#Homelander's fertility

[themeraldee]

hello i am here to ramble about homelander's fertility (not because the g20 trailer dropped and i started feeling feelings and thinking thoughts what nooo). i'm never quite sure what i think the show's view is. are we meant to think ryan really is a fluke? could it be that hl's dna is just so v soaked that it doesn't work with other supes, only non-supes (sort of like bringing fresh blood into a royal lineage)? i'm not sure how many people we're meant to think he's slept with in the past - maeve for sure, i'm personally not 100% convinced stillwell let him go all the way until the end of s1 but then again they did have 20+ years of history so maybe they did, and there's that deleted scene where maeve says they broke up because he was sleeping around but it doesn't feel super character accurate to me and it is deleted so. nebulous canon. i mean, even as i type this i'm thinking up an angsty scenario where a much younger less jaded lab-fresh hl is seduced by a fan at a convention (let's be honest, she'd probably just have to gush and giggle a bit and his love starved ass would think they're soulmates) and he accidentally kills her during sex. so there are possibilities. but anyway to get back to my point. 😂 i've also wondered if vought just straight up lied to him that he was infertile, but this would seem a very silly thing to do as then he'd be less careful and more likely to have a kid. unless they were always planning for a ryan scenario where he'd get someone pregnant and they'd whisk her and the baby off to train to one day kill him without him ever knowing. but this doesn't seem to be the implication from what is said in the show. so if they really thought he was infertile, considering all the insane unethical science those scientists are involved in, that'd suggest ryan really is a fluke? otherwise how'd they get that wrong? i guess all this rambling is just to say i find that scenario even though it's the likeliest kinda boring and i prefer headcanoning there are just strange requirements for him to actually have a kid. such as the other person not being a supe. he'd hate that so it's more fun. 😂 by this headcanon maeve's eggs would've been useless to him even if he did get his hands on them, and i think that would've given her some satisfaction. even if surely vought would've figured this out if it was the case, the irony just feels fitting.

(oh the G20 trailer also totally didn't fuck me up at all...)

This is a great topic to discuss, I also find the way the show handles it strange. And I think they dropped the ball on it.

If your insanely powerful and dangerous science experiment suddenly produces an offspring you should be like... a little more worried? Vogelbaum's "nature is tenacious" explanation is strange. You've put so much work into creating Homelander. Surely you'd care more about him actually being fertile? Vought cared a lot about keeping him on a tight leash, they would have thought about how him possibly being fertile and having his own kid would change his priorities (and potentially loyalties) and rewire his brain. After how much work they put into keeping him docile and cooperative it seems crazy to me that they'd just brush it off.

Obviously they could've been freaking out in the background, which is why they hid Becca and whatnot but it just seems like very poor planning on their part.

Because if they genuinely believed he was infertile well then they did a shit job testing his fertility. Unless they knew he was fertile. And did something to try to sterilize him. However that turned out to either be not long lasting or not working at all.

I'm sure Maeve was on birth control when they were together just in case even if he told her that he was shooting blanks. It's not like she's gonna trust him with that 😆

However I do wonder how many other people he slept with. (I also choose to ignore the cheating allegations bcs it doesn't fit the way I view him, tho thinking about it if it was totally canon I could imagine him doing it as a desperate way to get Maeve jealous just to feel like she cares about him. While she took it as the easy way out.)

But I'm curious how much sex ed did Vought give him in the lab. If any 😆 I'm not sure about the timeline re: Homelander's debut, his and Maeve's relationship. But I think the idea of him getting easily swayed by a fan is fun. Especially if they never actually have sex and he accidentally kills her before they could get to it. That could put him off sex with non-supes for a little while (so no need to worry about him getting people pregnant) and then his actual first time would be with Maeve who again would be on birth control.

Then the next person in line is Becca. And that's the first time he actually had a chance to impregnate someone? And it took.

So maybe Ryan is less a fluke and more just Homelander not having had as much sex as we thought he would. Because he's not really been to exposed to most of it right. And seeing as he was out there already worshipped as something different than a human, something better, I imagine he didn't immediately go like. Hmm now that I'm free, it's time to finally fuck.

Also, I do like your non-supe theory! (The only other supe we know he had sex with was Stormfront but she could've also been on birth control.) I also adore the idea that for him to have kids it has to be with a human. Though at first infuriating I'm sure he would justify it all sorts. Like he's so godlike, other gods can't match him. He has to grace the lowly humans his presence to gift him another mini-him.

I think my final headcanon is that in the beginning, Homelander was sex-averse. After one bad encounter with a fan he realises that for him to feel good he has to lose control, which ends up in him killing somebody. Back then I like to believe that he cared about it a little. Or at least, he was spooked. Like 'oh no, oh no, oh no, Vought's gonna find out, they're gonna put me back in the bad room, they're gonna take away my freedom' kinda thing. Obviously since then he's gotten better at controlling his powers. But with Maeve then being his actual first time, somebody who can handle him is what ignites this need again and he's then constantly chasing that high, that pleasure. With how much I imagine sex was a part of their relationship as opposed to cute dates and hanging out, it's the only way he learned to love. Though that's off topic! But this is what I'm going with.

[supercityboys]

Kratos is peak poor little meow meow like he murdered his entire family from wife to child to various sisters and brothers plus his mother and father on top of numerous greeks both living and dead but in ragnarok we get to see him eat for the first time in 20 years only to watch him eat soup with a knife

[futurefatum]

Another major attack coming to America (Tone: 100)

Posted January 3rd, 2024 by @lastdays247 ABOUT THIS VIDEO: This video presents a prophetic vision shared by the speaker regarding potential threats to the United States, emphasizing the need for prayer and spiritual intercession. It details warnings about organized acts of violence, including attacks on key locations such as Washington, D.C., and Trump properties, which are perceived as…

[corinthianism]

corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

[coralinnii]

"Eyes are Windows to the Soul"

↳ Admiring your Dark Brown eyes

feat: Idia ❋ Sebek ❋ Kalim ❋ Trey genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used for reader, set before Book 7 (mostly because I haven’t finished it yet),

Idia grew up sheltered in a sterile world, filled with LED lights and sleek metal walls. Shades of brown were not common in his daily routine, so he didn’t have a lot of opinions on it. 

In a world of neon blue and cold silver, your brown eyes ironically stood out in Idia’s world. 

Your eyes remind him of fluffy brown kittens, filled with warmth and mischief. You remind him of those adorable teddy bear prizes in claw machines that everyone covets. You were everything he dreams of holding, but often out of reach.

That is until the two of you grew closer, then he sees your eyes in the ice-cold colas he’s chugging during long grinding sessions with you. He feels a tingling sensation when he sees your eyes in the dry autumn leaves crunching beneath his feet whenever you drag him out to “touch some grass” 

Your brown eyes remind him of everything fluffy and warm, of fuzzy feelings and snugness. 

Your eyes give off energy, but it’s not scary or overwhelming at all. Rather, it’s soft and enjoyable like a refreshing drink on a hot day.

You seem so out of place in his old world, but Idia couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore.

”Uggh, that cat is just too cute, what a sensory overload! Huh, when did brown cats become my fav? I-I guess kinda recently?”

Sebek holds himself with prestige and integrity, a well-kept man with honor to uphold. 

But his experience is filled with the great wilderness, with the natural and unbending beauty of the forest. He proudly recalls his childhood living close to the world of fae and nature. 

You were a human. Your upbringing was nothing like his own, a pair of opposites with nothing in common

But, when you look at him with your sweet brown eyes, Sebek sometimes feels lost in nostalgia. In your eyes, he sees the beautiful trees of his homeland, he sees his beloved worn-out books in his bookshelves passed down by his grandfather. 

Not only his childhood memories, Sebek feels the same feeling of familiarity in his current lifestyle. He’s reminded of the joy and excitement he feels when he trusts his whole self to the majestic brown horses in the campus wooden stables. 

Is it because just like his trusted steed, your warm brown eyes effortlessly shine with so much strength?

Lost in your eyes, he recalls feelings of comfort and home, a connection to what makes Sebek…himself. Though he may not admit it, the stubborn young man finds solace just by staring into your eyes.

"Do I ever feel homesick? Of course I do! I simply… haven’t been feeling all that distant from my homeland as of late”

Kalim is not only surrounded by shades of brown, but also reds, yellows, greens, and everything else in the large spectrum of color. His world is bright and vibrant, never a dull moment for the boisterous heir. 

You fit right into his life, adding more happiness to his routine. Your existence gave off a sense of wholesome, sweet fun. You join him in his highs yet keep him grounded when he flies too close to the Sun

To anyone else, Kalim lacks nothing in terms of riches. He is financially blessed for generations to come, and Kalim is not ignorant enough to deny otherwise. 

But lately, whenever he watches you, he ponders on what the word “rich” truly meant to him. 

Some would call your brown eyes pretty but rather plain, but regardless Kalim would catch himself swimming in the hue of your irises. 

In your eyes, he sees the deep color of expensive cognac that many would gift his parents, he sees the color of flawless leather prized by countless merchants, and he sees the color of fertile soil that nurtures and feeds his country. 

If someone were to ask his opinion, Kalim would say that richness and pricelessness could be defined by your eyes. Kalim may have an abundance of gold and silver but there is no price that could compare to the look of pure love in your exquisite eyes.

"Have you ever seen a chocolate diamond before? They’re really pretty with a wonderful shine. I really like them, I’ll show you one someday!”

While he isn’t against dabbling in certain subjects and interests, Trey has a pretty solid idea of his future, to become a patissier and to either inherit his family's bakery or start his own business. 

Trey doesn’t see himself as anyone extravagant nor does he really want to be. Sure, he may be in a prestigious school, and he may hold an enviable position as a vice-Housewarden, but the green-haired senior holds himself more modestly. 

You knew well of his humble dream, and he appreciated the way you would support him however you can, be it a taste tester for new recipes or assisting him in the kitchen before a busy unbirthday party. 

In this close proximity, Trey is allowed more chances to glance your way, especially your eyes. 

He sees the resemblance in your eyes the color of the chestnuts you collected with the mischievous freshmen, the first day he noticed how cute you were. He’s reminded of warm brownies and cookies he would bake in secret just for you, all to see those very eyes sparkle. He imagines a brick house in the same shade as your eyes, where he’ll live out his peaceful life with you.

In your warm brown eyes, he feels reassurance and security. Trey doesn’t need a lavish lifestyle or a grand plan. All he could wish for is a life where he could bake cakes and pay taxes with you.

“I’m not exactly the most romantic with words, but I do like your eyes. They remind me of…my oven. Ah, that sounded a bit…” 

[yzegem]

The Dragons:

When dragons arrived to the continent where the main story happens, a great crisis ensued. At that time, the continent was mostly under either direct control or in the sphere of influence of the Sun Empire (provisional and generic name). This empire rules over many ethnicities, religions and cultures in a tense peace held together with complex and pretty ineficient burocracy.

The first effort to kill a dragon made by the empire was a great failure rooted in miscomunication. A dragon landed near one of the northernmost frontier fortresses of the empire and made it's nest inside of the central tower.

Since comunication with this fortress was cut off and the empire had not yet noticed the dragons, it was asumed that the fortress had been invaded. A platoon of soldiers arrived to retake the fortress, hoping to find an invading tribe inside of it, unable to hold a siege.

What they found was a massive dragon mother that had just layed eggs and was very territorial and so the whole platoon of heavy infantry was killed.

News from the dragons kept coming to the capital, myth mixed with reality about how they ate cattle, people and even ships.

Platoon after platoon of imperial soldiers were sent to manage the dragons but they were either unable to track them or all killed uppon contact.

Many rural societies collapsed, and only those that could hide inside city walls were safe.

Soldiers sent to face the dragons usually deserted, and it was clear that the Empire didn't have the necessary tools to face the dragons.

Out of desperation, the empire offered an unusual reward: They would give away land and titles to whoever killed the dragons.

The dragon hunters ended up being the nomadic tribes of the northern steppe of the continent.

They used to live a life of herding, hunting megafauna and raiding southern settlements and were a constant nuisance to the empire.

Many times these tribal confederation tried to conquer the more fertile lands of the empire but were unable to hold any taken territories wich were quickly reconquered by the Empire.

Their territory was greatly affected by dragons and basically became their homeland. Dragons lived in the steppes hunting megafauna and seasonally came to the south to raid cattle.

The slaying of a young dragon.

These tribes were very used to hunting megafauna and knew very well how to track an animal like a dragon and live off the land while they chased it.

They were also very motivated to get the reward and finally hold land and also getting rid of the dragon. These dragon unting groups were usually familial units with a very intuituve and respected hirearchy.

As they killed dragons the balance between these beasts and humans shifted. The hunters became more and more specialized and powerful after claiming the rewards. On the other hands, killing the dragons reduced intraspecies competition so the surviving dragons became very big, smart and weary of humans.

This is how one of these late specialiced hunts would go.

A very large group of hunter would be needed, about 12 hunters per se plus their replacements and squires. Also, a large but mobile caravan. Scouting groups would be ahead while the rest of the caravan follows them at a distance and gathers food and such.

The main strategy is to tire out the dragon until it can't fly off anymore and then try to kill it on the ground.

Here are some specialized types of hunters.

On the left: A grappling lancer. They use these lances with a frail tip, meant to break off after penetrating the skin of the dragon and remain inside the wound. The metalic tip is tied to a strong rope with a net or hooks at the end of it. The hooks are ment to get tangled to the rest of the body, branches or the ground. This way, if the dragon tries to run away, fly off or simply move, it would pull from the wound and be very painful and disorienting. A single one is not going to immobilize the dragon but 10 or 15 might.

On the centre: A blunt unit. These are meant to strike the wings of the dragon with a long mace to break their bones and also carry a blade to lacerate the wing membrane. Since they come very close to the dragon, they are very well covered against its acid.

On the right: A shocker. Their pourpose is to distract the dragon and overwhelm it. Their horse is decorated with bells and colorful feathers. They play horns and wistles and carry hand cannons. (I will talk about the technology of the world in another post) The cannons would be preloaded and they would shoot all of them as quickly as posible, aiming to the eyes or neck. These would not kill the dragon, but they would be painful, bright and noisy. This unit plays a semi-religious role and have the riskiest position since the other ones attack and retreat to prepare for the next attack while the shocker always stays closer to the dragon. They sometimes attack semi or fully nacked since they embrace the danger and death during the hunt is considered very noble.

Archers would also be present but I didn't draw them.

The fatal blow is done with a strong lance and usually reserved to the tribe chieftan.

The religion of these nomadic tribes is polytheistic but the tribes that specialized in hunting dragons shifted to prioritizing their godess of the hunt.

When a dragon is hunted it's skull must be given to imperial officials to prove it was hunted and so that it can be measured since the reward depends on the size and age of the dragon. Carrying the skull back to civilisation is sometimes more dangerous than hunting the dragon since many people would want to steal it.

Once these tribes settled into castles, the dragon skulls are kept in shrines, next to the skulls of those that hunted it. This is because in their religion, they believe thet the beasts their ancestors hunter would guard them in the afterlife. This is also meant to show off the power of these clans.

In the image we can see a dragon skull being used as a shrine for a sacrifice meant to bless a future hunt. On the left there is a statue of the godess of hunt and abundance and on the foreground a simple protective bear statue.

In conclusion, after about a century since they first arrived dragons became extinct and power in the continent shifted fro the centralized power of the emperor to local dragon slaying feudal nobility that coexist with the emperor in a strange balance where the nobles hold most of the military and agricultural power while the lands of the emperor legitimize the noble's power and also dominate in trade and religion.

If you read this all the way thank you and sorry for the chaotic writting. I hope you enjoyed these and ideas and questions are eagerly welcome.

[himasgod]

King Deshret x Reader IV part I

Where Deshret finds out that you are marrying Morax, and goes to great lengths to get to the location and beg for your forgiveness.

(PART IV DONE. I've decided to split this request in two, since I wanted to make it quite long and doing it in one post would be quite long. This part is about Deshret finding out that you're going to marry Morax and the next one, which I'll post in a few hours, will deal directly with the wedding and Deshret interrupting it. Thanks to sailorstar as always and, of course, enjoy <3)

XVII.

The nights in the desert had always been his refuge, a kingdom of endless stars above a sea of ​​golden dunes that only he could rule. The silence, once so comforting, now weighed on his shoulders like a blanket of ice. King Deshret returned to the palace after half a year away, the promise of returning to you still fresh in his mind. He had set out in the hope of bringing you an era of splendor, with Nabu Malikata at his side. But in his obsession with dreams of greatness, he had let himself be carried away by the intoxicating sweetness of the Goddess of Flowers.

When his sandals echoed in the halls, there was no welcome. He did not find you waiting for him with a frown or words of reproach for his prolonged absence. Instead, he was greeted by a desolate palace, as cold as a tomb. The servants avoided his gaze, bowing their heads in silence. Was there something they were not telling him? An inexplicable uneasiness began to stir in his chest.

“Where is the queen?” he asked in a grave voice to one of his oldest servants, whose face was marked by uncertainty.

“Your Majesty… the queen has departed.” The man hesitated, swallowing before adding, “You will find a letter in her chambers.”

The words fell like stones into a bottomless pit. Deshret felt his heart race as he walked through the halls with increasingly hurried steps, almost tripping in his haste to reach the room they once shared. The door, normally ajar to allow the light of the rising sun, was now shut tight. He pushed it hard, almost ripping it off its hinges.

There, in the vastness of the bed he had shared with you, lay a single scroll. Deshret approached slowly, as if the simple act of touching it could trigger a catastrophe. His hands, which had not trembled even in the face of the most fearsome armies, now trembled as he unrolled the letter.

“To King Deshret, who was once my husband: I hereby dissolve our marriage. I am no longer the queen who swore to remain at your side in the eternal dunes. I am leaving, for the fidelity I promised cannot be sustained in the emptiness of a love that has withered.”

The words were sharp, written with the precision of a knife. Each sentence was a reminder of what he had lost in seeking the company of another, of what he had let crumble in his pursuit of power and fleeting pleasures. This was not just a piece of paper; it was the end of an oath he had taken for eternal.

But it was the last line that broke what little remained of his temper:

“I return to my home in Liyue, where the vows I gave you will be extinguished like the embers of a fire that no longer burns. This time, there will be no turning back.”

XVIII.

The weight of your words echoed in his mind as he stood there in the dimness of your empty chambers. You had been so much more than a wife to him: you were the legendary Phoenix Princess, Liyue’s most precious jewel, the daughter of the Phoenix Queen. You had given up your golden destiny alongside Rex Lapis, you had abandoned the fertile valleys of your homeland to accompany the king of a kingdom of sand. And he, blinded by the promise of power alongside Nabu Malikata, had let the glow of that sacrifice fade.

When he was finally able to move, Deshret summoned his advisors, demanding answers. But all he received were evasive glances and empty answers. You had left with a small entourage, taking only what was yours, rejecting all the luxuries he had arranged for your comfort. Your decision had been final, unwavering.

Deshret felt an unparalleled emptiness devour him from within. The great king who had defied the gods was now nothing more than a broken man, a prisoner in his own palace. For the first time in centuries, King Deshret understood what it meant to truly lose. Not by war, not by the betrayal of allies, but by the foolishness of his own heart.

XIX.

A week later, Rukkhadevata arrived at the palace with news he did not wish to hear. She stood before him, compassion veiling her emerald eyes.

“Deshret,” she said softly, “I come with news from Liyue.”

“Speak, Rukkhadevata.” His voice was barely a whisper, as if the mere act of speaking words exhausted him.

Dendro Archon took a deep breath. “Rex Lapis has sent invitations to all the Archons. He is announcing his marriage with the the Phoenix Princess.”

His blood froze in his veins. He felt the world crumble around him, as if the palace walls were about to collapse on him.

“Marriage…?” he repeated in a murmur, unable to process what he heard.

Rukkhadevata nodded regretfully. “She has returned home, Deshret. She has found in Morax the love and stability that you denied her.”

XX.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of anguish. While Nabu Malikata spoke excitedly of the lavish ceremony Liyue was preparing, he could barely hear her. Her words were like a distant echo, lost in the storm of his mind.

He couldn’t bear it. The image of you beside another man, smiling as you once did just for him, consumed him. Morax… his rival, his opposite in so many ways, was taking away what he had cast aside.

“I must see her once more,” he decided, his pride crushed under the weight of his despair. He turned to Rukkhadevata with a plea he never thought he would make.

“Take me to Liyue, I beg you. Let me see her, even one last time. Let me beg her to reconsider, to forgive me… before it’s too late.”

Rukkhadevata watched him, pain in her eyes. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew you had closed your heart forever. But after a long, tense silence, he nodded.

“I will take you, Deshret. But you must prepare for what you will find. It may already be too late. Sometimes, even for the gods, second chances do not exist."

XXI.

And so, the once invincible King Deshret, who defied the gods and dreamed of conquering the heavens, found himself in the position of a broken man, a king who had lost everything because of his own blindness. Now, he was not heading into a battle to win a kingdom, but into a fight for a heart that no longer belonged to him.

As the desert dunes fell behind him and the green valleys of Liyue rose before him, he knew he was facing his final battle. But this time, the price of failure would not be a crown, but the love he himself let slip away.

He was willing to stop that wedding. He was willing to get you back. Even if it cost him his life.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[annwrites]

⸻ no sound but the wind. part one. ⸻

· pairing: adar x fem!reader · type: part of mini-series · summary: adar finds personal use for you as a slave of a different kind. · tw: non-con · word count: 3,212

“And do you swear allegiance to Adar, father of the Uruks?”

You stare ahead at the man he speaks of—if he is even truly a man at all—observing his long, black, silken hair, his gray, sallow skin, the ruined sides of his face where the skin is pulled taught from scarring due to, you presume, fire—his thin lips tightly pursed while he awaits your answer. And it’s then that you notice his pointed ears.

His is an elf. How—how could he let this happen? How can he partake in it? He is meant to be wise and strong, yet gentle and fair. Not…whatever he has instead become.

It does not much matter how he has come upon the path which he now follows. What’s done is done.

All is now lost that once was to you because of it. That you’d most loved. That which had brought you joy and much more.

Like your village, where trees had flowered and bloomed year-round. Those of almond and chestnut, apple and peaches, sour lemons and limes. Some, which ivy grew upon the trunks of, while blossoms were peppered throughout green leaves that dappled the ground below in sunlight, which rays shone through from a clear blue sky above—white, fluffy clouds slowly floating past.

Or lush, soft, green grass which you would lie upon and nap. Clear, cool running water in streams that were always warm in the summer, and crisp in the autumn when those same sticky apples fell into the soil, feeding it until the year next when farmers would tend their fields of potatoes, carrots, pumpkins, lettuce, and strawberries—the various types of crops nearly endless. Mayhaps a few bushes of berries were to be had, as well.

Animals grazed the fields: cows and sheep and goats alike, and chickens would peck about around the settlement while pigs oinked in their pens, lazy cats slept upon windowsills, and pups ran along after smiling, playful children—their adoring parents watching along after them as young couples in love strolled into the small market in the middle of town to purchase goods.

Like spices and cured meats, colorful fabrics and dresses, woven baskets and pillar candles, pots and pans, and shimmering, beautiful glassware, among so much more.

And there would be gatherings in the square quite regularly: dances and festivals, competitions in archery or axe throwing, or quilt-making and pie baking.  Woodworkers and blacksmiths would presents their creations to all for purchase, for the cost of a pretty, shining coin—celebrations abound. Music and delicious foods were to be had, young maidens with flowers in their hair waiting for a kiss as their dresses of chiffon and tulle swayed round their slippered feet.

In the evenings, fireflies would flit through the air like tiny sparks of light while you and your mother would prepare dinner, your father always tending to something. Whether it was in your household’s small stables outside—where horses would quietly whinny as he fed them or brushed them down—or inside, fixing something in the cottage where the three of you lived contentedly.

And you would listen through open windows to crickets and cicadas while you quietly read your parents a story or two from a novel you’d retrieved from upon the mantle your grandfather had designed when the home had been his and your grandmother’s—the books hers—the three of you sitting before a small fire in the main room’s hearth.

And now… Now the once-fertile and emerald hills are unrecognizable. They have been, instead, replaced by black sludge and darkened, smoking ash—the skies overcast and always looking to be on the verge of an ugly storm as these hideous beasts rape the land for all it is worth.

They take and they take, and for what? Perhaps merely just to destroy for the sake of the act.

You will not willingly partake in ruining your beloved homeland. You would rather die and be with them: your family, your friends—forever to live upon those rolling hills once you shut your eyes for the last time.

You raise your chin, ignoring how it trembles when you meet his black, empty eyes.

He does not react. Does not so much as raise a brow in interest as he gazes back at you.

Something shifts behind you, and you steel yourself—refusing to look. You will not tremble in the face of death which calls you home.

And then he raises a hand from where it rests beside him, upon the arm of his make-shift throne—but barely, at that.

“Wait,” he calls quietly.

You hear something settle into the dirt and gravel behind you once more.

He rises slowly, descending step after step in measured moves, until he’s standing before you.

He places an index finger beneath your chin, tipping your face upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes.

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Comely little thing, aren’t you?” He says softly, his voice monotone.

You keep your mouth shut.

He nods infinitesimally. “Take her to my tent. Ensure she’s watched carefully. I’ve use for this one.”

One of the monsters he commands takes hold of your upper-arm, his other hand coming to tug at the shackles which bind you, pulling you away.

“Kill me!” You finally shout, tears brimming in your eyes.

He turns slightly from where he’s begun ascending his throne once again, looking at you from over his shoulder.

You tug against your restraints, pulling free of the revolting thing that touches you.

“I want to die, so kill me. I’m of no use you to here. I do not know how to…”

You shake your head, grasping for words in your panic. “How to carve wood, or assemble structures, or break apart stone—”

He chuckles lowly, turning round fully, coming back to you.

He slides his rough hand along your soft cheek before cupping the back of your head. He tangles his strong fingers in your hair, yanking your head back by those same strands, causing you to whimper in pain.

“You think I desire you for hard labor?”

You gulp in fear.

“I have far different plans in-mind for you. You will serve me well in other ways. Ones more…”

His eyes trail slowly along your body, before meeting your own once again. “Suited to your feminine form.”

You choke back a sob, realization filling you, along with an unbridled sense of terror.

He releases you again, nodding toward his crony.

You’re taken in-hand once again, and led away—your pleading cries falling upon deaf ears.

Adar’s tent is nothing exceptional—somewhat opposite of what you’ve expected it to be.

His bed is not a cot, surprisingly—certainly large enough to fit two, if not two-and-a-half—and he has a rather cluttered war table, which you’ve been informed, quite firmly, that you are not to touch. So you look at it, instead, from a distance from the wooden chair you’ve been provided.

You see small metal and wooden figurines placed about—construction plans, you assume.

You fail to understand what he could possibly want with the now-destroyed land, but decide you ultimately don’t want to know. You’d rather remember it as it’d once been instead.

You glance to the entrance of his tent, where an Uruk stands guard—the flap pulled back, allowing you a peak outside as the others like him mill about, coming and going and working.

Bile rises in your throat at the sight of them. They’re wretched. Cursed. Vile.

You won’t let him touch you.

You’ll do whatever you must to instead give him cause to drive a blade through your beating heart instead. You will not dishonor yourself—not even for the sake of survival.

You will die as you had lived: as yourself.

You’d waited so long for him to come—rehearsing in your head all the ways you might achieve that which you most desire at his hand; but nevertheless of your own causing—you’d fallen asleep.

You jolt awake when heavy footsteps enter the tent, staring in fear as bastardized elves carry inside a large, wooden tub full of steaming water.

They settle it into the middle of the space, retreating just as promptly as they’d come.

And then he steps inside, the once-open curtain flapping closed behind him.

He settles his arms behind his back as he gazes down at you.

He glances to the tub, then back to you. “Bathe. Once you are finished, I shall next.”

He goes to his war table, seating himself heavily, opening a scroll which lies atop it, and he begins reading over the item in his large hand.

You remain seated, too terrified to move.

“I need…privacy,” you say—your voice breaking, tears filling your eyes.

He keeps his back turned to you. “And you have it. Now, do as I bid you.”

You slowly stand, feeling unsure on your feet—your movements hesitant and wavering—as you come closer.

You study the back of his head, nervously flitting your eyes about the table before him, searching desperately for a weapon.

“I would not attempt it.”

You jerk in surprise.

He sets the parchment aside, retrieving a small, sharply pointed figure in the shape of a diamond. “You’d do well to make things easier for yourself. Obey me, and your days will be easy. Don’t—”

You interrupt. “I’ll never give m-myself to you willingly. I’ll—I’ll kill you,” you say, the threat sounding far more like a question than anything else.

You do not see how his lip twitches in mild amusement.

Finally, he sighs, pushing out his chair, standing.

You shuffle backwards, desperate to get away from him—from this place as a whole—from all of the rot and disease that has now claimed this land you’d once called home.

Once you’ve backed yourself into a solid pole, which upholds the side of the tent, you stare up at him.

“So you should instead kill me,” you finish.

He softly shakes his head, cupping your cheek gently, brushing his thumb along the apple of it.

“You merely think that you wish for death. I have quite…creative ways to make you obey, until death is so far from your grasp that all you can see ahead of you is more of whatever I’ve been forcing you to endure. Until you break. Until you are ready and willing to do as I please just to make the pain stop.”

He cups your other cheek, holding you firmly in-place.

“I have been here for a very, very long time. Longer than your young mind may ever comprehend. I am not a man who is easily swayed. Nor am I merciful to any others than my children. It is not in my nature. But, for your sake, if you do as I command, I may consider a more gentle touch.”

He releases you. “Time shall tell.”

Your face crumples and you begin to cry, all hope fleeing you of obtaining a different fate than whatever he has in-store for you.

He seats himself once more.

“Now, do as I’ve told you. I will not ask again.”

You tremble violently and feel distant from your body, but you still manage to strip yourself of your soiled, stained gown, letting the heavy material pool at your feet, before ridding yourself of your smallclothes next.

You keep your eyes on him—never removing them—as you step closer to the tub, and then ease yourself into the hot water, sucking in a sharp breath as you seat yourself.

 You grab the small bar of soap you’ve been provided, lathering yourself.

You wish to be finished sooner than late, but also want to take your time—to savor this final moment of something…nice. Because you will do it: find a way tonight to make him take your life.

You’ll not stop until he does.

The two of you remain silent as you cleanse yourself—desperate to get the stench of this new environment from your skin. It is no longer that of fresh air and flowers. It is now that of something pungent and oily.

Death.

That is what it is.

Eventually, you rise, drying yourself with a small towel, and then you glance around in a panic for clean clothes.

Just as you think to dress once again in your previous garments, he gestures toward the small wooden dresser beside the table where he sits.

“You’ll find clean tunics in the second drawer.”

Once you’ve put one on, you take a step back. “What of…trousers, or smallclot—”

“You won’t be needing them any longer,” he replies, rising, the two of you staring at one another as he unbuckles the belt from his waist which holds his sword, setting it atop the previously-occupied table.

You promptly look away, your nose growing warm and eyes stinging as you seat yourself at the foot of the bed, watching as shadows pass by the curtain at the front of the tent.

You tightly grip the blankets beneath you, considering, watching intently.

You hear water lapping, and then a quiet groan as he leans back, enjoying what heat still remains in the water that fills the tub.

“I wouldn’t,” he states in that rasping voice which barely reaches above a whisper.

You bristle.

“You’ll not make it more than a handful of steps before my Uruks return you to this tent. To me. You won’t enjoy what happens to you next.”

He sighs. “Save yourself some pain.”

“Why’re you doing this?” You ask tearfully.

He begins to wash himself, keeping his eyes trained on you. “What is it which you refer to?”

“You’re an elf. You’re supposed to… Meant to be kind. Wise and—”

“You think I value that which I come from?  You think the high elves of this land care any more for your life than they do my Uruks? Pride is their virtue. They see themselves above all else, including men. Because they’ve made it so. They would see us all sequestered away to darkened corners of Middle-Earth if it meant all could be theirs once again.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “You destroyed my home. Took everything from me. And you think I mean to give myself to you? Willingly? To play at being your—your—”

“You will be my concubine. And nothing else. That is your role now. In time…you may come to see matters differently. Come to see me differently.”

“That will never happen,” you whisper.

He rises from the tub—his damp strands dripping at the ends as he shrugs on a clean tunic, padding toward you.

He grips your chin, forcing you to look up as he towers over you. “In time, I believe it will. For your survival, if naught else. Even if you find such a prospect to be of little value to you now.”

He grabs you roughly by the arm then, forcing you to your feet.

Your chest presses against his own as tears slip from your exhausted eyes—your heart pounding like a hammer against cloth at him being so close.

“I’ll give you one final chance, child. Give your body to me willingly, and be given mercy, or don’t, and I will unleash upon you pain unlike any you’ve ever known.”

You make a split-second decision, praying it be your last.

You swing your free arm upwards, swiftly, and slap him as hard as you possibly can.

He barely reacts as he turns his head back in your direction, shaking it lightly.

“Pain it is, then.”

He throws you back onto the bed, swiftly removing his tunic, settling all his muscled weight atop you, weighing you down—forcing you into place as he forces your own garment up and over your head, ignoring your screaming, pleading, panicked protests as you battle against him.

You squirm and pound your fists against his chest, and kick your legs and wail in terror, but he acts as if he does not even notice.

He grips each of your wrists tightly in his hands, holding them above your head while he knocks your legs apart with his knee.

You suddenly still, fervently shaking your head, choking on your own tears as you struggle to draw in even one steady breath.

“Please—Please don’t. I beg of you! Please, not this! Please, please!” You scream shrilly.

“I gave you another way and you refused it. Now, you will learn.”

He plunges inside of you with one forceful buck of his hips and you choke on your own saliva at the excruciating pain which manifests between your thighs. Burning. You feel as if you are on fire where his body now connects with your own.

And he is anything but gentle, just as he had promised you he would be.

He ruts away inside of you, grunting quietly, his skin slapping against yours as his long, throbbing member plunges in and out of you while he searches for his peak against your will.

You stare upwards, at the billowing canopy, desperate for it to end. Desperate to die. To disappear.

This is nightmare from which you will never wake, and you have naught to comfort you from it.

No home.

No family.

No friends.

No warm bed of your very own where you may rest.

No village which is full of joy and safety.

No nothing.

Nothing is left.

Not even that which you’d hoped to one day give to your husband.

He has taken every single thing, and intends to take even more yet still.

You break then—far sooner than expected, than you'd hoped—resigning yourself to letting him have it.

You will instead go away inside yourself, back to the place you most wish to return to.

And you find peace there. In a quiet field where vibrant butterflies flit about, and chimes which hang upon tree branches tinkle gently in the wind.

You close your eyes, humming in contentment as the sun warms your skin, listening as sheep baa at one another close by.

And then you are ripped from the fantasy and forced back inside that claustrophobic tent as he pours himself deeply inside of you, moaning as he takes his final thrusts—pushing his rotten seed further into your core.

Finally, he collapses beside you, heaving for breath.

You do not move. Not an inch.

Hot tears slip silently from the corners of your eyes while he runs out of you elsewhere. Your body begins to gently jerk against your will in shock, and you sniffle and whimper in pain and fear.

After a moment, he rises, washes himself off, then pours for himself a mug of water, downing it quickly.

He pours himself another, leaning back against the dresser across from where you lie.

“It will get easier when you let it,” he states.

He takes another long drink. “It’s been…many years since I’ve had a woman—a maiden, even more-so.”

You refuse to look at his blood-stained member.

He returns to you, seating himself upon the edge of the bed, his leg bent at the knee as he gently grasps your chin, his fingers ghosting along your hot skin.

“As such, I don’t intend to let you go. So, do what you must.”

He sets his mug atop the bedside table, climbing atop you once more.

“I shall do the same,” he states, sheathing himself inside your slick core once again.

[saoney]

Skyfall .𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭑ Satoru Gojo + [Fem! Reader] .ᐟ

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 Eldoria was built on lies and blood. [Y/N], the sheltered princess, lived her life unaware of the sins her parents committed to secure their kingdom’s golden age. But the ghosts of the past do not rest. Satoru Gojo, the last survivor of a kingdom destroyed by Eldoria’s greed, returns with a vengeance. When the night of his conquest leaves [Y/N] orphaned and her kingdom in ruins, Satoru spares her life—but only to make her his captive bride. In a world of betrayal, power, and obsession, can love bloom in the shadow of vengeance? Or will the weight of their broken kingdoms destroy them both?

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 Dark Romance, Drama, Historical Fantasy, Revenge, Tragedy, Slow Burn

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 Graphic Violence, Death of Loved Ones, Emotional and Physical Abuse Themes, Forced Marriage, Power Imbalance, Themes of Revenge and Obsession, Psychological Manipulation, Trauma and PTSD Representation, Mature Themes

🔖 masterlist

Prologue: The Fall of Two Kingdoms

The Kingdom of Eldoria was once a place of beauty and prosperity. Nestled in the heart of a fertile valley, it flourished under the reign of King Takeshi and Queen Sakura. The land was rich with emerald fields and glistening rivers. Its people lived in harmony, their bellies full, their hearts light. The castle—grand and serene—stood at the center of it all, a testament to the wisdom and care of its rulers. Princess [Y/N], the crown jewel of the kingdom, had known nothing but peace, sheltered by the soft glow of love from her parents. She was a fairy tale princess in every sense of the word, with her laughter filling the halls, and her days spent in the sunlight.

But in the shadows, unseen by the innocent eyes of [Y/N], there was a darker story—a story that would unravel her world in a single night.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Satoru Gojo’s Kingdom, now a ruin, had once been a jewel of power and wealth. The Kingdom of Icaris, vast and majestic, was ruled by Satoru’s parents: King Hiroshi and Queen Aiko. They were known for their strength, their wisdom, and the prosperity they commanded. But their kindness had blinded them to the greedy ambitions of their neighbors, and their enemies had grown ever more numerous.

In secret, the Kingdom of Eldoria had waged a war against Icaris, one that would tear the heart from Satoru’s world. Led by the ambition of the Eldorian rulers, it was a war disguised as diplomacy. Eldoria, hidden behind a veil of peace talks, attacked in the dead of night, burning the lands of Icaris to ash, leaving nothing but the ruins of a once-great kingdom. The reason behind the attack was simple: wealth. Eldoria had taken what was rightfully Icaris’s—gold, jewels, resources, everything that had kept Icaris flourishing for centuries. With the treasures from Icaris, Eldoria’s kingdom soared even higher, while Satoru’s people were reduced to ghosts.

But even in the aftermath, no one knew the full extent of the devastation. The royal family of Icaris—Satoru’s parents—were slain without mercy. Satoru, a mere child of ten, watched as his world crumbled around him. His parents, his kingdom, his legacy—all reduced to nothing in a single night.

Satoru was left alone, wandering the ashes of his homeland with nothing but the cold wind and the ghosts of his fallen people. Only Suguru Geto, his right-hand man, remained by his side. Together, they swore vengeance. They would burn down the kingdom that had done this. And they would claim the riches that had been stolen from his people.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Years passed.

Satoru grew from a child filled with rage into a man forged in the fires of loss and vengeance. His heart hardened, but his mind remained sharp. Suguru was always by his side, an unyielding force, his right hand in every battle, every plan. Together, they grew their army, an unstoppable force driven by hatred for the royal family of Eldoria and the destruction they had wrought upon Icaris and its people.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

It was a night like any other when Eldoria’s peaceful world was torn apart.

The kingdom had grown soft, the people lulled into a false sense of security. Princess [Y/N], now a woman of [Y/N’s Age], had inherited the beauty and grace of her mother, Queen Sakura. She had never known a day of hardship. Her life was filled with courtly dances, lovely dresses, and the adoration of her people. Her heart was light, full of laughter, filled with hopes for a future of love and peace.

Until, one fateful night, when the sky above the kingdom cracked with the sound of thunder. War had come for Eldoria’s kingdom, but not in the form of an army, not in the traditional sense. No, it came from the sea, from the air, from the very heart of the storm.

Ships—vast and black—emerged from the horizon, cutting through the waters with eerie precision. They were not of this world. They were foreign, strange, the flags raised upon their masts bearing a symbol of an unknown kingdom—a symbol that struck fear into the hearts of Eldoria’s court. Pirates, they called them. But [Y/N] knew, even before the first arrow was fired, that these were no mere raiders. They were soldiers on a mission of vengeance. They were coming for the blood of her people.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

In the span of a single night, the kingdom fell.

The gates of the castle were breached with terrifying ease. Guards were slaughtered in the halls. Fires broke out in the kitchens, the stables, the towers. The castle that had once gleamed with the light of peace was now consumed by smoke and flames. The royal family, in their final moments, tried to flee—but it was too late.

[Y/N] was the last to see her parents alive. King Takeshi and Queen Sakura were dragged from their chambers, their faces pale with fear, their hands trembling as they pleaded for their lives. [Y/N] could hear their screams as the invaders dragged them through the corridors. And then, they were gone.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

And then, Satoru Gojo entered her world.

He was not a man. Not in the way she thought. He was a force, a presence that tore through the remnants of her kingdom like a storm, burning everything in his path. His eyes, cold as ice, locked onto her the moment he saw her. The woman who had once been his enemy’s daughter. His only living witness to the greed and destruction that had annihilated his world.

[Y/N] had never seen anything like him. He was a prince, yes, but he was no longer one of the regal kind. He was a killer. A man bent on revenge, dressed in the blood of his enemies. But when his eyes fell on her, there was something else there. Something darker.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

“You are mine now.”

He said it as if it were a decree. A promise. An act of ownership. As if her life—her soul—belonged to him. And for a moment, [Y/N] couldn’t even comprehend it. She was too numb with the loss of her parents, too broken by the horrors she’d witnessed. But then, as he raised his hand to claim her, something in her snapped. Her voice, so fragile yet defiant, finally broke through the terror.

“No…” she whispered, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Satoru’s laugh was like ice scraping against metal.

“You think you have a choice?” His voice was smooth, calculating, yet there was a fire in his gaze. “You’re the last of your royal line. There’s nothing left for you but me.”

The darkness in his eyes told her everything. This was not just revenge. This was ownership. This was power.

The castle crumbled beneath them, and [Y/N]’s life as she knew it ended.

All rights reserved © 2022 saoney. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[boreal-sea]

okay sorry you don’t like the word Zionist I’ll come up with a new word and it’s weirdassbitch btw and guess whatZzz ummm yeah you fit the bill. I don’t know man 😭😭😭😭 the fact you’re only posting about gofundmes when it’s about Israeli hostages or only ever being like “okay yeah what’s happening to Palestinians is bad” in conjunction with “so about this anti semitism we’ve been having…” means you’re obviously biased you’re just biased and hey… hey holds your hand it’s okay ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ We can work through this… together *looks away shyly* also I’m like Jewish like by blood. I didn’t even have to convert sorry I’m laughing converts you’re valid but boreal I guess I’m just like…. Better than you at being Jewish? Idk btw and hey maybe the reason why antisemitism is rising is because you guys are all like yeah so we deserve Israel because we lived there 1000000 years ago and if you hate Israel you’re anti Jewish soooo yeah…. Yep maybe having being Jewish synonymous with a genocidal state isn’t smart idk just my thoughts. I think having Jews live all across the world is so beautiful it brings a tear to my eye… I think shoving us all in one place is gay as hell to be frank. Whwtagevrr. I was born in USA born and raised and my family came from Ukraine. I have zero claim to a plot of land 6000 miles away just because I wanna have a sick ass vacation home. maybe that’s why you converted I’m just joshing around it would be funny though if you went through all that just to build a cute little Resort on stolen land. I don’t know boreal. I think I’d just rather have my BLEGH :P, not a :•]

I have not posted a single gofundme for Israeli victims. I’m not sure why you’d make up that lie? Please feel free to look back in my blog as far as you’d like, you won’t find one. It’s even in my blog description that I do not reblog gofundme posts.

I do post links to organizations that directly help Palestinians in Gaza. I have done so fairly often. I don’t recall ever posting a link to aid organizations that only benefit Israelis.

Do I often talk about antisemitism and Gaza at the same time? Yes. These two things are inextricably linked. What is happening in Gaza right now wouldn’t be happening without antisemitism.

Am I biased? No more than the average human being on Earth. I personally consider the folks screaming “Death to Israel!” to be a lot more biased than myself, as I am simply calling for peace between Israel and Hamas. I wanted a peaceful solution from the beginning. You can even find posts on my blog right after Oct 7th where I compare Israel to the USA after 9/11 and state my fears that Israel will have a disproportionate reaction. I loathe the political posturing of both Netanyahu and Hamas and I hate that they both dragged this out so long. Netanyahu wanted this to look like Trump’s victory, which disgusts me. And Hamas allowed their people to suffer for over a year! They’re disgusting, too. Every leader involved in this conflict failed their people.

Our personal feelings about whether or not native people like the Jews “deserve” to live in their homeland is irrelevant — Israel as a country exists here and now. Though it does bring up the interesting question: do you think if the USA just waits long enough, native Americans will also lose their landback rights? How long will that take?

Jews don’t really live “all over the world”. Nearly half live in the USA, and the other half in Israel. This is because all the other countries were so violently antisemitic to the Jews living there the Jews had to flee. In fact, after Israel was founded, a lot of countries literally forced their Jews out under threat of death.

Jews still suffer from antisemitism all around the world, and did so even before Oct 7th. The increase in antisemitism since Oct 7th hasn’t exactly made diaspora Jews feel safe. “A country you’re not even a citizen of did a bad thing, so now I’m going to firebomb your elementary school” isn’t fertile ground for cooperation, is it?

I don’t agree with everything Israel has done. I don’t have to. I think it is a country in crisis that needs major reforms, much like the USA. But I don’t scream “death to America!” either. I live here. I want to make it a better place. I want them both to be better, to live up to the ideals they espouse. To be free, and safe, and prosperous.

I want Gazans to be able to go home. I want them free from the cruelty of Hamas, which has allowed its people to die and suffer since it took power in 2005 and refused to hold any more free elections. They are tyrants. I want Palestinians in the diaspora to come home, too. I want them to have a safe, prosperous country where their culture and children can flourish!

I want peace. If that makes me a “weirdassbitch”, then so be it. I’ve been weird my whole life, anon!

[elegantpersoncreation]

Kemet, known as “the Black Land,” was the ancient Egyptians’ name for their homeland. This term referred to the rich, dark soil along the Nile River, essential for agriculture and survival in the midst of surrounding deserts. It symbolized life, fertility, and rebirth, contrasting with “Deshret,” or “the Red Land,” the arid desert...

Created by artificial intelligence.

[reality-detective]

TERROR PREDICTION: Prophecy of More Than a Thousand Terrorists Targeting Over 10 US Cities!

The countdown to Donald Trump’s historic return as the 47th president of the United States on January 20, 2025 is under siege with a chilling prophecy. Brandon Biggs, famed for his unnervingly accurate foresight of a past assassination attempt on Trump, warns of an unprecedented, multi-city terrorist attack targeting the inauguration and beyond.

Biggs’ vision details coordinated bombings using unassuming vehicles like trucks laden with explosives, hidden in underground garages, waiting to unleash chaos on the most pivotal day in modern American history. His warnings go beyond speculation, drawing from a track record that’s silenced skeptics before.

“Unstoppable Chaos: A Chilling Warning”

The attack, Biggs claims, is designed to shake the very core of American democracy. Trucks parked where no one would suspect, poised to turn celebrations into carnage. Fertilizer bombs, precision-timed detonations—this isn’t an isolated event but a synchronized strike on freedom itself.

Biggs insists these warnings are not mere speculation. Supporters see him as a modern prophet, a patriot risking everything to expose hidden threats. Critics, however, dismiss him as a fearmonger. But his previous accurate predictions leave no room for complacency.

A Nation at a Crossroads

Trump’s return marks a battle for the heart of the nation. His supporters see it as the ultimate revival of American greatness, while opponents rally against him with equal fervor. The stakes couldn’t be higher, with massive crowds expected in Washington, D.C., and tensions running sky-high.

Behind the scenes, heightened security measures are in place. Sources close to Trump confirm additional layers of protection to counter the potential for disaster. Homeland Security urges vigilance, urging citizens to report any suspicious activity immediately.

But even with advanced surveillance, bomb-sniffing dogs, and reinforced checkpoints, the scale of Biggs’ prophecy demands unprecedented vigilance. The imagery is haunting: coordinated teams, hidden weapons, a day of celebration transformed into unimaginable devastation.

January 20, 2025: Triumph or Tragedy?

This inauguration isn’t just about a president. It’s about the survival of America’s ideals. Biggs’ warning isn’t just a prophecy—it’s a rallying cry. The question is, will America rise to defend its legacy, or will it fall prey to the shadows lurking within?

The storm is brewing. ⛈️🌊

Stay vigilant. 🛡️⚔️

Everything is at stake. 🌎 💫

REMEMBER‼️

We were warned about "The Storm"

And 👇

Seriously... What Biggs describes sure sounds like the 17 city 1 event scenario 👇

"IF" this False Flag is what is coming?

People are not ready for what they are gonna experience... It's NOT going to be pretty. 🤔

[purple-eyesgreydragon]

All the bovine missionaries together with their god, the Lamb. Each had their own reason to seek them out. Either way they all follow their leader faithfully and together. In their respective homelands they journey to battle their own heretics and spread word of the Cult of the Lamb. They have their own signature weapon. We usually see in media, Lamb uses a sword, the Goat often wields an axe, being from the desert Gazelle wields a khopesh, Ox lives in a fertile land with spirits of course they have a scythe, and Yak being the barbarian heavy hitter wields a hammer.

Each new guardian of the Lamb, each new missionary, and crown copy made. Increases the red crown's power. Should all four stand beside the Lamb at once. Their individual skills, abilities, faith, and most importantly devotion. Would amplify the Lamb's power five times over. The Lamb could possibly defeat anyone with their bishops by their side.

Don't think any of them would ever turn of the Lamb. They may have been blessed with powers similar to the Lamb. But those powers only get better and stick with them, for how loyal they are to the cult. Their crowns are copies and extensions of the red crown. Reflections of the old bishops' power.

[novella-november]

Fantasy Discrimination, and The Implications

A post on my dash reminded me to share some more writing advice, so here is a very good article by @mythcreantsblog , about how to make sure you're not dehumanizing a species or culture in your writing, which is a good guide on how to avoid accidentally writing racist or ableist tropes:

In particular, I want to talk about the ever-present racist trope in a lot of fantasy and scifi fiction, and that is the decision a lot of creators make where the villains are not just a single person, a faction, or a kingdom -- *its an entire species* who is not only the villain, but are outright, inherently *evil*.

To start out, here's a political cartoon by Tom Gauld you've probably seen all around tumblr with the name cropped out:

[ID: a political cartoon by Tom Gauld, showing two identical cities and boats mirrored on a river, each with a purple or yellow flag; one side is labled "Our Blessed Homeland, Our Glorious Leader, Our Great Religion, Our Noble Populace, Our Heroic Adventuerers", The other side is labled "Their Barbarous Wastes, Their Wicked Despot, Their Primitive Superstition, Their Backwards Savages, Their Brutish Invaders. End ID]

This political cartoon is a very good tool for testing your writing for the trope of demonizing/glorifying your fantasy/scifi species.

Let's use a classic example: your fantasy setting is made up of the following species: Elves, Dwarves, Humans, and Orcs.

Your Elves are a long-lived, ethereal people who live in secluded, perfect cities, all of them tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, who are extremely wise and making plans that can stretch out over dozens of human generations, and they're the deciders of 90% of politics in your world. Your Dwarves are a short, squat, species who spend their lives working in forges, mines, and laboratories, tirelessly toiling (because they enjoy the hard work, of course!) and selling their products to the Elves who are their largest and wealthiest customer base; Dwarves work hard and studiously for decades at a a time to complete a piece of work in order to fufill the intricate orders from their Elven customers, which is how the majority of them provide for their families, working 16 hour shifts each day for decades per order. Your Humans are far more seperated, and often live on the fringes of what their longer-lived compatriots consider "Civilized Society", often living as Subsistence farmers and hunters, not out of choice, but often due to poor land and lack of resources; the wealthiest of Human cities are usually the capitals where the royals reside and may live in luxury with rich markets and high-quality products and running water, but the vast majority of Humans live in small, poor villages that must rely on traveling merchants to sell what produce and livestock they can spare from their farms in order to buy the supplies they need to live out another year. Your Orcs.... well, they don't really live anywhere, do they? Orcs strongholds can only maintain their grip in hellish wastelands where living is nigh impossible, with all food and water only obtained from outside sources; occasionally, Orcs will attempt to establish base camps in more fertile land, invading neighboring Human, Dwarf, and Elven territory to do so, who quickly unite to expel these vile, dark, brutish invaders lest they steal their daughters, destroy and taint all of the natural resources and steal the few jobs available to the Humans in Dwarven and Elven cities as manual labour and servants.

And Now, take a step back from this world, and take a long, hard look at these species (outside of humans who are just kinda there in the middle and the only ones capable of change because Humans Are Always Special) and societies and what ideas are being reinforced here, especially when the above descriptions are framed as Hard Facts which are both Just and True?

(archived read-more Here)

Elves are morally superior and are always Perfect and Correct,

Dwarves are happy to spend their entire lives toiling in the forges and mines to please their Elven patrons,

and Orcs are Evil Monsters who will rob, murder, and rape any hapless victim who comes their way, so it's better to slaughter them all on sight and kick them out of your cities and towns, and this is the 100% correct morally right choice every single time and the narrative and characters themselves support this?

Did you spot them already, or does the above just seem like a cool, fun fantasy world where Elves are the cool wise good guys and Orcs are the devil's army and can be used as canon fodder any time your main character needs to mow down some enemies for a Badass Scene?

Let's retrace our steps a bit, shall we, and examine this "perfect" world through a critical lens?

When your elves are all portrayed as Perfect Ethereally Beautiful Blonde and Blue-Eyed wise leaders of the civilized world, what idea is being reinforced here? Who does it harm, and what real world ideas is this mirroring and enforcing? Who is going to have their own biases reinforced by this narrative?

When only the longest-lived people are allowed to decide politics, what group biases are being enforced? Is portraying "young people" as "being incapable of making political decisions" as a correct, logical choice in your story something you wish to enforce? Are there any real world issues this trope mirrors?

When your Dwarves are all Happy Workers and Slaves, bound to and reliant on the superior Elves to live, spending the majority of their life purely in service to these Superior Beings while happy to do it, what idea is being reinforced here? Who might see themselves in the plight of the Dwarves and feel alienated and insulted by the Dwarves happily slaving away in the dark? Who might have biased ideas reinforced by seeing the Dwarves treated in such a way?

When your Orcs are portrayed as evil, dark skinned, brutish savages who will kidnap and rape poor helpless women from the "pure" species, when Orcs are incapable of creating anything of their own and can only steal, what racist messages are being enforced and upheld? Who are the real people and cultures being demonized when you perpetuate this? What real world peoples and cultures have faced *decades of propaganda framing them as such*?

If you spotted these harmful messages in the initial indented description, good job!

But if you didn't, it's time to find and read critical reviews and essays written by marginalized communities of works that include these damaging tropes, because if it your Evil Species are Weird Aliens, because when you characterize and describe your Evil Species, you are undoubtedly going to be drawing heavily on your own internal biases of what makes people Other and Wrong.

Are your Evil Species all dark-skinned, physically-strong and animalistic? Congrats, you have just regurgitated centuries-old racism that justifies slavery, segregation, and discrimination *to this day*

Are your Evil Species all nomadic ~cannibals~ who are incapable of creating anything of their own and have to loot and steal from others to have anything of value? Congrats, you are once again regurgitating racist propoganda that has been used against countless cultures and minorities for centuries.

Are your Evil Species reknowned for kidnapping and raping the women of your Good Guys in order to create Evil Twisted Halfbreed Offspring for ....uh, reasons? Congrats, once again, this is literally just racist propaganda being reinforced by your writing.

Anything you come up with to make your Species Inherently Evil is going to most likely be something that is weaponized against real world minorities that you are now reinforcing with your writing, from racism to ableism to queerphobia and all the ways they intersect.

How do you fix this?

It's incredibly simple!

Don't make an entire Species be Inherently Evil.

They need to be just as varied as real living people.

Your Species should not be a Monolith, let alone of *Evil*.

Your Species should not have their only "decent/civilized/kind people" examples come from ""crossbreeds"" [and this term itself should be used only by bigots as a deragatory term] or random orphans who were raised by one of the Good Species(tm)-- this is how your story starts advocating for *eugenics*, which is not something you want to do!

So, instead of having an entire Species be "Inherently biologically" Evil, consider instead:

Making your villain group diverse instead of all one Species.

if your villain group is a Species Supremacist, they're probably still going to have underlings and lower castes who do their dirty work, or have been taken in by the cult ideology.

Making the villains of this Species be a small fraction of a larger whole, who are part of a violent cult, ideology, or political party that not only puts them in conflict with your main characters, but also with the rest of their Species.

Having your main character or their friends be the same Species as your villain group, and they represents the vast majority of the Species, instead of hailing them as "the Paragon of Goodness who emerged somehow pure from of a species forged in hell" or anything similar.

You should also sit down and not only think about the harmful, racist tropes that would come from writing Inherently Evil Species, but also consider:

Why do you want to include an entire species of people who are inherently evil in your novel?

Is your novel gaining anything for including these tropes uncritically?

Does it make it a better, more interesting story to include these tropes uncritically?

What message are you trying to send with your story?

Does including these tropes uncritically in your story *undermine* your intended message?

Another trope in the opposite direction, is talking about "Oppression" and "Fantasy Racism" from the perspective of a character who is part of the oppressed minority, only to spend the entire novel talking about how your Opressed Class are Literally and Factually threats to the population that "discriminate" against them, usually by being rightfully wary in their prescence.

if the Oppressed Minorities in your story in anyway resemble the Orcs in Bright, the Predators in Zootopia, or the Khajiit in the Elderscrolls, where the Racism these peoples face in based on hard proven facts that these people have been and still are threats to most of the population..

... you're less writing a story about how "Racism Against Vulnerable Minorities is Bad"

and sound more like you're saying

"It's bad to be "mean" (afraid of) Nazis who literally want you dead and who can kill you with impunity and no consequences."

If you are writing a story about Fantasy Discrimination, and the basis of your Fantasy Discrimination is based on *cold hard facts that your narrative supports and upholds*, instead of actually basing it on and talking about what leads to discrimination in the real world

(xenophobia and the fear+hatred of The Other, economic gain, mainly),

then you are not making the progressive stance that you think you are, and instead are enforcing the ancient propoganda that racism is based on fact, that racism is "for a good reason", and you need to take care that you are not upholding this idea in your works.

TL;DR:

Instead of making an entire Species of people a trope of Wise Good Guys or Evil Incarnate, consider using *Factions not Races* for your groups, and think long and hard about the implications of your world's politics and how it mirrors our own world, especially in ways *you may not intend it to.* If your story is meant to be progressive and inclusive, but your villains are an entire race of black orcs who slave and rape the good guys species, you need to go back to the drawing board.

[probablyasocialecologist]

As a Jew, I have felt completely alienated by the community that purports to represent me. In my earliest childhood memories, I recall  family members, Hebrew School teachers, and religious leaders telling me about the many promises of the state of Israel: a safe home for all Jews, a place – I was told – where we made the desert bloom. From as early as I can remember, I was taught by my family members and Hebrew School teachers that Jews need Israel because of the devastating losses during the Holocaust and enduring antisemitism. I went to Hebrew School three days a week, and remember feeling almost-constantly panicked about the potential for another Holocaust. The message was painfully clear: everyone hates Jews, and that’s why we need Israel. There was so much about Jewish history and culture I never learned in Hebrew School: our working-class roots and deep commitment to the labor and socialist movements both in Eastern Europe and in the U.S.; Sephardic and Mizrahi culture and customs; the history of Yiddish; even the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. And of course, left out of most American Jewish education are the violent origins of the Jewish state: Israel’s dispossession and mass slaughter of Palestinians in 1948. The land on which Israel was built was not a barren desert made fertile by Jewish refugees and immigrants, but the Palestinians’ homeland, inhabited for millennia. When I began to learn the truth – that Israel violently expelled almost 1 million Palestinians to create the state of Israel – I felt completely shocked, and deeply betrayed by the adults whom I had trusted. It seemed – and I now know with certainty that it is – antithetical to Jewish values. Since I first learned about the Nakba, I’ve regularly felt alone in my religious community. There’s an assumption – from both the Jewish community and society at-large – that because we are Jews, we are also Zionists. Yet, so much of my political compass – including my commitment to anti-Zionism, actually comes from what I’ve learned from being a Jew. The same Hebrew school teachers who instructed me to love Israel also taught me Jewish songs like Olam Chesed Yibaneh (we will build this world with love) and Lo Yisa Goy (nation shall not lift up sword against nation). Israel’s occupation of Palestine and its subjugation of Palestians contradicts these Jewish tenets, yet in a majority of American Jewish communities, those of us who oppose Israeli colonialism are treated as traitors. It’s been confusing to feel both deeply connected to Judaism and Jewish values, and to also be told repeatedly by Jews and Zionists that I’m a self-hating Jew. It often makes me feel like I have no safe religious home. The only times I’ve felt like I’m free to practice my religion as an anti-Zionist, and to proudly declare that I’m an anti-Zionist because I’m Jewish, are when I’ve taken action with Jewish Voice for Peace, an anti-Zionist, Jewish organization that stands in solidarity with Palestinians. 

[honestlyangrypeace]

Kemet, Ancient Egypt: Ancient Egyptians called their homeland Kemet, meaning “black land.” It refers to the dark, fertile soil left behind after flooding from the Nile River... About 2,550 B.C., King Khufu, the second pharaoh of the fourth dynasty, commissioned the building of his tomb at Giza. Some Egyptologists believe it took 10 years just to build the ramp that leads from the Nile valley floor to the pyramid, and 20 years to construct the pyramid itself... It’s the year 2490 B.C. Wooden boats cruise along the Nile River in Egypt as thousands of workers stack giant stone blocks into a pyramid. This 200-foot-tall structure honors a pharaoh named Menkaure... The ancient Egyptians sometimes called their country Kemet. Wikipedia