#Woman War Chief

[ancestorsalive]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐬𝐞 🌻🌻

Pretty Nose : A Fierce and Uncompromising Woman War Chief You Should Know

Pretty Nose (c. 1851 – after 1952) was an Arapaho woman, and according to her grandson, was a war chief who participated in the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876.In some sources, Pretty Nose is called Cheyenne, although she was identified as Arapaho on the basis of her red, black and white beaded cuffs. The two tribes were allies at the Battle of the Little Bighorn and are still officially grouped together as the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes.

On June 25, 1876, a battalion of the 7th Cavalry, led by George Armstrong Custer, was wiped out by an overwhelming force of Lakota, Dakota, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho.

There are many stories that come from this most famous battle of the Indian Wars. However, the most overlooked account is of the women warriors who fought alongside their male counterparts.

Minnie Hollow Wood, Moving Robe Woman, Pretty Nose (pictured), One-Who-Walks-With-The-Stars, and Buffalo Calf Road Woman were among the more notable female fighters.

Pretty Nose fought with the Cheyenne/Arapaho detachment.

One-Who-Walks-With-The-Stars (Lakota) killed two soldiers trying to flee the fight.

Minnie Hollow Wood earned a Lakota war-bonnet for her participation, a rare honor.

Lakota Moving Robe Woman fought to avenge the death of her brother.

And Cheyenne Buffalo Calf Road Woman holds the distinction of being the warrior who knocked Custer off his horse, hastening the demise of the over-confident Lt. Colonel.

Pretty Nose's grandson, Mark Soldier Wolf, became an Arapaho tribal elder who served in the US Marine Corps during the Korean War. She witnessed his return to the Wind River Indian Reservation in 1952, at the age of 101.

[yugiohcardsdaily]

There are more than 12 Amazonesses so I had to exclude a handful for the poll. The Fusions, pets, and Scouts, Archer, and Fighter were the ones set aside.

I think Baby Tiger would've won, though. I mean, look at him:

[skyloftian-nutcase]

LOL WHAT THE HECK MICROSOFT WORD

HAHAHA IT HAS NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE LOL 🤣🤣🤣 I love the implication that me writing other rude words is ok but this goes too far.

Yes, Microsoft, it is an offensive word. That’s why Impa is using it.

[zareleonis]

i know neuvifuri antis are delusional but why do they constantly fucking LIE and claim they haven't interacted since the archon quest when they interacted in both her story quest and the latest lantern rite!

[bbkoolkatz]

𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖓!

comment to be added to the taglist for this story!

»»————> presenting;

pairing: barbarian!prince! Katsuki Bakugo x chief!daughter! reader.

synopsis: an arranged marriage to the prince of the barbarian clan to save your kingdom from being wiped out... cliche innit. stem's off the MHA fantasy au!

content warnings: FEMALE READER! strangers to lovers! slow burn! MHA fantasy AU! adult themes! arranged marriage! sexual content! rough n gruff Katsuki! mentions of blood in a lot of scenes! rituals! dub-con in some scenes! (for caution, because y'all can't understand each other) if u're religious, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!! angst! fluff! smut! WARNINGS APPLY TO ALL CHAPTERS!!! and are there to exercise caution!

updated on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊↓; 2.5k+ words

»»————> LORE! [you can continue without reading all this]

the barbarian clan is known for conquering any village, kingdom and/or empire. they are brutes, usually settling anything by waging war and desecrating the land.

the barbarians speak in old Norse! conversing is difficult...

Katsuki is the only son and prince of the barbarian clan.

barbarians are stronger and bigger in size than regular humans.

your kingdom is ruled by your father—called cheif instead of king—who's a big softy and doesn't see the point in things like war... he prefers to talk things out and leave casualties to a zero. even if that means marrying off his only daughter...

you are the only daughter of your father which only makes you more precious and worthy of bearing the heir of both your kingdom and their clan.

tetsugami; a huge, semi intelligent crab. [there are few now as people have hunted them down to the double digits.]

crimson dragons; giant flying lizards. [they are very friendly despite their mean looking faces & their scales are extremely valuable.]

(more coming soon)

Old Norse Alphabet;

1. A/a- Pronunciation: ah as in "father."

2. B/b- Pronunciation: b as in "bed."

3. D/d- Pronunciation: d as in "dog."

4. Ð/ð (called eth)- Pronunciation: Soft th as in "this."

5. E/e- Pronunciation: eh as in "bed."

6. F/f- Pronunciation: f as in "fox." Between vowels, pronounced as v.

7. G/g- Pronunciation: g as in "go." After certain vowels, it softens to a y sound.

8. H/h- Pronunciation: h as in "house."

9. I/i- Pronunciation: ee as in "see."

10. J/j- Pronunciation: y as in "yes."

11. K/k- Pronunciation: k as in "king."

12. L/l- Pronunciation: l as in "lamp."

13. M/m- Pronunciation: m as in "man."

14. N/n- Pronunciation: n as in "name."

15. O/o- Pronunciation: aw as in "law."

16. P/p- Pronunciation: p as in "pen."

17. R/r- Pronunciation: Rolled r, like in Spanish or Italian.

18. S/s- Pronunciation: s as in "see."

19. T/t- Pronunciation: t as in "top."

20. U/u- Pronunciation: oo as in "moon."

21. V/v- Pronunciation: Often interchangeable with f, pronounced like English v.

22. Y/y- Pronunciation: Similar to ee but with rounded lips, like French u in lune.

23. Þ/þ (called thorn)- Pronunciation: Hard th as in "thorn."

24. Æ/æ- Pronunciation: ai as in "air."

25. Ö/ö- Pronunciation: ur as in "bird" (without the r).

M-LIST!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3.5

marriage. the best thing that could ever happen to a girl. all your life, you'd imagined being a bride; delicately decorating your hair with wild tulips, adorning your body in silver and white silk. spending the rest of your life with the person you love most.

now you're here, kneeling in front of a bonfire beside a complete stranger, cloaked in boar fur and animal skeletons, as the thick, warm blood of a lamb is poured over you. your marriage ceremony... filled with unfamiliar faces—including your now-husband—and traditions. drinking, dancing, and celebrating the union.

"nú ger hana konu þína!" a spiked-blonde woman, with an uncanny resemblance to the man kneeling beside you, announced, raising her hands in the air. you looked around confused as ever, as he leaned in, blood-stained fingers pulling you in by the back of your neck. your nose scrunched at the metallic taste of blood that his tongue shoved past your teeth. you push him away, gasping at the foreign feeling.

"hvat í helvíti, kona!?" he frowned, turning away from you, mumbling something under his breath, that you didn’t quite catch. not that you'd understand what he was carrying on about anyways...

the spiked-blonde woman—whom you guessed to be some sort of priestess or elder—shot you a sharp glare, her arms lowering slowly as she spoke in a hushed yet commanding tone. her words were incomprehensible to you, but the crowd seemed to murmur in agreement. your husband huffed, his frown deepening as he looked at you over his shoulder. you were kneeling there, with eyes pressing on you from all directions. the fire crackled in the silence, and the warmth of it did little to ease the chill settling in your chest.

two women approached you, their faces painted with intricate swirls of red and black. they tugged you to your feet without a word and began guiding you toward a tent decorated with bones, animal pelts, and dried herbs hanging from the entrance. inside, it was dimly lit by a few small lanterns. the air smelled of earth, smoke, and something sweet but unfamiliar.

they gestured for you to sit on a low stool and began pulling at your ceremonial garb, their movements quick but not unkind. your protests fell on deaf ears as they stripped you of the heavy fur cloak, wiping the blood from your skin with damp cloths. one of them muttered something, shaking her head as she scrubbed at your face. it was clear they didn't understand you either, but their disapproving looks were universal.

by the time they were finished, you were dressed in a simpler gown of rough-spun fabric, a far cry from the silks you were used to and had imagined for your wedding night. the older of the two handed you a wooden cup filled with a thick, bitter scented liquid. she pointed to it, then your mouth, her expression stern. reluctantly, you sipped it, grimacing at the taste. the woman nodded, seemingly satisfied, before they left you alone in the tent.

you sat there, staring at your hands, trying to gather your thoughts, but instead, they drift back to just a few mere hours ago...

-

"arranged?" you seethed in disbelief, looking at your defeated father, seated across from you at the council table, surrounded by old wrinkled elders.

"yes, daughter," he affirmed, voice devoid of emotion. "war against the barbarian clan would destroy everything we've built—"

"so they made a proposal, a very very rare one," one of the wart ridden elders interrupted-

"to make an arrangement," another continued-

"one that cannot be broken once forged," -

"a marriage,"-

"your sacrifice would save us all, child," the eldest croaked, concluding the proposal, "and as the chief's daughter, it is your duty to your people." one after the other, they all slowly turned their heads toward you, kneeling at the center of their godforsaken grey gazes.

your eyes flickered between them, their crinkled foreheads making you feel sick to your stomach as their words wrung your heartstrings. "marriage is sacred... it can only happen once. i don't know this person that you'd like me to be bound to for the rest of my life..." you snarled, stating the very obvious to those expired raisins.

"i'm afraid you misunderstood us, girl," the eldest fumed, weakly slamming his fist down, "it is arranged. you will wed the heir of the barbarian clan. that is why you have been summoned." firmly raising from his seat to intimidate you.

"that is my daughter you're speaking to, elder... as old as you are, mind your tongue." your father shifted his attention to you. "unfortunately, he is right, my dear. it's already been arranged, and you are to be wed at sundown."

dumbfounded... that's the look on your face. they we're giving you away to complete strangers... and at sundown!? despite all the colorful words that wanted to fly out your mouth, you grit your teeth and settled with a curt nod. you do have a duty to your people.

though it wasn't supposed to happen like this. it was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. you only get married once in your entire life after all.

-

the sound of heavy footsteps outside the tent snapped you out of your thoughts. the flap was pulled aside roughly, and your husband stepped in. his presence filled the small space, his broad shoulders and wild blonde hair almost brushing the top of the tent as his crimson eyes bore into you, a mixture of frustration and curiosity in his gaze.

he said something, his voice sharp and demanding, but you could only blink up at him in confusion. "i don't understand you," you said softly, shaking your head, as your voice trembled, despite your efforts to stay composed.

he huffed, combing a hand through his hair before pointing at you and then gesturing to the pallet of furs in the corner of the tent. his tone suggested he was giving you an order. when you didn't move, he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"leggjask. sofa." he barked, his frustration very much evident. when you still didn't respond, he crossed the space between you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. the roughness of his grip made you wince, but he didn't seem to notice as he guided you toward the furs. he pointed again, his expression leaving no room for argument.

you hesitated, thinking that maybe he wanted you to lie down, and slowly you lower yourself onto the makeshift bed. he stood over you for a moment, his intense gaze making your skin prickle, before he turned and left the tent without another word.

you let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. you were alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers who you couldn't even get to know, married to a man you didn't understand. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes with the overwhelming thoughts, but you blinked them away, refusing to let yourself break down on your wedding night.

the two women that cleaned you up earlier came back with him, and they began to remove his furs. you quickly averted your eyes, feeling a heat crawling up your neck, as the thought of them removing more than just his cloak tainted your mind.

"nei!" the old one scolded, "Þú verður að líta!" ... why are they babbling their jibberish when they know you don't understand them... "she said, 'you must look'," the younger translated, seeing the confused wrinkle in your brows. oh thank the gods! you smiled briefly at the familiar words before coming back to your senses.

"must i?" you blush, slowly turning back to them.

"yes," she smiled, cleansing your huge husband before your eyes, "if you do not, you give chance for another woman," she carefully rubbed the damp cloth over his bloody forehead while you let the thought sink in.

"leave," you softly ordered, "I'll take care of my husband," and without hesitation she whispered to the old lady, they dropped everything and left. ain't no way you were about to let your husband be seduced away on the night of your union...

gently, you wrung the cloth of most of its water and brought it back up to his face, wiping away the dust and dried blood that covered little scars freckling his almost perfect face.

his eyes burned through your skull with his staring, slowly scanning over the curves and dips of your body as you moved. your finger danced over his skin, tracing the scar on his right cheekbone, moving down to brush past his thin lips, wiping away the remnants of dirt on his well built, chest. he seemed to relax against your touch, closing his piercing crimson eyes, and hanging his head back to let you do your work.

so soft... and smooth... the texture of his skin isn't what you expected. who would've thought that such a rough looking barbarian had the skin of a baby? would explain all the scars though. like this one running down his neck to his collarbone, and these over here trailing down his firm biceps. you almost forgot you were supposed to be cleaning him up... you've finished the upper half and tugged at the leather holding his pants up, struggling to get them undone.

a low chuckle rumbled in his throat and your eyes shot up up to his smirking face, "what's so funny?" you quiver, frowning, as he shifted to stand, undoing the leather and dropping his pants to the dirt floor. "þar," he rasped, smug at your flustered state.

having those women clean him up was starting to seem more and more reasonable now... nevertheless, you dippied the cloth in the bowl of warm water and squeezed it, before wiping at his lower abdomen. you're so adorable between his legs like that, avoiding his eyes at all costs, while you wipe your way down and around, to his back. again, your hands moved of their own accord, twitching along the scupletd bumps on his back.

he grunted softly as your fingers worked over the knots in his shoulders, his broad frame shifting slightly under your touch. emboldened by the lack of protest, you continued, pressing harder into the muscles along his spine. his head dipped forward, and a low sigh escaped his lips, sending a wave of warmth through you. he brought a large hand up to yours on his shoulders and guided you in front of him.

both your eyes reflected in each other's for a long moment before you tried to break the silence, your words sounding like nonsensical ringing in his ears. he pulled you into his chest, just holding you there in an attempt to shush you, closing his eyes as his brows pinched over them.

"what's your name?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the crackling of the distant bonfire. you paused, waiting for a response, but he didn't seem to react, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment. you tried again, a little louder this time, "what is your name?" you pointed at his chest.

he peeped through his eyelids, a sliver of vermilion meeting yours with a flicker of confusion. "nafnið mitt?" he asked, the foreign words rolling off his tongue. he tilted his head, as though trying to piece together what you were asking.

you frowned, gesturing to yourself. "i'm…" you said your name slowly, pointing at your chest, then gestured to him, raising your brows expectantly.

he blinked, mildly confused, before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Katsuki," he said, his voice low and rough. he tapped his chest, meeting your eyes again. "Kat-su-ki," he repeated, in the same manner you pronounced yours, ensuring you understood.

"Ka-tsu-ki…" you tested the name on your tongue, the unfamiliar syllables feeling oddly satisfying. his smirk widened slightly, pleased that you had caught on.

you nodded, offering a small smile in return, then gestured to yourself again. "my name is…" you repeated your name slowly once more, hoping to bridge the language barrier. his brows furrowed, lips moving as he attempted to mimic the unfamiliar sounds. his effort was clumsy but endearing, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you.

his frown deepened at your amusement. he murmured your name under his breath a few more times, his pronunciation improving with each attempt, until he finally said it with enough accuracy to make you grin.

"that's right!" you cheered softly, nodding in approval.

he held your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before his hand came up to gently brush against your cheek. his touch was surprisingly tender, his calloused fingers rough against your skin, but warm.

"sofa," he murmured again, his tone softer this time. he gestured toward the furs, his crimson eyes watching you closely.

you hesitated, unsure if he was commanding you or simply suggesting something. this is it. you thought, heart racing, as you slowly nodded, giving him a glance over your shoulder, before crawling onto the makeshift bed.

he stood for a moment, watching as you adjusted yourself among the furs, before he joined, sinking beside your head with his weight on his palms, caging you in under him. his hair fell beautifully over his narrow, glowing eyes, his nose brushing against yours as he lowered to your quivering lips, sucking them between his, tugging at your plump bottom lip with his teeth.

footsteps thumping right outside your tent made your heart race, thinking someone was coming, but he didn't stop, nor did he care, he hiked up the thin fabric of your dress, his large hand caressing your upper thigh as he shed the leather covering his— good god... you look down and your eyes widened. he smirked and hooked the strap of your dress with a finger to pull it down, and expose your heaving chest.

"Katsuki!" the blonde woman from earlier yelled, barging into the tent, "Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"

"För Guðs sakar, kona!" he yelled back, moving himself off you to sit. he looked up at her worried frown... "Ek kem..." you had no idea what was happening... eyes darting between them as their words flowed out of their mouth and their hands moved in frustration as they spoke.

katsuki looked back at you, a worried expression overtaking the lustful one he had mere seconds ago. he kneeled down kissed you, then threw on his cloak and left. the woman rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, gently smiling before she too headed out, leaving you alone, following behind your husband.

»»————> 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘; <————««

❈ "Nú ger hana konu þína." - now make her your wife

❈ "hvat í helvíti, kona!?" - what in the hell woman!?

❈ "þar" - there

❈ "nafnið mitt?" - my name?

❈ "leggjask" lie down

❈ "sofa" - sleep

❈ "Katsuki! Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"- katsuki! take your hands off her, you need to be at the council gathering. now!

❈ "För Guðs sakar, kona!" - for gods sake, woman!

❈ "Ek kem..." - I'm coming...

hope u enjoyed and look forward to more! don't forget to comment to be added to the taglist! mwah~♡

mlist!

[david-talks-sw]

Debunking more myths in the GFFA: the Jedi and the clones.

I wrote a post debunking the various myths about how "the Jedi condone slavery", a while ago. Something I had omitted (because it's such a big topic) was the following two statements that concern the clone troopers' relations with the Jedi:

"The clones were genetically bred to have accelerated growth, so they're technically child soldiers."

"The clones were slaves of the Jedi."

Both the above statements are inaccurate, let's explore why. 

"The clones were child soldiers"

Let's get the easy one out of the way first, because it's a logic that cuts both ways. If age is our only determination of the maturity of a Star Wars character, then Grogu is not a baby. He is aged 50, and is thus a middle-aged man.

Who cruelly eats the babies of a woman...

... and knowingly tortures animals for his own sadistic pleasure.

Of course, I'm kidding. Grogu's none of the above things.

The narrative frames him as a cute baby who does innocent baby stuff. Him eating the eggs is played off as comedic, as is him lifting with the frog. To this day, some fans still call him "Baby Yoda".

Conversely, despite the clones being 10/14-years-old, their actions, behaviors, way of thinking, sense of humor, morals etc, are all those of an adult.

Like, Ahsoka is technically older than Rex in this scene.

The scene doesn't portray them as peers, though. This isn't written as "a teen and a tween talking". No, Rex looks, acts and behaves like a grown-up and is thus framed as such by the narrative.

You can make the argument "they're child soldiers", but (unless you're doing so in bad faith) you'd also have to argue that "Grogu's an adult".

"The clones were the Jedi's slaves"

Nope. For all intents and purposes, they're in the same boat as the Jedi, who George Lucas stated multiple times had been drafted to fight in the war.

Again: both the Jedi (monk/diplomats untrained for fighting on a battlefield) and clones (literally bred en masse only to fight) are being forced to fight by Palpatine and the Senate.

Though, on paper, the clones were commissioned by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, it was actually done by the Sith (who either manipulated or assassinated Sifo-Dyas then stole his identity, depending on the continuity you choose to adhere to). The rest of the Jedi had no idea these clones were being created.

So while the clones are slaves... they're not owned by the Jedi.

They're the army of the Republic, they belong to the Senate. This isn't exactly a scoop, they refer to the clones as something to purchase...

... and manufacture.

As far as the Senate’s concerned, clones are property, like droids. 

Like there's a whole subplot in The Bad Batch about this very point: after the war, the clones are decommissioned and left out to dry because they literally have no rights, they served their purpose.

The only trooper to ever canonically blame the Jedi for the clones' enslavement is Slick, who the narrative frames as having been bribed and manipulated by Asajj Ventress into betraying his comrades.

Also, the only canonical Jedi shown to ever be mean, dismissive or mistreating the clones in any way, is Pong Krell.

And it's eventually revealed he’s in fact a full-on traitor, hence why the story frames him as an antagonistic dick from the moment he's introduced. He doesn’t represent the Jedi in any way.

We know this because the other Jedi we’ve been shown are always prioritizing their clones’ lives over theirs, if given the chance.

Finally, if we wanna get even more specific... as Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), the clones belong to Palpatine. 

Palpatine who is a Sith Lord. 

Palpatine who arranged for the creation of the clones and had them all injected with a chip that would activate upon hearing a code-word...

... and forced them to murder their Jedi without hesitation or remorse.

When you bear all that  ⬆️  in mind and when you read this quote by George Lucas...

"The Jedi won't lead droids. Their whole basis is connecting with the life force. They'd just say, 'That's not the way we operate. We don't function with non-life-forms.” So if there is to be a Republic army, it would have to be an army of humans."    - The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020  

... narratively-speaking, everything falls into place.

Sidious knows that:

If he orchestrates a war designed to thin the Jedi's numbers, corrupt their values and plunge the galaxy into chaos...

If he wants to draft the Jedi - peace-keeping diplomats who’d never willingly join the fray - to fight in his war...

... then the only way they won't resist the draft and abstain from fighting is if they think joining the conflict will save lives.

So he creates a set of cruel, sadistic villains for them to face, opponents who will target innocent civilians at every turn...

... and instead of lifeless droids, he prepares for the Jedi an army of men... living, mortal people who, despite being well-trained, will be completely out of their league when facing the likes of Dooku...

... Ventress...

... Grievous...

... Savage Opress...

... or the defoliator, a tank that annihilates organic matter.

Thus, in order to save as many clone and civilian lives, the Jedi join the fray despite knowing that doing so will corrupt their values. 

And as the war rages on, a bond of respect is formed between the two groups.

Clearly, the Jedi don't like the fact that the Republic is using the clones to fight a war, but for that matter, they don't like being in a war, in fact they advocated against it.

However, it's happening regardless of their issues with the idea or personal philosophies. Said The Clone Wars writer Henry Gilroy:

"I’d rather not get into the Jedi’s philosophical issues about an army of living beings created to fight, but the Jedi are in a tough spot themselves, being peacekeepers turned warriors trying to save the Republic."

And bear in mind, the Jedi are basically space psychics, the clones are living beings that they can individually feel in the Force... 

... so the Jedi feel every death but need to move on, regardless, only being able to mourn the troopers at the end of every battle.

We see this in the Legends continuity too, by the way.

(that is, when the writers actually try to engage with the narrative)

Also, if you ask the clones, they’re grateful the Jedi have their backs.

When Depa Billaba voices her concerns about how the war is impacting the Jedi's principles, troopers Grey and Styles are quick to make it clear how grateful they all are for the Jedi's involvement:

So the clones aren't the Jedi's slaves. If anything, they're both slaves of the Republic (considering how low the Jedi's status actually is in the hierarchy).

Only I'd argue the clones have it much, much worse. 

The Senate sees the Jedi as "ugh, the holier-than-thou space-monk lapdogs who work for us"... but a Jedi has the option to give up that responsibility. They can leave the Order, no fuss or stigma. 

A clone trooper cannot leave the GAR! If they do, they’re marked for treason and execution. Again, they’re not perceived as “people”.

And it doesn’t help that the Kaminoans, the clones’ very creators, see the troopers as products/units/merchandise. A notion that the Jedi are quick to correct whenever they get the chance.

How The Clone Wars writers describe the clones' relationship with the Jedi.

George Lucas hasn’t spoken much about this subject aside from the quote from further up. But to be fair... the Prequels aren’t about the clones’ dynamic with the Jedi, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t talk on that subject so much.

He did mention that part of The Clone Wars’ perks is that he could:

“Do stories about some of the individual clones and get to know them.”

But that’s as far as it gets. 

So for this part, I'm just gonna let Dave Filoni, showrunner of The Clone Wars and the upcoming series Ahsoka, and TCW writer Henry Gilroy - both of whom worked closely with Lucas - take the wheel. They make themselves pretty clear on how the clone/Jedi dynamic is meant to be viewed. 

Here’s Henry Gilroy:

"In my mind, the Jedi see the clones as individuals, living beings that have the same right to life as any other being, but understand that they have a job to do."

"The clones see the Jedi as their commanding officers on one hand, but also, at least subconsciously, they look to them for clues to social/moral behavior."    

"Some clones may find themselves getting philosophical leadership from the Jedi that helps them answer some of the deeper questions of life."    

"We thought this was a great opportunity to show how the Jedi interact with clones. Specifically, Yoda in a teaching role of the clones, who were socially new, who kind of grew up— who were created to fight, and he really broadened their horizons and helped them realize there was a great big universe out there that was bigger than just fighting and killing."    

And here’s Dave Filoni’s comments:

"I truly believe that the Jedi try to humanize their clones and make them more individual, as Henry says."    

"I think we saw that in Revenge of the Sith, when the Clones were colorful and named under the Jedi Generals, and then in the final shots of the film with Palpatine and Vader near the new Death Star, the ships are grey, the color and life is sucked out. The Stormtroopers are only numbers and identified by black and white armor or uniforms in A New Hope." 

"The soldiers have become disposable to the Emperor."    

"That is something the Jedi would never do."    

"Yoda teaching the clones much like he taught Luke. ‘Cause that was kind of natural for [the Jedi], a natural instinct to take to these clones like they’re students."    

None of the above quotes from two different writers of The Clone Wars, who had many interactions with George Lucas, frame the Jedi and the clones’ relationship in a negative way. 

How much more proof do we need that "the clones were slaves of the Jedi” isn’t the intended narrative?

My point being that while the clones' ordeal is indeed horrible, the Jedi have nothing to do with it. The narrative of The Clone Wars always frames it as the fault of the Sith, the Senate and the Kaminoans.

If you go by the intended narrative, the Jedi were the clones' teachers and brothers-in-arms. The clones and the Jedi were not just comrades.

They were friends.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

“Katara deserves a quiet life after the war, so becoming a healer (who made no contributions to the field) is actually a good arc!”

It is already bizarre to me that in ATLA, Katara is this confident & combative & ambitious girl who LOVED to fight and wanted nothing more than to help as many people as possible…then comics!Katara and TLOK!Katara showed neither her previous personality traits nor a career commensurate with those traits…

but it’s even more bizarre to me that ATLA fans would defend her trajectory as if it were some kind of progressive story of recovering from war trauma.

I’ve seen multiple takes like this. “Katara is not a YA heroine, she’s not a bloodthirsty girlboss who loves fighting so it’s actually a good thing that she doesn’t have to fight anymore” “after everything she’s been through she deserves a quiet life and a loving family”

For Katara, fighting in the war was actually empowering. It didn’t burn her out. It didn’t disillusion her. It didn’t take more out of her than she can give. Katara is not Katniss Everdeen, who needed to step back and discover her own agency and a sense of peace after fighting in a war she never chose to start. Katara’s war trauma largely happened before she took an active part in it. After she chose to be a part of the war, she became a waterbending master, made close friends, found her father again, got closure for her mother’s murder, defeated the Fire Lord, and met the love of her life. If Katara were a real person, maybe she’d be traumatized, but nowhere in the text of ATLA does she exhibit the sign that she’s tired of fighting on behalf of the world. If anything, she just got started.

If you take her post-ATLA arc at face value (vs as bad writing), it’s a tragedy of a woman who has learned to minimize her own relevance and her own power. In The Promise, she begins deferring serious decisions to Aang. She doesn’t even express a strong opinion about the fate of the entire colony of Yu Dao, or the fate of her friend Zuko. In North and South, she accepts Northern encroachment of the South in the name of progress. In TLOK we see her not as a politician or a chief, but rather as “the best healer” — albeit one who apparently never established a hospital, or trained acolytes of her own, or done anything to help people at scale, which she has always wanted to do. It’s even more egregious when you remember that in Jang Hui, she was not satisfied to simply heal the sick as the Painted Lady. She wanted to solve the root of the problem, so she cleaned the river and committed full-on ecoterrorism. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean she wants to stop helping people. In fact, the problem she addressed in Jang Hui is exactly the type of problem that would become more prevalent after the war ends, judging by the rapid industrialization between ATLA and LOK.

In the original ATLA, I think Katara is about as close to a power fantasy as you can get for a teenage girl, because she gets to be messy and goofy and powerful, even though she also had to perform a whole lot of emotional and domestic labour. But post-ATLA, she doesn’t get power and she doesn’t get to make a change. She gets love and a family. That’s it. And her grandkids don’t even remember her. Her friends and peers, on the other hand, were shown doing all sorts of super cool things like, you know, running the world they saved.

It’s not feminist to say that a female character deserves “rest” when she’s shown zero inclination that she wants a quiet life. Women who want a quiet life deserve to get it — I think Katniss’ arc is perfect — but women who want power deserve to get it too, especially when they’re motivated by compassion and a keen sense of justice. There’s nothing feminist about defending the early 2010s writing decisions of two men. Like just admit that they fucked up! It’s fine! Maybe they’ll do better in the future!

[floosies]

Hedonism - the philosophical belief that pleasure is the sole or chief good in life

summary: to love a woman who has loved them both in equity of mind and soul shouldnt be seen as this though

pairing: emperor geta x senator's daughter x emperor caracalla

warnings: violence, blood, cursing, insults, allusions to smut

( a/n: I apologize for the length, but I do want this to have backstory. I'm really locked into ancient rome right now and I blame this movie.)

taglist: @bloodibambiidoll @celestianstars

She was her father's pride, seldom was he on assuring she'd be wed to a man of power, of respect, such as he was. a child with wit and the ability to learn quickly, he knew she would not fail his wishes for her life.

However, her imagination ran ramped and when her parents looked away she ran to the fields where the flowers grew alongside the tall grasses. Where she would run around in circles chasing insects and dreaming of being a creature herself.

It was in this state that the young princes had come to know her as they too would run away from their lessons of history and war. Their tutors often old men whose minds wandered and attention fell from the boys would make it easy for their escapes. On this day particularly, the princes found themselves captivated by the sound of her laughter and the way her hair danced in the wind.

She had no clue she had company until her eyes opened and in her gaze she looked directly into their awe struck gaze. of course she knew who they were, she had seen them on days of festivities and parades, she gasped immediately attempting to bow at them, "caesars, a grace to be in your presence." the boys giggled, Caracalla responded to her "as are we. Graced to be upon thee." It was then Geta who asked, "may we join you in your festivities?" To which the young girl nodded, her eyes wide with glee to have friends.

The children made crowns of the taller flowers and grasses, they ran around, their arms wide pretending to be birds. She had brought fruits and honey with her, which they shared. They talked of their parents and how boring life was when at home. How sometimes they feared their father's tempers for fear of the blows that would come afterwards. She listened and sympathized, they even agreed that they were friends.

When the day came to an end, she looked to them hoping for the best when asking, "would you be back tomorrow?" The princes in sadness shared a look, "father is most likely looking for us now. He will be livid, we may not be back tomorrow exactly, but we will try to be back soon. Promise to bring more figs and honey?" She nodded once more, now in a saddened manner, her voice soft, "I will. However I may not be back soon either, my father will too be upset." Forgetting formality, the children hugged and whispered to be strong despite the horrors that awaited them.

-

Indeed hell did await at home for each, and tragically the children were fated to not meet again. For she was sooner shipped away to the coasts of the empire, where she would live within the confines of an old friend of her father's who would become her tutor and mentor.

As for the princes, their father placed more guards around Palatine and more so used violent punishment as a reminder of what consequences awaited their insolence.

Still all three kept the memory of what they'd once shared on that day. The memory felt like fields that awaited them in the afterlife. Perhaps it was a taste of what would come, perhaps it was a dream.

-

Fated was the day it they came to reunite. For neither the emperors nor she knew what they had become with the years. She had been brought back to Rome after her father ascended into senator after the coronation, which is when she discovered that the princes had now become co-emperors of the empire.

She had pleaded with her father to allow her attendance to one of the many festivities held in honor of the new emperors. Of course she did not know if she would catch their attention, instead she suggested it would be a suitable place to display her musical talent which she gained in lyre strumming. It took some more pleading but eventually he agreed to take her. Her mother helped to dress her in silks dyed in reds and her gold jewels.

When they arrived, at Palatine, she went to take her place beside the window, her palla on her head and the lyre on her lap. Moonlight bright on the warm night, and then she waited for her father to introduce her and signal for her to begin playing. When his signal came she began to strum.

Her emperors wasted no time in noticing the music, they always wished to be entertained and no more so than by a beautiful women. They did not look for her initially for many a time there was always a musician paid off to be there. However, intrigue arose when chatter came to them that this was a different case, a senator's daughter was playing for them tonight, of her own want to celebrate the empire's new emperors.

With their interest piqued, they walked over to where this woman was sat, moonlight and the flames of a torch guiding her strums. The crowd that surrounded her parted at the notice of the emperors. Who now gazed upon her like the boys they had once been moons ago, with that same wonder and awe. Her gaze moved from her instrument, up towards them. Eyes meeting after so long, but yet not changing; they knew and she knew.

They had an audience though, one who did not know what they did. She finished her song and before the moment could linger they clapped ensuing the others to clap as well. She bowed her head, a smile upon her lips. Her father neared, she'd done well in his eyes, but she did not smile for him. She smiled for them, and they were now being introduced formally by her father, who was speaking highly of her to them. His voice filled with pride about her education and upbringing, he voiced his want for their approval later in time to marry her off to a worthy contender.

Their eyes never leaving the sight of her, but when hearing of her father's plans for her future the first to lurch was Caracalla whose head turned to her father. He planned to marry her off to a senator's son? Worthy? Surely none of these men were worthy of her. Her who had fed them fruits and honey while creating stories beneath the shade of trees in their youth.

Geta similarly thought, though his gaze never left hers. Her father was a fool and he was thinking of all the ways he would make sure that the man would come to know that. But to marry her off to anyone but him would never be. For she had wiped off tears from his face as he retold the first memory of his father's torment upon his life. She took such vile things and soothed him. He thought back to the embrace and wise words they shared as children. Things none of these people would ever come to understand.

These things were in the mind, but aloud, Geta cutoff the senator, "surely your daughter would grace us with her own introduction." He said with a smile that was anything but sincere. The senator nodded, signaling for his daughter to speak. She bowed her head, her voice soft, "my emperors it has been my honor to play for you tonight. I am most thankful and joyous to be back home in Rome." They smiled, Caracalla reaching out to shake her hand, "song bird! Rome is blessed to have you upon its land once more." His lips pressing a kiss onto her hand.

Geta neared, "my brother is right. What a delight to have a new musician in these halls. Let us have you back for the next celebration." At his words, her eyes widened like they had back then, in that moment, his mind gleamed with a plan, "as a matter of fact we should like a private concert. To truly enjoy the gift you have bestowed upon us tonight." Caracalla clapped, "a truly genius idea brother!" Her father however did not account for this excitement from the emperors.

The man looked hurriedly at both his daughter and their majesties, "surely it is an honor for your graces to regard my daughter with such a gesture! But surely there is another musician who could enthrall thee with-" Caracalla giggled, "you deny your emperors' wishes?" The senator's face looked something aghast Geta could see her begin to worry as well, "now now brother. The senator is simply being modest." The older man began to nod in agreement, but Geta continued, "though he should not deny his daughter such a blessing." Now his gaze once more landing on her, who looked nervous at the scene in front of her.

Her father's voice broke the feeling, "of course my liege. At your request she will play for you. What an honor you have bestowed upon my family." He bowed and she followed. The twin emperors did not wait, she would be back in the afternoon to preform for them privately in the gardens.

-

The first performance, was nothing more than a reunion between the three. She hardly played her lyre, instead speaking of her tales and prayers to Neptune to avoid any harsh storms from hitting where she lived. The emperors in turn talked about their coronation and how Caracalla came to posses Dondus who crawled around them throughout their outing. Still she did play some songs she had made in her time near the sea. They were once more enamored with her and her mystic ways.

She'd being coined their song bird, for she would play at every event which could call for music. As well, they still continued their requests for private concerts as excuses to be near her. It was during one of these closed events that she revealed she knew her father was hoping to marry her off soon to another senator's son. She spoke with frustration at the idea of being only seen as a pawn for her father's ambitions and not for any hope of a love match.

The brother's took the moment as their chance, "do you believe in such things?" Geta asked sarcastically as he smiled down at her who was laid out on his lap under the shade of a tree in the gardens. She shrugged, "if we pray to Venus, then it must be for something. Besides is it such a bad thing to believe someone could love simply for the act loving?" Caracalla clung to her every word, "do you simply love for the act?" He asked, his blue eyes enthralled on her. She thought about his question, her eyes gazing on both brothers and then at the sky itself as if lost in some thought. When she came to though, her answer as soft as she was given, "I suppose I could if I knew it would be reciprocated. Yet I have not found a soul who does."

"Perhaps you have yet to truly notice those souls who do." Caracalla spoke, his hands caressing down the silks which covered her. Geta beginning to play with her hair, "what a fair point you make brother." She though wanting it to be true, was puzzled, "certainly you do not mean." Somehow they both knew and spoke in unison, "we do." In mere moments soft touches were met with burning kisses shared. Her emperors now exploring what they had dreamt about since her return.

The concerts were over, but their private audiences were still held. In secret they acted on their emotions. On their wants and pleasures for she was the embodiment of the goddess Venus herself. They would lay, bodies pressed against each other in the afterglow of their acts, speaking soft sweet things amongst themselves. In these rare moments they smiled, they felt safe from harm. She gave herself onto them and in return they to her.

-

But trouble lays near any good thing. Her father was hearing talk among the court of his daughter and the emperors. Things he would write off as gossip and fictitious. It was nothing more than defamation of a man and his family, who had been given a title. Though he thought back, he had noticed how much his daughter was spending time with them, how little she would take her lyre, and what new silks she wore.

A man with everything to lose, he did what he felt rational. He hired mercenaries to follow her movements around Rome. He needed all the proof of what he was dreading to be true. It only took some days for the damned truth to be laid out before him from behind the doors of Palatine talk was fervent among the maids and guards. What he learned made his blood boil so, but he would have his moment soon.

-

Another celebration was being held, she of course was made to play, and after she had finished her last tune, she was pulled away hurriedly by her father. Not many noticed or cared, but the emperors did, they doted on her dearly. It was Caracalla who saw her being whisked away by her father.

In an empty hall far enough from the festivties she was practically flung against a marble wall. Fear and confusion encasing her, "father what is the meaning of this?" He looked at his offspring with disbelief, "the meaning? The meaning?! As if you do not know what it is that you have done?!" He began to shout, causing her to cower. "Father I do not know what I have-" she had no chance to finish her plea before feeling the back of his hand deliever a harsh blow onto her cheek, once more throwing her against the wall behind her.

His rage now undone, "my daughter! My flesh and blood has forsaken our lineage with her hedonism!" She was done for, "hedonism father? What such-" He spat as he unleashed his discontent "do not lie! Do not try to deceive me! I have had you followed for days! I have heard of your private audiences and what they entail!" She pleaded, "father please you do not understand! They care for me truly! They see me-" Before she could speak again he began to scream once more his hands striking at her "they see you as a concubine! They treat you as such and you have allowed it! They are merely insolent children disguising as emperors! You are nothing more than a whore disposing yourself at their whim!" Both emperors had heard her cries and his insults both at her and them, rushing to her aid they neared the violent scene, "lies senator! You speak nothing but lies against your emperors! Take your filthy hands off her!" Geta yelled pushing him off her. Caracalla kneeling before his song bird now beaten and bloodied, his voice soft and in pain, "what has he done to you." She could do nothing but cry, in both shame and pain as he held her blood covered face.

His hands now covered in her blood, Caracalla screamed with anger, "kill him!" The guards were already taking him away by order of emperor Geta, "not yet brother! Not now! We must tend to her first." Geta spoke sternly aiding his brother in lifting up their love from the marble. The healers were already sent for and she would be staying with them in Palatine indefintely, away from any more harm.

Nothing was broken, just bruising and some cuts. Still angered consumed them, and she knew too that her father had not just betrayed her but the emperors too when he spoke against them and insulted them. She knew he would have to be punished in some form, however death seemed to easy. Instead she asked for him to be excommunicated, sent off into the wilderness where there is no social hierarchy, where there is only loneliness and survival. Left with nothing but perhaps a small knife to fend for himself. The one thing he always despised was now going to be his reality.

As for her, she begged her mother to come stay with her in Palatine. Her mother refused her though, instead reassuring her daughter she would be fine remaining in the home she raised her in. She was happy that her daughter had found true love and blessed the gods for gifting her two who would watch over her. It eased her sadness somewhat, knowing her mother still felt love her despite her father's actions.

She was made empress and those who spoke against her came to know their fate well enough. However, Rome adored her as much as she did they. For she guided the emperors and their tempers to lead them away from chaos. She did not do it out of strategy, never for that, it was for love. Even in their hardships she knew she was theirs as much as they were hers.

[queenvhagar]

I believe Rhys Ifans’ statement “Both sides are genocidal war criminals… I think we should all enjoy seeing how they die[,]” would be wrong because the entire time the story HOTD is fundamentally about how one group, the greens, IE Alicent, Otto, and Aegon Hightower, seek to maintain the status quo of an oppressive power structure versus Rhaenyra, the blacks, whose very existence seeks to jeopardize that power structure (the patriarchal society of Westeros).

It is made explicitly clear that the chief architect of team green in the usurpation of Rhaenyra’s throne that the only reason that they cannot have Rhaenyra on the throne is explicitly because she is a woman. It’s a theme that is present throughout the entirety of HOTD’s season one as this conflict builds up.

For instance, the conversation between Alicent and Rhaenys at the end of season one where Alicent justifies why she is participating in the usurpation of Rhaenyra’s throne to Rhaenys by saying that it is not a woman’s place to rule the Seven kingdoms and instead it is a woman’s place to gently guide the hand of the men who do rule.

The story of HOTD, the civil war for the succession of the Iron Throne following the death of Viserys, the Dance of the Dragons, is fundamentally a conflict that is built on the foundation of misogyny and the writers are making that explicitly clear.

The weird false equivalency when ppl imply that both sides are equally genocidally crazy, that treads to reduce the nature of this conflict down to just simple good old fashioned greed which it really isn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Rhaenyra is perfect and of course I understand that over the course of the war, she’s going to do some pretty terrible things but it’s been made pretty clear that Rhaenyra’s done everything in her power to avoid this turning out into a war in the fist place.

I just don’t think by any stretch of the imagination regardless of what Rhaenyra does throughout this war, that you’re supposed to enjoy watching her die. I don’t think that’s how her character is written and I don’t think that’s what the narrative goal of her end is supposed to be. Her character is a character by all accounts some victim of the patriarchal society that she lives in. Even if she does go down the “mad queen route,” it will only be to explore how the patriarchal society has completely twisted her. How this war that was started because she dared to be queen of the seven kingdoms completely ruined her and ruined her family.

I would very much appreciate your thoughts on this and would like to learn more if this take of mine is confusing and blinded.

I think this take might be correct if you're solely going off of the show and its interpretation of Team Black as modern feminists attempting revolutionary societal change led by divinely ordained and pure Rhaenyra vs Team Green as conservative misogynists led by incompetent and unorganized abuser Aegon...

Fire and Blood is not this, though. Sexism and misogyny is one element of power and power imbalance in Westeros but it's not the only one, nor is it the only factor into why Rhaenyra's claim was disputed, despite what the showrunners are trying to portray on screen.

The reality is two ideologically different sides with fairly equal claims to the throne are trying to seize power, leading to a war that ruins the land and the family that started it. Team Green has Aegon, firstborn son of the last king, following Andal tradition going back thousands of years and most recently reinforced in the Council of 101 AC that made his own father king. Team Black has Rhaenyra, eldest daughter named by the previous king but not supported by precedent. Rhaenyra unfortunately also had some political scandals that went against her in having bastards, having Velaryons killed and mutilated, and marrying Daemon despite fear of him in power being the reason she was named heir in the first place. Any of these are valid reasons why some people might be against her coming into power. It's more than "she's a woman and I don't like women."

Rhaenyra did not press her claim to raise up the women of the realm, nor did she do it out of a desire to save the world. She wanted it because she wanted power that was promised to her. But the show can't let women simply want things for themselves. Rhaenyra has to be an advocate for peace and want the throne for some higher purpose instead of just wanting power for power's sake.

The Greens were motivated by power to push for Aegon's claim, and surely misogyny in the society helped to get Aegon on the throne, but they also put Aegon on the throne out of fear for the lives of all of Viserys' sons, who would have to be taken out of the picture to secure Rhaenyra's atypical claim lest war and rebellion potentially break out against her at any point in her reign, and Team Black had already shown willingness to resort to violence to help themselves (Rhea's death, Laenor's death, Vaemond's death, Velaryons' tongues getting cut out, Aemond's eye cut out without any punishment and instead Aemond threatened with torture over speaking the truth about Rhaenyra). It's not just "we hate the idea of a woman ruling, we hate women, and we're terrible, incompetent people."

Fire and Blood is a tale of two sides fighting for even more power than they already have who are willing to do horrible terrible war crimes against each other and innocents in order to obtain their end goal of the Iron Throne, and realistically you are interested in seeing all of them die and face the consequences of their actions. The story has weight, the characters are real and human and messy and tragic, the war is unjustified in its means and methods and purpose. It's the failure of Viserys' legacy and a reflection of the flaws of monarchy and specifically the ideals Targaryen supremacy. No side is right and the other wrong. Nobody's a hero.

This is where the show has failed in its adaptation. It has abandoned its themes, along with several characters, characterizations, and plot points, in order to create their own narrative that fits a story that they think will sell best to the casual modern viewer: essentially, redemption for Daenerys fans after the catastrophe of Game of Thrones' ending. By making up prophecy and dream stuff to give to Rhaenyra and also giving her some of that Dany "change the world" mentality that was absent in the source material, the writers can cut apart the character of Rhaenyra and make her into a new Daenerys, and this time they can give the fans want they wanted for Daenerys. Except Rhaenyra is not Daenerys at all, and their only similarity is dragon riding queen seeking to inherit their father's throne. Changing the narrative so Rhaenyra becomes the new Daenerys and a true hero of the story ruins the underlying themes of Fire and Blood and specifically the Dance.

Rhys Ifans likely read Fire and Blood and actually knows what he's talking about. The point of the Dance isn't "heroic woman attempting to overthrow the patriarchy is burned and destroyed by the patriarchy and agents of the patriarchy." The takeaway isn't just "misogyny and sexism are bad and hurt women" like the show hammers in so heavily every single episode. It's "the pursuit of power by the already powerful comes at the cost of innocents, war is never justified no matter what (and certainly not justified by manifest destiny, someone's dream of saving the world, or even 'misogynists stole my throne') and the violence of war destroys indiscriminately." There should be catharsis when gray characters who have done good but also horrific bad in the pursuit of power finally face the consequences and die early deaths. Like, for example, the end of Succession: none of the Roy siblings get what they want, and we understand why, and even though parts of their character are sympathetic and tragic to us, we can objectively view them as flawed and selfish people whose decisions led to this ultimate, inevitable conclusion where they don't get what they want, and it's deserved. This is what House of the Dragon should have been. Tragic, flawed characters on both sides acting selfishly but realistically to seize power from each other and ultimately failing. But the writers opted for an oversimplified morality tale of good vs evil to push their version of feminism into the story where it doesn't belong, at the detriment to the characters and the story to the point it goes against the themes and messages of the source material.

[aquarii-if]

Demo 378K words (Updated 8/30/24) /// The Gods /// Ask Boundaries

After being abducted by two aliens, their spaceship crashes and leaves you stranded on a galaxy called 'Aquarii", which is populated by a species called 'Mitans'.

You're taken in by the Queen of Aquarii, where she reveals you are a child of one of Aquarii's gods. A cool idea in theory, but it appears the Mitan's aren't particularly happy with a human being half-god.

The queen believes that your arrival is a sign an upcoming war between Mitans and gods can be prevented, while others believe this war is inevitable.

As you are forced to fight for your right to live, you're left with one question:

Can a universe survive without gods?

Choose your pronouns, sexuality, and appearance.

Join forces with an unusual group of aliens with unique features.

Choose between five RO's, two female, two male, and one non-binary option.

Become a demigod and pick one of twelve gods to be the child of.

Deal with a strange device that has been turned against you and the Mitans (along with the alien that built it).

And fight an emperor!

RO Descriptions

Liviana Vlahos, The Queen (she/her)- The queen of Aquarii and all Mitans, she is beloved by all her people for defeating the tyrant who ruled before her. She was kind enough to lend her hand in your time of need, but it's hard to tell if she genuinely cares for you. If you don't prove to be helpful, she may just throw you into the fray.

Estelle Alinac, The Chief (she/her)- The chief of the Justice Association of Aquarii, Estelle is known to be a cold and intimidating woman. She doesn't like you, or humans, and makes that abundantly clear every time you talk to her.

Amare Mailon, The Recruit (he/him)- A new member of the Justice Association of Aquarii, Amare can appear quite naive and unserious. With others, he's sarcastic and witty, but with you, he's nervous and paranoid. Being a member of the JAA, anyone would assume he's just worried about something happening to you. But you know from the way his eyes flick to your arms and legs that the fear runs deeper. You can't tell which matters more to him; stopping a war, or preventing humans from finding Aquarii. Ellery Torres, The Doctor (he/him)- Liviana's personal doctor and the most renowned doctor in the galaxy, Ellery appears as someone you can trust. He can make you feel at ease with his playful humor and light-hearted personality. He has sworn to the queen that he will do everything in his power to keep you alive and healthy. He doesn't appear threatening, but who can you trust in this unknown galaxy?

Vega Ramos, The Mastermind (they/them)- Not much is known about the one who lives in the apartment on Fiery Pass, but it's kind of weird how they never turn their purple lights out...

[gyutopia]

world of sinners v | sim jaeyun

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: your parents are the head of one of the nation’s most lucrative syndicates and your older brother is heir to the throne which leaves you free to leave this world of evil behind. you’ve been waiting for this day for twenty years of your life, you can practically taste the freedom. what will you do, however, when your parents arrange a marriage for you to bind together their empire with the lee’s to stop a full on gang war?

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: sim jaeyun x f!reader ft brother sungchan & lee heesung

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.0k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: dark themes, mentions of drugs, mentions of violence, vulgar language, mentions of death, forced marriage, corruption, consumption of alcohol, possessiveness, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), rough(?) sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, slight nipple play, praise, fingering (f receiving), dom!jake, sub!reader, unprotected sex.

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Jaeyun had done a fantastic job of choosing your attorney. Stella, a tall, slim woman with bright red hair in her late twenties, is sought out by rich business owners who often find themselves in legal trouble. Though she's only a few years older than you and relatively new to law, she exudes an air of high maintenance and smugness.

Stella takes her seat beside you, her smile unwavering, followed by the officers who had made a spectacle of arresting you in public for all of Korea to see. They settle across from you, letting a beat pass before they begin questioning you again.

"Mrs. Sim," the detective begins, his tone formal, "we need to ask you a few questions regarding your whereabouts during the time of the chief's death."

You swallow hard, glancing briefly at Stella, who gives you a reassuring nod and a cheerful wink. "I was at home with my husband," you reply steadily.

The officer who arrested you, Taehyun, leans forward slightly. "Can anyone else confirm that?"

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice calm. "Yes, our staff can confirm it. We were together all evening."

The detective scribbles something in his notebook. "Can you provide any more details about your evening? Any visitors? Any phone calls?"

You think back, trying to recall anything that might help. "We had dinner together. No visitors, no phone calls that I can remember."

Stella interjects, her voice bright and confident. "My client has already provided her alibi. Unless you have further evidence to suggest otherwise, we see no reason for this continued detention."

Officer Kang ignores Stella. “Mrs. Sim, you do understand that the evidence against you is pretty damning, right?”

You don’t say a word.

The detective and officer share a look. “The chief was last seen having lunch with you a week prior to his disappearance. Care to explain?”

Stella scoffs with a playful roll of her eyes. “What’s wrong with going out to eat with an associate? Haven’t you done it before, detective?”

Detective Choi tisks but disregards Stella’s comment. He places a sheet of paper on the table and twists it so you have a clear view. “You were the last person Chief Minho called,” he says, placing down two other call logs. “You also seemed to share multiple calls dating back to before you even announced your engagement to Sim Jaeyun.”

You frown. “Impossible,” you mutter as you look down at the call logs. Taehyun uses this as an opportunity to sink his claws into you.

“Impossible? Why do you say that?”

Stella places a hand on your shoulder and encourages you not to answer, but you’re too out of it to comply. “I mean, yeah, we’ve called each other a few times, but I can’t be the last person he called.”

Yeonjun hums. “Is that so?”

Stella hisses, “Do not engage with them, ____.”

You shrug her off. “The call logs have to be wrong, maybe even doctored. I remember this date,” you say as you point to it. “It was yesterday. My husband took me to the museum that day. I didn’t get a call from the chief, just a call from an unk—” You cut yourself off as you realize exactly who called you from the unknown number yesterday. “That son of a bitch!” you hiss. It was the chief. It makes sense. Whoever killed him did a hell of a job making sure all fingers would point back to you.

Yeonjun smirks and sinks back into his seat. “The museum, huh? Thought you were at home with your husband?”

You gape at the detective as you realize the hole you’ve dug yourself into. You and Jake spent that night at his safe house, there’s no CCTV of you ever making it back home from the museum. Seeing as these cops are hellbent on putting you away they can easily check the street camera to see when you made it home.

“They went to the museum in the morning and spent their afternoon at home. What are you getting at, Yeonjun?” Stella asks, her voice lilting with mock curiosity.

His eyes flicker to your defense attorney before he turns back to you. “Are you happy with your marriage, ____?”

Your body freezes at the question. Are you happy? You entered your engagement and marriage indifferently, angry at the world for where you had ended up. But things are different now. You’re falling in love with Jaeyun; he’s made you incredibly happy in these short few weeks. Maybe you’re beginning to become content with where you are now?

“What does my client’s marriage have to do with the murder charges against her?”

“The FBI has an ongoing case against your husband. I assume murder isn’t below him just as it isn’t below you. I suspect you were having an affair with the Chief, wanted to make things official, but he didn’t seeing as you were getting married. In a fit of rage, you killed him. Your husband, who’s madly in love with you, then proceeded to cover up your crimes.”

You feel a dull throb in your temple. You have no doubt you'll have a migraine by the time you leave this interrogation room.

“Stop badgering my client; this is all speculation.”

Detective Choi doesn’t stop. “We understand the chief owed your family money?”

You nod. “Yes.”

The bastard had upped his bribe fee once it was announced that Sungchan would be taking over but never followed up on his half of the deal. Sungchan had asked you what he should do two days before your wedding, but you told him you would take care of it and arranged to meet Minho the next night.

You’re willing to bet that the pictures they claim to have of the two of you out to lunch are probably of you two in a heated argument over when he would uphold his half of the deal. Either that or he’d pay back the money. Taehyun flips through pages of paper on his clipboard.

“That’s motive.”

You raise an eyebrow. Motive? “Stop stating false claims. I didn’t kill him.”

Taehyun ignores you. “Okay, I believe you. You weren’t having an affair, but you thought you could get an upper hand on your father who handed the company over to your brother when it should have been yours. You figured if you couldn’t have the company, you could at least get away with the money. You met with the chief for lunch to discuss a payment plan for what he owed your father, but when he refused to give you the money, you stormed to his home and killed him, then had your husband cover it up.”

You let out a dry laugh. They think you're envious of Sungchan? If anything, you pity your elder brother. You despise that company with your whole being. “You think I want the company? It can burn to the ground for all I care. As for the money, have you forgotten I married rich? Why would I need the four billion won your Chief stole from my family when my husband spoils me with extravagant gifts?”

Stella places a hand on your thigh. “That’s enough, ____,” she turns to the officer and detective. “As for you two, you’re both speculating and writing two very different narratives. My client didn’t kill the chief for money, nor did she do it because of a torrid affair. If you continue on, we’ll sue for harassment and defamation.”

The two share a look, and Detective Choi clears his throat. “Maybe we’re looking at this wrong, hm? Maybe it was accidental? You didn’t mean to kill him, did you? An argument transpired while you two were out for lunch. You felt wronged and went to his loft to speak to him, but he dismissed you. In a fit of rage, you pushed him, and he fell, hitting his head on the way down. Scared, you hid the body.”

Stella interjects in a harsh tone, “My client will not be answering that.”

You stare off into space, no longer knowing what to do. You’re truly at a loss. No matter what you say and no matter how many times you deny it, they will find a way to convict and sentence you for a crime you didn’t commit. Even in death, the bastard was still screwing you over.

“We have no further questions. Make sure you stay in Seoul and are reachable. I’m sure we’ll have more questions as more evidence turns up.”

Officer Kang and Detective Choi pack up their papers and bid you goodbye. You let out a sigh of relief and let your body sag. You were right about the migraine.

“Jake has requested we meet him for lunch to discuss a few details about your case. Let’s go,” Stella says as she packs up her briefcase, her tone still bright. You nod and follow behind her.

“____! Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Jake asks as you come into his line of vision. He engulfs you in a hug and holds you tightly to his chest. Stella sidesteps you two and bounces over to the table, beaming.

“I’m starving! Can we eat now? I could eat a horse!” she exclaims with a giggle.

You blush and push Jake off of you before taking a seat across from Stella. Jake fixes his suit and sits beside you. “How was it? Do you really think they can convict her?”

Stella grabs a menu, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, they’ll try their best, but they’ve got nothing solid! I bet they’ll drag their feet until they find the murder weapon or some more witnesses. But don’t you worry, they’re going to have a hard time pinning it on you!” she says, winking.

She waves the waiter over and orders with enthusiasm, then turns to you and Jake with a dazzling smile, “What about you two? You’ve got to try the gnocchi here, it’s to die for!”

You look at her, stunned. You’re the leading suspect in a murder you didn’t commit; why is she so cheerful? You shake your head, “I don’t think I can stomach anything at the moment.”

Stella shrugs, “Suit yourself! More room for dessert then!” she says, laughing.

Jake places his hand on your thigh and gingerly rubs soothing circles, “I’ll have a glass of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, and my wife will have a pot of chamomile tea.”

The waiter nods and takes down your drink orders before walking away.

“Forensics didn’t find any of your DNA on the chief's body or clothes, which is great news! But the detectives say they have a witness who claims to have seen you fleeing the chief’s home a few minutes after the alleged time of death,” Stella says, her eyes twinkling as if she’s sharing a juicy piece of gossip.

You stare at her wide-eyed, “What do you mean? I have an alibi for the night he was killed!”

Stella sighs dramatically, “It’s not the best alibi, honestly. The prosecution could easily poke holes in it. But don’t fret! We’ve got time to figure this out.” The waiter returns with your drinks, pouring your tea before leaving. “Be honest, are you guilty?”

Jake scowls, “What kind of question is that? Of course she isn’t.”

Stella sends him a sunny smile, “No need to get so angry. I just want to make sure there are no secrets between us. I’ll head down to the station tomorrow to see if I can find out who the witness is. I’ll keep you updated on any changes in your case.”

You nod and pick up your tea cup, blowing on the hot drink and taking a small sip. “I’m meeting a friend at the NFS later today. Right now the prosecution only has a case because of the doctor’s findings in Chief Minho’s autopsy. If we can come up with a different cause of death or estimated time of death, you could be exonerated,” Stella says, her voice full of excitement.

“Wait, the case is riding on one medical examiner's results? What if they were falsified?” Jake asks.

Stella nods eagerly, “Exactly! That’s why I’m meeting with my friend. He’s super meticulous with his autopsies. I’ll leave him a copy of the report and see what he has to say. If he comes up with different findings, we can easily get the charges dropped!”

The waiter returns and takes your food orders, leaving you in a momentary silence. The restaurant's ambiance is calming, but your mind is far from at ease. Stella, ever cheerful, breaks the silence.

"In the meantime, stay strong! The prosecution’s case is weak without concrete evidence, but we need to be prepared for anything,” she says brightly.

You nod absently, sipping your chamomile tea. Jake's hand remains on your thigh, his touch grounding you.

The food arrives, and though you have no appetite, you force yourself to take a few bites. Stella, on the other hand, eats with an unhurried elegance, her demeanor never faltering.

Once lunch is finished, Stella dabs her lips with a napkin and stands. "I'll head to the NFS now. Stay reachable. I'll contact you as soon as I have any updates!"

Jake rises to pay the bill, nodding to Stella. "Thank you, Stella. We appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Stella gives a curt nod and walks away with her briefcase in hand. Jake returns to you, helping you to your feet and guiding you out of the restaurant. The drive home is quiet, Jake occasionally glancing over at you, but you remain silent, lost in your thoughts. The weight of the accusations, the potential outcomes, and the sheer injustice of it all consume you.

When you arrive home, the quiet comfort of your surroundings does little to alleviate your anxiety. As soon as you step inside, you turn to Jake, your eyes pleading. You need a distraction, something to take your mind off the nightmare your life has become.

You step closer, hands trembling as you start to unbuckle his belt.

Jake's hands cover yours, stopping you. “____, not like this."

"Please, Jake," you whisper, your voice cracking with the weight of your desperation. "I need to focus on something other than what's going on. I need you."

Jake's resistance falters at the raw vulnerability in your eyes. He pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly becomes urgent. You cling to him, needing his touch, his presence, to ground you.

His hands move to lift your hoodie, and you remove his shirt before guiding him to the bedroom. The need to lose yourself in him, to escape the crushing reality even for a moment, drives every action. You reach for his belt again, and this time he doesn't stop you.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs against your lips, his breath warm and reassuring.

You nod, your fingers deftly undoing the buckle. "I'm sure. I need this, Jake. I need you.”

The moment you step foot in Jake’s bedroom, you feel the temperature rise. Your clammy hands shake almost imperceptibly in his while Jake slowly pulls you closer towards his bed. Almost as if he can sense your nervousness, Jake’s eyes soften; his fingers lightly grip your chin and turn you up and towards him. He can see the anxiousness in your eyes and feel the way your body trembles near his.

“Hey, we don’t have to do this. We can just cuddle or something,” Jake says, his hands moving to trace your side. His touch is completely attentive, fingers slowly massaging your flesh through your clothing. Reflexively, your eyes flutter, a soft whine escaping your lips. His words cause your heart to clench, and you quickly shake your head, your hair following the movement. “No. I want this. I want you,” you whisper as you look earnestly into his eyes.

Steeling every single nerve you have, you gather yourself and run your hand down his sculpted chest and towards his clothed length. Jake lets out a pained moan as you begin palming him through his slacks. You can almost feel everything through his boxers. He’s still a little soft, but despite that, he feels huge under your palm.

“Ah,” Jake gasps. Then, as one of your fingers runs along the length of his shaft through his clothing, he hisses. Completely taken by how he feels, you find yourself slowly admiring his cock. You can’t see it yet, but it radiates heat through his clothing as it pulses under your touch, slowly hardening. He grows under your touch, slacks just barely tenting as you continue to palm him through the material of his clothing.

“Fuck… princess,” Jake breathes out, his face scrunched up in pleasure. You stare up at him, eyes scanning across his features as your hand slowly goes past the barrier and into his briefs. Your hand curls around his length before pumping up and down. When he lets out a pained groan, his eyes slowly shutting at your ministrations, you find your core clenching. Jake looks beautiful.

Jake suddenly pulls your hand away and shakes his head. “No, this is about you.” He unbuttons your jeans and slides them down your legs with your underwear.

“Come ‘ere,” Jake says, reaching out for you. He takes your hand within his before pulling you towards the bed. He takes a seat first and then slides his pants and boxers down, his hands then perch themselves on your hips, and he pulls you further between his thighs. Long, dexterous fingers trace along your hips and towards the hem of your top before sliding it up your torso, completely taking it off. He presses his face against your stomach, and you shiver when his lips run along the flesh, his breath fanning your stomach. Then, he’s guiding you to sit on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jake says, looking up at you as his hand cups your jaw while his thumb runs over your swollen lips. His words cause your eyes to soften, and you cup his jaw with both your hands before kissing him tenderly. Jake’s eyes slip shut before deepening the kiss. You begin grinding against his thighs, your core completely soaked, aching with the need for him.

Feeling your hot pussy against his naked thigh, Jake slowly lifts you off of him before spinning around and laying you down on the bed. Jake braces himself over you as both his arms cage your body. His lips never leave yours, finding it almost impossible to pull away. Your tongues dance sensually, Jake’s caressing yours tenderly as he pours every ounce of his feelings into the kiss. The only reason you both finally pull away is due to the need for oxygen in both your lungs.

With a gasp, Jake breaks away, instead, peppering kisses along your jaw and down towards your neck. When his tongue scrapes against the outline of your clavicle you find yourself gasping. His teeth gently nibble your skin, pulling the flesh between his plush lips and sucking as he leaves marks on you. When he’s sufficiently marked you, he pulls away, admiring you. He places a soft kiss against the mark before angling his neck and kissing the underside of your jaw.

Jake shifts his body down so his face is just over your breasts. Brushing his lips over the hem of your bra, Jake’s mouth grazes your breasts just slightly. With a groan, you arch into his tender touch. He’s so gentle with you and even more tender with the way his lips ghost every inch of your chest.

“Jaeyun?” you ask, head tilting. Jake only hums in response, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your left breast before nuzzling into the soft skin.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” you ask, and Jake chuckles against your skin. He buries his face between your breasts, letting your breasts encompass his face as he kisses along your sternum, just above the hem of your bra.

“Mhm… gotta undress you first,” Jake replies. You blink before you feel his fingers gently trail along your side and under your back. Aiding him, you arch your back, letting him fumble around with the clasp for a few moments before he unlocks it and tosses it across his room.

Once stripped of all your clothes, Jake gently pushes you back down on the bed before he begins trailing his slim fingers along your wet folds. You buck your hips into him, you can feel your wetness sticking and unsticking to the lace of your panties with your movements.

“What do you want, princess? Use your words.” He encourages as you involuntarily clench at nothing. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“I-I want your fingers,” you’re cut off by Jake pinching your pussy lips. You release a loud moan and jerk your hips into his hand, “a-and your mouth.”

“Anything for my princess” He says and then slips your panties down your legs, Jake trails his fingers up and down your slit, gently brushing against it. He pushes one of his long digits into your dripping heat. Your breath quickens as he begins pumping the curled finger in and out slowly. You bite down on your lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Jake sinks a second finger into you, you hiss. He pulls his fingers out causing you to whine, hips chasing his hand as you buck into the air. He grins at you before sucking his fingers, licking your arousal clean off of them. You clench at the sight.

He leans down and places kisses on your body until he comes to your navel. He parts your legs and groans at the sight. You blush at the way he stares down your wet pussy and try to close your legs but he glares at you and shakes his head, “don’t.”

He parts your thighs again and leans down between them and places a soft kiss against your clit. You cry out and thrust your hip into his face. He pushes his lips against your clit, his tongue flicking and licking your nub as he sinks his fingers back into your snatch.

Messily, Jake eats you out, his tongue lashes against your clit as he plunges his fingers in and out of you at a high speed. He gently bites your clit and sucks harshly making you spasm. “I’m gonna cum.” You warn.

“Cum for me. Cum on my fingers,” Jake says, drawing out your orgasm. Your walls clench and he lets out a little groan, You shut your eyes tightly as you come undone all over his fingers and face.

He helps you ride out your high before stepping away and moving up your body to kiss you again. “You’re so beautiful.” He mutters against your lips. He steps away for a quick moment to take his cock into his right hand and pumps it a few times. “How do you want it baby?”

“Doggy. I want you inside me. I need you to fill me with your cum.” You breathe out, your voice soft and submissive. You look at him timidly. Your lips are parted to release whimpers. “Can you please fuck me?”

Jake gulps at your words, he’s always heard that you were known for being blunt but never would he have expected that. Your words send a reaction straight to his cock which is painfully hard.

“Lay on your stomach,” he demands, pinning his dark eyes on you. “Now.”

You scramble to do as he says. You flip yourself so you’re laying down on your stomach and wait for him to touch you, your body heating up at the thought of having his dick inside you. You can hear him step closer to you and can feel his presence by your legs. A surprised gasp escapes your lips when he slides his arm under your stomach and lifts you up. He drags your body closer to the edge of the mattress so that you are bending over the bed but he doesn’t let go of you just yet.

He grabs a few pillows from the head of his bed and slides them under your hips, propping you up. You let out a little content sigh as he drops your body. You can feel the bed dip as he rests a knee beside your hip. You jolt forward when he spanks your ass with full force. You wait with baited breath as Jake squeezes your cheeks. You moan at the feeling of him fondling your bum.

“You have such a pretty ass.” He mutters in a low appreciative growl.

You blush but say nothing to the compliment. Jake decides to be merciful and stops fondling your ass. He positions himself at the back of your thighs and puts his weight very lightly on you. He uses his hands to pull your cheeks apart, spreading them to make sure you are well lubricated. When he sees how your womanhood is glistening with slick and cum he hums, “you’re so wet for me, princess.”

He shuffles up the bed a little bit and lets go of your ass. You feel his cock tap on your bottom. “Are you ready, love?”

You hum and wiggle your bottom. You let out a little mewl when you feel his tip tease your entrance. He rubs his cock up and down your slit to coat his tip with your slick. You both let out shaky breaths as he slips his thickness inside you, your tight walls milking his throbbing length. You whimper and mewl at the pleasure, your entire body heating up with want. Jake stays like this for a few moments to let you adjust to the feeling before he starts to slip in and out of you. His thrusts start to pick up speed, hitting the right spot each time, leaving you a moaning mess. He is grunting and breathing loudly behind you. The sound of his hips slapping against your bouncing ass is loud.

“You’re such a good girl, ____.” Jake grunts, slamming his cock deep and hard into your pussy. You let out a high pitched gasp at the feeling. The pleasure is so amazing that you push your ass out even more, directly pressing your ass on his hips. Jake hikes his other leg up next to you and leans down to lay his body on you. He slides his hands under your arms then he leans down to press a soft kiss on your nape. He lays a few kisses on your neck and flexes his muscles to hold him up better, he picks up his pace again and starts fucking you hard and fast. He groans into your ear and starts whispering dirty things into your ear. The faster he goes the closer you feel to your climax.

He brings his elbows closer together so that you are wedged tighter between his arms. “F…fuck, princess,” he whines, “I’m going to cum in you.” You hum and lift your ass.

“Please do.”

He fucks you deep and hard, each thrust filled with overflowing love and passion. Jake lets out a low growl into your ear and in one more powerful thrust, he fills you up with his warm sticky cum. But he’s relentless, he continues to fuck you through his climax. You whine and mewl, you feel so full with both his thick cock and cum shoved in you, in no time you feel your orgasm crashing through your body.

Jake continues to thrust in and out of you as you both ride out your highs. Once you’ve both calmed down he slides off of you and removes the pillows so your hips can touch the bed. He pulls you close to him and covers you both with his blanket.

You and Jake lay entwined in the bed, the warmth of his body a comforting presence against the chill of your fears. The room is silent except for the gentle rhythm of your breaths, and for a while, it feels as though the world outside your bedroom doesn’t exist.

Jake breaks the silence first, his voice a gentle murmur against your hair. “Are you okay now? Do you want to talk about it?”

You take a deep breath, considering his question. You’re not okay, not really, but talking might help. You turn to face him, your eyes meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

Jake’s hold on you tightens slightly, offering silent support. You begin, telling him what Anton had told you about Sungchan’s call, about the preparations for you to leave Korea. Jake’s jaw tightens as you speak, a flash of anger in his eyes at the thought of someone trying to take you away from him. He pulls you closer, as if to shield you from even the idea of being taken away.

“I don’t want to suspect my own brother,” you continue, your voice trembling. “It doesn’t even make sense. But I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

Jake’s expression softens, but there’s a hard edge to his eyes. “I didn’t want to say this before, but I had Jay and Jungwon do some digging on the missing baggie boys. They caught one of the guys sneaking into our territory and got him to talk. He confessed that he was sent by Sungchan.”

The news hits you like a punch to the gut and your heart sinks at the revelation, a sense of betrayal twisting in your chest. "Sungchan?" you whisper, your voice barely audible. "My own brother?"

Jake nods, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and concern. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't want to believe it either."

You sit up suddenly, a memory flooding back to you. "Oh my gosh," you gasp, your eyes wide with realization.

Jake sits up as well, worry etched across his features. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"The night of the dinner party, the one where you proposed. Sungchan promised me he would do whatever it took to get me back home. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now.." Your voice trails off, tears welling up in your eyes as the pieces start to fall into place.

Jake wraps his arms around you, his touch warm and grounding. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I can't believe he'd go this far."

But you’re already moving, slipping out of bed and hurriedly getting dressed. “I have to meet with Sungchan. I need to know the truth.”

Jake is out of bed in an instant, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. “No, it’s too dangerous. He’s already proven he’s willing to hurt you. He’s framing you for murder, for fuck’s sake.”

You shake your head, your resolve firm. “He’s my brother, Jake. He won’t hurt me. His goal isn’t to harm me, but to help me.”

“Things might have changed,” Jake argues, his grip tightening. “Especially if he’s the one who ordered the hit on us!”

You pull away, fear and impatience in your eyes. “I have to do this alone, Jake. Please, understand.”

Jake follows you as you head towards the door, desperation in his voice. “At least take Niki with you if you won’t take me.”

You stop for a moment, turning to face him. The pain in his eyes almost makes you reconsider, but you shake your head. “I need to do this alone, Jake. It’s the only way I’ll get answers.”

Without waiting for his response, you rush out of the house, grabbing your keys and heading to the car. Jake stands at the doorway, watching helplessly as you drive off, his worry and anger a palpable weight on his shoulders.

As you speed through the streets, your mind races with possibilities. Sungchan, your own brother, could be behind this entire mess. The thought tears at your heart, but you need to know the truth. You need to confront him and find out what’s really going on, no matter the cost.

You bang on the door to Sungchan’s apartment, anger, betrayal and fear all coursing through your body as you wait for him to respond.

“Fuck, wait a second.” You hear from the other side before the door is pulled open and you’re met with a disheveled looking Sungchan.

"____?" he says, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. "What are you doing here?"

You step closer to his face, your eyes locking onto his.

"We need to talk, Sungchan. Now."

He steps aside to let you in, closing the door behind you. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice wary.

"You've been behind all of this, haven't you?" you say, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "The missing baggie boys, the attempt on my life, framing me for Chief Minho's murder?"

Sungchan's eyes widen in shock. "What are you talking about? I've been trying to protect you!"

"Protect me? By framing me for murder then sending me off to France?" you say, your voice rising. "How is that protection?"

"I didn't frame you for murder," he says, his voice honest. "I've been trying to find out who did. I called Anton to make preparations because I thought you were in danger, not because I wanted to take the fall!"

Sungchan's words hang in the air, a mix of desperation and sincerity. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach as you try to make sense of it all.

You take a step closer, your voice trembling.

"Sungchan, I need to understand. If you're not framing me, then who is?"

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm not the one framing you…but I did bribe Chief Minho."

Your eyes widen in shock. "You what?"

"I bribed the Chief to cause more chaos for Jake, to distract him," Sungchan admits, his voice low and filled with anger. "I thought if Jake was preoccupied, it would buy me enough time to make the preparations to get you out of the country."

You feel a mix of anger and betrayal. "You bribed him to create chaos? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Sungchan looks away, guilt etched on his face. "I didn't call a hit on you, this is the first I'm even hearing about it. I would never go that far."

"Then who did?" you demand, your voice rising. "Who is trying to kill me and frame me for murder?"

"I don't know," Sungchan admits, his voice soft. "But I swear to you, it wasn't me."

The tension in the room is palpable, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You search his eyes, looking for any sign of deception, but all you see is the brother you've always known, the brother who has always tried to protect you in his own misguided way.

"Why, Sungchan?" you ask, your voice breaking. "Why are you doing this?"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes swirling with sadness.

"Because I'm trying to save you, ____. This life you're living, it's not safe. I just wanted to give you a chance to escape, to go to Paris like you always dreamed."

“If you thought I was in danger, why didn’t you come to me directly?” you demand, your voice shaking. “Why all this secrecy?”

“Because you wouldn’t have listened!” Sungchan replies, frustration creeping into his tone. “You’re so wrapped up in your new life with Jake, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

You shake your head, trying to comprehend. “So you thought the best way to protect me was to have me forcibly taken away from my home, my husband?”

Sungchan’s eyes narrow. “Would it really be so bad? Leaving Jake behind and going to Paris? That’s all you ever wanted, right? To leave and go to Paris with Anton and Haru. I’m doing you a favor.”

You recoil at his words, a wave of disgust washing over you. “A favor? How is sending me away from my husband a favor?”

Sungchan’s expression hardens. “Jake isn’t a good person, ____. Don’t you remember? You begged me to get you out of the engagement.”

Your anger flares. “That was before I knew him! Jaeyun is a good person, Sungchan. You don’t know him.”

“Jaeyun?” He spits out, “you’re on a first name basis now? Fucking great. He’s worse than our father,” Sungchan snaps. “Has he brainwashed you already?”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “I know what he does, I’ve seen it firsthand. I live with the man! But he’s never hurt me, and he’s made it very clear that he never will. That’s more than I can say for our father.”

Sungchan’s expression falters at the mention of your father. Memories of the abuse you both suffered flicker in his eyes, and he seems to deflate a bit, the fight going out of him.

“Please, Sungchan,” you beg, your voice softening. “Stop this. I can take care of myself.”

Sungchan’s face hardens again, and he shakes his head. “If I could, I would. But it’s out of my hands.”

He moves to open the door, his expression closed off. “You need to leave.”

You stare at him, disbelief and hurt welling up inside you. “Sungchan, please…”

He doesn’t respond, only gestures for you to go. You feel tears prick at your eyes as you step outside, the door closing behind you with a finality that breaks your heart.

You stand on his doorstep, tears streaming down your face, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on you. After what feels like an eternity, you force yourself to move, getting into your car and driving back home to Jake.

The drive is a blur of tears and painful memories. By the time you pull into the driveway, you’re exhausted, emotionally and physically. You stumble into the house, Jake rushing to meet you as soon as he hears the door.

“____,” he says, his voice full of concern. “What happened?”

You collapse into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Jake holds you tightly, his hand soothingly running up and down your back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice a calming presence.

“I don’t know what to do,” you cry, your words muffled against his chest. “Sungchan… he’s behind everything. He wanted to send me away. He thinks he’s protecting me.”

Jake pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. “Tell me everything,” he says softly.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Sungchan isn’t working alone. He told me he wasn’t behind the hit and my framing. I know my brother, Jake. He wasn’t lying. He’s working with someone else, I can feel it.”

Jake’s brow furrows. “Why do you think that?”

“Because he knew too much,” you explain. “There’s a mole within your circle. The chief went missing before he could carry out what Sungchan had paid him for, so that means someone else has been feeding him information.”

Jake’s expression darkens, but he nods. “I expected as much. The only people we can trust are Jay and Sunghoon.”

Just then, Jake’s phone rings. He answers it and puts it on speaker. “Sunghoon, what’s up?”

“Jake, you and ____ need to get to the safe house. Now,” Sunghoon’s urgent voice comes through the line.

You and Jake exchange glances before you both head to his car and drive off to the location. The tension in the car is palpable, but you remain silent, trying to process everything.

When you arrive at the safe house, Sunghoon is waiting for you. “What’s going on?” Jake asks as soon as you step inside.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on Sungchan like you asked,” Sunghoon begins, glancing briefly at you. Jake side-eyes you, but you’re not mad. You nod in understanding.

“It’s only expected with how Sungchan has been behaving,” you say quietly.

Sunghoon continues, “I had Sunoo tail him. Sungchan has been meeting up with Yerin for months, starting six months ago.”

Jake furrows his brows. “What do you mean? He's been meeting my stepmother?”

Jay steps in, his expression awkward and tense. “He’s been meeting her at hotels and bars. Sungchan has been sleeping with your stepmother, Jake.”

Your stomach churns with disgust at your brother’s actions. Jake looks dumbfounded. “Is Yerin the one behind everything?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief and anger.

Sunghoon nods. “From what we’ve gathered, it seems Yerin is the brains behind the operation. She’s been using Sungchan and Heeseung as her goons to carry out acts on the ground. I have no doubt she’s behind the chief’s death and you being framed for it.”

Jake’s jaw tightens as he processes this information. “What does Heeseung have to do with this?”

Sunghoon sighs. “When he ran into ____ at the police station, it was to have the lieutenant call in a fake witness for the chief’s murder case. He’s part of the reason why the cops have a solid case against ____.”

Jake’s anger flares, his fists clenching. “What now?”

You stand more confidently, meeting Jake’s gaze. “Send me in.”

taglist: @dreamiestay @inkpot-winters @minniejenseo @faithnsstuff @sumzysworld @sunpov @laurradoesloveu

[la2yn0va]

Friends…?

Characters: Jiaoqiu, Feixiao, Male Reader (Moze is mentioned)

(Can be taken as platonic or romantic. If romantic it’s a one-sided crush from the characters)

————

-Childhood-

“Hey! Get a load of this loser!” A boy said as he pushed another against the wall. A pink-haired foxian—Jiaoqiu. Jiaoqiu’s ears stayed down as he shuddered fearfully.

“L-leave me alone!” He pleaded shakily, which fell on deaf ears. “Hah~? But I haven’t even started yet you pathetic fox” the bully harshly tugged on his ears as three others laughed behind him and Jiaoqiu yelped in pain, tears forming as they usually do. “S-STOP!! PLEASE IT HURTS!!”

Once again, no one heard his pleas. He was left alone to cry as his four tormentors laughed at him. “Come on! Do something about it you useless loser~! I thought foxian’s were meant to be smart! But you’re just a pathetic freak!”

Then, a boy seemingly appearing out of nowhere, jumped up and slammed his feet against the back of two laughing bullies. “H-HUH!!? WHAT THE—!!” Before the other one could finish, he was met with a chop to the jugular.

The boy then faced the leader, who had let go of jiaoqiu’s ear and stared fearfully at the boy who had just knocked out his three friends “Who—” a punch to his gut quickly shut him up before slamming his bicep against the leaders neck and bashing him against a wall, successfully knocking him out.

Jiaoqiu stared in awe and slight fear. He had never seen someone around his age so fast and easily knock out four boys under a minute! “You okay foxy?” The boy asked making jiaoqiu jump slightly before nodding. He walked up to him and jiaoqiu tried to back away unsuccessfully, still abit fearful of being hit, however, he was…being patted on the head?

“Huh…?” “So fluffy and soft. I’m jealous of you” The boy said with a small smile, easing the nerves of the bullied foxian. “I’m M/n. What’s your name foxy?” “I-I..I’m Jiaoqiu” “well jiaoqiu. I like you. And you’re my friend now”

From that day on, m/n was always seen by jiaoqiu’s side. Weather it was in the library reading on medicine, or in a back alley, beating down on some bullies or even thieves. “Hey jiaoqiu. If a woman can only produce one gender, does that make their womb weak or special?” “Please m/n.. I’m a chief...stop asking me those questions…”

Jiaoqiu dreamed of being a chief yet also a healer to help the military combat the abominations of the abundance. He tried to convince m/n to join the military as m/n was easily the strongest person he knew… well… besides someone else.

“Hey. Why do you want to join the cloud knights? You’re basically giving up your life to some people you don’t have any connection with.. I think it’s pretty dumb.”

“That’s… not how I see it… I want to get rid of the abundance monsters because.. well.. they killed my mom and dad. Not to mention the borisin who ensalved my kind are apparently working with those monsters… I feel like it’s my duty to be on the war and make sure no one dies”

“Huh… I guess I never thought of it like that… At least your not giving up your life for a bunch of nobodies” M/n said, patting jiaoqiu as he usually did making his friend blush a bit. “Sure.. look if you join the cloud knights-” “I already said no” “You will find a person that can beat you!”

That seemed to catch m/n’s interest “Huh? What’re you talking about? I’ve never lost a fight, even with trained cloud knights” “Well… these this girl in the cloud knights. One who I.. owe a debt to. Her name is feixiao and she’s easily the strongest person I know.. maybe even stronger than you” he said teasingly.

M/n stayed silent. He isn’t actually gonna join for a dumb reason like that.. is he? No. No. He doesn’t care about the people of yaoqing, he doesn’t have any connection with them… but then again… being on the battlefield and fighting… meeting this feixiao…releasing his own anger on the enemies of the xianzhou… maybe it is where he’s meant to go… “Fine. I’ll bite”

“M/n… where are your parents..?” “I don’t have any” “Huh?” “Yep. I’ve been a street kid for as long as I remember.” Jiaoqiu felt his tail fall and his ears flop “o-oh.. I-I’m sorry” “why? Did you take them away from me” “I-What!? No I just—” “Ha. Calm down, I’m joking around… plus… I don’t care… I don’t care… I just really don’t care”

—Young Adult Years—

M/n was thriving in the cloud knights. He was easily the best of the upcoming graduates. Hell probably even the best of those who ALREADY graduated! His instructors showed special attention to him, wishing the hone and sharpen his skills even further to battle the enemies of the hunt.

His fellow trainee’s looked up to him. Even calling him ‘Big Brother M/n’. He fought with multiple weapons instead of a sword or a spear, as he wished to be adaptable and unpredictable in the battlefield. Something his instructors agreed on, yet also reminded him to use his great mind for intellectual plays as well. Something m/n was obviously and already planning on doing.

Then one day, the instructors decided to hold a special little event. They would bring a cloud knight here to fight m/n. Just to put on a little show and give m/n the fun he looked for. That cloud knight happened to be Feixiao.

“At ease soldiers!” The instructor commanded, as all the soilders relaxed and faced their commander. “Now. As I’m sure you’re all aware, we’ve decided to hold a special event. Everyone! Greet your senior. Could Knight: Feixiao” “MORNING CLOUD KNIGHT FEIXIAO!!” “Ah…! Feixiao…! That’s the woman…” m/n remembered jiaoqiu mentioning her being stronger than him.

“Trainee M/n! Step forward, Solider!!” M/n walked forward as he met feixiao, who looked outwardly enthusiastic yet her eyes held a type of boredom and interest. “Feixiao. I’m sure you’ve been informed why you’ve been summoned here” The White Haired-Foxian nodded with a charming smile “Yeah. I’m meant to fight your best trainee. This Him? I’ve heard quite the story about you Soilder”

“All good I hope” “Mhm. Shall we get started?” “Straight to the point. I like you already” The trainees formed a circle around the two as they were handed wooden swords. “I’ve heard a lot about you from jiaoqiu” “Ohh! No wonder your name sounded familiar. Jiaoqiu also told me a lot about you” “yeah. Thanks for being with him in the cloud knights” “Thanks for being with him during his childhood” They nodded before getting ready to battle. They stared intensely at each other before the whistle blew and they ran at each other.

They clashed the wooden swords together, leaning in the glare at the other with determination. They then jumped away and swung their swords at each other while trying to kick the other. Feixiao was surprised, usually no one would’ve lasted this long against her, jiaoqiu really wasn’t kidding when he said m/n was impressive.

M/n swung his sword and hit her sword before ducking and throwing a sweep kick, which feixiao jumped over and m/n quickly spun around, planting his hand on the ground and pushing himself up to send a kick to feixiao who once again blocked it with her own kick.

The two stood stun locked as they stared at the other in awe. However, they quickly shoved each other away and m/n threw his sword towards her, which she dodged as his sword was stabbed onto the ground and m/n ran towards her, his arm out to close line her. She dodged and she swung her sword which he slide under, moved up and jumped at his sword. One foot kicked the sword and he used it and his momentum to swing around and send a kick to feixiao, while grabbing his sword.

Feixiao looked suprised at this but quickly blocked his kick and ducked his sword swing before slamming him onto the ground and planting her foot on his stomach, making her the victor. M/n stared in surprise.. he actually lost? While feixiao stared in excitement. A rival. She had actually found a rival. “Hahaha~! Not bad! You’re definitely cloud knight material! I’m surprised you didn’t join or graduate earlier!!” She said, helping him up. And, a smiling m/n held onto her hand as excitement shined in his eyes “Holy shit!! You’re Fucking amazing!! No ones ever been able to beat me before!!” M/n quickly hugged her from excitement, making the cloud knight laugh in embarrassment and amusement.

The instructor watched nervously.. maybe getting two battle hungry solider to fight against each other who also haven’t lost a battle wasn’t a good idea. The other trainee’s stared in awe at the battle in front of them, feeling excitement of their own rise up as they yelled and chanted their names.

A couple months later, the trainee’s were graduating and they were choosing which division they wanted to join. Y/n had gotten a recommendation from every division, But he only had his eyes sent on one division. Feixiao’s who had recently became the lieutenant colonel of said division. Hell the recommendation was from her. So, without a second thought. He already made his decision.

The next day, he was personally greeted by feixiao. M/n quickly jumped up to hug her, excited to fight alongside her AND possible fight her. Luckily for him, feixiao didn’t push him away but gladly embraced him with a giggle of her own, the favoritism for m/n from lieutenant colonel Feixiao was painfully obvious.

The next few weeks, the new recruits were being tested to see which battalion they’d thrive in. The aviation, Medicare, Army Corps, Special Forces, etc. M/n was personally chosen by feixiao to join her own battalion in the special forces, his potential and skill easily exceeded everyone else. That and favoritism. M/n joined feixiao, jiaoqiu and a man named moze who was apparently a prison breaker/assassin… something told him he’d get along with him the most. Those were the only ones who m/n bothered to remember, everyone else were just another number to him.

“And you’ll be sleeping here” Feixiao said as m/n flopped on the bed gleefully. “Ahh~ joining the cloud knights was definitely the right choice” “I’m glad you decided to join. I’ve been much more excited since our battle back at the academy” “Speaking of which. I want a rematch! Me and you! Wooden swords again! Once I beat you with that— THEN we can use our real weapons!” He said excitedly which made feixiao laugh, patting his head “Hahahaha~ Sure m/n. But not now, I have something’s I need to take care of” “Booo” he pouted which made feixiao snicker “cute” she thought, bopping his nose and walking out “see you tomorrow Solider”

She waved and exited his room as another entered—Jiaoqiu “Hey there foxy” “Hello m/n. How’s your first day” “Amazing! Meeting feixiao just made my life even better!! You weren’t being a sly cunning manipulative piece of shit when you said she was strong!” “Ahaha.. indeed”

—Adult Years—

Years had passed since m/n joined feixiao. He was now a fully fledged vice lieutenant along side Feixiao. Battle the borisin and abominations of the abundance, freeing enslaved foxians. Meeting people from different ships of the xianzhou. However, m/n has been off as of late.

No one knows why and when they try to question him about it he just acts like nothing’s wrong. This was especially worrying for feixiao, jiaoqiu and moze. They hadn’t seen m/n like this ever. He was always excited for a battle yet stoic when hanging out, but now he was just stoic. That child like yet charming excitement had seemingly disappeared.

Jiaoqiu tried to up lift his spirits by asking him some of the strange questions he once asked him as a kid. Feixiao tried to battle him daily yet that seemed to fail again. Moze tried to help by teaching him some criminal actions like how to escape from the shackling prison and things along that line, it seemed to work slightly but still no significant changes.

Moze felt uneasy, feixiao felt her heart ache, and jiaoqiu felt useless and pathetic—m/n was his one and only childhood friend yet he couldn’t for the life of him find out why or what was making m/n feeling down. M/n didn’t even come out of his room unless it was for battling. This would not stand any longer. So, feixiao took initiative.

“M/n. It’s feixiao, I’m coming in” She said, walking in to see m/n blankly staring at the celling. Feixiao called out his name a bit louder which managed to get his attention “Oh.. Feixiao… another battlefield to go to?” He said blankly, which irked the lieutenant even more, she hated that tone, that blank, emotionless, robotic tone didn’t suit m/n. “No. I’m here for you” “Huh?” Feixiao sat down next to her friend, facing him with a determined look. “What’s wrong with you?” “Hmm?” “Your demeanor! You’ve been all robotic for the last few months now! Do you know how worried I’ve been…!? How worried Jiaoqiu and Moze are!!?”

“It’s…I didn’t know—” “That too! Since when are you blind to our emotions!? You’re the first that knows when someone’s acting off!” M/n stayed silent, just staring at his worried lieutenant “Come on m/n. Please tell me what’s been eating away at you. I can’t handle it to see you being like this a second longer!”

“….a few months ago. You sent me on a mission to eradicate a Disciple of Sanctus Medicus commander. He was hiding in a remote town in the countryside. But when I was there… I found a family… I found my mom. She looked.. happy. When I approached her she didn’t even recognize me. Not just that but I’ve been.. I-I was starting to care for the people of yaoqing… I ignored my mission and tried to get to know the mom I never had, along with my half sister. But it seemed like my mom felt uncomfortable by me. Because I ignored my mission, everyone in that town were murdered, but my mom… she was turned into one of the monsters. Then.. her dying words were ‘why did you come back! How are you alive!!? I left you for the borisin to get mauled!! You got my husband murdered now you come back and get me and my perfect life without you destroyed!! You were always a demon brat!! You can’t even die properly!! I never loved you, so why the fuck would you think I wanted to bond with you after all these years!!!’ Her last words, before you guys came and saved me… she didn’t even want me to be born. She left me to the borisin to get fucking mutilated. But since I’ve started to care about the people of yaoqing.. this FUCKING itch has been in my mind that I can’t scratch!! I-I feel like because I started to care IM the reason why those people died a meaningless death!! It’s because I’ve been more emotional that I ignored my mission and tried to get to know my—my….My ‘birther’. I just… I don’t know how to feel. I don’t—”

Before he could continue, feixiao quickly brought him into her embrace, comforting the confused and depressed man as he cried into her shoulder “It’s okay… I got you.. I’m here for you… WERE here for you. Someone like you didn’t deserve such a bitch for a mom” she comforted him as he silently cried, slowly he fell asleep from fatigue and feixiao held him in her arms, picking him up to lock the door before laying herself and him on his bed, sleeping while holding him closely.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Weeks later, m/n seemed to return to his usual self but much less upbeat. He felt much closer to feixiao now and she was definitely keeping an eye on him much more, much to jiaoqiu’s confusion and sliiiiiiight jealousy. Moze just seemed glad that everything returned to normal. Later they’re was a red alert, the enemies of the hunt had teamed up with the borisin to attack a city.

All divisions quickly ran to the battlefield that was the city, massive clash can be heard from miles and miles away. Slowly, the city was being destroyed and both sides were begging to fall. This battle lasted for 3 whole months before the cloud knights came out victorious. Many soldiers fell yet one person was no where to be found. They searched everywhere, every sinkhole made, under every fallen building, and even a 50 mile radius to find him. But m/n was nowhere to be found.

Feixiao, Jiaoqiu, and Moze were hit the hardest by this. M/n had just started to return to normal, and now he was missing. No body, no scrap of dna, no armor or clothing. He just vanished. Feixiao refused to make a burial for m/n. She refused to accept that he was dead, she wouldn’t even humor it, the same for Jiaoqiu, who became even more attached to feixiao and despite to repay his debt to her, Moze became much more reclusive.

Years later, m/n was found. When feixiao and jiaoqiu heard this news, their face lit up like never before. They begged Moze to take them to him. But instead they were handed a paper. A wanted paper for Stellaron Hunter M/n. Bounty— 10,799,000,000

———

[elvisqueso]

"Our warriors fought with courage, but none as bravely as Kocoum."

Pocahontas (1995)

long, rambling meta under the cut:

you know i've taken some light dips into the tags looking for content on kocoum and i never see anyone going into depth about him as a character. sure you see the posts that are all "omg he was so hot pocahontas should have picked him instead :p" but that has little to do with his character or his place in the narrative or anything. in fact, it's a further objectification of a guy who is already dehumanized in-narrative, which is so very sad to me. kocoum is a lot more than his looks, which is why they're the first thing about him you're meant to notice. he's handsome, and he doesn't smile. he's a warrior and a stoic kinda guy. but that's all surface-level stuff. he's a very complex person with an intense internal turmoil that circumstances aren't allowing him to deal with properly.

like, you really can't come to an understanding about his character and go on to say "and he should have been with pocahontas" bc the fundamental aspect of their relationship as characters is that they would have been terrible for each other. you could feasibly make an argument that, on some level, kocoum would have been good for pocahontas (the "handsome, sturdy husband" who could ground her), but there is no way in any universe that pocahontas would have been good for him, bc the one who actually needed and wanted a steady, reliable partner is kocoum and pocahontas is the opposite of that (which is one of the reasons she and john smith kind of deserved each other but that's a whole other post).

see, kocoum is like a hemingway protagonist. remember, at the start of the movie, everyone is returning from war; it's important to note how much emphasis the movie places on family as a representation of "the ordinary world." the same is done with the virginia company members at the top of the film. there, they say goodbye to their normal lives and start an adventure. here, the powhatan warriors are returning to theirs. but who does kocoum, the celebrated warrior, have to return to?

kocoum doesn't have a normal life yet. he still belongs to the battle. there's a lot to be said about PTSD as a character motif in this film: it affects a lot of the major characters in different ways. for kocoum, it means he's not allowed to depart from his wartime mindset until and unless he can start a family of his own, and for that he pins his hopes on pocahontas. why exactly he likes her goes unsaid; it's implied they aren't particularly close, but may be familiar with each other. pocahontas being the chief's daughter may be an element, but it may also be that he's harbored an admiration for her from afar for some time. whatever the reason, kocoum has a misplaced idea that being with pocahontas will bring him peace. like a hemingway protagonist, he's taken up with the notion that being with a woman, an angel, will fix him; but the woman he wants is neither interested in doing so nor able to do so, whether or not she cares for him.

and this is why his outburst of emotion when he finds pocahontas and john in the glade is so understandable. he's watching his hopes for the future being ripped apart before his eyes. he'll never get peace, and that breaks him and then kills him.

and when i say he's dehumanized, i'm talking about the way characters talk about him and then how he dies. he's fierce, like a bear. he's handsome, but doesn't smile. he's a tool, an obstacle, and ultimately fodder for both pocahontas's and thomas's character development (mostly thomas's). there's something to be said about how both kocoum and his foil john smith are objectified so differently. where john is the subject of pocahontas's female gaze, kocoum is also objectified through a masculine one (the tension-filled lens that marries fear and admiration for athletic, warrior men and rivals). and then, again, he gets 'fridged for plot reasons because he's also the paris to pocahontas's juliet.

basically what i'm saying is kocoum really needed someone to take care of him, and no one did nor could. and that's why he's so tragic and tbh deserves better treatment by the fans, too.

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life. 

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.  

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it. 

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.  

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble. 

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky. 

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance. 

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs. 

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. 

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.  

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.” 

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.  

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter! 

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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[longing-for-rain]

Which positions of authority do you imagine Katara having post-ATLA (that is if the writers hadn’t butchered her)?

There is lots of potential here!

First and foremost, I think she would want to play a role in the restoration of the Southern Water Tribe. I don't think she'd be Chief (Sokka is the older sibling and likely to inherit unless there is an election), but she would be involved in the community. I see her being on a committee associated with rebuilding the tribe while preserving the culture.

Katara would also want to be a mentor to new Southern waterbenders as well. She wouldn't do it full time, but I could see her taking some time to pass on her bending knowledge to younger generations.

I also think she would want to play a role in politics on a more global scale. She would have been involved in Yu Dao/Republic City, because it would be an opportunity for her to help people from all cultures and promote the sharing of knowledge and values.

I do think she would also take a special interest in the Fire Nation post-war. Katara being an ambassador is a common trope, but I think it's very fitting. It makes sense that she would want to play a role in ensuring that the nation that caused so much trouble would transition to peace without reigniting war. And on a more personal note, Zuko is a dear friend to Katara and I think realistically, she would recognize the physical danger and emotional stress weighing him down (having to rule a nation that has been at war for 100 years when you are 16 years old and hated by many of your own people as well as the other nations is pretty heavy stuff) and want to help both for his good and the good of the world.

So in summary, I believe she would be a woman of many titles! Master Katara, Councilwoman Katara, Ambassador Katara... she is making names for herself.

[danyseastar]

i think the biggest problem i have with the whole team discourse in f&b + hotd is that it isn’t just about which characters you like more/who you want to sit on the throne at that end; it’s that each side is fighting for completely different ideologies, regardless of one members personal beliefs. grrm could not have made it anymore clear.

team black isn’t just fighting for rhaenyra to be queen, they’re fighting for the monarch’s right to choose an heir, for the oaths they swore years before, for the complete opposite of precedent/tradition: the king’s word is law. team green isn’t just fighting for aegon to be king, they’re fighting for tradition, that no matter the words of a king being law sons will always come before daughters, that oaths are fickle and don’t matter. each side is in some way fighting back against what’s already been established for the kingdom, but the end goal is completely different.

we’re not given as much insight into why most of the houses initially sided with rhaenyra, but we do have an inkling into how the green council felt and acted, however. jaehaerys choosing baelon over rhaenys (against andal tradition, the king can choose his heir) is one point. the great council of 101 is another. alicent, despite being the leader of the council, is removed from the equation and shoved off to the side when it comes to swearing oaths of loyalty between the members on account of her womanhood. daemon being a second coming of ‘maegor’ (despite what we know would be a better suited title for aemond, but i digress) is also used. when discussing who would side with them the vale is automatically disqualified from the list, due to them presently being ruled by a woman, jeyne arryn. she doesn’t choose to fight for rhaenyra for the sole reason of them being kin, but because her own right to rule can and will be put into question if aegon steps over rhaenyra. because she is a woman. she does so in spite of her dislike for daemon (and his supposed maegor-ness) too.

even if one were to look at each characters personal feelings about the succession the fact of the matter is that rhaenyra is usurped because she is a woman. it’s stated almost blatantly multiple times before and during the war. the greens use scapegoats and smokescreens in attempts justify it (her ‘bastards’ chief among them, but legally her sons live and die as the trueborn children between her and laenor, with the reminder that septon eustace refutes this claim to begin with). even when she is killed grrm has her breast pricked to arouse a dragon that doesn’t want to kill her (and why is that?). aegon ‘wins’ against her and is king, but then why is jaehaera, as his last living remaining child not named his heir? why is aegon iii put ahead of her, despite being the enemies son? these are rhetorical questions. aegon had no plans to ever consider her his heir, he made it clear with how excited he was to marry cassandra baratheon and produce more ‘strong’ sons. his dragon (who had fought and bled for him the entire war) wasn’t mourned properly, he couldn’t wait to hatch a ‘new dragon, prouder and fiercer than the last.’ yet he wasn’t even capable of doing that in the six months before he too was killed.

it’s also safe to mention that grrm created an entire separate lore story, one that would seem to have no bearing on the original story unless you’re capable of understanding symbolism. the amethyst empress is usurped by her younger brother the bloodstone emperor, and the first long night ensues from this decision. rhaenyra (amethyst = arryn blue + targaryen red) is usurped by her younger brother aegon ii (bloodstone = hightower green + targaryen red) and the dying of the dragons, the very creatures needed to stop the next long night, are eradicated, along with the magic needed to hatch them and keep them alive (until). the war is the blacks (power, death, grief, rebellion, restraint) versus the greens (ambition, greed, jealousy, anger, wealth). the amethyst empress is important to the main story in the same way that rhaenyra is important, that snubbing the women (an integral aspect to the power the targaryens held) of house targaryen can lead only to disaster. daenerys is the key, the one to break the cycle and fix the wrongdoings caused by her ancestors obsession with power. mother of dragons, mhysa, breaker of chains, slayer of lies, daughter of death, the dragon queen, azor ahai come again, the prince that was promised will bring the dawn.

you can argue for technicalities sake all day, but there is a meaning to this story beyond the scope of rightful heirs. and it shouldn’t be shoved off to the side just so you can praise your favorites and hate those who go against them. it makes for a poor consuming of the actual story. fire and blood was created as a history book to expand on daenerys as a character. her family, what and where she’s come from, and how she relates to them. she’s the antithesis to every targaryen that’s come before her, a hero in her own right. the only targaryen’s we can say are radically important to dany’s story are the conquerors (aegon the conqueror with teats) and rhaenyra (the amethyst empress). i don’t know, just some food for thought.

edit: i have revised some of my opinions on this through a further reread but the gist of it is still the same.