#court lady shin

[sandcatart]

BBRae Apothecary diaries AU

A young lord of a disgraced family returns to the capital from a trip down south after the death of his parents and gets caught preventing the poisoning of a royal by a suprisingly youthful housekeeper of the royal residence.

Garfield lands himself a honorable position of a food tester in the household of King Richard and his favourite little sister of poor health, who only leaves her room to perform during official gatherings always wearing a moretta mask (duetoallegeddisfigurement), Lady Ravenna.

Thanks to his love and knowledge of exotic animals and their various uses Garfield gets stuck in political games of the royal court.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

What The Heart Wants || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Reader

GIF by @aemondtargaryen divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: This marriage was nothing but unhappiness. You always felt like you lived in the shadow of Lucy Gray. But you try to pretend, pretend that this marriage was everything you could have ever dreamed of.

Warnings: little detail of smut

Wc:

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Your fingers play with the ends of your dress that your mother insisted you wear. In your opinion, the dress was abit too tight, short, and the neckline a tad bit lower than what was deemed appropriate for a simple get together with the President, your fiancé.

“Smile Y/n, Smile.” Your mother urges with a forced smile as you roll your eyes. The door suddenly opens as your mother and father immediately stand up. You let out a huff before standing up as well as Coriolanus Snow in all his glory walks in.

He doesn’t even spare your parents a look or you for that matter. He just sits down on the armchair beside yours with a huff. You watch him as he rolls up his sleeves, he had yet to speak. “Lovely too see you again, Evangeline, Festus, and Y/n” He politely nods.

His voice was stern, cold. “Likewise, President Snow, likewise” You mother grins widely, her tone sickly sweet. “Please, call just call me Coryo. You are to be my in-laws soon. Best to cut the formality early on,” He voices out as he leans over and pops a grape in his mouth.

Your knees were crossed as you stare down at your hands. Snow turns his head, finally looking at you. You could feel his gaze from your peripheral vision. A sudden kick to your shin made you groan out loud as your mother gives you a death glare.

Clearing your throat, you face Coriolanus. “What colour do you plan to wear for the wedding day? So you know, I can match,” He stares hard at your face, studying every detail. “White.” Is all he said before facing your parents again as he starts conversation with them on a topic you couldn’t care less about.

~

Snow had always been cold towards you from the moment the two of you started courting each other. It wasn’t a marriage for love, it was arranged. Coming from a high born family in the Capitol, disciplined to be the perfect wife, you were a perfect candidate to become First Lady.

And not to forget how close your parents and his parents were before they died. Coriolanus had changed when he came back from exile. He was no longer the sweet boy you used to remember.

He was now driven with power and authority. You never asked him questions about the details of his exile as peacekeeper during the times you would spend together. He would merely brush it off and tell you never to ask him about it again.

You were never one to listen to Capitol gossip but there were whispers going around about how Snow was in a relationship with his tribute, Lucy Gray. And that she ran away from him just before he returned back. You remember seeing the two together on camera, there always seemed to be a certain chemistry between the two that not much people paid attention to. But you.

He seemed completely closed off when you first met him after his banishment. He was always drifting in and out of reality. You had a feeling he wasn’t over Lucy Gray. No matter how much she hurt him for leaving.

“Coryo,” Your voice was gentle as you place a hand on his arm. He was out of it again. “She asked what flavour cake you wish to have,” You slowly say as his eyes were stuck to the wall behind the woman sat across from them. “Whatever flavour you want.” He shrugs. Before you could open your mouth again, he beats you to it.

“Is this really necessary? I have other important things to be doing right now.” He snaps, unfolding his sleeves as he gets ready to get up. You furrow your eyebrows at him as the woman starts to pack up the papers on the table before you stop her.

“Coryo, you told me you cleared your schedule today.” You fold your arms as he buttons up his jacket, looking at you. “I’d rather be home than here.” And with that, he doesn’t spare you another look and walks away. You watch his figure disappear as you sit back down, defeated.

“Should I continue without President Snow?” Your eyes move to the lady awkwardly sitting there. “Yes, yes you can continue,” You sigh. This was the third time Coriolanus blew these meetings off. Both of you despised the idea of getting married, especially to one another. But it had to be done. For duty.

~

“Oh you look absolutely gorgeous, my love. You’re going to be the prettiest woman Coryo has ever laid eyes on.” You scoff, downing the liquid down as you get ready to walk down the aisle. “Remember, smile!” Your mother points to her smile as you roll your eyes and link arms with your father.

The doors opened and the crowd gasp. You looked ethereal. Perfect. Doll-like. You smiled like you were taught to do and walked with such elegance and poise. Snow’s back was turned to you, but the moment he turned around, you swore you couldn’t breathe for a second.

Coriolanus’ hands were cold against your warm hands. His piercing blue eyes studied your face as words around you drown out. “You may now kiss the bride.” Coriolanus leaned in as did you and your lips touched. The kiss was gentle and didn’t last long. You could tell he was reluctant to kiss you.

He then smiled brightly, turning to face the crowd and your mother’s words come rolling in. Smile. Pretend you’re happy. You both had to act like you were infatuated with one another for the rest of the day until you arrived at Snow’s mansion. Your new home.

The moment you walked through the doors, the façade was over. Coriolanus made a beeline to his study where he slammed the door shut as you stand alone in the hallway, still in your wedding dress. Exhaustion caught up to you so your heavy footsteps led you to your shared room with him.

You were helped out of the dress by servants. The silk slip soft on your skin as you let your hair loose. It was quiet. Too quiet for yo ur liking. You sat at the end of the bed for some time, thinking about everything and anything until the door abruptly opened revealing Snow.

He paused when he saw you, almost forgetting that you two were married now and were going to be sharing the same bed from now on. He sighs before closing the door behind him.

He starts taking his jacket and long sleeve off. “Why aren’t you asleep” He voices out, his back turned to you as you watch his back muscles flex. “I’m not tired,” You said, barely a whisper as Snow turns around, his eyes trained on you. “Suit yourself,” He said before entering the bathroom.

You decided to move up the bed and lean against the backboard of the humongous bed that you and Snow will be sharing. You played with your fingers the entire time Coriolanus was in the shower.

You hear the water jets stop and he steps out, towel hanging around his hips as he has another towel drying his platinum blonde hair. He gets dressed in just boxers before making his way to the bed. He turns off his bedside light and lays on his back. You were still leaned up on the backboard.

Coriolanus then leaned over you and turned your bedside light off before sleeping on his side, back towards you. You stared at the back of his head for a while. “Coryo…” You softly say. You knew he was awake. “Coryo.” You say once again, your hand gently on his shoulder as he sigh and turns to lay on his back. “Y/n. It’s been an exhausting day. Can this possibly wait until tomorrow” He snaps.

“No.” You say in a firm tone that was abit too loud. You took yourself by surprise as Snow raises an eyebrow at you. “We’re married now.” Your tone was bitter. You were becoming just as frustrated as he was with you. A long due reciprocation.

“I’m aware.” He flatly stated, his eyes shifting away from your body to the ceiling. You sensed his unsatisfactory behaviour towards you, and you felt, a feeling that you had become very familiar with recently. Vulnerable. Coriolanus did not want you one bit. You knew that.

But you wanted to atleast pretend that you were going to spend the rest of your life with someone who loved you. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. A part of you understood that this was obviously wasn’t ideal for either parties, but you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, like you weren’t enough.

You were always hit on by other eligible males in the Capitol, but when it came to President Snow, you weren’t even remotely spared a glance. So, you decided that tonight, your honeymoon night, to pretend that there is as much passion as you needed to make you feel as though you were marrying the man of your dreams.

“Look at me.” You demanded, watching as Coriolanus beside you slowly tore his eyes away from the ceiling to bore into your face. “Coryo,” You began, moving from the backboard to get closer to him. You leant into him, foreheads touching. You could feel his breathing stagger, his breath began to tremble as if he was straining tears.

"Please," Your grabbed his face desperately, almost beginning to start sobbing yourself, as if your bodies being this close to one another transformed them into one big, contagious product of unfairness and agony—indulging in one another helplessly.

"Please, Coryo, pretend I'm her," you never once thought in your life you would have to beg for a man to worship you the way he did another—before courting the President of Panem, you would have ques of eligible men at your feet—not even having to raise a finger.

"What?" He mumbled back, an unconfident whimper, his eyebrows furrowed—casting a shadow over his vacant eyes, causing his piercing blue eyes to darken.

"I never though I'd have to say this, but " You breathed out, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, "Pretend I'm her, pretend I'm Lucy Gray Baird. Even if she broke you, atleast you felt something for her." Your voice cracked as the nonchalant popular girl of Panem facade you’d spent your entire life up keeping, having Snow as a publicity accessory, had shattered in his grip.

Coriolanus didn't know what to say. He had never seen you in this state. You didn't know, but he watched you all the time through the cameras around the mansion and around Panem. Snow barely knew how to express his emotions adequately himself, let alone watching you break down.

You were in pain. As if you were swallowing back acid. "I just want to feel loved," You trembled. This was all so new to you, expressing your feelings, confiding to someone. "Even if it takes you having to think about someone else to make me feel like it.l And so, Snow silently agreed.

He took the invitation of being allowed to think about Lucy Gray in his embrace if it made you feel better. Selfish to an extent, but technically, what you wanted from him was equally so. As long as he appreciated your body as if it were a relic, to make her feel something, he'd be able to fantasise about the one thing he'd usually feel guilty about thinking. Lucy Gray crushed his heart. His soul.

Yet he couldn't stop thinking about the girl who betrayed her. And so, you mollified into him as he embraces your frame, kissing you the same way he'd been musing about doing so with Lucy, if he were to ever get the chance again.

Both your tears were the supplement of real passion, the dampness on your faces resembling sweat as tears fell between each aggrieved, desperate kiss.

More desperate, more intimate. You knew what Coriolanus wanted, and you gave in. You allowed him to see Lucy Gray through your eyes. And although they were a completely different colour, Snow swore he saw her eyes gazing back at him for a millisecond; and that was motivating enough.

Now you were both in pieces, too bad puzzles aren't taught how to piece themselves back together.

[starscabaret]

College Student Athlete Yandere! Elizabeth Gets Jealous ✧.*

pairing : yandere! elizabeth  x fem reader 

summary : Lizzie fucks reader in a jealous possessive rage after she catches her flirting with the other team after a tough loss

authors note : this is lesbian elizabeth is a girllll

warnings: nsfw, established relationship, Crying, rough, dramatic, dub-con, strap-on, smacking…just whew

You stood around defeated on the court as the other team and fans cheered and celebrated around you. You joined Lizzie at an away game. Her team should have won, they were predicted to win. But the game turned sour when the referees seemed to favor the opponent. Lizzie’s team had lost. You were upset but even more upset for Lizzie as you knew what the game meant to her. The game had just ended, and she joined her team in the locker room with no time to talk to you. You were waiting for her to come out of the locker room so you two could return to the hotel room and relax for the evening. You stand around with a group of friends and family of Lizzie’s teammates when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Uh hey! You’re Elizabeth Moore’s girlfriend right?” a player from the other team smiles down at you.

“Yeah, I am…” you state a bit puzzled. 

“We saw you on her Instagram and were wondering if we could get a picture with you! You two are the cutest couple!” She asks enthusiastically. It’s only now you notice the rest of the other team standing behind her. 

“Aww, that’s so sweet yeah sure!” you reply, you’re a bit shocked people know of you and Lizzie. But you can’t say no to all these nice girls. 

The girl that approached you hands her phone off to someone nearby while you and the girls start to move around for a picture.

“You two in the middle!” someone shouts.

You stand in the middle surrounded by these giant women a bit intimidated but flattered as they gush over your relationship.

Due to the severe height difference the girl beside you, the one that approached you, leans into you resting her elbow on the top of your head you all laugh because it makes for a funny shot.

The person with the phone is snapping multiple photos. You get distracted enjoying the girl’s humor and posing for the photographs, so you miss Lizzie exiting the locker room and coming onto the court to look for you. 

That is until you see her standing behind the cameraman looming over them.

“y/n come here please we are leaving.” Lizzie glares at you, with her jaw clenched gripping her duffle bag tightly on one hand. 

“Sorry Moore, just had to borrow her for a second!” The girl beside you says causing all of her teammates to laugh. 

“Of course, Lizzie, let’s get back so you can rest.” You say scurrying over towards her, eager to make her feel better about the tough loss. 

Oddly Lizzie doesn’t even reply, she just heads for the exit.

“Bye ladies, nice meeting you all!” You shout running out of the gym after Lizzie. 

At the hotel, you are lying in bed in your pajamas as Lizzie takes a long shower. This was typical of her after any game, so you have no worries. That is until she comes out. Long blonde hair slightly wet, completely naked except for her favorite strap-on. 

“Oh hi, babe.” You whisper just assuming she was feeling frisky as usual. 

“Don’t hi babe me y/n. You know how I get about you.” She replies with a glare.

“Huh? What’s wrong? did I do something?” You question. 

Without replying she makes her way to the edge of the bed grabbing your ankles once her shins hit the bed. She pulls you to the edge of the bed throwing your legs open revealing the panties you wear under your t-shirt. She moves her large hand down between your thighs gripping your whole mound. 

“This is mine. You are mine.” She says while looking you in the eye, and moving her hand so her thumb is pressed against your clothed opening. 

“Yes, I know.” you gulp nervous as to what is bothering her but also too aroused to ask again. 

“You weren’t acting like it today. Why the fuck were you taking pictures with them? I saw her arm on you. I saw you giggling and smiling at their lame-ass jokes.” She glares at you while pressing her large thumb even deeper into your opening, creating a damp spot right where she pressed. 

“Uh I, they just asked for a picture, Liz. “You breathe out.

You feel her hand pull away from your pussy. you almost whine immediately for her touch to return. But you don’t have to before you can blink, she lays a stinging slap to your pussy over your panties. 

“You think I care about that?” She huffs grabbing your jaw to look at her. 

Before you can even answer her question her hands are at your hips pulling your panties down. 

“I don’t, all I care about is this right here. You. You know that. They only did that to piss me off you know. Losing the game, we should have won and then putting their hands on you, my love? Oh, that was the cherry on top. Next time we will win. I promise you that. But for now, you need to learn something.”

She rants while still looking you in the eye while sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What is it, Liz?” You ask fully obedient and ready to calm her any way you could. 

“You’re mine, no one else’s. Ever. I don’t want those girls or anyone touching you like that ever again. Or I swear to God y/n I will hurt them. Now sit. Obviously you didn’t believe it before, so ill fuck it into your brain.” She speaks against your lips grabbing your hips to lift you over her. placing your thighs outside of hers with her cock between your legs. 

Already so obedient and eager for her cock you reply, “Yes mommy.”

You have no trouble sliding yourself to the base of her length. Her possessive nature had softened and moistened your warm cunt. Even though you hate to admit it. 

Once your clit meets her strap, she grabs your hips using her strong hips and arms to bounce you on her strap. After just a few bounces you feel as if she is going to split you in half. You moan aloud almost drooling at her pace. 

“Yeah, look at you, you’re getting it now good girl.” She coos as she continues pounding and massaging the walls of your pussy. 

But it’s not enough for her. She has to continue drilling it into your head. You are hers, and no one else’s. Her frustration from losing the game combined with her intense emotions at watching you interact with the opponent drove her insane. 

She moves her hands from the tight grip she has on your hips, which she is using like handles to fuck you like a toy. Her arms make their way around your torso pulling you flush against her with her face breast into your breast. She continues her pounding by thrusting her strong hips into you. Rutting and moving the strap into your hole like she was opening you for the first time again. 

“Mine, OK? You promise?” She asks into your chest fervently moving her mouth around to suck bite and nuzzle her face into your boobs. 

“Yes, Mommy I promise.” You throw your head back shouting willing to say whatever you needed to for her to keep fucking you on her cock. Also to appease the dark urges you knew she had at seeing you with others. 

Lizzie still in a possessive jealous frenzy kept fucking you causing you to scream and moan out. Your clit hitting the base of her cock, your hole full of her, it all became too much. You were going to cum soon. 

Too cock drunk to notice earlier you feel tears against your chest as Elizabeth’s face is pressed against it. Still full of her strap you look down at her and she’s crying. 

“Liz what’s wrong honey?” You ask lifting her face to look at you.

But she doesn’t stop fucking you. She speeds up her pace widening and opening your little cunt even more. 

“Please y/n, don’t leave me. I love you. I’ll take care of you. I’m all you need ever.” She chants as she continues lifting you up and down her strap like a toy. The desperation and tears in her eyes make you even wetter as she fucks her devotion into you. 

“I won’t Liz, I won’t ever.” You respond as tears well up in your own eyes from her emotions and the aching stretch of her cock inside you. 

She notices your orgasm building up. To make sure her message was heard she flips you onto your back shoving her cock deeper into you as she leans over you. 

“I know princess, I know.” She chants whilst grabbing your jaw and fucking you to an orgasm. Your arms wrap around her holding her close, calming the shock waves running throughout your whole body. 

She doesn’t stop after your orgasm; she continues slowly rutting into you with her sore body. Giving all that she has even after exhausting her body during the game. 

Once she becomes too tired to thrust into you anymore, and you are thoroughly fucked, and the bed is covered in your juices she doesn’t pull out. She keeps her strap in you and lays all her weight on you heavy breathing and kissing into your neck. 

You are too cock drunk to try to clean yourself. You rest and let her lay on top of you controlling and owning your body, in the way that she pleases.

Both exhausted from the day’s events you too fall asleep with her strap still stretching her pretty pussy. 

[zuki-3]

Kita Shinsuke fluffy Headcanons

here‘s some kita heandcanons that kept me up at night because my boy deserves more attention

kita is definitely the type of guy to court you before he starts to formally date you

speaking of which he's the type to ask your parents for permission if he could take you out on a date and all tell them all the deets (when, where how long,..)

which made your parents trust him more than you...

grandma yumie loves you - she treats you like her own granddaughter (well you soon will be a part of the family - her words not mine *wink wink*)

if she were to pack shin lunch she'll always tell him to share with you

she also loves sneaking in a few teasing jabs at her grandson "soo, did you feed her the food i made for you" *cue shin's ears turning red and nonchalantly washing the dishes* "grandma..."

she also often asks about you even though you visit her regularly

when he's flustered his ears turn red.

patient. need i say more? you can literally do the dumbest shit ever and he wont judge (he'll just watch and play the mature parter watching over you so you don't get hurt)

study sessions with kita is him explaining how to solve trigonometric equations for 2 hours straight because you dont understand it and mans ist still determined and not on his wits end trying to explain - he'll seriously explain it until you truly understand the content besides more quality time with his girl

kita's love language is acts of service and words of affirmation hear me out it's a mix of both like his praises are rare yet they always make your heart flutter because you can just feel his sincerity

a gentleman.

literally opens doors not only for you but for anyone. he's the type to wait for an old lady to walk sloowwlly towards the door patiently holding it open for them (he was taught by the best)

brings you flowers from the field be it small daisies or dandelions freshly picked or a small boquet from the flower shop.

definitely a listener - always remembers stuff you said years ago or things you randomly mentioned one day its giving dads buying a bulk of things you mentioned you liked

" i thought you said you liked this shade so i bought you more of this lip gloss"

he's soo observant - overstimulated by the loud ass inarizaki team? he's got you covered, he's pulling you out of that gym and takes you to the vending machine (he'll pay for your snack obvi)

he can get emotional i mean did you see him cry when he got his well deserved captain shirt?? that manz is NOT nonchalant or afraid to show emotion (toxic masculinity where?) so expect him to get teary eyed when you say i love you for the first time or get married and when you welcome your little girl in the world

and yes he's a certified girl dad NOONE can convince me otherwise

biceps for dayyssss mans works at the rice field you bet he's tan and beefy (yummy)

we need more kita appreciation posts he's such a sweet bean T^T this is my first post btw i hope you guys like it

©zuki-3 2025 do not copy or repost

[green-typewriterz]

can you write an art donaldson fic where the reader has been in love with him for the past ten years but it’s obviously unrequited love… until art divorces tashi.

ps: can it be a lil angsty? I love it

Obsessed with your ex

Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi x reader if your looking at the subtext

Ask: above

summary: you're in love with Art...but due to a rather obvious factor known as Tashi Duncan, it's severely unrequited.

Warnings: none?? I guess swearing

Author Notes: sorry this took so long love!!! I was in a major editing groove for a long while meaning my writing got unceremoniously sent to the backburner... but i'm back with this as a sort of consolation!! also i was listneing to teeth by lady gaga on loop while writing this which is why theres some very gay subtext between you and tashi...

word count: 1826

Tashi fucking Duncan. That’s how she was known in your subconscious - though you weren’t sure if it was a positive or negative thing. You wanted to be her, of course you did. She had everything you wanted. A natural skill for tennis, perfect looks and a close (confusing) relationship with both Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

Obviously, you were horrendously in love with Art and it hurt to an almost embarrassing degree when some more crass girls in your tennis class began to gossip about Tashi making out with him and Patrick. You weren’t sure where they could’ve got the information, so you told yourself it wasn’t true - a rumour. Regardless, it hurt. Maybe it hurt just as much as Art Donaldson having no clue you felt how you did.

You were reasonably close with Tashi, close enough to call yourself a friend but it was reasonably clear to most that you wanted what she had (and maybe you also wanted her as much as Zweig and Donaldson though that was a deeper emotion). It was interesting to watch how she’d interact with each boy as if they were pawns, something that was increasingly clear at that fateful match.

You could hear the crunch throughout the entire court, though the scream was what rattled you. Art leapt from his place in the stands, running as if she were going to die. You stood, racket still in hand, shifting awkwardly in the absence of play before making your way over to your friend to check on her.

Art knew you were trying to be helpful, his small, thin lipped smile showing this clearly, but Tashi didn’t want you there. So that was that. You let him take over and rocked back on your shins, eyes tracking his hands that gently held her head. A more desperate side of you seemed to hope that it had been you who had broken your leg so he would be holding you instead.

This accident, though sadding, seemed to be detrimental to the success of your career. It was as though you had escaped the shadow of Tashi fucking Duncan and could finally play your best. You slowly but surely took Tashi’s career, the trophies she should’ve won, the brand deals she should’ve posed for. You weren’t ever really sure how to feel - though, you had always wanted to be her.

___

TEN YEARS LATER

Ten years pass quickly yet with excruciating slowness and you found yourself at a peak in your career, winning match after match. This particular one was no different. You were playing against Mueller - a match you knew you’d easily win due to the girl's childish anger.

Your eyes scan the crowd, seeing who had bothered to watch a match with such an obvious ending and you were shocked to see an old face in the crowd. Tashi fucking Duncan. She was sitting comfortably in a lacoste shirt - one that was presumably Art’s - with a large pair of rather reflective sunglasses but her small smile said everything.

It was the nod she sent you that sent a shiver through you. She wanted you to win, told you to win all with just a nod. It was like she wrapped her arms around you and whispered it - you stood in place for a moment, pausing for longer than usual before your serve. The breath you let out was shaky but determined. She told you to win. And so of course you did.

You were the one to approach her after, thanking her for coming and other similar niceties. Eventually though, these ran out and you resorted to the questions you actually wanted to ask.

“How’s Art?”

“Tired.”

Oh. You had expected a longer response at the least. Then again, you hadn't expected her to be so honest - it wasn’t something she was known for. You stood in silence for a bit, still wiping the sweat of the game from your brow when you said, “why are you here?”

Tashi paused, smiling. She had wanted you to ask. “I wanted to see you beat that racist bitch.” The reply was blunt and, yet again, honest. You laughed gently and your eyes trailed to Mueller who was red faced and whining, eyes stroppily trained on the floor.

“Are you happy I did win?”

“No. You’re where I should be. But good for you.”

You paused and almost let her walk away but found your words before it would be a moment too late and followed after - if you were watching yourself do this you would’ve kicked yourself for how pathetic you looked. “Tashi, I idolised you. You had… still have everything I want.”

Tashi’s eyebrow raise spoke for her. She wanted to know what you meant, she was giving you a chance to explain yourself without mentioning her husband.

“I just mean I look up to you, as a player, as a coach.” you replied, attempting to save yourself from the embarrassment of the words you had spoken prior. Your thumb idly massaged circles into your palm as she tilted her head to the side, analysing you.

“Y/n, you’re a good player, with a good coach. But you’re too unemotional, too kind,” Tashi replied, voice even and accurate. She was right, you were far too nice on the pitch. You had never found that anger that other players had, never experienced that rage that made a game so entertaining. Tashi was bored.

“So?”

“So be a bitch. God knows most tennis players deserve it.”

You nod, muttering regards toward art.

---

“I watched Y/n play. She was good.” Tashi said idly, sitting on their clean white sofa, brushing through the blonde hair that rested against her shoulder.

Art looked up, eyes worn but curious all the same. “Was she you?” The question was one he had asked often, though he never meant any malice toward you with it. He asked this whenever Tashi watched a tennis player, something to praise her. This time though, her response had changed, her face lifted with a soft smile.

“She could be.”

---

NEW ROCHELLE

You were through to the English open, of course you were, but your coach still thought it a smart idea to get you to play the New Rochelle challenger as a warm up, to get you ready. Part of you felt like you were just there as an advert, as if you had been invited to play for the sake of selling tickets - you weren’t sure how much you minded this idea.

Something unexpected, however, was Art Donaldson and Tashi Donaldson sitting in the stands, watching you play against the poor tennis player who wasn’t handling her current loss well.

Tashi leans toward her husband. “She’s good,” she whispers. She’s testing him, seeing if he can spot what she had.

“She’s too kind.”

Your eyes linger on Art, trailing over his face. You were still horrendously attracted to him, in fact, you weren’t sure that feeling ever left. Tashi, ever vigilant, had realised this - of course she had. Her stare felt so much more grating without her sunglasses. She knew how to change your emotion, she needed you irritated, jealous so she could watch an entertaining match. Her hand gently resting on Art’s thigh seemed to do this.

You win with much more ferocity than you had been known for, something that erupts the crowd, cheers ringing through you. It felt more rewarding somehow, to win this way. You hadn’t been kind. It felt fun.

Tashi’s smile was venomous. She was right about you. Art followed you back to the changing rooms, wanting to congratulate you but instead found you pacing. You looked up to face him, face hot in embarrassment.

“You won.”

“Fuck the win. I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

His brows furrowed as he stepped closer, holding your hand in his to get you to stop pacing. You pulled away but came to a stop in front of him, angry. He stared for a moment before saying, “I thought you liked playing?”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, shaking. “I do but that’s not what I want. I don’t want to win. I want something else and Tashi knows it but you never did.”

Art’s more confused now, standing silently as you sit down on the locker room bench, head in your hands. “What do you want?”

You scoff and look up, fury dissipating into disappointment toward both him and yourself. “The fact that you still don’t know now tells me everything.”

You let him walk out silently.

---

Art’s game was much more interesting. It was like watching a dance, the way he and Patrick moved was something you had never seen before. Patrick, as per usual, was cocky and irritating - something you had oddly found endearing when you were younger - but it was Art that had you fixed. He was furious, eyes sharp with tears and knuckles white. There was something that only the three of them knew that created this anger, creating such a captivating match.

The only thing, in your opinion, that beat the high emotion of the match was seeing Art after it, face red and shirt slick with sweat. The thing that held your attention, however, was the slight tan line around his finger. He had taken off his wedding ring.

---

A FEW MONTHS LATER - WIMBLEDON

Art was ready to retire and had been for a while, but you were still going, having found a more passionate love for tennis than you had had before. You were warming up before your final match, only an hour or so before playing the finals at the English open when there was a soft knock on the door of your dressing room.

You opened the door to see Art standing there, eyes soft and observant. You let him in, eyes still stuck to his ringless finger. He traced over your features, seemingly committing parts to memory. “You’ll win today,” He said after a while, words as gentle as the smile on his face.

“Maybe. But am I Tashi?”

“You’re better.”

You both laugh quietly, nothing but a few short breaths, then stare at each other. Though it seemed as though that didn’t last long. Art crossed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. He tasted sweet, like strawberries and cream - no doubt from one of the many Wimbledon food trucks that sold them. You leaned into him, hand finding a place on his thin waist. His own calloused hands rested against your hips, his lips moving gently against yours. Eventually, you both pulled apart, foreheads rested against one anothers. Art smiled.

“I know you’ll win. But just for luck.”

He placed a final kiss against the corner of your smile and headed toward the door, sending a final glance in your direction. You knew you were going to win too, though it felt like - in a way - you already had.

[softsoundingsea]

Ryukyu Clothing (Ryusou/Uchinaasugai - "Kimono")

PSA: I am not a professional dresser or historian and finding this information is more of a cultural hobby. Please correct me if you see any discrepancies.

From a Ryukyuan-language standpoint, I don't think it's appropriate for Ryukyuan clothing to be called "Kimono" because it isn't Japanese. The general term meant to talk about Okinawan clothing in the Ryukyuan Kingdom context is 琉装 (Ryusou in Japanese/Uchinaasugai ウチナースガイ in Uchinaaguchi). I'm calling it "Kimono" here because it's the most easily understandable. Additionally, this post will not include textiles from the Amami or Ishigaki region and focuses on Uchinaa.

Most Ryukyuan clothing is made for the weather of the region, which can be more humid and hot than Japan. Sadly, if there was record of Ryukyuan clothing before the Kingdom era, it's lost to history. Being a region of trade, a lot of clothing takes inspiration from the many cultures and countries the Ryukyus were in contact with (Southeast Asia, East Asia). Textiles that included Bingata, Kasuri, Silk, or Patterns were for those of upper classes.

I think the most well known style of Ryusou is the one that incorporates a Bingata robe over ウシンチー (Ushinchii). The robes were made of silk and was usually worn by the upperclass citizens in the Ryukyu Kingdom. They tend to have larger sleeves for air. It also tends to fit "loose" since it's very easy to sweat in the region. For men and women formal attire consists of a two-piece outer garment worn over an underwear garment.

ウシンチー　Ushinchi

Below is an example of me being dressed in a ウシンチー (Ushinchii) style, which as you can see in this situation the ウシン (Ushin) sash is small. Doesn't always incorporate Kasuri, sometimes it's a solid color. Sometimes it will incorporate other Ryukyuan style clothing.

This is a more formal style of dress but this is an example of one look when they are paired together.

ドゥジン & カカン Duujin and Kakan

There are other clothes for women like one worn by court ladies that are "two pieces" likeドゥジン (Upper piece) and カカン (skirt). They can also have a Bingata robe worn over it. I believe the Kakan is inspired by the Hanfu and Mamianqun.

(Source)

ハチマキ Hachimaki

For formal wear for men in upper classes, the clothes tend to be more simple. They wear a ハチマキ (Hachimaki) which is a hat meant to denote your rank. Men also would tend to wear thicker sashes or obi than women.

(Source)

芭蕉布 Bashofu

For common people, I don't know what the name for the attire would be but it was made of Bashofu (banana fibre). Now the textile is quite rare and sought after but before the war, it was commonplace to wear and typically worn much shorter than a Japanese kimono (around the shins). It was a relatively breathable fabric and the sleeves are more like open sleeves than what a kimono is like.

(Source)

There are more names, terms, and history that I need to learn but thank you for reading this.

[thimbleandakiss]

hey! Could you write a fanfic based on the dreamscape Maeve created for Aelin of she and Rowan courting in doranelle? It was one of the dreamscapes that showed how things might have been had Erawan not been re-awoken. I recall a steamy bit in a natural pool?

Painless Paradise

Rowan Whitethorn x Aelin Ashryver Galathynius

Summary: In a world where Erawan is never awoken, and the Galathyniuses settle their differences with Maeve long enough to allow her to visit Terrasen, and later train Aelin under the skillful hand of Prince Rowan Whitethorn, how different would things have turned out?

Content: fluff, mild cursing, romance, suggestive ending

Cross-posted to Ao3

Playlist 1 used to write and Playlist 2 used to write

Aelin watches them arrive from the balcony of her room in the palace at Orynth. 

The envoy from Doranelle stretches for leagues. Fine horses–Asterion, no doubt–wagons of treasures Aelin can’t imagine, and more fae than anyone in the west have seen in their lives. 

She wonders what kinds of magic they brought with them. How many of them possess a fire like hers? Water, like her mother’s? 

“Your highness!” The exasperated huff from further in her room has Aelin turning and grinning. 

“Elide,” She hums, stepping back inside and closing the glass doors behind her. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Her handmaid, and closest friend, plants her hands firmly on her hips. “You know as well as I that you should’ve been in the throne room ages ago.”

“And miss seeing them arrive?” Aelin protests, even as she allows herself to be dragged through her palace chambers and out into the hall. 

“You’re third in line,” Elide reprimands, looking Aelin over. Her lack of comment about her appearance tells Aelin she’s put together enough to spare her that lecture, “Your appearance reflects on all of Terrasen-”

“Elide,” Aelin laughs, shaking her head. “The flag bearers haven’t even reached the gates of Orynth.”

The dark-eyed lady raises an eyebrow. “These aren’t the envoys you’re used to, princess.”

Aelin stares at her as they walk side-by-side down the sprawling palace halls, various staff members running back and forth in a scramble to get all last-minute preparations ready. 

“Are you going to elaborate, or…?” Aelin prompts. 

Elide rolls her eyes, “These are fae , Aelin.”

Aelin blinks again. 

Elide groans, nudging her toward corridor just behind the throne room. “They sent a few ahead in their animal forms. At least two of which were birds.”

Aelin purses her lips in understanding. She hadn’t thought about it. 

Elide’s about to shove her through a door before she pauses. “Oh! Shift.”

“Excuse me?” Aelin cocks her head, looking at the woman over her shoulder. 

“The king decided it would make a good impression if all royal members who are able were in their fae forms.”

Aelin frowns, but punches through the thin, metaphysical veil that separated herself from her immortal body. She barely has time to process the change, the elongated ears and canines, the sharpened senses, before Elide shoves her through, and Aelin picks her way between the members of her family behind the antler throne. 

Several annoyed glances are tossed her way and she just grins at them in return before taking her place beside her cousin, Aedion. 

“How kind of you to join us,” Aedion whispers in her ear and Aelin replies by subtly kicking his shin. 

Aedion chuckles and grins, shoving her shoulder. 

Before either of them can escalate it out of control, the throne room doors swing open, and Aelin and her cousin straighten with a snap. 

Two wolves, one white, one black, strode in first, shifting into two powerful males as they passed the threshold, a blonde and a raven-haired respectively. They split apart in perfect unison, falling to their knees, one fist to their hearts. 

Then comes a male who radiates a sort of darkness, a golden lion at his side, and an osprey on his shoulder, who follow in the footsteps of the previous two, shifting the moment they cross the threshold and fall to their knees. 

Aelin cocks her head in curiosity. The one hadn’t arrived in animal form. By choice? Or is he like Aedion, lacking one? Did Maeve accept demifae into her inner circle?

The questions that fill Aelin’s head come to a sudden halt as a white-tailed hawk soars into the room, shifting and kneeling a few paces ahead of the five others in one fluid motion. 

He catches Aelin’s attention immediately, and she subconsciously straightens. With his silvery-white hair and green eyes that she swears briefly flicked to hers before he fixes them on the marble floor, Aelin decides in that moment that he’s the most beautiful male she’s ever seen. 

“Welcome, Prince Rowan,” Orlon begins, his deep, kind voice filling the space, “And all of Maeve’s inner circle.”

The six took that as permission to rise. They’re all dressed in fine, exotic fabrics, the silver-haired prince–Rowan–sporting a tunic of silver, embroidered in emerald. 

Pleasantries and courtly speech Aelin can’t be bothered to pay attention to are tossed back and forth, all the while she can’t stop staring. 

Thanks to the heightened senses of this form, Aelin can scent this new male from where she stood. He smells of pine and snow. He smells of home. Something in her chest tugs forward. 

She’s jarred suddenly from her trance when she hears her name. 

“...Aelin, my niece, would be happy to show you the grounds.”

Aelin barely restrains herself from spouting I would?

Instead, she strides gracefully forward, stepping off the dais and dropping into a curtsey before the foreign prince. Silently, she thanks the gods for Marion Lochan, and all the lessons on courtly appearances she’d taught her, even if she’d spent every single one of them complaining. 

When she rises, Rowan takes her hand and brings it to his lips in a practiced motion. Something in Aelin tells her that he, too, hadn’t enjoyed whatever lessons in court he’d received. 

The muscles shifting beneath his tunic, and the tattoo curling across the side of his face speak of strength. Power. Danger. And some wicked little part of her, buried deep in her heart, stirs at that promise. 

~*~*~

“I… trust your journey was smooth?” Aelin asks, leading Rowan through her favorite part of the palace: the gardens. 

Roses, carnations, marigold, and more types of flora than Aelin can name are flourishing in the sprawling courtyard. 

“Not a bump,” Rowan replies, a sparkle of hidden humor in his emerald eyes, his voice a deep kind of rumble that has Aelin attempting to memorize the exact cadence with which he spoke. 

She curses herself for this awkward tension. Both of them seem determined to keep up the kind of manners expected of them, and both also seem to feel just as suffocated as the other by those expectations. 

Rowan’s five bond-brothers have forgone the tour in favor of assisting their queen in her own arrival. Aelin is excused from being present to greet her, in part because of her duty escorting the foreign prince around the palace, but mostly because the grand banquet officially welcoming their guests from Doranelle wasn’t for another couple hours. 

Aelin turns, grasping to find some way to keep up a conversation, to find Rowan watching her curiously, hands clasped behind his back, posture impeccable. Looking at him, Aelin subconsciously straightens her own shoulders, determined to impress. 

Even still, she cocks her head, a slow grin spreading her lips. “...What?”

“Nothing,” he says, quickly pretending to admire a nearby hydrangea. 

“Don’t give me that,” Aelin demands, striding forward and bending to try and catch his eye again. “I can almost hear your thoughts.”

When Rowan’s eyes meet hers, she gasps. I’m thinking you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen . 

Forget almost. She can hear his thoughts. 

Rowan’s lips twitch. He pulls his arm out from behind his back, a sunset rose resting delicately in his scarred palm. 

After a moment in which he seems to be contemplating something, he lifts that flower, fingertips scraping against the skin of her forehead as he sweeps her golden hair aside, tucking it behind her ear and leaving the rose in his wake. 

Aelin turns her head, trying to pretend to be unaffected. 

But Rowan sees the way she subtly brushes her fingers over the soft petals when she thinks he’s not looking. 

~*~*~

That evening, sitting beside her cousin at the high table, Aelin marvels at the spread before her. She’s never seen anything quite as grand, not even when the king of Adarlan had come over a decade ago. 

“So…” Aedion begins, glancing at the flower still tucked into her hair, fork scraping on his golden plate. Aelin groans internally. She knows whatever is about to leave her cousin’s mouth will make her want to punch something. “I take it your garden frolic with prince-”

“One more word out of your mouth,” Aelin cuts in with a purposefully polite tone, “and I will set your trousers on fire.”

Aedion gasps with mock offense, laying a hand on his chest. “In front of your new friends? That’s awfully un-princess-like.” 

Aelin can’t help but snort. 

The noise in the grand hall is so much louder than usual. Seldom in her fae form in such crowded places, Aelin’s unused to being able to clearly hear the conversations from even across the room. And, of course, she immediately decides to use this to her advantage. 

Tuning in to her parents’ and older relatives’ conversation with Maeve down the table, even their hushed voices are as crisp as if they’re sitting right next to her. 

“She has such potential,” Evalin is saying, “but no one in Terrasen is skilled enough to help her tame that explosive a power.”

Aelin has a sneaking suspicion they’re talking about her, and she subtly nudges Aedion, telling him he’d better start listening. 

She can hear the smile on Maeve’s perfect mouth as she replies smoothly, “Doranelle has many masters willing and happy to teach the young princess. Some of my own have already volunteered for the position.”

“We’d have to send Aedion with her,” Rhoe muses. 

“And Elide,” Aelin’s mother adds. 

“Who are among these volunteers?” Orlon asks.

“Two of my blood-sworn. Fenrys was the first,” Maeve takes a sip from her wine, “but I think the position better suits Prince Rowan.”

Aelin chokes on the water she’d been casually sipping, causing several heads to briefly snap in her direction. The tips of her pointed ears burning, she slowly sets down the chalice, ignoring her cousin chuckling beside her. 

“Your offer is generous,” Orlon says carefully, “I’m sure Aelin will be pleased to hear of it.”

“We will have to consider it,” Evalin adds tightly, like she’s worried about something. 

Though she dares not look, Aelin is sure her father has gripped his wife’s hand. She does, however, look up at Aedion. His turquoise eyes shimmer with a mix of apprehension and excitement, reflecting what she feels herself. To be allowed into Doranelle, trained by one of Maeve’s most powerful warriors… The idea feels like a fever dream. 

“This is the best thing for her, my love,” Rhoe murmurs soothingly. 

Aelin glances over to where Maeve’s blood-sworn sit together just to the side of the high table, only to see Rowan already looking at her. He has a small smile on his lips, like he, too, has been listening in. 

“I know.”

~*~*~

Face set in a wild grin, Aelin races through the woods after the white-haired prince a stone’s throw in front of her. 

She’s been on the eastern continent for almost four weeks now, and it’s better than she could have ever imagined. They’ve been staying in a fortress called Mistward, tucked in the forested foothills of the mountain separating Doranelle from the mortal lands. 

Rowan pushes her harder than anyone’s ever pushed her before. To him, she isn’t a princess, isn’t untouchable. 

And gods, it is refreshing . 

Already, she has more control over her wildfire than ever, able to keep bonfires lit without much thought at all. She knows how to make it all light and no heat, or hone her fire into a blade so hot the air around it wobbles. 

But by far, her favorite has to be these romps in the woods. When she meets Rowan in their usual clearing, he beckons her with a little smile before taking off into the trees, and she has little choice but to shift and chase . 

Last time, he led her to a meadow blooming with more wildflowers than Aelin could name. 

This time, as she breaks through the treeline, hardly out of breath, Aelin finds Rowan already perched on a large stone bordering a forest pool as clear and blue as her irises. 

“And here I was, thinking catching you would be challenging,” Aelin teases, trying not to gaze around with too much wonder. 

“Trust me,” Rowan says, slowly removing his belt and the impressive array of weapons he carried on his person at all times, “If I wanted to challenge you, I would.”

He peels off his shirt, and Aelin can’t help but admire the way his tattoo spills across his face, over his shoulder, and down his arm. Well, that and… a few other things. 

Kicking off his boots, Rowan slips into the water, moving to tread in the center of the pool, staring at Aelin as if daring her to follow. 

Smirking, Aelin strips until she’s left only in her underthings, not bothering to turn away, and taking immense satisfaction in watching the immortal fae warrior’s ear-tips dust with pink. 

She briefly debates running and jumping into the pool, but opts instead to slowly walk in until her feet can no longer reach the bottom. In fact, despite being able to perfectly see hers and Rowan’s bodies suspended in the water, Aelin cannot see the bottom. 

Aelin dips her head back to soak her long, golden hair, slicking it away from her face, and looks up again to see Rowan staring at her in a way that makes her skin feel warm. It’s not the same kind of look she’d seen in the eyes of oily foreign court officials, who gazed at her body and imagined all the things they could take from it. 

No, as she looks into his eyes, she can see him picturing all the things he’d lay down for her, the cities he’d raze, the armies he’d demolish. 

“You’re the most perfect creature I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs, eyes flicking back and forth between her own. 

Aelin subconsciously drifts closer until she can feel the water displaced by his swishing legs. That unbearable tension that’s existed between them since the day he arrived at Terrasen pulls taut again as she lifts a dripping hand to his face, fingertips brushing over his tattoo. 

“And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Aelin whispers in reply, eyes drifting to his lips a moment before his calloused fingers brush underneath her chin, and he pressed those lips against hers. 

The first thing that strikes her is how right this feels, and a thought tickles the back of her mind. A thought so delightful, she places both hands on the sides of Rowan’s face and pulls him closer to her, drifting back over to the rocky bank of the forest pool so he can press her against one of the large, sun-warmed boulders. 

The thought that this male is hers . Hers on a level no human connection can ever hope to reach. 

And there, back against the stone, Rowan’s body over hers as his pointed canines sink into the tender flesh where her neck meets her shoulder, Aelin feels the mating bond snap into place.

[asha-mage]

Siuan expected Lan to turn off at the second floor were her agent had said their room was. Instead he kept climbing, until she realized they had nowhere left to go but the attic. Approaching the door, Lan opened it slowly and peered inside, then drawing out waved Siuan through. The attic had not been cleared for an extra room. It was dusty and full of odds and ends- old chests and winter drapes hanging from rough carved racks. Moiraine rose from where she was seated on what looked to be a moth eaten padded bench and upon seeing Siuan exhaled with a breath that seemed held for months. For a moment Siuan drank in the sight of her. She looked ragged, with dark circles under her eyes and her traveling clothes worn and frayed, stained with what Siuan would have sworn was ash. And yet she was still beautiful. Her eyes where still bright and shinning with strength, the slope of her shoulders still carried the kind of confidence that belonged in throne rooms and palaces. Even exhausted she looked more like a Queen fresh from the battlefield, then a travel worn woman who had been on the run. “Siuan...I hoped it was you but I…” Moiraine began, but in the time it took her to speak Siuan had closed the distance between them and was winding her arms around Moiraine’s waist, pressing their mouths together. She had thought Moiraine was soft when they had first met- a pampered noble lady, barely a step bellow a Princess, blessed enough that if things had been different, and if she had wanted it, she could have had a throne. Then she had thought Moiriane was as strong and tough as a woman could be- tempered in the treachery and the fires of the Cairhien court, which made even the scheming of the Tearian nobles seem trite. Moiraine had seemed as beautiful and unbreakable as diamond. And then they had kissed for the first time and Siuan had discovered how two opposite things could be true, as that diamond armor turned incredibly, deliciously soft. For a moment after the kiss broke they stood their, foreheads pressed together, panting for breath, simply letting the ache of nearly two years apart be balmed by the other’s presence. Finally it was Siuan that broke the silence. “What is the threat, and how do we meet it?” She asked, touching Moiraine’s cheek.

Another snippet from the fic I'm working on.

[itstimetojellyfish]

Hi Jellyfish,

I just wanted to say I really liked the Argenti reader angst fic and I had brainworms because of it the entire day at work. I got an idea of how it follows up.

It goes like this: Boothill is not feeling well about the situation because Argenti played with readers feelings and betrayed them and he one hates betrayal ab two is scared that Argenti could grow tired of him aswell.

So he brings Argenti to go to reader to apologize.

When Argenti go's into their home he finds everything in disarray and the place covered in thorns, rose petals and ginko leaves and in the middle of all, reader who ia losing themselve to the mara (The rose petals are from the transformation aswell)

Yeah... that's as far as I got in my mind and I have been microwaving the idea in my head the entire day so I thought I'd share :>

Anyway do with that whatever you want and enjoy your day/night

Ahem . I LOVE THE GODDAMN PLOT YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND.

Roses and bullets with a bit of Ginko( Argenti x reader x Boothill)

Link to the first part : I’ll wait for you

It’s been well over a month since the incident with you , Boothill , and Argenti happened. However it’s not exactly an easy argument to forget and move on from .

Something was bothering him ever since he saw your face , all pretty , and yet crying fat droplets of pure anguish and pain because of what Argenti said .

He’s never like betrayal from day one , the IPC betrayed their title , so called “peace makers” when all they’ve done was destroy planets including his own .

Something in him worms around whenever he remembers what happened , and it doesn’t exactly sit right with him how watery those pretty shinning eyes of yours were .

( it makes his stomach crawl even though he doesn’t exactly have a real one)

It bothers him how Argenti didn’t even look guilty, only disappointed, when the water slipped from your tear ducts . You fell to your knees and curled in as Argenti guided him out , he could’ve swore your eyes started to glow a warm amber .

It was like a dam broke in you , when he walked out he cast one last look at you and even though he couldn’t cry , it felt like he would’ve right then and there when he saw you sobbing your heart out and clutching your chest.

After that , it was just… like before , Argenti courting him and bringing him to places that Boothill likes .

But…

He’s … scared…

Scared that Argenti will get bored of him or is playing with his feelings and will eventually leave him heartbroken and empty just like how you felt .

So …

Boothill does what he’s best at , confronting people and making them pay .

But , since this is his lover , the worst that he’ll do is just make him apologize to you for playing with your feelings .

He could’ve just rejected you so you could heal faster but no! He accepted the offer and now Boothill feels like crap for making the knight fall in love with him!

So now he forces Argenti to your house and then knocks on the door with one hand while the other has a firm grip on the knights arm so he won’t run away.

Argenti just sighs and looks away into the flower field , consisting of red roses and white roses that you planted for him, they’re usually well maintained .

However , he notices that the roses haven’t been pruned and plucked yet , did you really resent him that much?

It’s been a minute now , no one has responded.

So Boothill does what he does best , break into building by using his gun or brute force , he kicked the door down and then said “ Hey lady! I brought rosey here to apologize.”

He then realized what bad shape the house was in , rose petals all over the place , vases shattered, bright yellow ginko leaves everywhere.

Argenti entered ,” Y/N I’m sorry but-“ He stared at what had become of your home .

Next thing you know your bedroom door is forced open as Boothill and Argenti look in terror as they see what has become of you .

“The Mara-struck…”Boothill makes a poor attempt at cursing before giving up and starting to raise his gun but before he can , Argenti stops him.

Your arms are covered in black , cracked open with roses and ginko leaves , a feature of the love you lost , you now suffer.

You can’t be saved anymore , the one you loved betrayed you .

They saw you squirm in pain and then….

Silence . You’re dead now .

Argenti and Boothill ran over to your position and saw , you died in between the process.

You’re gone forever.

And it’s all because of them

[coreancitizen]

How did Jeong Tae Eul's ID end up with Lee Gon in the first place?

Tracking the journey between worlds and across time

There was a Twitter question about which show you'd like to watch again for the first time and I, of course, responded with "The King Eternal Monarch." I just remember how much fun it was trying to figure things out. A friend even had a virtual "murder board" for who's who LOL! In a reply to my tweet, someone asked: How did Jeong Tae Eul's ID end up with Lee Gon in the first place?

TKEM has one of those loop thingies with time travel so lemme just start with episode 1, with adult Lee Gon heading to the past, to the Night of the Treason. He gets into a shootout with Lee Lim's men, kills several, and after they escape, he goes to check on his younger version. As Gon feels the boy's pulse, Baby Gon lifts his hand. They hear an alert that the Royal Guards are coming so Gon stands up. Baby Gon catches the lanyard and pulls Tae Eul's ID card out of Gon's pocket.

In a flashback in episode 2, Baby Gon, now the king, asks Head Court Lady Noh if she has the two things he had with him on the Night of the Treason: half of the flute, which he suspected was in the riding whip she held, and the ID card. Head Court Lady Noh produces both.

And so that's how Lee Gon keeps Tae Eul's ID card with him in the kingdom for the next 25 years. In episode 1, we see Lee Gon has it inside a copy of "Alice in Wonderland," with the ID card right smack on top of the illustration of the White Rabbit. Symbolism much? LOL! The book, of course, is referenced a few times by both Lee Gon and Jeong Tae Eul.

One of the more interesting details of the time travel in TKEM is that at this precise moment (Sept. 10, 2019 at 7:45 p.m.), when Lee Gon is looking at Jeong Tae Eul's ID card while sitting in his private study in the Kingdom of Corea, the card doesn't actually exist YET in the Republic of Corea.

When Lee Gon decides to follow the White Rabbit, or rather the sound of the flute, into the other world and meets Jeong Tae Eul for the first time, she has an entirely different ID, one that shows her in her police uniform with her hair down.

This ID card is still with Tae Eul in episode 4 when she leaves the library (where she'd been researching parallel words, etc.). As she approaches her car, she finds her keys with the big-ass tchotchke in the form of a lion tangled with the lanyard of her ID. As she was separating the two, she is bumped by a boy on a bicycle, sending the ID card flying out of her hands and down a grate, straight to the sewer below.

BTW, the culprit on the bike is none other flute boy (fun fact: flute/yo-yo boy is actually played by a girl, Kim Bo Min).

Jeong Tae Eul gets her photo taken for a new ID card. She has her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and wears a cream sweater. The photographer advises her to put on something with a bit more contrast so her face doesn't stand out too much in the photo. Tae Eul opts for a navy jacket. And while she is not aware of her outfit's significance, we see the image Lee Gon has been staring at for 25 years.

Later, we see Tae Eul apply for a new ID card. Hilariously, she says the old one was "lost after a fierce scuffle with a suspect." She remembers Lee Gon telling her the ID card he has was issued on Nov. 11, 2019, and so she asks the civil service worker when the new one is going to be ready. Much to her relief, she's told about a week, in late October.

BUT Fate has other plans, of course. Kang Shin Jae tosses Tae Eul her ID. The agency apologized for accidentally leaving her out. Her ID was issued that day: Nov. 11, 2019. Lee Gon was right! Tae Eul is justifiably flustered. She gets even more flustered when she gets a phone call from Lee Gon.

She rushes home and finds Lee Gon standing in her yard, like a freaking statue. This is one of my favorite TKEM scenes ever but I'm gonna rush the summary here: Tae Eul asks Gon details about her new card, which he is able to answer correctly, proving he does have a version of her ID. He invites her to his world so she can see for herself. She accepts.

In the kingdom (episode 5), Jeong Tae Eul is asked by Head Court Lady Noh to put her belongings in a box as part of a security check. Lee Gon assures her it's something everyone does including court ladies and the prime minister. Tae Eul tosses in handcuffs, her wallet, the lion tchotchke, a Kahi multibalm stick lol and, of course, her newly reissued ID. She seeks assurance that she's gonna get all the stuff back, saying she'll be penalized if she loses her ID again. Head Court Lady Noh recognizes the ID.

Fast-forward to episode 6. Japanese warships are heading to Corean waters and Lee Gon has to send Jeong Tae Eul home earlier than planned. Lady Noh retrieves the box with Tae Eul's belongings — side-eyeing palace security here as the unlocked box is stored in a dresser in her room — and realizes the ID is missing. No way to check who took it as the CCTV was cut off in that area of the palace last night starting at 8 (because of JTE's unexpected arrival). Tae Eul ends up taking back the "old" version of her ID card.

So where did the newly re-issued ID card go? It shows up tucked inside a book in the bookstore of one of Lee Lim's minions with a note identifying it as "guestroom user." We later find out that Lee Lim's contact is no other than Kang Shin Jae's Corean mom, a court lady who has Lady Noh's trust.

In episode 11, Lee Lim captures Tae Eul's Corean doppelganger, Luna, and convinces her to switch places with our heroine by showing her the ID card and Tae Eul's family. Luna, who'd never known her parents, agrees. She's taken to republic with Tae Eul's ID and picks up Tae Eul's phone at a locker in a station. Her first order of business: Apply to take all of Tae Eul's 21-day vacation. Smart, LOL.

This is around the time Lee Lim's men kidnap Jeong Tae Eul and take her to the kingdom. Lee Lim plans to exchange her for Lee Gon's half of the flute. But she foils that plan by escaping and we get the famous "Protect her! She's the future queen!" battle cry from the king.

Jeong Tae Eul eventually returns to the republic with Lee Gon in episode 13. After introducing her boyfriend to her dad, she arranges to meet Gon after work. She gifts him with a black jacket, which he thinks looks a bit familiar. Later, as he's trying it on, the doorbell for his hotel room rings and he finds Tae Eul at the door bringing beer. It doesn't take him long to realize it's Luna he's with — she's got a look of anxiety that JTE doesn't have. He pulls Tae Eul's ID from Luna's coat pocket. As he's checking it out, he notices his image in the mirror and realization dawns, he looks exactly like the man who came to Cheonjongo on the Night of the Treason and saved Baby Gon. He saved himself!

Unfortunately, Luna had spiked the beer and Lee Gon goes down, ID card still in his hand at the beginning of episode 14. As Luna tries to search for the whip that contains the flute — she's not interested in taking his life — Jo Yeong arrives (he'd gone out to get drinks). She flees, minus the ID. The captain of the Royal Guard, with Tae Eul's help, takes him to a clinic owned by a friend of the medical examiner (Chief Park's wife). When Lee Gon comes to, he could hear the flute crying, just like he did when he was a boy on the Night of the Treason. It is the signal to go back. He enters the doors once again, ID card still in his pocket, as Lee Lim enters his, enabling them both to return to the past to try to fix things.

And we're back on the Night of the Treason. Lee Gon arrives at Cheonjongo and gets into a shootout with Lee Lim's men.

[deusvervewrites]

White court: so who are some notable members of the court. Nemoto,ippan,and nezu are already mentioned. Hojo , tabe,and setsuno could be possible members. Potentially toga or twice. For sure spinner and maybe shoji

The White Court's whole thing is covert operations, so most of their members are in some way undercover. This ranges from members like Nemoto infiltrating the Eight Precepts yakuza to several Pro Heroes.

The members I've decided on are:

Inko and Izuku, of course

Nedzu

Ippan Josei

Nemoto Shin

Iguchi Shuichi

Hagakure

Kuroiro

Hado

Mt. Lady

Mandalay

Uwabami

Bubble Girl

O' Clock (Never lost his Quirk because AFO died)

They would also have members inside of the police force and various political institutions. However, we see very few named characters meeting those descriptions, so I did not include them in the list. Furthermore, the MLA has been around and recruiting long enough that they would have agents there as well.

In addition to their active members, they also have a few associates.

Eri (Rescued by Nemoto)

Himiko (Rescued by the Court but not currently an active member)

La Brava and Gentle Criminal (Anonymously tipping them off to targets they want hit)

[feederheart]

CW: extreme humiliation, bdsm, and weight gain.

Death of Dignity: PART 2

From then on, whenever I would escort The Queen around the palace, she would be as jovial as ever as if the collar on her neck was the finest piece of jewelry mankind had ever seen. It was as if she thought that the stares she got were from those envious of her beauty and the collar’s enormous worth. I would sometimes give the leash a tug if she looked too happy but it didn’t seem to bother her; she rather enjoyed it. Sometimes when I had her chained at the bottom of my throne, she would grind against my shin in front of the entire court. She even began wearing a much shorter sarong that barely covered her at all, only her vagina and about a small part of her massive ass. And the cherry on top was that she was ballooning at an incredible rate.

Soon enough she began to develop love handles and rolls on her sides. Her thighs rubbed together as she walked, meaning the servants had to lotion them every day. Her belly began to hang over her waist and develop stretch marks. Her breasts grew larger, reaching further down her massive gut; she was always topless so everyone could get a view. Everything from her face to her feet began to pile on the fat. Her ass was getting huge as well, taking up more space than the two servants feeding her put together. Her meals became larger and larger over time, causing her to pack on even more pounds. Soon enough she was eating enough for a family of ten with ease. 

One day, a little over a year after the coup, I was sitting on my throne with The Queen at my feet eating from a large bowl of fruit when a loyalist woman evaded the guards and threw herself before The Queen begging her to stop eating and take back what was rightfully hers.

“Are you kidding?” she dismissed coldly. “Why would I ever do that?”

“M-m-my Quee-”

“As The Queen, I have all of the food I can eat and I don’t have to lift a finger ever again,” she answered. “So why should I care about my weight? Why shouldn’t I eat whatever I want?”

“Y-your lineage!” she pleaded. “You are supposed to rule over us and lead us to a golden future! Your bloodline was chosen by the gods!”

“Sorry, but, the gods are fake,” she scoffed rudely with the ice-cold cruelty of a father snapping at an unwanted child. “The pantheon of the true gods is the official pantheon of The Kingdom. Anyone caught worshiping the false gods will have their harvest confiscated by me to eat.”

Nobody could believe their ears, especially not me; I would have never thought that those words would come out of her mouth. I was speechless, shocked, and slightly turned on for some reason.

As the poor woman, also stunned in disbelief was dragged away, the rest of the court murmured to themselves as if they needed each other's advice on how to process The Queen's words. It was clear that those who leaned loyalist were disgusted by her and had lost what little bit of hope they had for the old regime. My brethren amongst the court officials could hardly contain their laughter. Regardless of who supported what, the respect for The Queen was now dwindling to zero. In my stupor, I thought I saw her hips rocking as if she was getting off to this.

That ridiculous idea was enough to snap me out of it.

“SHUT UP!” I snapped. “ALL OF YOU, QUIET. THROW HER OUT OF MY SIGHT.”

The guards escorted the lady out and silence was restored.

After that incident, the loyalist spirit had been extinguished as rumors of what had become of The Queen spread. I made a point of walking her around the city on her leash, sometimes on all fours. I’d let people watch as I made her beg for more food in front of them and let her gorge like a pig. Dinners with foreign powers would always start awkwardly as The Queen greedily gorged herself at the dinner table as soon as the food was put in front of us; I even had to yank the collar a few times because I thought she risked choking if she didn’t slow down. I would always swoop in and save the meetings, reminding them that I hold the reigns, not her, and that she was just a fat lazy pig disinterested in ruling. She continued to eat and humiliate herself while maintaining her toplofty persona of a queen, seemingly oblivious to how sloppy she looked.

Most importantly, she enacted every reform I wanted and signed every decree I wrote for her. That was until one day, she decreed that we would be getting married and I would rise to the throne. I was so infuriated that I dragged her leash before she could get on her feet all of the way into my bedroom.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I demanded.

“Aside from sealing the deal and making you the father of a new dynasty?” she replied sarcastically; she seemed completely unfazed by the dragging.

“You don’t decree anything unless I tell you,” I snarled. “Everyone already knows I hold the chains.”

“Well I had to do something,” she said in defence of herself. “My time as this kingdom’s ruler, even if it was in name only, is over. I’m too tired of even the formalities.”

“You don’t get to be tired, you don’t have any free will,” I reminded her pointing my finger in her face. “You’re my puppet and I need you to dance for the loyalists.”

“Do you think they still want me on the throne?” she asked me incredulously; she stood up and began to step toward me, once again swaying her wide hips and massive ass seductively. “To them, I’m nothing more than a fat, hedonistic, pig whore content to be reduced to a pet as long as she gets to eat. My belly hangs when I walk, my legs now jiggle with every step, I’m getting winded from walking across more than one room, none of the clothing will fit me, you’ve refused to get me any that fit, and all of it is constantly on display for the entire kingdom to see. And I’m LOVING every second of it.”

“What?” I responded, baffled by her claim of loving my humiliation. “Love it?”

“Yes,” she crooned as she stood face-to-face with me. “And I think you love it too.”

I couldn’t tell if it was anger or simply blushing, but my face suddenly grew hot. As she stepped even closer and tried to grab my crotch, I stepped away, unwilling to fall for the ploy.

“You love this?” I asked dishonestly. “How about I double your meals again? I bet you would love that too.”

“How about you triple it and feed it to me yourself?” she cajoled seductively, licking her lips and rubbing her belly with both hands.

For a moment, I found myself choking on my words; I was speechless. I opted to stay silent, leave the room, and lock her inside. I hurriedly made my way to the kitchens to give her what she wanted since she “loved” it so much. Could this nonchalance, laziness, greed, and general lack of care about anything be genuine? Is she just slowly turning into a caricature of the fat, greedy pigs that we took this kingdom from? 

I demanded the chefs prepare triple the food this time. Meats, bread, butter, fish, cream, ale, vegetables, fruit pies, cakes, and an entire bottle of the appetite enhancement potion brewed by the palace alchemist made their way into the lounge. I waited patiently for them to finish and I grabbed the food and brought it to The Queen.

“You have until sunrise before you get thrown in the dungeon if you don’t eat all of it,” I threatened.

“Oh no,” she said, unimpressed by my threat. “Maybe you should chain me up too and make the loyalists watch me stuff myself like the fat greedy hog I am.”

I opened my mouth to say something, however, she ignored me and began tearing into her meal like a starving dog, hardly chewing at all. She would stuff her fat face hand over hand finishing plate after plate. She would wash everything down with cream and butter before rubbing and patting her taut tummy.

“You really are a fat greedy hog, aren't you?” I asked her, impressed by her commitment.

She beamed at me and opened her mouth to answer, but I didn't let her. I grabbed her leash and yanked her off her seat and onto the floor. I then dropped one of the pies onto the ground in front of her face.

“If you’re a hog, then eat like one,” I demanded.

“Your wish is my command,” she said and she got to work, eating the pie while leashed on her hands and knees.

I watched with shock and awe as she went at it, gobbling every last bite and making a colossal mess on her face in the process. Bright red fruit preserves covered her cheeks and nose; it didn’t seem to bother the greedy hog, she didn’t seem to notice what a mess she was making at all.

The hours progressed and The Queen ate more and more, on pace to eat every last bite with time to spare. She gorged away, gulping down ale, tearing apart the meat, swallowing all of the calorie-rich grain, and licking the frosting off of the serving trays before finally moving on to the next thing. 

I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I had never seen anyone completely give themselves to hedonism like this. She genuinely did not have a single ounce of shame. It was mesmerizing and somewhat arousing too; perhaps it is arousing because I used to hate her so much and now I can see that she had been reduced to a fat and lazy hog sitting at my feet. 

Speaking of arousing, she seemed to be getting off to her own humiliation. I could see the inside of her soft, juicy thighs darkened by excess rubbing and she was dripping wet. After seeing that, there was no going back. If there were any argument in my brain between my libido and my seething hatred for her and her family, it didn’t last long. I needed to fuck this fat hog and make her my whore.

“Get up,” I snapped. “Stop eating and get up.”

“But I’m not finished,” she whined.

“I SAID GET UP!” I shouted and I yanked her leash upward until she was standing.

I dragged her to the palace lounge with the balcony that provided an amazing view of the entire capital. I grabbed her and pushed her against the railing as I removed my tunic and trousers.

“Oh god yes,” she gasped as she realized what was coming. “Do you think they can all see me about to get railed?”

“You’re a fucking whore,” I whispered in her ear playfully.

“I’m your whore, My King,” she moaned as I slipped inside her.

Hearing “My King” drove me wild and I laid into her, pounding her massive ass with such a ruckus that I could see people down below looking around in search of the noise. The Queen released a deep and echoing moan loud enough to draw their eyes up to where we were. Some pointed, others watched with their jaws dropped, and some were offended by what they saw and walked a little faster. 

“OOOH CHOKE ME WITH THE LEASH!” she moaned loud enough for everyone to hear.

I happily obliged, sliding in and out of her sopping wet pussy and sending waves of jiggling fat moving across her body with each thrust. My eyes wandered upward and my focus slipped into admiring The Kingdom’s distant horizon; everything from here to there was being rebuilt into something far superior to The Kingdom of yesteryear. The fat, sloppy whore I was currently fucking was a part of that kingdom and I am standing in the palace that her father used to rule; if only he could see what’s become of The Kingdom and what his daughter has turned into. I’ve never felt more victorious than in this moment, nor have I ever been as rock hard; it felt like the skin on my dick was stretching beyond its limits.

“I’ve waited so long for this, My King,” moaned The Queen. “Do you like your kingdom, My King? Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I do like it,” I grunted as I continued to fuck her. “The Kingdom has never been more prosperous. Overthrowing their greedy pig of a queen and humiliating her was the best thing to ever happen here.”

“Oooooh, yeees, My King,” she moaned as I mocked her mercilessly. “I want you to take everything.”

“Look at how embarrassed they are down there,” I teased as I pointed at the onlookers below. “You’re not a queen, you’re a fat, flabby fucktoy and I’m going to parade you wherever I please and do whatever I want to you.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she repeated, half sobbing and half moaning.

Suddenly I felt myself grow hot with anger as I remembered how much I despised her and her family. I began to thrust and pull the leash harder, hatefucking her with all of the strength I could muster. Her moans grew louder until they became ear-piercing screams of either pain or pleasure (I did not care which). Her soft, supple skin on her ass grew bright red as I smacked her as hard as I could.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING A GREEDY PIG WHILE WE STARVED!” I bellowed as I continued to spank her ass.

Her screams grew louder and her pussy seemed to somehow get even wetter; I was gliding in and out of her effortlessly, pounding her jiggling flesh as if it stole from me. She kept trying to say something but I had no idea what it was, she was completely unable to form a coherent word. Her mouth hung open stupidly as I had my way with her pillowy pussy. I tugged on her leash as hard as I could, trying my hardest to cut off her airways. Her screams of pain or pleasure turned to choking and sputtering as she tried to breathe but that made me pull harder. I grabbed both of her fat hands with my available hand; her fat fingers were unable to break free of my grip for it was the same hand that held my sword in battle. 

“You like that you hedonistic whore?” I snarled as I kept pounding as if I were trying to shatter her pelvis. “You like this view? This view of The Kingdom that you let slip right into my hands? If it weren’t for your stupidity, you would still be a dignified princess of a kingdom built over the bony corpses of those you rule over. Now you’re a fat greedy hog getting rammed from behind in front of your people. You sold off everything including your dignity for copious amounts of food and to become a chained-bound concubine.”

The Queen seemed to be choking in agreement, trying desperately to say “Yes, My King” despite the pressure of the leash.

I watched as more people gathered to see The Queen getting fucked violently over the palace balcony. Some still thoroughly enjoyed her making an embarrassment of herself; they showed no signs of being fatigued by her constant stream of ignominious behavior. Others just shook their heads, looked away, or even cried in second-hand embarrassment.

“You’re nothing now,” I taunted. “You were always a puppet for me to dominate and control but your loyalists were devoted. Their resolve was as solid as that of the true gods but nonetheless, you managed to convince even them that you were a stupid, fat hog who only cared for her own pleasure. You say you always wanted to help and make The Kingdom a better land but you failed until I came along. I need to do everything for you, don’t I?”

The Queen choked in agreement; I could feel her pussy tighten and leak like a burst aqueduct.

“YOU BETTER BE HAPPY NOW YOU FAT WHORE!” I shouted, now tapping into every last bit of strength I had to violently pulverize her pelvis. “I SAVED EVERYONE FROM YOU AND NOW YOU HAVE TO REPENT!”

“Take- me-” she grunted, still choking on the leash. “I’m- yours-. Please- take me-.”

I released every last bit of rage I had from every sacrifice I made to throw my life away and do what needed to be done. I ignored every metaphorical callous on my hand from my climb to power and fucked her as hard as I could. I could feel myself ready to release my load into her undeserving cunt; I didn’t want to disgrace myself by letting that happen, but for some reason, I struggled to pull myself away. Instead, I opted to stake my claim inside of The Queen. I pounded her as hard as I could as I felt my dick erupt like a volcano, filling The Queen with my seed. I thrust into her soft behind a few more times before finally stopping. After I let go, The Queen collapsed on the ground covered in sweat, cum, drool, and food from her earlier feast.

“I bet you liked every second of that,” I taunted her.

The Queen did not respond; she remained on the ground, shivering. Strangely enough, I felt as if I had orgasmed all of my hate for her inside of that pillowy pussy. I used to be able to stave off any feeling of sympathy or pity as I force-fed her by remembering the crimes of her despotic family, but now, it was as if my reserves of hatred had been emptied. I just couldn’t hate such a soft, pathetic creature, how could I be so cruel?

“My Queen?” I called out, concerned for her well-being for the first time ever.

Suddenly, she began to move again. She began to whimper in pain as she slowly got up to her hands and knees. She crawled over to my feet and without saying anything, began to lick the drops of cum on my feet that fell when I came inside of her. She then used her tongue to clean the stone floor of the balcony, seemingly desperate to find more cum to lick up.

Thus ended any ounce of animosity I had toward her. How could I hate such a weak, pathetic fat pig anyway?

After that, I dragged her back into the lounge so that I could force-feed her the rest of the food. I was ready to cram it all down her throat but for the first time ever, decided to show mercy.

“How about I get My Queen cleaned up and take you to my bed?” I offered her.

“I’d love that so much, My King,” she answered cheerfully.

So I helped her get bathed, I escorted her to my room, and the two of us slept together in the same bed for the first time, her soft, jiggling body wrapped around mine.

Soon enough, news of our upcoming wedding spread. The people were just finally happy to have a real monarch, having given up on her bloodline the way it was. The Queen continued to get fatter, lazier, and even more despised but eventually the decline in her approval plateaued; it eventually became common knowledge that The Queen was a useless greedy fat whore and that the entire kingdom should be grateful for the new king and everything he did for them to ensure their future.

Our wedding was a spectacular affair and celebration, but unlike other weddings that celebrate new friendships between families or the union of two lovers, this wedding celebrated the solidifying of my dominance over the royal family. The Queen did not even get to wear a dress, but rather her leash, some fine jewelry, makeup, and metal cuffs on her wrists and ankles. I forced her to be walked on all fours on a leash to the temple of the true gods to have our wedding consummated and she obliged happily.

Any idea of returning to the old family was now lost. The fear that her family’s name struck into the hearts of mankind had disappeared, never to return again. Their memory faded and my legacy grew, just as her fat, greedy body did with every feeding.

And now, here I was in the modern day; experiencing a golden age never seen before and a gorgeous, fat queen to share it with.

I pushed open the door of the lounge and made eye contact with an armored guard standing just outside.

“Go down to the kitchen and have them send up another round,” I ordered.

“As you wish, Brother,” he answered.

I closed the door and turned around, taking in the size of my gargantuan hog of a wife, slowly losing her mobility. I walked up to her and waved away the servants rubbing her down, feeling rather sadistic. I poked her real hard right in her tight, taut belly and she squealed like a pathetic pig. I poked her again and again watching her fat body struggle as she was to fat and weak to do anything about it. I then checked between her thighs and lo and behold, he was leaking like she usually does when I do that.

“You four, get out,” I demanded.

The servants immediately ran to the door and left.

I licked my lips and removed my clothes as I mounted my mountain of a wife. I reached down and pulled her massive legs apart, revealing where her pussy was buried in fat. I lifted up her gargantuan belly to get access to that fat pussy and slowly entered inside her. It was like laying atop a bed made of bread dough and sticking my dick inside. I only felt mounds of soft jiggling fat spilling everywhere as I thrust into her pathetic hole. I could hardly tell what was her thigh, her belly, her back, her arms, or anything for that matter. The Queen moaned and whimpered as I fucked her pathetic, ocean-like body that moved like tidal waves when I thrust.

Her soft, sexy body was too much for me and I found myself ready to cum inside of her again. I released my load and painted her insides white, much to her ecstatic pleasure. I stepped back and admired my corpulent cum-soaked queen who helped me get this kingdom. I remembered everything she did by throwing away her dignity, but more importantly, I remember how happy she was to do it and how much she enjoyed watching her reputation dissolve. Being a fat laughingstock not only aroused her, but it was what I needed to get The Kingdom to this point. She truly was the greatest Queen that I could ask to rule beside.

“My King, I’m hungry,” she whined.

“I know, My Queen,” I cooed, rubbing her enormous, shiny belly. “They’ll be back soon.”

[supernovasilence]

wrote in that Narnian accent post that the Pevensies would be using the equivalent of 1820s slang when they come back in PC, and got distracted looking up period slang. I found this article (12 Lost American Slangisms From The 1800s) and honestly I think we should bring some of these back. let's all start saying we're going to "wake snakes" (do a mischief) again

full list for your perusal:

Too high for his nut — beyond someone's reach. "That clay-bank hog wants the same pay as a Senator; he's getting too high for his nut," according to a grammar-corrected version of the Oakland, Calif., Tribune on Jan. 12, 1885.

Bottom fact — an undisputed fact. "Notwithstanding all the calculations of the political economists, the great bottom fact is that one man's honest, steady work, rightly applied, especially if aided by machinery and improved modes of conveyance and distribution, suffices to supply the actual needs of a dozen burdensome loafers," according to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle of Jan. 31, 1871.

To be Chicagoed — to be beaten soundly, as in a baseball shutout. "Political corruption ... if the clergy only keep to that topic, Lincoln will be Chicagoed!" from the Plymouth, Ind., Weekly Democrat of June 7, 1860.

See the elephant — to see all the sights of a town, especially the edgier aspects. "A young Sioux Indian from Haskell Institute ... said he was going to Chicago to hunt buffalo. He was told there was no game of that kind there, but that if he wanted to see the elephant he was on the right track," the Lawrence, Kan., Daily Journal reported on Sept. 2, 1891. Also sometimes used by members of the military to describe going to war.

How came you so — inebriated. Describing an illustration, a reporter in the Gettysburg, Pa., People's Press of May 22, 1835, wrote: "A gentleman a little 'how came you so' with his hat on the back of his head, is staggering about in the presence of Miss Fanny, who appears to be quite shocked."

Lally-cooler -- a real success. "That north show window of Shute & Haskell's is a 'lally-cooler,' " the Jan. 4, 1890, Salina, Kan., Republican noted.

Shinning around -- moving about quickly. "It is shinning around corners to avoid meeting creditors that is sapping the energies of this generation," opined the Dallas, Texas, Daily Herald on Oct. 31, 1877.

Shoddyocracy — people who get rich selling shoddy merchandise or services. "A lady of the shoddyocracy of Des Moines found, on returning from a walk, some call cards on her table," observed the Harrisburg, Pa., Telegraph of June 30, 1870.

Some pumpkins -- a big deal. "If there was any kind of trading," noted the Grant County Herald in Wisconsin on July 17, 1847, "in which Simon B. ... flattered himself he was decidedly 'some pumpkins,' it was a horse-trade."

Like Thompson's colt -- doing something unnecessarily, like jumping a fence when the rails have been removed. "Thompson's colt," a reporter in the Saint Paul, Minn., Globe of Nov. 20, 1882, wrote, "was such an infernal idiot, that he swam across the river to get a drink."

Tell a thumper -- construct a clever lie. "When anyone told a thumper more palpably outrageous than usual, it was sufficiently understood ..." Reminiscences of the Turf by William Day, 1891.

Wake snakes — get into mischief. "So I went on a regular wake snakes sort of a spree, and I went here and there turnin', twistin' and doublin' about until I didn't know where or who I was," a man testified in court as to why he was intoxicated, according to the New Orleans, La., Times Picayune of Aug. 15, 1842.

[hollowember]

Shadows and flame prt. 2// Azriel x female Vanserra OC

The follow on from the part 1 fluff/ come down.. etc etc.

This is probably poorly written and unproofed smut with a long lead up, some Vanserra family content and tension. Also muucchhh longer than prt 1.

---

The grand ball room was decorated in golds, reds, dark greens and browns, typical for the Autumn Court style. But the entire hall was lit by candle light and places were set for a grand court dinner. It was the lead up to Candlemas, a marker of hope in the winter months, from a time before the Courts were established and darkness ruled the winter. The hall was beautiful, despite being filled with Autumn Courtiers, lords and ladies who either adored her father or tolerated him out of fear him or love for their position.

She had never gotten used to being displayed on the dais, along with her brothers, father and mother, they all dined on the dais. The feast on their table was decorated far more extravagantly than the tables below, but eyes rested not on the food but the family of the Autumn Court. 

She was always positioned towards her fathers end of the table, not next to him, never, but always too close to hide. Her mother sat to Beron's left, also displayed but always under his grasp. The chair to her fathers right side was usually reserved for Eris, the Autumn Courts unofficial heir, but it seemed today a lesser lord had taken her father's interest, her brother sat seething between herself and their mother. 

To be honest she was grateful he'd taken the seat usually reserved for the second eldest of their siblings, an awful brute who was more interested in the court ladies and servants than keeping his food in his mouth.

Despite Eris' harshness, she got on better with him over any of her other siblings, besides, it was far more entertaining watching Eris try to regain their father's favour. Each time the lord spoke, Eris would interject with a snarky comment or a smooth counter argument, he was itching to have their fathers ear again. She studied her brothers tight jaw and barely narrowed eyes, hidden well with a relaxed posture and a delicate hand on his wine glass. Briar wondered what was riding on this for him, what the sneaky fox had planned or hidden. 

Only after Briar had counted the courtiers twice over, and had made note of who was there, did she realise her brother had taking to more quiet seething. 

She side glanced Eris, "Maybe he's a better conversationalist." Briar said around her food.

Eris was quite for a beat, inspecting her. "What?" he said flatly.

"Father's new best-friend, better conversationalist than you. More interesting, no doubt."

Eris narrowed his eyes, his wine glass hadn't left his hand most of the night. "Maybe he's got a nasty son that father can sell you off to. Finally get rid of you."

Briar scoffed, hiding how hard those words hit, "Have I wounded you little fox? Is that why you bite?"

Eris kept quiet, drinking deep. She hoped the booze would dull his senses to the new presence in the Forest House. A shadow that made her skin prickle. 

Eris's words were more true than she'd like to admit. Her father was holding out for the best offer, his only daughter wouldn't be given to anyone, they had to have money, influence, land, all of which Beron wasn't able to just take for himself anyway. She was likely to be sold to a neighbouring Court, or maybe even to some Lord on the continent. Briar looked out at the Courtiers, there were many in the hall who would like the power of a Vanserra alliance. Families ran strong in the Autumn Court, the patriarchal family system was all they'd known, and fathers had a nasty habit of surviving in their court.

A featherlight touch brushed against Briar's shin, if she hadn't of known better she would've said it was simply a shadow hound looking for someone to beg food from.

"How long before we're dismissed?" Briar grumbled, anxiety gnawed at her stomach, to her knowledge Azriel had never come this close, not himself anyway.

"We're here to entertain, sister, you know that." Eris grumbles, "Nothing more than painted whores."

Eris gestures to a cupbearer, she fills his cup but before she slinks away Eris catches the cupbearers arm. He chugs the wine cleanly before holding his cup for her to fill again, then gently releases her. The cupbearer disappears in a blink.

Poor female was terrified, the Vanserra name tarnished with underhanded brutality. Briar had learnt to be sharp but not yet cruel. Maybe that would come, maybe the affect their father had had on her brothers would soon engulf her too. Maybe she would become cruel, maybe that was the only way to survive, to shut out everything else. She'd somewhat mastered the mask, uncaring and cold. It was hard to keep it from seeping in to her actual emotions. To stay warm and caring. To say there were some things that she still cared about.

Briar held out her glass to the cupbearer then tipped it towards Eris. "If we're here to entertain, might as well enjoy it."

A smirk pulled at her brothers serpentine lips, his brows low on his ember warm eyes, and he clinked his glass with hers.

The lights and the music slowly came to life, finally the party was interesting. She still laughed at Eris' attempts to gain space in their father's conversation, only his approach became more brutal, dry, and clipped. Her laughter became louder and more open.

"What loud children you have Beron." Lord Farley rose his voice, making sure it wasn't only the head table that could hear but the tables below the dais probably could make out the noise he made.

He caught the attention of her siblings, all the way to the end of the table, some leaned in to listen, others sneered, eyes rolled but unrest settled over the table. She knew her siblings were all carefully aware of their father's gaze, movements, words when he said:

"Some more than others."

Eris with some great deal of arrogance stared right at their father, head titled back slightly to rest against the chair.

"I had hoped to make a proposal with your family soon," Briar's blood turned to ice, a shiver danced across her skin, she forced herself to remain still, to not swallow a gulp, "Now I'm not so sure."

"Oh good, we'll be spared from the Autumn troops leftovers." Eris scoffed. It didn't quite get a rise out of Farley, his jaw clenched but he kept his gaze on Beron, Eris bit down harder. "Poor girl has had more cock than there are leaves on Autumn's floor." The male went red, that didn't stop Eris who leaned it with a bite in his laugh, "Why do you think the training grounds are so close to your lands?"

"Enough, boy!" Farley had a fat finger pointed at Eris, his breath heaving through the holes in his plump face. "I'll not have you speak about my daughter in such away."

Briar's lip twitched, it was remarkable how someone could change colours in such a way. She felt the silence across the table. For once her awful brothers had fallen silent, watching.

Beron stayed quiet, waiting.

A test, it was always a test. Eris was unnamed heir to Autumn, perhaps he always would be; it didn't stop the need to prove himself anyway.

Eris hummed, "Maybe we'll move the base, the men are bored. Thimley has need of more troops in the south. Your daughter and niece will make good entertainment for them on the journey down there I suppose." Her brother shrugged and took another deep drink. "Or perhaps your brother is more capable of handling your lands, surely better at keeping his tongue."

Eris sat back in his seat, waiting for something more from the fat lord. Farley stared a Beron incredulously, Briar wished she'd heard what outlandish nonsense he would have spewed next had an awful sound not erupted from his mouth. A choked scream came from Farley, who opened his mouth to show a severely blistered tongued.

He whined some injured noises looking between Eris and Beron frantically.

Beron frowned at him, with a hint of confusion, "Clearly you've been dismissed." He sneered, looking at Farley dripping sweat.

The male left grumbling and whining, nearly falling off the dais. Beron's gaze remained on Eris, completely unreadable before he scoffed, "Was a chair really worth the drama, boy?"

Eris didn't look like a victor, his face stayed impassive, "Yes, father."

---

Briar's evening, after enough wine to fill a bath, was wonderful. She managed to slip off the dais for a moment to dance, remembering to put a show on for the Courtiers, but she had danced alone. Not gripped in the arms of some lords son.

She's sure her father would have some creative punishment for having embarrassed him waiting for her tomorrow, but right now she didn't care. No, Briar couldn't find an ounce of remorse as she stumbled down the halls, a guard following to make sure she didn't end up spending the night in a corridor instead of her rooms.

The guards were all spies for her father. She liked to think her charm had won over a few, but the threat of her fathers wrath was probably more convincing to them. Like Ronen, the guard walking her back now, he was often posted to her rooms or to shadow her movements on hunts. She had no doubt her father had his claws deep in him and he'd give up any information on her at his command. That was a fraction of the reason why, when they reached her rooms, she paused at the door, leaning back against it letting a deep silence rest between them.

She studied his face, sharp pointed features of a thoroughbred High Fae family, a typical choice of her father, the lesser fae stayed away from The House. She wondered what made him significant in her fathers eyes, why he was chosen, entrusted, to keep her from wandering the halls drunk as a clurichaun.

She had to fight for his eye contact, watching his face, his jaw tight, shoulders set and eyes firmly on the door behind her. A game of patience, Briar wasn't afraid to remain in silence, wait out her foes. It took more than a minute before his stare broke, and his eyes flicked to her then back to the door.

"Ronen." Just above a whisper but he tensed, her head tilted.

Ronen cleared his throat, "Lady Vanserra."

He was handsome in a conventional manner, strong jaw, sandy blond hair, solid shoulders, and a decent reputation, not yet blooded but he was young, a fresh recruit to replace those lost in the war. "Care for a drink?" She asked in a sweet, gentle voice.

The guard flushed, "I don't think you should drink anymore, my lady."

Briar raised an eyebrow, pushing off the door keeping her hands clasped behind her back. "Is that your opinion, Ronen?" She challenged moving closer to him, still untouching but his stance opened up to her ever so slightly. She went close enough that she had to tilt her chin slightly to meet his eyes, and watch blood seep into his cheeks.

Usually the guard would dip his head, apologise and keep his stare fixed on anything else. Her father wanted it that way, the guards to be afraid to even look at her or her mother, his looming presence always there.

That's what Briar expected, for the young male to get flustered, but much to her surprise Ronen looked at her openly, maybe for the first time in her life had a guard looked at her like that. A smirk danced on her lips as she backed against the wall next to her door, more to steady her swaying than to put distance between them. The alcohol in her blood put fuel to the fire, her skin burning.

Briar kept her eyes on her guard. Her dress was simple with its fastenings, she hated being dressed by servants so she had the seamstresses make gowns she could manage herself. She found the knot holding her skirts to her waist, and Ronen watched the movement but stayed cemented in place. Beron would kill him, if he found out. She pulled at the knot, Ronen's eyes snapping to hers when the skirts dropped. She was still covered, an under skirt, bodice, corset, some fabric, but this was more than any guard had seen. Especially one working for her father.

The bodice was buttoned up the back, but her magic wove in and out, unfastening each button until the bodice slipped down between them. She kept quiet, kept her eyes on him, not dropping their eye contact to see if he'd meet her challenge, play her game. 

Ronen moved then, slow calculated steps, kicking the fabric on the floor aside.

They'd never been so close, she could see the dimples in his skin, his leafy green eyes that reminded her of the Spring Courts flora, and his hard set brows that had finally relaxed as he looked her over.

He leaned in closer still untouching but finally looking her at her without apprehension. His gaze travelled over her as he leant to her side, chest brushing her arm, before he opened the door to her rooms.

"I'll take a drink." He said lowly. Briar cracked the door she kept her magic hidden behind, letting it seep out the cracks, exposing it like a nerve in a wound, feeling what he felt, seeing her through his eyes. Lust, anxiety, desire, fear. She leant in closer, brushing her nose up the column of his neck, just under his neck, up to his ear as he braced a hand above her head. She could hear the whispers of his thoughts, all of them eager to hide their actions in the confines of her rooms. 

Briar bit the lobe of his ear as she felt the male breathe in her scent, "Kiss me here." She challenged, pulling back to rest her head against the wall, watching the cogs turn in his mind, feeling his confusion wash over her skin. 

Ronen didn't move, his expression grew confused, he threw a look over his shoulder to the empty corridor beyond then flicked his gaze between her and the door. 

He made no move to kiss her, no move to touch her. Briar hummed, with a snap of her fingers the fabrics on the floor disappeared into a fold in reality. She dipped under his arm and disappeared into her rooms without him. 

Briar locked the door behind her, Ronen had disappeared the moment she had, almost running from her rooms like a frightened boy. 

She didn't have a heart beat to sigh before she drew her dagger and swung. The blow was blocked, her arm met with a sturdier one. She dropped her dagger catching it in her other hand and angling up towards the males chest. He dodged, then grabbed her arm, twisting the dagger from her grasp and slamming her hard against the wall, her other arm pinned to her side. 

The Shadowsinger's hazel eyes met hers, and in a beat of stillness, their breaths were the only sound. 

Briar sent flames skittering towards him. The Shadowsinger flinched, his shadows retreating, the grasp on Briar's arms dropped. 

He backed away one step, with shadows shrouded around him, Briar found his face impossible to read. But her powers remained loose, hearing the whisper of his shadows, feeling the heat of his desire and excitement, a bubble of anticipation ready to pop in his chest. 

She took a step forward and another until she was, almost, chest to chest with the Illyrian. She pushed him back further with another whisper of flame, again and again, until his thighs hit the bed, his wings flaring to steady himself. 

Briar pushed again, Azriel laid himself back on the mattress, hazel eyes still deathly focused on hers. 

She climbed the bed straddling his thighs, his wings splayed enough so her knees didn't crush the fragile skin, unfastening the laces of his pants. She could feel his arousal beneath the fabric, but she didn't waste time teasing, moving her fingers around him the way she knew he liked. Briar simply freed him enough to gain access, moved her remaining skirts out the way and sank down with a sigh. A deep groan came from the male beneath her and she shuddered at the sound closing her eyes to truly concentrate on feeling him deep within her. 

She started to move, riding back and forth in a way that felt best for her, leaning back to feel him right against that spot. Briar didn't worry about putting on a show, not what her face, hair or breasts looked like, or the sounds she made. Scarred hands gripped her hips, holding the fabric free of their movements, Azriel licked his lips in a way that made Briar think he was about to speak. 

Taking his hands from her hips, Briar pinned them to the bed, leaning in close enough to brush her lips to his. He chased her lips up, attempting to catch them in a kiss, instead she whispered, "Not a word." Softly holding his chin in place to keep his gaze fixed on her. Nodding, Azriel relaxed beneath her, running one hand down her calf, but not holding, not commanding. 

Briar bit back a smile, enjoying the way Azriel shook with restraint as she ran her hands down his neck and chest to his wings. Dancing her fingers over the smooth membrane and hard ridges of muscle and bone. Pleasure sparked through her blood as his body tightened beneath her, a tight growl ripping from his throat as he threw his head back against the sheets and curled his hands into fists, keeping himself from holding her to him and having his own way with her. 

She resumed a growingly relentless pace, leaning her weight against an arm braced on his solid thighs, she lost herself in that pleasure of having him under her, a male she knew and unfortunately trusted, a specimen of power, darkness and death embodied. She rode him like it was the last time she might ever get to have him, kept going until her legs began to tremble and pleasure built a fire in her stomach. 

Under hooded eyes Azriel watched the female above him slowly unravel, coming closer and closer to that pinnacle's edge. His hands moved then, finding that spot between her legs with precise expertise and working the nerves until her body trembled and she tightened suffocatingly around his cock. He rode her through it, pushing himself upright to attack her neck with hot, open mouthed kisses, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her riding him to his own high. Quickly found, once her hands moved from pulling the strands of his dark hair to teasing the skin of his wings, his whole body tensed keeping her firmly in his lap to release deep inside her, shuddering against her body until silence and stillness rested over them. 

Sex with Briar had never been so strange, he daren't move in case she pulled away. They'd never rested in such an intimate position afterward, she cradled his head to her chest with both arms, a hand carting through locks of hair, his own on her back holding her close as they both quietly caught their breaths. 

She pulled away first a slight frown caught on her brow. Azriel caught her lips before she could speak, savouring the way she tasted and moved her lips against his, gentle and explorative. He cupped her cheek as she pulled away, stroking her smooth, lightly freckled, skin. "Not a word." He whispered, looking into her deep green eyes. 

She nodded, and the pair fell silent as they helped each-other undress, before slipping beneath the covers like it was the norm. Briar didn't freeze as Azriel's shadows cloaked the room, his wing stretched out to cocoon them, she simply fell into a deep restful sleep tucked under his chin, nestled against his warm solid chest. 

[mothraantics]

Crimson Born

Chapter 2

Summary: Regulus only wants to not live in his brothers shadows anymore, so what does he do? Date the enemy, the opposing prince of the Crimson Court James Potter, also known as his brothers best friend to retort and for once be in the light instead of his older brother.

Notes: This took me a while to write and I apologise.

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“Master Regulus is alive and well ma’am” says the mediwitch as he starts to gain consciousness again, “good, get him up” he hears his mothers voice before the door to his room closes. He quietly opens his eyes, “Happy debutante master, the house elves and the maids will be here shortly to give you your clothes for the breakfast ceremony” regulus groans, of course there's the ceremony first thing after a blood moon, as the doctor leaves the room he sits up, blood was splattered around his bedroom, he smelt of blood, he can feel blood. 

Ew. Was the only thought going through his head as he put his feet to the floor. His own bodily matter, blood, was soaking into his socks once more. The maids will not be pleased. Regulus shuffled to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, it was luckily clean. He turned the water on. Put in some soap. Stripped and cleaned. The stone tiles were littered with bloody footsteps as he threw the clothes he had ruined into the bin.

The mirror above his sink was yet to be fixed. He broke it one time and they haven't changed it yet. “Lousy house elves” he scoffs, exiting the bathroom, the blood was cleaned up already, his clothes neatly placed on the bed. He will speak to his mother about it. He quickly put on his clothing before the dinner started. A man did never have a debutante, it was mostly for the ladies of the land. Alas young royals in Lissara were put up on the podium after the women to have good engagements, true many were just in it for the money or sirius, but now it would be for once, all about him.

+-+

Scratch that it wasn't, no engagements were discussed in breakfast, a word from Sirius was heard about his current boyfriend but it was shot down by his mothers icy glare. Many women asked for regulus’ hand but none were up to his mothers standards. He was dreading the outcome. Was he going to end up marrying some unknown cousin? All three of his female cousins were already wed to your betrothed, exclude out Andromeda who has been missing for almost a few years now, had run off with some muggle from the east. It was truly worrying, if the bloodline of sirius ended with him and his dreaded boyfriend, it would be upon regulus, and if not on his bloody cousins.

Having Bellatrix on the throne was as terrifying as if letting the malfoys take up the seat. He had to think of something. “Well we may always marry him off to that girl. What's her name? Pandora Rosier?” says his mother, “Isn't she studying at That school, Academe Inspire?” says Bellatrix twirling her fork in her hands ,” how will we get her to come back, on top of having the weight as an heir.”

Walburga waves the girl off, the other frowning, “We shall get her with the right ways, The rosiers are in a scandal such as ours, with their son running around with the Mindspire spawn, Crouch was it? It's a scandal really” she scoffs. Regulus perks up hearing his friends, “A scandal, well he deserves to be in that” sirius says under his breath, regulus held himself back from kicking his own brothers shin out of sheer hatred. The Rosiers and the crouches were rather close familiar friends of his, Sirius never bothered to speak with anyone from their Empire as they attended the Etiquette lessons and so it was up to regulus to bring forth the connections. “Mother” regulus pipes up as the whole table turns to him. 

“I would like to correct slightly, Bartemius, is a full citizen of Lissara and one of my closest friends, him and the son of Rosier have not been, ‘running around’ as you may claim they are rather just…friends” he says as his mother gives him a cold glare. “Very well they are not being scandalous, but alas their reputation is not as bad and from the deepest depths of my heart I shall give them a visit today, see if they accept the proposition”

The table conversation ended on that, from the depths of his mothers icy heart, he was getting married off. She knew she had nothing to do against the rebel of a brother he had, sirius. One way or another the boy has evaded two marriages, one with Narcissia and one with another young lady from the  Harmony dominion, and now dating a man, werewolf. Nonetheless there was nothing she could do, she would hate him for eternity. It was nothing to do with sexuality no. Many known nobles were known to be homosexual, or on the lines of, and many more from the middle class of Lissara, it was unknown to regulus how the non magical ones treated such things in different regions, it was the werewolf part that was rather iffy to his mother and that he is apart of the Crimson Court. And the fact that he was dating a man. Homosexuality was commonly frowned upon. 

Breakfast was stale and gloomy after the conversation, the two princes were left to their own devices as the rest of the family scattered away. Some to their own parts of work, others to go meet old friends. “You dont think mother is angry with a man do you?” asks Sirius abruptly to Regulus. They were taking a passage in the gardens.

“she may be, you know her views on homosexuality, she almost passed a law to make it illegal brother” he says as they walk, more like he walks, Sirius was following him hoping for some honesty. “Why must you follow me?” Regulus asks, “if it's sympathy for what you are doing to the throne, it will never come.” He says turning to Sirius, “I am aware you love him, I can see it. I saw it, Remus means much to you, but mother will not allow a werewolf on the throne…no less a homosexual” Sirius sighs running his hand through his perfectly made hair messing it up, “i wish to remind you that if you do not succeed, i am for the throne. And if I do not succeed it is whom of our cousins first produces an heir. So Bellatrix or Malfoy. I wish not see mother repeated nor those malfoys crawling to the top” he Huff's. 

“Fair enough…” Sirius sighs, “I'm a lost cause-” “yes you are. You're lost and for that I must be betheoded immediately. As much as I do not care for marriage, I must marry this…woman, one who's sisters with one of my closest friends to fix your mistakes. I am tired of being your cleaner, be careful Sirius, because one day I may not be there to fix what you fucked up” – Sirius audibly gasps at his language – “in this family, one day I will not be your shadow and you will have to pick up after yourself” Regulus' says before turning around and stalking off. 

As much as he hated for getting angry at his stupid dumb brother, it was needed. Sirius was an airhead, he didn't think before he acted, Regulus was cunning, he thought he planned and he knew what to do. 

+-+

The ball that evening was in full swing, girls were basically hanging off of his waist for the majority of the night as Sirius paraded his boyfriend around the whole ballroom, everyone knew who the werewolf lover was by now. His face was famous. Remus was a quiet guy, he was shy and reserved, nothing you'd expect Sirius would date but there he was in the flesh. Regulus can say he will like the boy as a brother in law, of course if his mother allows it…or maybe she never will and they'll marry after she passes.

The trumpets blew, four, five, three toots in a row, the crimson court. The door master called out, “Prince James Potter of the Crimson Court!” The girls around Regulus basically dissipated to crowd around the new coming prince. So much for attention. It was stolen once again by some stuck up friend of Sirius'.

“Regulus' darling come, Auntie wants you” Bellatrix says, grabbing him by the upper arm. In the few years between them, him being sixteen her turning twenty one, he reluctantly followed her, the rosier family stood around his own, evan was for once present standing next to a girl with long blonde hair. It was platinum just how the Evans came. Blondes. 

“There he is the man of the hour” Mr.Rosier smiles as he and Regulus' shake hands, “Well it is lovely to hear that you have taken up our request to marry Pandora and Regulus your highness, we promise there will be no disappointment to you or the royal family. He says. The night was spent with Pandora and Evan, as Sirius once more stole the shine, as he and Remus danced in the ball, Regulus' did have a couple dances with the Rosier daughter and a few other ladies that asked him to dance. 

By the end he was tipsy, his cousins were flat drunk and he could hear the activities that the couples ensued. Pandora went home. 

It was sad and uneventful as the slow ball where mostly adults danced and chatted continued through the night. Most guests went to their inns, others stayed to leave last. Of course The Prince of the crimson court was still surrounded by lovely women. Muggles and magicals alike. 

Or so Regulus thought, “Well isn't it a nice night tonight” he hears behind him, he almost spins around in shock as the prince of the Crimson Court leans on the railing near him, “James” he says with distaste, there weren't any adults around he does not need to respect him, “Regulus'” the prince combats back as they stare off over the forest, the lights of the village can be seen to the right of the palace.

“What do you want potter?” He asks, looking down, debating. If he pushed James Potter down from here, how long would it take for the guards to find his annoying dead body, “I want nothing, can't I hang around with a friend?” He asks coyly. “We are not friends” Regulus quickly retorts. James puts a hand on his chest, “You wound me Black” he says, how annoying. “I was just here to ask if you have found a courtship yet” Regulus rolls his eyes, as if he wished to find one, “My mother has” James frowns, “your mother? You are to say you haven't chosen your own courtee?” 

“Unlike Sirius I listen to mother…so yes, I'm being betrothed to Rosier 's daughter.” He says as James nods understandingly, “you like her?” He asks out of the blue, “of course not, but i shall tolerate her for the sake of my empire” James stands quietly next to him, “I can always help you with-” Regulus cuts him off, “I wish not for one of your whores potter. As much as I appreciate you helping my brother I am not him, if it means cleaning up his mess and being forcibly married off to a woman i do not love then be it.”

He says turning and walking back to the ballroom, “You don't have to always be the fixer upper, Regulus..you can be yourself if you wish” Regulus' stops at that. “I am myself. I am the one that quietly in the shadows fixed my brother's wrong doings”

“you don't have to always be in the shadows-” 

“I do as I wish” 

+-+

Regulus stayed up all night thinking of what James said, he was right, he doesn't have to be always in the shadows. He stopped himself, Regulus almost wanted to puke, scream, possibly slap himself across the face. He was letting the Prince's words get to him, just like how they got to Sirius. His mother always said to never listen to the people of the Crimson Court, they aren't like Lissarians who twist their words with dual meaning or manipulate, but they get in your head. They make you feel brave to act out and not be who you are meant to be. 

That's how Sirius came to become himself and there he was with a werewolf hanging off his hip like a lost dog begging for his attention. How could he let the words of James Potter get him to think other than his true destiny. He was second he could never become first, he could never find a woman to love and dote on him as one would on his brother…or a man for all he cared, Regulus' wanted attention he wanted love. Any form or kind didn't matter anymore. He felt the hunger, the need for any kind of attention. He wanted the public to look at him and call him by his name. 

Not the Second Prince. 

Not the Second Son. 

Not the Younger one. 

Or the shy one

Or the one to save them from his brother's rowdy ways. 

He wanted to be known to the whole Empire of Lissara…no to the WORLD He was Regulus Atticius Black, the Prince of Lissara, and the one who can one up his brother. But this was impossible. He could marry a muggle woman, but then he would be a disgrace, he could always marry a man, but who can combat the attention his brother would get with that mutt. What was better than Remus John Lupin?

Regulus thought all night, and as the rays of the sun peaked from in between his curtains and the passing of maids and house elves arose in the halls, it hit him. It was as if the Cruciatus curse was shot at him, he hated himself for these thoughts for just a quick second, before he decided it was the best way to gain this attention he seeked. But would he agree? Would he join him? Would he help? 

“I can always help you–

Regulus felt if those words had another meaning…a different meaning, one that between alcohol, the need for sleep and pure hatred he misjudged. Maybe he would be willing to help. Regulus had to be fast, the convoys did not leave until noon and it was yet to even hit the first hours of the morning, the prince did not wait for any house elf or maid to come before he threw a bath for himself and got clean. He dressed and rushed out the door as Dippy apparate within the walls of his room, looking rather stunned. 

He followed his senses as he waves through the rushing maids of the morning and towards the west end of the palace where he knew the Convoys and the maidens rested. Some were already leaving, bidding them good morning as he passed, he quietly avoided the rosiers throughout all of this, lest they stop him to speak about the betrothal. At the far end as far away from his family as possible he made it to the last room. The one where he knew he was resting. He knocked on the door, and he heard shuffling from inside as the person quickly got themselves together and then opened the door. James Fleamont Potter, in all his morning glory, stood in front of him. 

“Regulus? What? It's like seven am? Is everything alright?” he asks as regulus pushes past him and stands just inside the room, James closing the door. “Remember the offer you asked of me last night?” James looks at him confused, Regulus can tell the man was hung over even slightly, he looked at him as if he had three heads before it clicked in his brain and James nodded. 

“I accept…But there will be my own terms”. James almost doubled over, he looked at him wearily. This was going to be one heck of a challenge.

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Chapter List here (including Ao3 Link)

Taglist:

[ichorsveined]

LADY ARUSHI TULLY .

announcing  the  arrival  of  ARUSHI  of  house  TULLY  ,  the  LADY  of  RIVERRUN  .  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  PROTEAN  and  VINDICTIVE  in  disposition  ,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  jewelry - crafting  .  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them  ,  it  might  tell  stories  of  an  arrival  announced  by  golden  bracelets  chiming  like  bells  ;  determination  born  from  admiration  ,  found  by  observing  the  gameboard  ,  both  figurative  and  literal  ,  from  over  a  trusted  shoulder  ,  a  chasm  first  formed  during  girlhood  ,  inescapable  no  matter  how  hard  you  try  ,  only  growing  wider  as  time  marches  on  .  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps  ,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie  .  are  they  right  to  whisper  ?  for  their  thoughts  have  lingered  close  to  treasonous  of  late  .

# basic information .

official  name  :  arushi  tully  .  nicknames  :  n/a  .  noble  title  :  lady  of  riverrun  .  date  of  birth  :  the fourth day of the eighth moon / august  4th  .  age  :  26  .  birthplace  :  riverrun  ,  the  riverlands  .  home  :  riverrun  .  nationality  :  riverlander  ,  westerosi  .  gender  :  cis  woman  .  pronouns  :  she / her / hers  .  orientation  :  bisexual  homoromantic  .  monikers  :  n/a  .  languages  :  the  common  tongue  (  fluent  )  .  accent  :  mellifluous  ,  a  naturally  melodic  cadence  layered  atop  typical  riverlands - isms  . not  always  becoming  of  a  lady  ,  she  speaks  rather  casually  unless  the  situation  demands  otherwise  .  but  her  natural  charm  and  noble  status  grant  her  some  grace  .

# physical information .

ethnicity  :  andal  .  hair  :  a  waterfall  of  black  falling  to  her  tailbone  . often worn in a long braid tied off with tassels , just like her late mother .  eyes  :  on the cusp of medium  and dark brown  ,  they  resemble  honey  in  sunlight  .  always  observing  .  height  :  5'5" / 164cm  .  build  :  soft curves and softness incarnate ; the epitome of someone who need not work to live  .  scent  :  milk  and  honey  ,  bergamot  ,  cinnamon  .  dominant  hand  :  right  .  allergies  :  some  grasses  not  endemic  to  the  riverlands  .  scars  :  a  thin  line  down  the  length  of  her  left  shin  , small nicks on her palms and fingers .  distinguishing  features  :  doe  eyes  with long  ,  voluminous  lashes  .  clothing  style  :  thinks  herself  the  pinnacle  of  fashion  .  saturated  but  not  gaudy  colors  .  if  it  weren't  so  impractical  ,  she  would  probably  wear  dornish  dress  , as  she  believes  it  suits  her  better  .  lots  of  jewelry  that  clinks  and  chimes  ,  some  of  which  was  made  by  her  hand ;  she's  best  known  for  her  golden  bracelets  .

# personality .

label  :  the  fille  fatale  ,  the  dulcet  ,  the  chameleon  .  mbti  :  tba  .  enneagram  :  3w2  .  element  :  air  .  star  sign  :  leo  .  temperament  :  sanguine  .  character  inspirations  :  aphrodite  (  greek  mythology  )  ,  kate  wallis  (  cruel  summer  )  ,  emma  woodhouse  (  emma  )  .  deadly  sin  :  envy  &  greed  .  heavenly  virtue  :  patience  .  godly  parent  :  tba  .

# drives .

hobbies  :  jewelry - crafting  ,  dancing  ,  singing  ,  embroidery  ,  gossiping  .  religion  :  faith  of  the  seven  ,  casually  .  something  of  a  "  lapsed  "  follower  ,  as it were .  alliance  :  house  tully  ,  herself  ,  and  the  riverlands  .  the  order  of  importance  depends  on  the  day  .  personal  goals  :  to  be  more  involved  in  family  politics  .  to  become  more  adept  at  using  her  wiles  .  to  defeat  elira  dayne  (  literally  or  figuratively  )  .  would  they  choose  family  or  power  ?  family  ,  but  could  be  swayed  to  seek  power  instead  .

# familial ties .

parent  one  :  ruling  lord  evan  tully  .  relationship  :  distant  but  filial  .  arushi  understands  the  duty  she  has  to  him  and  their  house  ,  so  she  tries  to  keep  her  less  …  savory  habits  far  out  of  his  sight  and  mind  .  parent  two  :  ruling  lady  cira  tully  née  tbd†  .  relationship  :  aspiring  and  somewhat  envious  .  descriptions  of  her  biological  mother  are  larger  than  life  ,  seemingly  impossible  to  live  up  to  .  stepmother  :  ruling  lady  alissa  tully  née  ???  .  relationship  :  distant  ,  but  amiable  enough  .  arushi  has  outgrown  a  childhood  resentment  of  lady  alissa  for  "  replacing  "  her  late  mother  .  half - brother  :  lord  heir  amos  tully  .  relationship  :  tba  .  half - siblings  :  lord  /  lady  /  liege  tully  ,  lord  hendry  tully  ,  lady  merianne  tully†  .  relationship  :  tba  .  maternal  relatives  :  house  ???  .  relationship  :  fairly  close  .  at  times  arushi  feels  inferior  in  their  presence  .

narrative …

( death mention tw , pregnancy mention tw )

"  you're  the  spitting  image  of  your  mother  "  —  that's  what  everyone  told  you  from  girlhood  .  but  having  lost  her  after  a  mere  eight  days  ,  you  couldn't  be  certain  they  were  telling  the  truth  .  perhaps  they  said  it  out  of  pity  ,  to  sooth  the  gaping  maw  her  death  left  behind  .  what  you  did  know  ,  though  ,  was  that  with  her  gone  ,  you  felt  out  of  place  in  your  family  .  each  of  your  siblings  were  united  by  your  father  and  the  tully  name  ,  yes  ,  but  your  siblings  possessed  something  you  didn't  —  a  shared  mother  ,  a  shared  memory  .  but  you  had  no  one  .

finding  a  substitute  proved  unsuccessful  .  lady  alissa  married  your  father  and  became  with  child  so  quickly  that  it  was  almost  as  if  your  mother  never  even  existed  .  the  only  evidence  ?  the  jewelry  she  left  for  you  .  and  from  the  day  those  sparkling trinkets  fit  you  ,  you  wore  them  every  day  in  her  honor  .

not  your  governess  ,  nor  your  septa  ,  nor  your  extended  family  could  compare  either  ,  especially  when  your  mother's  side  of  the  family  told  tales  of  a  woman  who  was  the  seven  who  are  one  in  the  flesh  .  someone  to  idolize  and  aspire  toward  .  so  ,  you  tried  to  find  light  in  the  darkness  . you  tried  to  be  scintillating  ,  like  your  mother  was  .  but  you  worried  about  others  seeing  the  rot  underneath  .  the  inferiority  .

soon  after  your  (  now former  )  betrothed  left  riverrun  under  dubious  circumstances  ,  something  died  and  began  to  fester  in  your  heart  .  no  longer  would  you  aspire  to  be  your  mother  ,  but  something  more  than  her  .  to  ignore  the  gaping  maw  of  you  .  from  then  on  ,  your  motives  turned  toward  becoming  a  player  of  the  game  of  thrones  ,  of  shadow  power  .  with  the  aid  of  a  seasoned  player  ,  you  would  learn  to  accrue  social  capital  —  and  perhaps  destroy  elira  dayne  in  the  process  .

that  ambition  took  a  backseat  ,  though  ,  when  your  sister  was  slain  in highgarden .  once  at  least  passingly  intrigued  by  the  ironborn  ,  as  you  were  by  all  other  regions  of  westeros  and  beyond  ,  burning  hatred  took  over  .  you  would  prove  their  hand  in  the  tragedy  , and  avenge  your  sister  .

# wanted connections .

mentor : platonic . to be sent to the main . aka the ' trusted shoulder ' from arushi's character aesthetics !! a  fellow  riverlander  ,  or  at  least  a  noble  who  frequents  the  riverlands  .  arushi  latched  onto  them  as  a  teenager  ,  and  since  then  they've  taught  her  (  consciously  or  not  )  about  surviving  at  court  .  she  may  not  have  much  power  yet  ,  but  to  have  a  tully  hang  off  of  one's  every  word  is  certainly  a  boon  .

maternal  family  :  familial  .  the  first  people  to  put  the  myth  of  lady  cira's  grandeur  in  arushi's  head  ,  for  better  or  worse  .  she  has  maintained  a  close  relationship  with  them  ,  especially  since  her  mother  passed  ,  and  their  ancestral  home  is  the  only  place  outside  the  riverlands  that  she  frequents  .

childhood  friends  :  platonic  ,  political  .  ranging  from  intimate  friends  to  practically  strangers  ,  arushi  still  tries  to  stay  on  the  good  side  of  her  family's  bannermen  through  lords  ,  ladies  ,  and  lieges  near  her  own  age  .  but  ,  alas  ,  this  doesn't  always  work  out  for  her  . odette mallister , myrcella paege , open to others .

gossip  girls  (  gender  neutral  )  :  platonic  .  people  arushi  talks  to  about  the  goings - on  at  court  .  might  be  friends  ,  might  just  be  people  she  uses  to  coax  information  out  of  .

dalliances  : romantic  .  since  her  previous  betrothal  fell  through  ,  arushi  has  been  a  free  agent  (  until  further  notice  from  her  father  )  .  she's  taken  full  advantage  of  this  untethered  status  ,  flirting  and  charming  her  way  through  court  .  no  feelings  are  involved  on  her  end  .