#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!

[proxycrit]

Decided to write some oneshots! Less focus on Zelda and Link, and more on FAMILIAR FAMILIAR’s building blocks.

(Mineru and Naborus’s slow dance are interrupted by the horrors of war.)

(Fic under cut)

——— The First Act (Naborus)

Mineru seems to be actively trying to woo Naborus, and to her disgust, it works.

The zonai woman seems to haunt her steps, with a sly smile and cheeky wink. She slips next to Naborus during morning drills with foods meant to entice, and into evening bouts of paperwork with her little machines, fiddling and tinkering and always ready to help. Even her haughty hat she faffs around with is all but seared into the back of Naborus’s eyelids every time she closes them.

“You do understand,” she tried once, and only once, “that I am a gerudo chief and you are the last of the zonai, serving under the hylian empire.” She enunciates these hylian words as clear as she can, careful with this new language she forced herself to learn within four grueling months.

“Of course,” Mineru responded back in a heavily accented Gerudo. “But I still want to try.”

Naborus has always had a soft spot for fools. She doesn’t bring up their allegiances again, but Mineru redoubles her efforts. Naborus doesn’t explicitly accept them, but she doesn’t refute them either. She even finds herself automatically bringing two mugs of heavily steeped tea to her study one night. Mineru was waiting for her, eyes bright and ears perked.

It’s Ganondorf that ultimately cuts through the stalemate.

“You like her,” he accuses.

“I tolerate her,” Naborus grumbles. “She’s at most a desert lizard I water from time to time, so she doesn’t die.”

Ganondorf gives her a truly bombastic side eye. Naborus doesn’t mention his strange dance around Rauru, even though she’s tempted to point out his hypocrisy. Her soft spot for fools is a weakness.

“She’s working for the princess,” he warns. “We need time to ratify the treaty, and she’s a distraction.”

“She’s a guest,” Naborus responds, temper flaring. “And I don’t see you crunching the paper recently, little brother.”

They glare at each other, bristling like desert cats, before ganondorf’s shoulders slump. He’s been sleeping less and less lately. The dark circles under his eyes have been becoming more and more difficult to hide.

“It’s not safe,” he repeats helplessly. “There’s always a cost, with the hylians. You know this.”

“I know this,” Naborus responds wearily. “But Princess Sonia is different from her mother. Not because of any legends,” she adds, before her brother can protest, “but because she’s reaching out first. The zora and rito are perfectly happy. We have to trust the same amnesty will be given to us.”

“It’s different,” Ganondorf spits, “when their legends don’t constantly paint us as thieves and war mongers.” And Sonia, despite her stature, is part of that legend. That damned sword speaks to it.

The hylians want the great gerudo burial site. They want it for the precious minerals crystallizing deep under the sands, that glow green from the dead. They need it, for the war against the rising tide of undead monsters that threaten them all— gerudo, hylian, all the races of hyrule really. It already took most the zonai.

Naborus knows, deep down, she can not let the gerudo be the next.

But it hurts, to see their culture be trodden underfoot for this. And it hurts more, to hear Ganondorf’s urgent whispers that the Hylians will not stop.

Mineru and Rauru are the last of their kind. Surely there must be other zonai, hidden in pockets deep below or up in the sky, but the zonai (the only zonai) Naborus knows are her two guests. They don’t remember their mother tongue. They were raised by the Goron and Zora and eat hylian food and wear hylian clothes and practice hylian alchemy.

For all intents and purposes, they are hylian. They are what will lay in store for the gerudo, either it be through ganondorf’s terror of a slow cultural death, or naborus’s terror of a steady massacre.

And then Ganondorf finds those ruins, and it all goes to shit.

And then he tries to kill Sonia. Tries to infect Rauru with that malice. Becomes unknowable to her, and calls her traitor, as if he didn’t throw everything away for their shared dream.

Five days later, she arranges for a meeting.

Six days later, Sonia and Rauru show up at her doorstep.

“You can have the burial grounds,” Naborus says, and finds the dull ember of delight in Rauru’s flinch. Good. See him remember his own damned past, and let him know of his crime. Mockingly, she inclines her head to Princess Sonia. “At your behest, your highness.”

Sonia looks back. Implacable. Stone. She’s four heads shorter than Naborus, and yet her presence is crushing. Is this who you love, Naborus wanted to ask Mineru. Is this who you serve?

The rest of the negotiations is a blur. Rito will come help gerudo civilians escape the bombed remains of her city. Her people will find shelter along the coast, if they so wish. All Sonia needs is the Zonaite, and willing hands to take up arms and fight.

Fight who, she does not specify. But judging from her gaze flickering to the empty spot next to Naborus, it’s not difficult to infer.

When Mineru hesitates in front of Naborus’s door later that night, Naborus finally snaps. That dull apathy and shock suddenly becomes a monsoon of rage and betrayal, and she grabs the mug and throws it as hard as she can at the wall, an animal scream rising in her chest.

Mineru flinches back, ears pressed against her head. Naborus sinks, gasping for air, and curls into a wretched ball on the floor. Thin hands carefully encircle against her, and she leans into mineru’s chest, and weeps for her stupid baby brother, for her foolish naive self, for hoping for a beautiful future.

Tomorrow, the gerudo will have the war Ganondorf predicted. Tomorrow, Naborus will bow in front of the Hylian regency.

Mineru mumbles something into her hair, that she is unable to catch. But the zonai’s grip is tight, and she hums a song slow and low.

“What is that?” Naborus croaks, head still pillowed in Mineru’s arms.

There’s a shift of muscle under Naborus as Mineru readjusts herself into a more comfortable position, and then— “my mother taught me this.”

“Ah? I thought gorons are all men?”

Mineru laughs. “In hylian, yes they are called men. But no, I’m talking about my birth mother.”

“Oh,” and because Naborus has little filter, “what’s her name?”

Mineru went silent at that. Naborus feels a rush of self hatred. She shouldn’t have asked. She presumes much from somebody who isn’t even her citizen.

“I don’t remember,” Mineru says. She smiles at Naborus, eyes half squinted. “I just called her Mah. Zonai baby teeth give us terrible lisps, and young children don’t really know their parents as people, per say. Just protectors.”

“I’m sorry,” Naborus says. She wants Mineru to hum that song again, but doesn’t know how to ask.

“It’s okay,” Mineru says. “I don’t remember her. Its hard to miss what you don’t really know.”

“No,” Naborus protests. “It’s not okay at all. You shouldn’t have to-“ she back pedals, looks for anything to say at all, and settles on squeezing Mineru’s waist. “You deserve more than just a song.”

Mineru starts to hum again. Seeing Naborus unwilling to continue, the zonai sighs, cutting into the wound if the situation.

“You did the right thing.”

“Did I?”

“You want to save lives. There is no shame in that.”

“And what of the children who won’t remember their mother’s names?” Naborus asks, hurting. What of her people’s history?

“They’ll be alive to wonder, won’t they?”

Mineru’s voice sounded flat and far away.

And Naborus has nothing to say to that.

(Mineru tells herself this is for the best, and that she and Rauru turned out perfectly fine.

It’s a lie she’s grown comfortable with.)

———— The Second Act (Mineru)

When Ganondorf cuts her throat, she can’t bring herself to be surprised.

Scared? Yeah. But surprised? Not really.

She took his sister from him. She represents hylian royalty. She’s collateral to Rauru. A sort of message, if you will.

You took my sister. I will take yours.

Fucking idiot. Naborus will never forgive him now, and neither would Rauru. He has single handedly severed any remaining goodwill, any chance of recollection, with this stunt, and the worst part is he probably did it on purpose.

Ganondorf looks different. His eyes are tired. The infection from his arm has spread to under his jaw. Baby Dragneel’s been practicing magic, she sees. He reaches down and gently plucks the secret stone from Mineru’s neck, and suddenly it’s worse.

She’s never going to be able to tell Naborus her secret. She’s never going to be able to give that stone to her beloved. She-

A scream splits the night air. It can’t be from her, because all her air is being stolen from her throat before it can reach her tongue, which tastes like iron. It can’t be from Ganondorf, who’s mouth is clenched shut, secret stone (alchemist’s stone) shining in his hand.

Ganondorf is blasted back by a wave of light.

The world is greying. Mineru feels the burn of Sonia’s time magic entrap her, freeze her. It hurts. It hurts more then her throat. Everything is tinged yellow and Mineru can’t move, and this must be what death is— caught between a peaceful slumber and agonizing living. She’s suffocating slowly. She’s scared.

Rauru’s face comes in focus. His hands are shaking. She can feel him pressing desperately against her as in the distance, Sonia, still clad in her white dress, chases the shadows away.

Mineru’s eyes slip close.

When she wakes up, she is surprised she’s not dead. She tries to say something, but the searing pain stops her, and her muffled jerk causes the lump at her feet to quiver. Rauru looks up, eyes bloodshot.

“Mimi?” He asks, voice hoarse. Mineru tries to say something, but the pain flares and she settles for a thumbs up. Rauru’s eyes start watering, and he presses his face into her hands.

“Mimi,” he whispers, and mineru pets his ears, like they were children again. She didn’t mean to scare him. She waits for him to collect himself, and takes the chance to look around the room.

It’s a nice room. The architecture is distinctly zoran, with luminous stones embedded into the walls for light and kelp thread curtains for privacy. It smells like fragrant lotus root and medicinal herbs. There’s a small study in the corner, filled with papers and a single potted specimen of a sundelion.

Rauru’s study, she realizes with a rush of fondness. This must be his room, when he was apprenticing under that Zoran healer.

“I…”

Her attention snaps back to her brother. At her attentive look, he quails. It’s not right. Rauru rarely quails, and mostly preens, like a peacock. At her impatient look, he closes his eyes, and Mineru’s stomach sinks.

“Ruta’s afraid there might be complications,” Rauru continues in a rush. “You’ll be on observation for possible lung clots and brain damage and infection.”

Mineru breathes.

“We couldn’t save your throat,” Rauru confesses, looking small. “Ruta cleared up your lungs and I managed to stabilize you, but. We couldn’t, your.”

That’s okay, she wants to say. I’m alive. That’s more than I expected.

But she can’t say that.

With her nonanswer, Rauru bows his head. Mineru grabs on to his hand before he can flee, and squeezes.

After a moment’s hesitation, he squeezes back.

Mineru doesn’t take her new found muteness well. She struggles with hylian sign, and finds a near apoplectic rage in being unable to quickly explain her thoughts.

Writing isn’t the same, she wrote in harsh angry scratches with her chalkboard she’s taken to carrying around.

Naborus, bless her, has fashioned a straw for her with glass when they meet up for tea. Mineru used to haunt Naborus, enraptured by this woman and her no nonsense attitude and her unexplainable kindness. Now Naborus haunts her with bedding and sustenance.

They should be on the battlefield. The malice has overtaken another settlement, Mineru heard. But when she dug, she was sent away.

“More pillows?” Naborus asks, and Mineru holds up two thumbs for an aggressive agreement.

Can you get me construct f12, she writes when Naborus comes back wielding two cream pillows. Twinges, can fix, she slashes quickly at Naborus’s frown.

“You’re working?”

No time, Mineru scribbles. And at Naborus’s hesitant glance, she adds: bored.

“You should be resting.”

Can’t.

She will have nightmares again. Rauru promises the sundelion specimens he’s working on will stop the malice from taking hold, but she still dreams of that red pulsating mass, infecting her, burrowing into her.

She underlines Can’t twice, and hopes Naborus will get it.

Naborus drags a hand down her face, and exhales roughly. “Shit. Okay. I’ll go get your construct, but if you need any help at all you tell me, alright?”

At Mineru’s flat glare, she grimaces. “Sorry. I’ll get you a bell.”

The two sit in companionable silence after that. The construct mineru chose is a small, light weight thing. She is considering adding some sort of projectile weapon when she hears the low rhythmic hum of a song.

Oh, Mineru thinks. This is the song my mother taught me, and I taught you. Oh, Mineru thinks after suddenly overwhelmed with the realization— she will never sing her mother’s song again. She will never be able to join the chorus that was her last, remaining link. She will never-

Mineru wipes her eyes angrily. She can learn how to play a harmonica. Or a flute. The option isn't actually gone, just changed. She should just be glad she’s alive.

Doesn’t stop the tears, though.

When Naborus quietly holds her arms out, Mineru doesn’t fight the pull and slumps into her friend’s arms, and tries not to think of how Ganondorf stole not only her project’s notes, but her history from her too.

He’s Naborus’s brother.

She hates him more, for it.

[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 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.

[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...

[bloodgulchblog]

I am thinking about Cortana again.

I think Cortana's capacity for vindictiveness and coldblooded violence are such a critical part of her character. Yes she's funny and charming and more emotionally open than the Master Chief, but she's even more of a futureless, purpose-built weapon than he is.

These traits existed before she became the setting's next big supervillain too, and they were useful and important to her. It's shades of the personality we see in Halsey, who Cortana was built from.

.......And then you see the Weapon. And the Weapon is a much different person from Halsey or Cortana, even though she is patterned on the same woman and is essentially a new instance of Cortana. She is related to them, she is just as curious and willing to comment and eager to be good at her job and show off that competence when she has it. But the Weapon is obviously much more of an innocent.

What did Cortana and Halsey have in common that the Weapon never experienced?

ONI, and specifically working within ONI from a young age, and the Covenant war.

Of course.

[laifromthecosmos]

Bharani Nakshatra and Fertility: The Cycle of Life under the rule of Venus

port-br

When watching films or plays that take place in the Middle Ages, you notice that some of them have the figure of the “herald”, those messengers who arrive at the location and open the letter (which looks like a parchment) and read the message aloud. The Heralds carried announcements and messages from the kingdom to the population, made solemn proclamations, verified titles of nobility, announced war and proclaimed peace. They were a preform of diplomacy. When they were going to announce something to the people, they would stand on a platform in the middle of the public square and shout the real news, usually wearing clothes that differentiated them to attract more attention.

Bharani Nakshatra (Aries 13º20' - 26º40') are the heralds of the energy of Venus, as they act as messengers or representatives of the essence of Venus in the world, carrying Venusian qualities, manifesting them in their lives and behavior. Venus is advocacy, seeks equity and is a peacemaker, devoid of aggression, but when it joins Mars, aggression and anger can be used as a tool of diplomacy (description by mike sleeping dog). In the eyes of Vedic elders, the star of this nakshatra forms the female sexual organ and thus became its symbol. This organ symbolizes the fertility aspect of life and a portal between two different worlds. In the Vedic point of view, it is described as death and birth, transformation and regeneration. It also represents restriction, care, jealousy, sacrifice, sexuality, nurturing and maternal love. Bharani carries all these attributes. It is the star of restriction that has the power to cleanse and remove impurities.

The main deity of Bharani is Yama, the god of death. Yama had a twin sister named Yami, who is considered the lady of life. Yama and Yami are a divine pair of creative deities. Yama is what connects mortality and immortality that carves mortal paths through death. In it is time and through time it describes a course for life, after the course life is absorbed into time. Yami is moved by Maya's emotions and love. Yama is mortal, but Yami is not. The procreation of mortals was granted thanks to the sacrifice that Yama made in annihilating himself, thus creating a debt (cyclic yajña). Through debt, exchange is created, and it is through exchange that the world moves forward.

There is a story that Yami fell in love with her brother Yama and wanted to have sex with him, arguing that this would not break dharma. She wished Yama to induce the embryo in her womb. It was a natural instinct that awakened in her mind and body after she reached puberty.

"She offered many arguments as to why this would not break dharma, but he knew that sexual intercourse with his own sister would go against dharma in the mortal world, where every action provokes a seen or unseen reaction. His reward for such self-control was to become chief justice of the universe." - Mike Sleeping Dog.

Bharani is a 16-year-old girl about to deflower, a baby in the womb or a person who faces the Yamadutas (heavenly angels whose task is to guide souls in the afterlife process) after death. Because of its childlike quality, Bharani is one of the most eager nakshatras. Just like a child wants to experience the entire environment, Bharani natives want to experience the environment to the fullest. There is a primal innocence in the way they experience things, people and places. They may go by instinct instead of reason. Most of your feelings and desires are so overwhelming that very little can be done to contain or calm them. Once again, the evolutionary status of the soul in question comes into play. All Bharani natives have a creative impulse within them. Females generally express this creativity through bearing children, while males attempt to be creative on stranger levels. Bharani is a nakshatra where interaction between man and woman takes place. This makes it one of the most sexual nakshatras in the zodiac. Bharani is representative of the force of nature that creates attraction between opposites. Bharani natives experiment, surrender, become victims and try to understand this force.

Bharani is the nakshatra that belongs to the first sign of the zodiac and is the first nakshatra ruled by Venus, this symbolizes the entry of the initial energy of creative feminine energy into the zodiac. Therefore, it is a feminine nakshatra. This is no longer a surprise, as Bharani represents everything feminine. It is the second nakshatra and the first female nakshatra. Just like the number “2” in numerology, it is the initiator of the feminine principle at all levels of existence. It is the beginning of duality and maya, and in it lies the essence of the complex functioning of the feminine principle. Bharani is considered a balanced nakshatra. Bharani is actually an extreme nakshatra, but it is classified as 'Balanced' due to its tendency to balance opposite extremes like birth and death. Bharani natives often lead double lives, reaching two different extremes. So, overall, their lives can be seen as balance. It is part of the Rajas Nakshatras (rajas is action to get desires fulfilled. It is the passion that drives one to action, often not getting the expected results, which leads to more actions), this can be easily accessed from the govt. of Bharani by Venus. Venus is seen as the most rajasic among the planets. Its relationship with terrestrial life processes is very strong. In a way, you could say that it is only Venus that makes life worth living. As Bharani heralds Venusian energy, its expression here is primordial, highly concentrated and explosive (all rajasic expressions). Venus is the planet of fertility, creativity and pleasure. In Bharani, these qualities manifest in the idea of ​​giving birth, both literally and symbolically. Fertility here is not restricted to procreation, but also the ability to create and nurture ideas, projects and new phases of life. Bharani, governed by Yama, also remembers that every beginning is accompanied by an end, a continuous cycle of renewal. Bharani represents the phase in which the seed is planted (the creative act that precedes growth. Being the first nakshatra of Venus, Bharani symbolizes fertility in its primordial state, the impulse to generate life. Fertility is linked to the feminine receptive nature, the ability to sustain life, something that Venus dominates. Bharani, with her association with the uterus, also speaks of the importance of gestation, essential elements of fertility. All goddesses, especially fertility goddesses, are linked to Venus.

Bharani is the nakshatra of karma and reincarnation, one of the least understood concepts in modern times, especially in the Western world. Bharani is the name of the stage where the masculine and feminine, which have arisen from a single genderless source, copulate and, in doing so, carry forward the process of creation.

[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.

[city-of-ladies]

"Women participated in war, an aspect of life that may be classified as political. Father Peter De Smet, the famous Jesuit missionary, recorded that Flathead women served as assistants in warfare: they retrieved arrows and intervened in the battle if a relative’s life was endangered. Point said of women’s battle role:

Several women rivaled the bravest of the men in courage. In the midst of the fray an elderly woman, hatchet in hand, hurled herself so violently between her son, whose horse was tiring, and a Crow on the point of reaching him, that the pursuer, despite his giant stature, judged it prudent to move away. Another younger woman went about on the battlefield gathering up arrows for those of her warriors who had run out of them. Another, who had advanced too far in pursuit of the enemy, made such a swift about face, at the very moment several arms were outstretched to grab her, that she galloped back to her own lines leaving the enemy stupefied. Still another, after having spent some time pursuing several Crows, returned saying, “I thought these great talkers were men, but I was wrong. They are not even worth pursuing.” 

Point further mentioned a female warrior in passing: “All the Pend d’Oreilles warriors rode out, led by Kuiliy, a young Pend d’Oreilles woman renowned for intrepidity on the field of battle.” Unfortunately, he did not further describe this woman. 

Another warrior woman was Colestah, wife to Chief Kamiakin, who participated in the Battle of Four Lakes and Spokane Plain against Colonel George Wright in 1858. She armed herself with a stone war club and fought by her husband’s side. When Kamiakin was wounded, she rescued him and - being a medicine woman - used her healing skills to cure him. It is apparent that women had the option of becoming not only assistants in warfare but warriors in their own right, either regularly or on an occasional basis. Plateau women apparently took part in peacetime politics as well as war. “It is no rare occurrence to see a woman step in during council and severely upbraid the chief”.

Before Plateau people were restricted to reservations, a few women participated in warfare on a voluntary basis, sometimes in defense. While under siege from the Assiniboine, a Flathead woman ran out of a besieged tent with a pistol and shot an attacker dead. Southern Okanogan women and children retired behind barricades during raids on the village. If an enemy approached too closely, a woman “with much power” (spiritual) seized weapons and fought even if menstruating. Her guardian spirit protected her and made her strong. Under such circumstances, a woman could touch weapons and retain the enemy weapons she had captured. 

Traditions of warrior women were collected in 1980 on the Colville Reservation. Emily Peone, a granddaughter of the great Chief Moses of the Moses-Columbia, narrated: 

Women fought in battles; went out with war parties. My mother’s father took his younger wife along. She dressed herself in her finest clothes so that if she died, she would be wearing her funeral clothes; they wouldn’t have to dress her. Women used a club on enemies, and lances too. They took stuff along to dress wounds. They helped the wounded and rescued men in trouble. Chief Moses was always noticeable by his fine clothes in battle. So his sister-in-law saw him fall in the fighting. She galloped to him and chased away his attacker. Then she fixed his wound. These were brave women. The warriors on the other side would kill women. 

The women who rode out with raiding parties were distinguished from other women only by their great physical courage: they had no unusual social status. Consultants did not recall where they obtained their weapons and shields, but they carried them. Since female combatants were as likely to be killed or captured as a male, they were prepared to fight. Most women saw their function as helping the wounded and rescuing men in danger, as in the narrative above. In the course of these activities, however, they did not hesitate to kill opposing warriors if the opportunity arose.

 A few women participated as warriors completely, as recorded by early missionaries in the area. Such full female warriors were not remembered on the Colville Reservation, but a female Nez Perce from Idaho participated in the war against the Euro-Americans. She was able to do so over the objections of her husband and two young children, indicating the extent of the autonomy that Plateau women exercised."

A necessary balance, gender and power among Indians of the Columbia Plateau, Lillian A. Ackerman

[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.”

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[scotianostra]

Robert Burns was born on January 25th 1759 at Alloway,Ayrshire.

Let's start the day off with the biggie!

Scotland's national poet is renowned around the world, other than Queen Victoria and religious figures there are more statues around the world to oor Rabbie than anyone else.

With people celebrating today at Burns Suppers today's post will look back at this celebration, it's history and traditions.

Remember every Burns Supper is individual and may not follow the same order or include them all.

This first supper was organised on July 21st 1801, the fifth anniversary of his passing, by the Reverend Hamilton Paul for a gathering of nine ‘honest men of Ayr’. For some years there was a question over whether a woman had been in attendance, as one of those noted had the Christian name Primrose, an uncommon name for a man. The venue was his cottage in Alloway.

The first "formal" Burns supper away from home I recall was on a weekend school trip to Innerwick in 1979, at Innerwick,it was the first timeI was called a chauvinist, and probably not the last!

It introduced all the key ingredients of the Burns Suppers we see today, namely good food, plenty of drink and friends who toasted the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns as well as reciting some of his works.

Guests at this first supper were served sheep’s head; this rarely features on modern menus! While it used to be the case that a Burns Supper was a male-only affair, this is definitely not still true.

Large Burns Suppers may have a top table for the Chairman, speakers and their partners, any special guests and the organising committee (if there is one), but you can also run a smaller and less formal affair.

The menu or Bill o’ Fare will detail what the party will be eating and usually includes a list of the speeches, speakers and entertainers. You may also find the words to ‘Auld Lang Syne’, which will be sung at the end of the evening before guests depart.

Most suppers start with a grace, most commonly ‘The Selkirk Grace’ attributed to Burns.

Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it,

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be Thankit!

As a celebration night, dress can be quite formal. There’s no rule obliging a kilt to be worn but this has become common evening dress for many Scots. A dinner suit or trews (tartan dress trousers) are equally acceptable.

It should be noted that it’s very unlikely that Burns himself would have worn a kilt. He was a Lowlander and the kilt is traditionally Highland dress. It was also illegal to wear a kilt between 1747–82, in the aftermath of the Jacobite Risings.

At a more traditional Burns Night, ladies might wear a black or white dress with a hint of tartan, perhaps a tartan sash pinned to the right shoulder (only a Clan Chief’s wife should wear her sash pinned to the left).

Many suppers are ‘come as you are’. If you’re the organiser, just let your guests know how formal you intend the evening to be.

The first course is traditionally soup, either Scotch broth, cock-a-leekie or Cullen skink – all good Scottish recipes using fine Scottish ingredients.

Haggis is then served either as the main course or an intermediate course, depending on how posh your do is!

The haggis is accompanied by champit tatties (mashed potato) and neeps (mashed turnip).Sometimes carrot is mixed with the neeps, although this is not traditional. Many suppers now include a whisky sauce to accompany the haggis.

If it's a big "do" yer at the Haggis will of course be delivered on a silver platter by a procession comprising the chef, the piper and the person who will address the Haggis. A whisky-bearer should also arrive to ensure the toasts are well lubricated during "The Address to the Haggis "

There is no set tune for the piper to play, I have heard of many over the years, even the Star Wars theme during a supper with the films theme! A particular favourite of mine is A Man's A Man for A' That.

Address to a Haggis.

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,

Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!

Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o’ need,

While thro’ your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi’ perfect sconner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither’d rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He’ll make it whissle;

An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,

Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o’ fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!

Once the Address is complete, the Addresser gives a glass of whisky to the chef and the piper, and invites the whole company to ‘toast the haggis’.

The chef will then recover the haggis and leave the room to plate this part of the meal. Sometimes the haggis is passed around the table for guests to help themselves, adding tatties and neeps from large bowls placed on the table.

After the meal, the speeches and entertainment begin in earnest, starting with a toast to the monarch, known as The Loyal Toast.

This is followed by the main toast of the night, to The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns.

The Immortal Memory should be a heartfelt toast to the genius, life and works of our National Bard. At more formal dinners this speech focuses on a theme of Burns’s works, ending with a formal toast where all guests are invited to raise their glass.

The next speech will be The Toast to the Lassies, a reflection of Burns’s ‘appreciation’ of women. Traditionally, this takes the form of a witty reflection on the relationships between men and women, ending with the men rising to toast ‘the Lassies’.

This is followed by the Reply to the Toast to the Lassies. This should also be witty and seek to correct the previous speaker’s assumptions about women. The speech often ends with rousing applause from the women present, who then rise and raise their glasses to the men, toasting ‘the Laddies’.

At larger or more formal Burns Suppers, there may be further speeches that reflect on the guests and absent friends, Scotland and a formal vote of thanks.

The speeches are followed by entertainment – often including recitations and music. The night should end with a rousing rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and three cheers, marking the end of a successful Burns Night.

Among the pics are stamps from around the world, perhaps the most interesting are from Russia, (the two together) from 1956 and Romania, from 1959. The pic with the couple is Sharleen Spiteri and Ewan Mcgregor attending a Burns Night.