because they know you're a convicted felon. They know that all the people that you're bringing in to run your organization right now . . . are all grifters and thieves and thugs. We've got to look after our own interests right now. We will work with your country. We will work with our great neighbors. But, Donald, don't push us around.

In short, Trump's war of words directed at Canada, Panama, and Greenland is not harmless. It will provoke political backlash against the US in those countries. Although it is impossible to predict the outcome of the war of words, the likelihood that it will hurt the citizens of America, Canada, Panama, and Greenland is high.

Donald Trump is unfit to lead the United States—as his reckless comments make clear. That should be a leading story in every newspaper in America every day.

[Robert B. Hubbell]

[nopecho]

Aight so I saw your post about getting into writing and I do have a soft whitney story in my brain. Whitney assumes you're an orphan but you're actually Bailey's kid and they soften up in order to not die. If you're after specifics, whitney jokes about "meeting the parents", y'know some shit joke about you assumedly being an orphan, but you take them to the lotus flat and they find out that Bailey's your parent.

Alright this took me a few days, but I finally finished it! This is my first writing ask, and I had a lot of fun with it :) I added some personal headcanons and details. Have a good read!

Contents: M! Whitney, M! Bailey, F! Defiant PC. CW for typical Whitney insults. Other than that, it’s pretty vanilla.

It is cold. Way too goodman cold. You shiver into your jersey jacket- ideal for spring or autumn, but certainly not in a snowy winter. Your footsteps are barely audible as your feet sink into the snowy pavement, as your breath forms clouds on your face. You are just passing through the commercial alleyways, on your way home, when you feel a sudden tug on your long, silky hair. “Hey there, slut.” You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is. “What do you want, Whitney?” You reply. He tugs again, forcing you to come face to face with him. His shit-eating grin is the last thing you needed to see, especially since he was in a nice, warm leather jacket and you were freezing. “Nothin’ much.” he grabs your wrist, and starts dragging you somewhere. You notice it’s weirdly silent. It takes you a while, but you realize that he’s alone right now. Usually, Whitney is followed by his gang of goons. It’s almost uncanny, seeing him alone. “Where the hell are you taking me, jackass?” you ask, as he keeps dragging you. “You’ll see.” He takes you to a building, a metal ladder going up all the way to the rooftop. “Alright, gal. Climb up. It’ll be romantic at the top.” He pushes you to the ladder, as you roll your eyes. As you climb up, the freezing wind sneaks under your long skirt, creeping into your body. You cuss under your breath as you climb up. Once at the top, Whitney soon follows. He grabs your waist, pulling you close to the edge.

The view is indeed pretty. You can see much of the city from where you stand. The houses covered in white, the smoke coming out of the chimneys, the empty trees covered in icicles all make for a very calming view. “Pretty good, am I right?” Whitney says with a smug grin. “But that’s not why I brought you here today.” “Then what is it?” you inquire. “I want you to show me where you live. Meet the parents and all.” he then facepalms, in fake sorrow. “Ooooh, I nearly forgot! Your folks are dead!” He snickers, caressing your jawline. “How pitiful that whoever aborted you has died. Must be pretty pathetic, to live at the orphanage.” You look at him, confused. “And where did you hear that?” “What, that you're an orphan?”  “I don’t know where you got that. I live with my dad.” “Wait, you’re bullshitting me now.” You roll your eyes, annoyed. “Listen Whit, I don’t know who spread that nasty rumor. I don’t live at the orphanage, period.” “Then where do you live?” You let out an annoyed breath from your nose, and it forms a small cloud on your face. You point your finger to the general location of Barb Street. Whitney’s eyes widen. “Barb street? But that’s where the flats are.” “So what?” “No it’s just… nevermind.” You are getting annoyed now. “What, don’t believe me that’s where I live?” “Look, I didn’t think you lived in the same shithole as-” Offended, you grab Whitney’s wrist. “I’ll show you shithole. Come with me, you’re seeing my house right now.” You yank Whitney towards the ladder. “Easy gal! Geez, fucking relax for once…” He rolls his eyes, and starts climbing down. You catch up with him, and soon you’re both on the ground. You start walking Whitney towards your house. As you cross the bridge to the canals, Whitney is weirdly quiet and obedient while you’re holding his wrist. You don’t think much of it, as you drag him along. You soon get to the flat with the lotus doorknob. “Are you crazy, you whore?! You can’t go in-” You fish the keys out from your jersey pocket and open the door. Whitney is speechless. “Wait. You’re telling me you live here?” You just shove Whitney inside. As you enter your apartment, you catch Whitney admiring the location. It has neat wallpaper, the furniture is in excellent shape and is a bit over the top with the decorations, the floor has a thick carpet and the flat is overall very nice and well-kept. Whitney whistles. “Dang girl, I should try and extort you more money. Your dad looks like he’s filthy rich. How did ya even clean up this place so well?”

His eyes then fall to the shelves where the pictures are, and he pales a little. “Wait, is that…?” He picks out a framed photo. “What’s weird?” you ask, still pissed. Whitney is holding a picture of you dad and you, when you were about 12. “Bailey is your father??” He sounds shocked. “Yeah, so what?” “I mean… he’s the big boss here in town. He has quite the bad reputation.  That means I’ve been bossing around the big guy’s kid for months.” His gaze then softens. “Although he probably treats you better than the orphans. I’ve heard some horror stories about that Robin kid. Nasty stuff.” You shift uncomfortably. “I mean… yeah. I’ve heard some stuff, too.” You admit. Your defensive shell is cracking. “Honestly, the things my dad does there? they’re not too hard to believe.” Whitney looks at you, now seemingly concerned. “Wait. Your dad didn’t try and-” “No, it’s not like that!” you put your hands forward. “It’s just… He never really cared about me.” You hold your right arm. “He barely speaks to me. I have to do everything in the house, or else he’ll yell at me for having to hire help around the house. He won’t let me even buy a decent jacket for the winter. The only times he bothers looking at me, is when he’s scolding me for screwing up something. So it didn’t surprise me too much when I heard those stories. He just cares about his money.” Whiney looks at you, tilting his head as a hard to read expression forms on his face. “Can’t you just live with your mom then?” A long, long silence ensues as you look away. You didn’t like reminders of what happened. You feel a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, warm. “Hey… I’m sorry.” Whitney? Saying he’s sorry? You look at him, puzzled. His face is… Soft. He looks almost as if he’s in pain. He notices your confused expression. “It must be hell to live with a dad that doesn’t give a shit about you.” He explains. “I know what it feels like. So… for what’s worth, if you need to talk about it? You know where to find me.” He looks around the house, seemingly uncomfortable. “Now, I’ll get going. Let me know when Bailey is available next time. I want to have two words with him.” He starts to walk out of the flat. As he stops by the door, he turns to bid goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, slut.” the insult is almost said in an affectionate manner. And just like that, he leaves your flat. You are left speechless. For some reason, you feel like you know Whitney a bit better now.