#either him being sent to the ground and it becomes like a lord of the flies situation.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

I just got bottom surgery and I’ve been having so many horny dreams that I can’t do anything about because my bits are healing.

In the most recent one I was taken by a cult, transformed into a pixie with feathered wings, and teleported to an animal shifter fey court as an offering along with 9 other people who had a similar encounter with a cult.

As it turns out, it was mating season, and our new fey-adjacent biology made us very aware of that fact. One of my fellow captives caught a whiff of the fey lords we were being offered to, who were at present trying to decide who to pick, and immediately went into heat on the spot. We got to watch as a fey lord with a cat like nature transformed, scruffed her with his teeth, and bred her on the spot with little resistance on her end, all too happy to be filled up with cock.

A full on orgy ensued as everyone got horny from watching the pair fuck nasty with no end in sight with more fey going into heat and being claimed as well, and we learned three things: 1. We could go into heat at any time, regardless of what our biology was, but sexual stimulation would make it more likely to happen 2. Being shot full of cum while in heat would have to happen to all of us eventually if we were to truly be claimed by the fey lord who chose us 3. The fey lords were happy to share, especially if their new toy was difficult to satisfy amidst a heat.

I felt my underwear become a total mess that dripped down my thighs at the sight, but thankfully my heat didn’t hit and the disapproving bitchy exterior I exuded meant I was left alone. Unfortunately, my stubbornness also made me the perfect target for the prince of the court, a brute with multiple animal forms to his name that was looking for a stubborn human to break.

From there, several things happened. The fey lords picked their favorites, and each time the court reconvened, more of my fellow captives were seen either pregnant or bouncing blissfully on the cock of their lord while they talked.

Each moment I was with my new lord, he was attempting to get me horny enough to trigger my heat. He couldn’t fuck my hole until I was in heat, but he still fucked my mouth and my thighs, and he slid his prick back and forth over my lubed hole hoping the friction and erotic scenes would trigger my heat. And when he was done, he would make sure I wore his cum for the rest of the day, the sticky sensation making me unable to put him out of my mind.

The feeling of being used did drive me nuts deep down, but I was stubborn. I didn’t want to be claimed, I wanted to go home. So I researched in the lord’s library when he’d finally spent himself trying to induce my heat. I pulled old tomes that detailed the relationship between the human and fey worlds, and the rules that governed them.

Normal rules dictated that humans couldn’t leave once they had fey food and drink—however, I was a fey now. Even if I had no magic of my own I belonged to no one (yet), so I could come and go as a I pleased.

If I could just make it to the border and cross over, the spell would be undone—I’d be human again, and I could return home.

So one day when no one was looking, I took off into the woods. I didn’t trust the wings on my back to not lead me astray, so I sprinted on foot in the direction of the border.

Not long after, I could hear someone in pursuit. I knew it was him—those daily sessions spent rutting into my body made me intimately familiar with all the sounds he and he alone made. And he sounded close.

Knowing I was losing ground, I took a chance and took flight. I was clumsy with my wings, but I knew it was faster than running.

As I began to make up the ground I lost, I heard a mighty bone-chilling roar—it sounded like three beasts rolled into one screeching after me, and it sent a shiver down my spine that pooled in my loins. Still, I managed to put it out of my mind, and I doubled my efforts to get away.

Only when I heard him finally fade into the background of the forest did I stop to rest. I found a small nook under a grand oak tree and made that my refuge.

As I rested, I thought about that roar. I rubbed my thighs together at the thought of that terrifying sound coming from his throat, feeling the cum from when he fucked my thighs earlier today making them stick together. I thought about how I was almost home free, and all the things I wouldn’t miss—no more thick ridged cock fucking into my throat until I was being fed his cum, no more cum coating my stomach and thighs that made my thoughts turn filthy as I went about my day, no more having my hole rutted against with his cock at a torturous pace until I came from that alone and—oh

A wave of heat washed over my body accompanied by a shiver, once again stopping to pool in my loins. Suddenly I was hot all over and couldn’t think of anything but cum shooting into my hole. I humped the ground, seeking friction but finding none of it satisfying until a voice told me to stop.

Instinct took over and I heeded the voice. Instead I stripped bare, found a thick root to hold onto, bent over and spread myself wide, letting my full scent permeate the air in the surrounding forest. I didn’t know why but it felt right, like some hidden instinct in me was satisfied with me presenting myself to whoever decided to breed me first. It kept the heat that was overtaking me bearable, but only slightly.

Suddenly I wished I had stayed at my lord’s estate, knowing I wouldn’t have to wait so long for a cock to sink into me if I had just stayed. I was a slave to my body’s needs, any previous notion of escape dashed in favor of following my instincts.

Luckily I didn’t have to wait too long. I heard a rustling in the bushes, and before I could process what was happening, something had mounted me and was slamming full force into my hole. They set a brutal pace and I couldn’t be happier with it, chanting yes yes yes as the heat finally abated a bit. But just as we were both about to cum, the creature that had set about claiming me was ripped off. I cried at the sudden loss, oblivious to the tearing of flesh and scent of blood behind me, but my cries were shushed by the threatening whispers in my ear:

You belong to me alone, love.

It was my lord

Seconds later he was sinking into me sensually with an audible squelch and setting an even more brutal pace than the creature before him, jaws squeezing around my neck possessively. Just when I thought I was close again, he stopped. I cried, begging him to continue, trying to bounce back against him, but he tightened his claws in my hips and held firm, and his growls at my insubordinance made me still. Then he resumed fucking me, only to stop again just like that as I was getting close three more times.

I was a mess. We’d been going at it for 30 minutes and I still hadn’t cum. I was getting close again, I could feel it, the heat was driving me insane and begging for release—yet, he stopped again, and I began sobbing.

How badly do you want to cum? He asked. What would you do for it?

ANYTHING I rasped, please, I’ll do anything for you

Anything? He repeated. Would you give yourself to me? I nodded vigorously, too desperate to understand what I was giving over, and I could feel his predatory grin on my neck.

It’s a deal he said, pulling all the way out and slamming back in with all his might. He did that again, and again, and again, fast and fluid in a way that made me lose my mind until—

I screamed, finally cumming the biggest orgasm of my life and going limp underneath him. He continued fucking me brutally, milking every aftershock from my body until finally, he slammed all the way in and shot thick ropes of cum deep into me.

I thought we were done, but then I felt something huge at the base of his shaft push into me—a knot. He knotted me, but he still wasn’t done. He kept fucking me, cumming in me four more times and making me cum many times more until his knot finally deflated.

Finally, he pulled out, and a flood of cum poured all over my ass and thighs. I sank to the floor, feeling limp and satisfied.

Was that good pet? He asked

Yes, I said dreamily

Yes what? He responded

Yes, master I replied, nothing else making sense in that moment except for who I belonged to.

—-

I got way too into retelling that but yeah that’s the kind of shit I’m dealing with, I’m a horny mess that keeps having these dreams and I can only get the energy out by writing about it. I’m gonna incorporate this into a longer fic i think

.

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing

1.03

“Jace—”

With tears in his eyes, Jacaerys quickly turns and runs in the opposite direction. What if he went straight to his mother and told her what Aegon said? Even worse, what if he told Lucerys? You go to chase after your nephew, but Aegon grabs your wrist. “Just leave it be.”

“He just heard you call his mother a whore and him a bastard. I cannot simply leave it.”

Aegon lets go of you and shrugs, “Who cares? He is a bastard.”

“His parentage is not the point; Jace is just a child.”

“I thought you were angry at our sisters.” Frustrated by your silence, Aegon tosses the empty goblet in his hand at the ground and clenches his teeth. “You can’t possibly feel bad for them?”

“Our nephews didn’t betray me; only Rhaenyra did. Those boys don’t deserve what is being said about them.” Shaking your head, you watch as Aegon puffs out his cheeks in a childlike manner. “Besides, father will be furious if she hears what you said.”

“Course he will,” he scoffs.

“Are you going to come with me to find him?”

When Aegon doesn’t answer, you start to walk away, but when he realizes you’re serious, he chases you back down the rocky path you’d walked up side by side moments before. “Your mind is like a labyrinth.”

“What?”

Sharply he says, “You’re truly a fool, sister, if you think they will ever care for you.”

“I’m already aware Rhaenyra doesn’t, but Jace and Luke—”

“Don’t either. They will grow up to be just like her.”

Your lips begin to tremble.

“Don’t look at me like that; I’m just telling you the truth. Our sister and her bastards will always come first to the realm, to our father, to each other. We have no place with them.”

A lump forms in the back of your throat; you weren’t sure if Aegon was saying this to deliberately hurt you or if his drunken thoughts had started to overspill. “Go sober up, brother, before the queen finds you.”

—

On the rocky outcrops overlooking where Lady Laena was laid to rest, you find Jacaerys sitting on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes swollen and cheeks flushed from crying. He was watching Ser Laenor standing in the waves, mourning his sister.

You sit down beside him. “What you overheard—”

“I asked my mother if I was a bastard, and she told me I was a Targaryen.”

“She is right.” You reach for his hand. “Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon love you, Luke, and Joff very much. And that is all that matters.”

“Do you still love us?”

“Of course, I’ll always love you and your brothers. No matter what.”

—

Retiring for the night you’re left with a sour taste in your mouth. You had tried to persuade Aegon to join at supper before bed, but he insisted on spending his night drowning himself in his cups and ogling any lady he could.

Flora was behind you as you walked to the bedchamber you were staying in for the night. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, yeah, Ser Harrold and Ser Criston’s were attempting to keep quiet, but whatever irritations they had were causing their voices to become louder.

“Are you familiar with the fate of Ser Chester Mooton?”

You peek around the corner just as Ser Criston straightens up his shoulders; he looks irritated. “No, I haven't, Lord Commander.”

“He was a knight of House Mooton, a member of King Jaehaerys Kingsguard, and the sworn protector of his daughter Princess Saera Targaryen. The two were always seen by each other's sides, even during the late hours of the night. They were as thick as thieves—overly familiar. King Jaehaerys had Chester gelded and sent to the Wall. His grace, King Viserys, would do the same.”

“What are you—”

Flora, who was listening in as intently as you, slips as she leans against the wall, making a slapping sound. The two of you share a panicked look; she clears her throat. “Is there anything else you wish to do, princess, before retiring for the evening?”

Just as the question leaves her mouth, the two nights turn the corner. The older knight looks his normal self as he greets you and your lady, while Ser Criston looks slightly flustered.

“Ser Harrold, Ser Criston.”

“Princess, it’s a little late to be exploring the castle, especially without a shield,” Ser Harrold says. “Ser Criston will escort the two of you back safely.”

The walk to the bedchamber is in complete silence. You and Flora lock eyes every so often but quickly look away, afraid the knight would catch on. Different questions were reeling in your mind: had Ser Criston broken his vows? Since being in the kingsguard, the knight had only been a shield for two people. Her grace, the queen, and your elder sister, princess Rhaenyra.

Which one did he break his vows with?

—

“Will that be all, princess?”

“Yes, goodnight, Flora. I’ll see you in the morrow.”

Your lady-in-waiting nods her head, then takes leave. Although Driftmark Castle was a small, grim, and forbidding building, you found comfort in its dampness, peculiar since the blood of the dragon runs thick through your veins.

You dangle your legs over the edge of the bed while trying to settle your mind, which had been racing since your conversation with Jacaerys earlier. You knew what it was like growing up with whispers being spread about you. It was never a secret at court; your father desperately wanted a son, and his wife died giving birth to twins; he was only left with the daughter he didn’t want. And now Rhaenyra’s son’s would spend the rest of their lives being called bastards.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel the softness of the ghostly white nightgown beneath your fingers. The shade matches your dragon; ghosts pale, almost ethereal shade of white scales.

Sighing, your bare feet touch the cold stone floor as you make your way to the table in the center of the room. You sit and begin to light the candles Flora placed on the wooden surface. Quietly you speak to yourself, “Aemma Arryn, Baelon Targaryen, Laena Velaryon.” A single tear rolls down your cheek as you light the last candle, “Harwin Strong.”

You stare at the flames, watching as they move with the wind blowing through the open window.

The door to the room suddenly opens, and a member of your father's kingsguard enters. “Princess, forgive the intrusion, but there has been an incident, and the queen has requested your presence as a matter of urgency.”

[autumnaaltonen]

Anonymous requested: "headcannons about Alucard and Alexander Anderson being in love with the same S/O?"

I was feeling more in the one-shot mood, so I hope you like this either way.

Alucard and Alexander Anderson Being in Love With The Same S/O

It started at the National Gallery, where you tagged along with Sir Integra, Walter, Seras and (you think?) Alucard. Tbh, he disappeared the moment you all stepped out of the limo, so you imagine the flirtatious vampire has wandered off to find a dark closet to rest in before being called upon when if things go awry.

Seras, too, leaves you three, mentioning something about “finding a good plan B”. Whatever the hell that meant.

So that just left you, Sir Integra, and Walter, to wander about the marble hallways of paintings, waiting for your invited company to arrive.

If only they would show up on time for once…

“What nuisances,” Integra grumbles, before turning to you. “Go see if you can weed the heretics out. I’m positive they are perusing the exhibit, purposefully wasting our time.”

“Of course, Sir,” you obey, bowing slightly before making your way through the maze-like museum. You imagine that whoever the has Iscariot sent to London; well, they must stick out of the average crowd.

Scanning the tourists for holy robes, uniforms, hell, even a gun or sword, you fail to spot anybody who could possibly be your tardy visitors. Eventually you resort to exploring the forbidden staff area, knowing that both Hellsing and the Iscariot have the pontifical balls to break simple rules. Opening many doors with obvious ‘DO NOT ENTER’ and ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY’ signs, but finding most of them locked, you sigh in disappointment, deciding to make your way back to your boss.

But then you spot a familiar head of blonde hair, exactly where she shouldn't be.

“Seras, is that you? What the hell are you doing back here?” you call to her, seeing the young vampire in an unfamiliar uniform. She gives you a cheeky smile and an awkward wave, before disappearing around a corner. Tailing her, you run back down the hall, only to turn the same corner and collide into what you could only assume to be a wall, solid and sturdy as you smack face first and begin fall to the ground. Startled and blurry-eyed, you prepare to break your fall before a very long and strong arm catches you around your shoulders.

“Woah there, friend. Are you alright?” an unfamiliar Irish-tongued man asks, lifting you back onto your feet. You rub your sore forehead, blinking your vision back to coherency before looking up…up...and up, to your human wall.

Christ, he’s tall.

“Haha, yes, indeed you can thank our lord and saviour for that.”

“Oh wow, did I say that out loud? I’m so sorry—” you spy the golden crucifix and clerical collar around his neck, “—Father. I shouldn’t have been running. I saw that my friend had gottn a bit lost and…well she’s gone now.” You huff in annoyance, knowing you’ll give Seras a good talking to later. She’s becoming far too much like her new master as of late.

“All is well, my dear. Actually, I have found me’self a bit lost as well; the museum is just so beautiful that I stumbled off course!” he laughs jovially.

You smile back, knowing you’ve found your man. “Actually, Father, you are just the person I’ve been looking for.” You lift your arm band slightly for the priest to see, telling him your name and position in the Hellsing Organization.

You see his cheerful smile damper a bit at the Hellsing insignia on your uniform, before quickly recovering. “I see. Father Alexander Anderson, at your service, my dear.” He bows his head towards you, “please call me Alexander. After all, you and I come from two very different clergies, I imagine.”

“A pleasure, Alexander. Although, I like to keep my faith ambiguous,” you add. “Sir Integra is waiting for you in the Sainsbury Wing, if you would please follow me.” You raise an arm in the direction out of the staff wing.

“What about your wee friend?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll find her way spontaneously back. Come, let’s not keep Sir waiting any longer, she can be quite the impatient woman.”

Alexander follows you back into the exhibits, making small talk along the way by commenting on the many displays. While a member of Iscariot, you discern Alexander to be a kind man with an eye for art. He tells you small sermons associated with some of the Italian pieces, amazing you with his theological knowledge, and letting him know so. You never imagined an enemy could be so enjoyable to talk to. But you suppose he’s only your enemy by association.

“I take it you are familiar with Hellsing’s pet vampire, dear?” he suddenly asks out of the blue, making you stop pause in surprise. His tone is pleasant, but his face tells something more. You recognize it as hidden disdain, masked behind innocent curiosity.

“Erm, yes, I am.” That was the understatement of the century. You have become more than a little familiar with Alucard over the years you’ve worked by Integra’s side. If you had to describe him in three words, it would be devious, coquettish, and handsy. He has made it more than clear that he has developed an attraction towards you, yet you have hesitated to return the handsome vampire’s advances in fear of getting played. Surely a creature of his stature could never have feelings for a human such as yourself, right? So, you’ve remained neutral, neither encouraging his inviting caresses and seductive words, nor pushing him away.

“We’re coworkers,” you affirm. “But I would not describe us as anything more, though Alucard can get a tad possessive,” you admit.

Alexander sighs with sympathy, suddenly draping an arm around your shoulders, just like he had when he caught you on your fall. He continues to lead you through the museum, not particularly focussed on finding your desired destination any time soon. “A shame. A pretty young soul such as yourself should never feel controlled by a vile monster.”

You purse your lips at the compliment, never hearing a man of the cloth make such a comment before, let alone towards yourself. His hand lowers from your shoulder to your middle back, pulling you gently ever-so-closer to his side.

“Just let me know if you ever need a delivering hand to aid you in a time of need, and the Lord shall answer your call,” he winks at you with a smile, making you giggle in disbelief.

“Father, are you flirting with me?” you ask with mock scepticism.

“Don’t ya worry, dear. I’m more than happy to look at the menu. It's ordering that’ll require a confession out of me. Or two.”

You giggle at his boldness, before the both of you hear an angry cry echo down the hallways.

“Anderson!”

Alexander frowns, before removing his arm from around you. “Please excuse me, my dear. It seems we have missed introductions.” He cracks his knuckles together, before two silver bayonets are unsheathed, seemingly out of nowhere. You gasp in shock as he stalks his way down the hall with a malicious grin on his face, sermons spilling from his mouth as he makes his way to his target.

You follow quickly behind, practically running to keep up with the tall priest. Down the hall you spot Sir Integra, Walter, and also Alucard with his gun’s raised, pointing them at the two other Iscariot members you missed in your search. You know this was going to lead to only one thing.

Alucard laughs maliciously. “Neither of us could ever back down in front of an enemy. Come on then, Judas priest!”

“What a coincidence. You won’t be so lucky this time, vampire. Do you enjoy playing with God’s most gifted children so?”

Jesus Christ on earth. “Stop!” both you and the silver-haired Iscariot member yell at the same time.

You see Alucard’s eyes widen as he catches you running behind from where Alexander had appeared. A scowl replaces his bloodthirsty smile. “What were you doing over there, Catholic? How dare you even breathe the same air as my beloved!”

“Beloved?” Alexander sneers. “How delusional! You really think this beautiful soul would ever be with a putrid demon such as yourself?”

“I’m ordering you to stop!” the Iscariot man repeats.

You've had enough of their cat fighting. You yourself between your quarrelling admirers and silently pray to God (or beg to Satan) that your new knights aren’t feeling as trigger-happy today.

“Hi! Right this way, everybody!” Seras practically yells into your ear, as a flock of elderly Japanese tourists stumble their way around you. “Everyone with the Japanese tour right this way, please! Kochira e dōzo!”

Seras' can-do attitude and smile is a welcome de-escalation of the tense situation. You only wish she had let you know beforehand, before deciding to run away.

Alucard fluidly moves his way through the murmuring crowd, grabs you by your waist and leads you back behind Sir Integra and Walter, much to Alexander’s detestation.

“What were you doing with him?” Alucard glowers.

“I was doing my job, since you decided to disappear," you huff.

“I was making sure the area was safe, for your and my master’s protection. Don’t you know who that priest is? He’s just as much a monster as I. I won’t allow him to go near you again.”

“And what makes your attitude any different from his? How is that any of your business? ” you glare back, not pleased with being pulled around so much today.

Alucard lowers to your level, getting in your face. “You are my business. You are mine.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, monster.” Alexander approaches from behind you both, bayonets thankfully gone from his hands. “I think the dear knows the path they walk, and it is not beside you.”

Alucard turns with a hiss, prepared to start the fight anew when it was your heart on the line. Hell, you know Alucard wouldn’t hesitate to bring about WW3 for you.

You stomp your foot on the ground in frustration. “I don’t need either of you to speak on my behalf. The path I walk is my choice alone, and at this moment, it’s away from both of you pompous idiots!” you yell, before turning on your heel towards the pavilion to prepare it for Integra’s meeting. Both of the men look at your back with marvel, before glaring at one another.

Maybe a war really was about to begin?

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 29)

WARNING: Mentions of death

—————

Margaery and I had still been sitting on the floor of her balcony when Ser Elias knocked on the door. It was so loud and quick we had both known instantly why he had come. Our presence was needed urgently in the great hall.

“Are you certain you’ll be alright? I can always speak on your behalf,” I offered, rising from the stone ground and brushing my dress off. Margaery shook her head with a sort of acceptance.

“I’ll be fine. It is important that they see me.”

I reached for Margaery’s hands and helped her up, letting out a small sigh of exertion as I did. We quickly made our way to the door, opening it to find Ser Elias looking at us frantically. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off with a nod.

“We know, Elias. Is my husband already in the great hall?” I questioned, linking my arm with Margaery’s as we followed him down to the more public areas of the Red Keep.

“Not yet, my lady. But the shouting over the subject of succession has already begun,” he informed, looking at me over his shoulder as we went down the stairs.

“And what has been the most prominent verdict?”

“As one might expect, the various lords are quite against Myrcella becoming queen, even despite the fact that she is a child of Robert Baratheon. When I was there with your father and grandmother, the discussion had moved to the subject of a possible child. That was when Lady Olenna sent me to come find you two. She correctly assumed you would be together,” Elias explained, looking between us as we approached the entrance of the great hall.

I pressed my lips together somewhat nervously, looking over at Margaery and giving her hand a squeeze. She would have to admit it was not possible that she was pregnant, for otherwise the kingdoms would remain in absolute ruin for months.

“It is not too late to go back, Margaery. I can always tell them you are too grief stricken to appear at court,” I whispered, trying to save her whatever pain I possibly could; it was my job as a sister.

“I promise I’ll be alright, (Y/N). I would rather take the slight embarrassment than lie and watch all of King’s Landing crumble under the issue of succession,” she said, letting go of my arm as we reached the double doors. I wanted to tell her it likely would anyway.

As they opened, I could hear nothing but yelling. Men and women covered the entire room, all of them either arguing or trying to stop the arguing but inevitably joining in. I allowed Margaery to go first, letting people notice that she had arrived.

“Everybody move aside for Queen Margaery!” Ser Elias shouted, voice booming out and echoing against the high ceiling. As people realized my sister was present, it became quieter and quieter, though the harsh whispers never stopped. Margaery and I made our way through the middle of the room, and although she continued up the steps towards the throne, I detoured and stepped into the crowd. My grandmother and father were both relatively easy to find in the middle of the room, and people moved aside for me anyways, lest they somehow offend the Nightshade of the Garden and Tywin Lannister’s wife.

“My lords, my ladies. I understand better than anyone that the death of the king was extremely sudden and unexpected. I also understand that with no brothers, the subject of who will sit on the iron throne now has become a rather intense topic. I am sorry to inform all of you… that I am not- not currently pregnant, and it is entirely impossible that I am simply unaware of being so.”

Margaery’s voice was rather loud in the hall, even despite the fact that people were whispering amongst themselves as she spoke. When she had finished and people realized there was absolutely no possibility of the king having a son, the yelling resumed.

As my sister came down from the platform, many were asking her what was to be done. The only words I could read on her lips were ‘I don’t know’. Margaery made her way to us, and my grandmother instantly embraced her. I sighed out as I looked around at the conflict, feeling a miserable migraine coming to me.

Gods, where was Tywin?

The lack of my husband's presence was making me nervous, for what could possibly be taking so long? Plus, he was desperately needed here, as people had begun physically fighting each other too. If he didn’t arrive soon, people were going to end up dead. I could only hear the shouts of anger, now entirely about the subject of Tommen’s uncles and whose claim was ‘better.’

“The kingslayer cannot break his vow! He gave up all titles and therefore cannot become our king!”

“And you would have the imp instead? He’ll go just like Robert Baratheon did, whoring and drinking until his last day. Plus, we’d be putting some half Frey on the throne after him, what kind of king do you think a Frey would make for?”

“Even if it wasn’t a very good one, at least it's the correct way to pass on the throne! Jaime Lannister doesn’t even have any heirs.”

“And if we put him on the throne, every lord in Westeros will be begging him to marry their daughters. Jaime Lannister makes more sense than the imp by a mile!”

“Lord Tyrion is ten times smarter than that golden handed knight. Why would we give the kingdoms to a swordsman and not someone strategic who has already got experience with it?”

“Nearly every king in our history has been some dumb cunt with a sword, don’t you already know that? Who gives a damn about having a strategic king, that’s why we have Tywin Lannister!”

“As I said earlier, the imp is the only legal choice! Jaime Lannister’s oath to the kingsguard is too binding to look past, and it’s not as if King Tommen had any other uncles, you dumb cunt!”

“Who says that it’s got to be an uncle? If you want a king who can get something done and rule well, why can’t it be-”

My eavesdropping was cut off by the distinct slamming of the great hall’s doors, and more than a few conversations were silenced by the man at the top of the steps. My husband stood there entirely still, and in less than 15 seconds every argument had gone completely silent and every physical fight had been resolved. It had become so quiet that you could’ve heard a pin drop, and all the nobles had organized themselves into the proper order, a clear path in the middle of the room and the most high status among us at the front. Well, my family had already been relatively close to the front, but everyone else had moved more definitely behind us. It gave me the odd sensation of watching a chess board rearrange itself.

Tywin descended into the room, and his footsteps on the rough stone floor were the loudest sound in the room. Cersei, Myrcella, and Prince Trystane followed behind him, and several bowed their heads in respect. It deeply saddened me to see their red, wet eyes, but it made me simultaneously even happier that I had gone with Jaime to retrieve Myrcella, or else Cersei might’ve not had any children at all now. 

I watched the trio behind Tywin stand at the front right side of the hall, though he continued up the steps towards the throne. He stood before it, turning to address the crowd. His eyes met mine before he began, though only for a moment.

“My lords and ladies, as the hand of the king, it is my duty to make certain that whatever happens following the king’s death happens smoothly, and that presently means I must address quite a few things. To begin with, the assassins responsible for King Tommen’s death have been found and are currently in the black cells. They will be tried at the end of this week and charged on the same day. They will be punished accordingly. Secondly, I am well aware that the subject of succession is unclear, and that there are varying opinions on the subject. However, this is no excuse for the pathetic kind of behavior I saw upon entering this hall. There will be no immature comments made nor brutish fighting over the subject, for it will not be tolerated.”

The words slipped so easily from Tywin’s mouth it was as if he had said them a thousand times, and I had never seen a man in such a stressful position looking so relaxed and collected. My husband.

There was utter silence, as though everyone knew he wished to continue. He took a deep breath and blinked a few times, scanning the crowd. When he landed on me, I watched his eyes flicker back and forth between Margaery and I, and I understood that he was asking a question. There had been a slight change in his eyes, though not enough for anybody but me to notice. I shook my head ‘no’ at him; my sister was certainly not pregnant. 

He faced the entire hall again, lips parting in preparation to speak. It had been so natural that I doubted a single soul there knew I had just told him all he needed to know. They would most assuredly wonder how he had so quickly been informed of Margaery’s status despite not being present to hear her say it. 

“Because there is no possibility of King Tommen having a son, the subject will be decided as it has been in history. Or at the very least in a similar manner, for I wish to be much more efficient with the decision of successor than King Jaehaerys and his great council was. Court will reconvene after dinner in three or so hours, at which time a vote will be held over the next ruler of Westeros,” Tywin explained, his voice loud and clear as he spoke. He did not falter once, and he was moving his eyes around the crowd at a constant speed. He was not anxious nor was he frozen, the sign of a perfect public speaker. 

He descended from the platform, leaving the hall just as quickly as he had entered, and I found myself smiling as people turned to watch him exit. There was a soft shuffling of feet and clothes, but not a word was uttered. Once my husband had gone out of the double doors, people began to speak again. 

The two men I had been listening to beforehand continued their conversation, giving me quite a shock in the process.

“As I was saying, if you want an efficient king who works hard and rules well, why not just put Tywin Lannister on the iron chair? His ass was probably shaped by the gods for the damned thing, and you just saw the way he handled that.”

“Ha! You’re probably right. I suppose he’s the one already doing it all anyway, even if he isn’t the most direct claim.”

“Not only that, but he has serious experience. I doubt there’s a man alive who’s spent as much time in charge of all seven kingdoms. There’s not a damn thing he wouldn’t know how to handle.”

“I wonder who he’d choose as his hand. It would be rather odd to see him without the pin, if we’re honest. Maybe he’ll go on doing it all the same.”

The two men shared a laugh, and their conversation was certainly much more relaxed than it had been previously. They’d found common ground.

“Perhaps his brother. Kevan Lannister has always been a smart man, he’d do the job well. Seven hells, maybe he’d even choose his wife. I hear she’s sharper than valyrian steel.”

“She ought to be if they’re going around calling her all these names like ‘Bladed Tongue’ and ‘the Nightshade of the Garden’.”

“Yes, well, in any case, I think Tywin Lannister is who people ought to consider. It’s the only reasonable choice, especially after that display he just gave. Come, let’s go have dinner in one of the halls. I expect there will be some good conversation.”

I saw the two men move away in my peripheral, and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding in. Somehow, I thought breathing might make them realize I was rather close and make them stop. Not only that, but I feared the slightest movement might make me begin to shake.

Tywin? The king?

I swallowed the dryness in my throat, processing now that my grandmother had been speaking with Margaery and I for the last several minutes, though I had not a clue what she was saying. All I could think about was what I’d heard.

I wondered if perhaps other people in the hall had also considered that my husband had a claim, and suddenly I felt stupid. I hadn’t even thought about the possibility of Tywin having a claim, because to me he was always going to be the hand of the king. How could he be anything else?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the two men I’d been listening to the entire afternoon had a point. The gods had shaped Tywin for the throne. Not once in all of his years had he cut himself on the damned thing, and though it was probably just a coincidence, it was odd to consider that nearly all bad kings had ended up hurt by it at some point. 

Not only that, but there were plenty of tales of Tywin’s confidence and natural look upon the throne. If I was correct, even Stannis Baratheon had thought Tywin was king when he visited Kings Landing as a boy. 

I had begun to shake now, for all of these facts were unable to leave my head. It was dizzying, and I wanted nothing more than to lay down. To lay down in Tywin’s bed in the tower of the hand with his arms holding me tight.

“My dear, are you quite alright?”

I snapped out of it when I realized my grandmother was addressing me, and I once again attempted to swallow the awful dryness in my throat that seemingly could not go away. I nodded, but both her and Margaery knew better than that. My father had excused himself from the conversation at some point, it appeared. 

“You’re shaking, (Y/N),” Margaery pointed out, deep concern in her face. For a moment it felt like I was her younger sister. She had just lost her husband and here I was, making her feel nervous.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’ve just begun to feel a bit ill, that’s all. I’m not sure why,” I said, sighing out and squeezing my eyes shut. The migraine was even worse now.

“Dinner ought to help. Come, both of you. We’ll all eat in my room tonight,” my grandmother suggested, offering my sister her arm. Margaery took it gratefully, and I could see in her eyes that she was still beyond upset. Even in my state of shock, I wished more than anything that I could take her pain for her. Such was the duty and love of an older sister. 

With each step towards my grandmother's chambers I felt as though I might faint, which was an odd thing. It was even more strange for me to consider how I was actually feeling about what I’d heard. Was I opposed to Tywin being king? Did I like the idea? Did I like the idea of being queen?

Surely that was the role my sister was born for, not me. It had always been that way. Tommen the king, Tywin the hand, Margaery the queen, and I the leader. It felt as though we were filling in shoes that weren’t ours.

At least, I would be. Tywin had always been called the king without a crown, after all. But I was certainly no Margaery, compassionate towards all and constantly public about it. Only used to leading soldiers, I was the very opposite, and I feared that my husband was too. 

With that in mind, I also considered how despised he was for the sacking of King's Landing. Surely the commoners had not forgotten, and with so many assassinations, how could I not be wary? Although I wanted to take Margaery’s pain for her, I was not sure that if I were in the same situation I would be able to take my own pain. 

These thoughts were all abandoned with the opening of my grandmother’s door, however, and I took a deep breath to fully bring myself back to the present. She muttered something to a maid about fetching supper, and just a moment later I found myself sitting at the table with her and Margaery.

Gods, I really was out of it. All of us were.

“Grandmother, do you think he suffered? Do you think- do you think it was painful?” Margaery asked after a moment, sipping her wine in consolation. My grandmother thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head.

“No, dearest. I expect something like that is quick and painless. You mustn't worry yourself with it.”

I watched her reach across the table to grab Margaery’s hand, and I drank from my own cup to hold back the knowledge that it had not been quick and painless. I knew that for certain, as the Battle of Blackwater had been one of the most horrific sights and sounds in memory. It made my heart break for Tommen.

The maids had come back in with our food then, and I was more than just a little shocked. It had been under 5 minutes, which was certainly the shortest I’d ever waited for a meal. I guessed that they wanted to make sure that at least this aspect of our day wasn’t awful.

“(Y/N), may I ask you, who do you expect will be the next king? I doubt they’d put Myrcella on the throne, and your husband probably has some insight,” Margaery inquired after a moment. The room had been far too silent for a while, and the air felt stale somehow.

“I expect her husband will be the next king. I heard quite a lot of chatter about it in the hall,” my grandmother answered rather drolly, not giving me an opportunity to. She knew that I would attempt to lie and say that Tyrion had the best claim.

Margaery made no effort to hide her shock, and I found myself not wanting to meet her eyes. I instead acted as though the food on my plate was insanely interesting, moving it around with my fork for a moment before taking a bite.

“Truly?”

That was directed at me, not my grandmother, and I was forced to speak upon it. Finally lifting my head up, I took a deep breath and replied.

“I’m not entirely certain, Margaery. I heard discussion of it in the throne room, but it’s also entirely possible that Tyrion could become king. Myrcella is a woman, and Jaime’s role in the kingsguard is too large for people to overlook I fear. So that leaves Tyrion and my husband, who I somehow hadn’t even considered a candidate until just a few minutes ago.”

I felt cheated, in a way. Tywin had certainly known that he was a viable option, and yet he had said nothing about it to me. Why? Did he fear that the subject would overwhelm me or frighten me?

Well, I supposed it had done both.

“And, if Lord Tywin were to become the king, then that would obviously make your sister queen. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’d be able to seduce this one,” my grandmother added on, smiling at her own joke about my husband. It admittedly made me laugh a little, but not enough to take away the fear of being queen. 

“Yes, and I don’t think I’d want to seduce this one. You’re the only one who’s got the patience for him,” Margaery said with a small giggle, giving my hand a squeeze from beside me at the table. I scoffed despite knowing that she was entirely correct.

“Well, I fear I wouldn’t be nearly as good of a queen as you were,” I noted, voicing one of my biggest fears. The prospect of Tywin becoming king, I knew, did not scare me half as much as the prospect of me becoming queen.

“Well don’t, it’s not true. You may not be so sociable as me, but that’s only because you’re more genuine. You’re adored in Highgarden, I’m certain the same is possible in King's Landing. You’ve always been rather strategic with your reforms and innovations, which would be quite useful,” Margaery assured me, and I could tell that she meant it. 

“And you’re not upset? You’ve always wanted to be queen,” I questioned, knowing that since the day she’d learned to speak it had practically been the only thing she desired.

“Well, I am upset. I- I’m going to miss Tommen quite a lot. I wouldn’t say that I loved him as you love your husband, but I did care about him. I cared about him very much. But as for my position, I’m not upset at all. If there was somebody else that I would want as queen, it’s you,” she said, continuing to soothe the nerves that seemed to be consuming me.

“It would be rather amusing if after all of this Lord Tyrion was chosen after all,” my grandmother joked, suddenly deciding to join our conversation. I smiled, knowing she was right. There was no reason to become anxious about it when I had no idea who the lords of the court would end up picking. It was also somewhat surprising to me that Tywin had opted to make the vote so soon, but the more I thought about it the more I realized it was probably smart.

To have it done quickly and put a new king on the throne made significantly more sense than notifying all seven kingdoms that once again, the line of succession was a bit murky. To do so would’ve been inviting others to take their chance at claiming the iron throne. Gods, men were so stupid.

In any case, to do it this way would put a Lannister on the throne and cement our position there. In that sense, our position applied to both my marriage and my own identity. The Lannisters on the throne and the Tyrells right beside them.

Plus, whatever child that Loras and Sansa had would end up married to the child of Tyrion and Roslin Frey, and that meant we would stay connected to the throne. Although, realizing that made my blood run cold for a moment. If Tywin did end up on the throne, would he choose Tyrion as his heir?

He had seemed quite adamant that he did not want children from me, but would he now desire a different heir than Tyrion?

I exhaled, escaping my thoughts as I ate. I was getting far too ahead of myself, and I needed to stop thinking so much. No matter what happened in the next few hours, I felt certain that it would all be worked out. With Tywin at my side, how could it not be?

—————

After dinner the great hall was significantly calmer than it had been beforehand. I assumed most men had worked out their difference of beliefs over a meal, or I at least prayed they did. My family was standing at the front of the room, but truthfully I wished Tywin would come in already so I could join him. I’d been without him all day, and under such stressful circumstances it had been absolutely awful.

“Grandmother, how do you suspect they’ll count the votes? To ensure honesty, anyways,” Margaery questioned, which admittedly also interested me. There hadn’t been a vote in over a century and a half, and that scenario had been quite different.

“I suspect they’ll use colored stones. It is far easier to lie about the words on paper than it is to lie about the color of something. And that way everyone else can see it too,” my grandmother reasoned, sighing and snapping at some maid to go fetch her a chair. I didn’t blame her, we had been doing quite a lot of standing today.

The hall went suddenly quiet, and when I turned around I noticed my husband coming down the walkway in the middle of the room. To watch so many people go quiet out of respect was somehow frightening. Surely any man worth going quiet over was one you respected—or feared—enough to be king.

Tywin paused at the front of the room, turning his head to look at me and extending his arm. Understanding that he wished for me to be with him, I stepped out toward him and took his arm. Everyone remained silent until the two of us had settled into place on the right side of the room. 

Once the chatter started up again, I looked up at Tywin and opened my mouth. When I did, I found that no words could escape. It almost felt as though I was stuck in a dream. Tywin understood whatever I was feeling, for he sighed and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. I couldn’t help leaning against his arm, feeling so utterly exhausted by the day which would seemingly never end. 

Slowly but surely, all of the nobles in the Red Keep gathered on the floor and gallery of the great hall, either ready to vote or anxious to see who would be picked. Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion, and Myrcella had all joined us too. Prince Trystane looked beyond upset despite the fact that his wife was entirely content, and I had the feeling that he felt she deserved the throne. He was correct, for by right it was hers.

But when had the lords of Westeros ever permitted a woman to have what is rightfully hers?

Once Tywin had decided that a sufficient number of people were present, he broke away from me and ascended up the stairs. Varys and Pycelle followed behind him, and I guessed that he had asked them to be in charge of counting the votes. It made me rather happy, for Varys had always been adamant about the good of the realm even if Pycelle just sucked up to my husband.

“With dinner finished, voting will now commence. Grand Maester Pycelle will read off the scroll and call for the lords present. When your name is called, approach and vote,” Tywin said simply, not caring to get into the details. It was all quite artificial and ceremonial, but I supposed things like this had to be. Although, if I hadn’t been so tired, I probably would’ve teased Tywin for it.

I watched him come back down to the crowd, and I instantly took his arm once he had returned to my side. I was being overly clingy, but it was hard not to be when I was stressed and emotional like this. I was so anxious I felt that keeping my dinner down would be a strenuous task.

“Your vote will be signified by a rock. There are four here, red, yellow, blue, and green. They represent the following: red for Lord Tywin Lannister, yellow for Lord Tyrion Lannister, blue for Ser Jaime Lannister, and green for the Princess Myrcella Baratheon,” Pycelle explained, holding up each colored rock as he did. There was something so incredibly droll and procedural about hearing it that only Pycelle could’ve explained it.

Although, seeing the red rock made my insides turn, for how could such a simple and pointless object have such a large effect on my life? I would quite obviously support my husband no matter what, but I secretly prayed that we might simply continue living in relative peace.

For the next two hours, every man in the hall—besides those with a claim—voted. I could not see how many rocks of each color had been taken, for they were in a wooden box. The set up, put simply, was that of a table in front of the iron throne, with one box containing the stones and the other covered with a small opening at the top for the stones to be placed through. The sound of rocks hitting each other had been going on continuously, and I was grateful when it was over.

“Princess, My Lords, if you might come up here while the votes are read,” Pycelle said, turning to the front row once the last voter had returned to his spot amongst the crowd. Tywin stiffened suddenly, as if he was coming back to reality and wished otherwise. He turned and looked down at me, still clinging to his arm. Somehow, I was no longer the most dangerous woman in Westeros. I wasn’t the Bladed Tongue or the Nightshade of the Garden. None of that nonsense.

Right now I just felt like a frightened little girl.

That in itself was unsettling, because I hadn’t experienced such a feeling in over a decade. It was a sort of powerless feeling, the feeling one gets when they start to lose control of their own life. In the last two hours, I had clung so tightly to my husband out of fear that perhaps he might slip away too.

“Will you stand up there with me?” he asked, voice low and quiet. There was no visible emotion on his face, either. He might’ve been asking what the time was.

I found that words would not escape my throat, but I nodded at him as a reply. We went up the steps together then, everybody else following behind us as we did. Similarly, Trystane stood with Myrcella on the opposite side of the platform. I noticed that they were holding hands, and it made me oddly sentimental. Myrcella would have been a good queen. 

I was jolted from my thoughts by the sound of Pycelle clearing his throat, but I did not turn around to face him. I could see him in my peripheral, attempting to pry the top of the box off so he could count the votes. Awkwardly, Varys had to step in and assist him.

“V-Very well. The votes will be called out, and each stone will be placed into its corresponding basket. As I said before, red for Lord Tywin Lannister, yellow for Lord Tyrion Lannister…”

As Pycelle continued with his procedure, I heard Tywin’s sharp, annoyed inhale beside me. If not so public or dire a setting, I would’ve laughed. It seemed that despite all his devotion to the Lannisters, Pycelle was the singular most annoying man in all of King's Landing. And it wasn’t helping that his voice would bring the sentence upon us.

“The first vote… Lord Tywin Lannister.”

I heard the sound of the stone hitting the wicker basket, and it made me exhale shakily. I knew I had to remain calm, for it was entirely possible that my husband just so happened to be the first vote, but somehow I understood that wasn’t the case. 

“...Lord Tyrion Lannister.”

That had been the second vote, and it eased my nerves a bit. However, Tyrion was standing right beside me, and I could feel his nerves too. I couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to be king, and I suspected that he did. Unfortunately for both of us, then, the next seven votes were for my husband.

It felt as though every time I heard Tywin’s name I got closer and closer to passing out, and yet I had to stand there emotionless. I wanted more than anything for Tywin to turn toward me and say it would all be alright, but he couldn’t. All either of us could do was stand there and begin to accept it.

There were then several more votes for Tyrion, and a few for Jaime and Myrcella, which rather surprised me. Neither Jaime nor Myrcella looked pleased to hear their names, but it made me rather happy, for I hadn’t entirely expected Myrcella to get that many votes at all. Still, the continuing trend was overwhelmingly directed toward my husband, and at a certain point we had both realized that.

I heard Tywin sigh, and for the first time I couldn’t keep myself from looking up at him. I watched him blink a few times, and his lips parted for a moment as he inhaled. His eyes scanned the great hall, and then he turned his head ever so slightly to look down at me. When our eyes met, I felt oddly comforted, because while there was a look of defeat in his eyes, there was somehow also a look of acceptance. He had been condemned to play this part, but he would do it and he would do it well. That was who Tywin Lannister was.

And nobody would know that he had sighed that day, and nobody would ever stop to consider that the look he had given me was not one of triumph but of apology. But it did not matter, because I knew. 

At that moment, when Tywin looked down at me and silently admitted that he would be king, I remember it clicked in my head. The sight of the White Hart suddenly made sense, and it made me want to cry. Even the most powerful man in Westeros was still subjected to the gods’ sick game. 

“And our last vote… the Lord Tywin Lannister,” Pycelle announced, the last stone clacking against the already full basket. My hand had begun to shake, and Tywin let go of my arm as a response. When our hands were at our sides, he took mine in his, giving it a good squeeze. It was the only comfort he could currently give to his overwhelmed wife, but it was enough. 

“With a total of 206 votes, there are 23 votes for Princess Myrcella Baratheon, 34 votes for Ser Jaime Lannister, 57 votes for Lord Tyrion Lannister… and 92 votes for Lord Tywin Lannister,” Varys read off, stepping before the entire hall as he did.

There was a sort of bone chilling silence as everyone in the great hall processed the news, and it almost made me laugh. There should not have been any shock, everyone present should’ve known this would happen. I should’ve known.

A man among the crowd stepped into the isle then, and the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed was heard. I could see the metallic shine of his weapon, and all present watched as he lifted it into the air.

“To his grace, Tywin Lannister, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, the First Men, and Protector of the Realm!”

The man's shouts echoed throughout the room, and suddenly it was not just him but the entire hall. Hundreds of swords were drawn, and a rhythmic chanting of Tywin’s name was all I could hear. 

My husband remained unphased, of course, standing there just as he had been for the last few hours with a respectful and balanced expression. I, on the other hand, had begun to feel some sort of horrible pride. Tommen had died only hours earlier, and yet watching the entire hall cheer for my husband and choose him as their new king made my heart swell. 

There certainly was something sick about it, the continual replacement of kings and lords, and yet that never came into anybody’s consideration. All that ever mattered was that the iron throne was kept warm, not that the cold body was mourned.

And still, I was no better. I could’ve stood there for hours watching the way those men cheered for Tywin. Because yes, he certainly was feared by many, but no man could deny that he was fit for the throne. Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in Westeros. Now he was its king too. 

But when he gave my hand another squeeze, I knew it was not those titles which mattered to him most, or perhaps at all. I understood it then, that the only title for which he cared was that of Tywin Lannister, my husband. 

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[spacerockfloater]

Hello @spacerockfloater! This is going to be kind of long but I would like to have a genuine discussion about the post you made regarding Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena. Some of the claims you made are things I have not seen in the books/show, but I am open to knowing I'm wrong and learning more about the characters from hotd.

"they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise..." --- I'm genuinely curious, do you consider them to be on the same level as Aegon II, Joffrey, Gregor, Ramsey, etc.?

"Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either." --- I'm not sure if you’re a book purist or regard the show as more truthful, regardless, I think it's acceptable to assume Lucerys is not an evil mastermind. In the show, Luke is portrayed as being influenced by Aegon II to play jokes/make fun of Aemond. In the books, it’s explained less in depth, but consider that Lucerys is a 5–6-year-old child, I think it’s safe to assume every person didn’t have the best judgment/were rude as children.

"He pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first..." --- Once again, I believe both the show and book disprove this, or at least add nuance to the situation. In the book, Aemond pushed Joffrey which incited the incident. While being pushed is not an excuse to blind someone, it can be inferred that there was an escalation to a fight that proceeded after Aemond claimed Vhagar. In the show Aemond was attacked first after taunting Rhaena, however during this fight he shouts “You’ll Die”. If I heard this, I too would probably start blindly swinging with any weapon I had at my attacker. I don't believe Lucerys sought out Aemond with the intention of blinding him.

"He tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it." --- From what I can tell, the book and show disprove this. Lucerys was sent as a messenger, in the book, he was said to have given Borros the message, explained that he couldn’t wed one of his daughters and then tried to leave. Aemond then instigated an argument which prompted Lucerys to say he was sent as a messenger, nowhere in any of this conflict did Luke demand anything from Borros. He simply delivered the message and intended to leave.

"Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues." --- Like Lucerys, Jacaerys didn’t tease/exclude Aemond because of his lack of a dragon, it was most likely because he insulted his mother and questioned his parentage. I assume you mention 'anger issues' because of the dinner scene and the sword fighting scene? In the dinner scene he was being provoked, but yes, in the swordfight scene Jace seemed angry for no reason.

"He beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them?" --- I’ll admit I don't like this scene much either, but he doesn’t violently beat Luke up. It was a standard sword fight, yes Jace did push Luke and speak to him harshly, but He didn’t grab him by the throat he grabs him by the arm. When in the book or show was it mentioned that Jacaerys was envious of his uncle’s prowess? This wasn’t mentioned at all in the sword fight scene from the show.

"He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true" --- What scene is this/when did this happen in the book? Are you referencing when Rhaenyra was miscarrying Visenya?

"He very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable" --- This is a rumor spread by mushroom, the same person that claimed Alicent ‘did more than just reading with Jahaerys’, yet I don't see anyone taking him seriously when he said that. It is never confirmed that Sara Snow is a real person, or that Jace married her. Jace didn’t win the North by supposedly marrying a member of house Stark, it is very clear that Cregan didn’t want to break his family’s oath (what the Starks are known for), and respected Jace, therefore he pledged his allegiance to Rhaenyra

"Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight" --- Why do you consider her evil? She was fighting the war for her stepmother and the woman she considered her queen. Are you referencing the fight with Aemond?

"She becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?" --- I feel that it's understandable for someone to turn to drinking and other escapes after losing their dragon, father, step-mother, step-siblings, and their betrothed. Also, she bets in the rat pits, these mostly consist of rat fights and occasionally dog vs rat fights, I do not believe it is ever mentioned that she watched the child fights. It’s wrong when Aegon does it because he would actively bet and watch the child fights (also he was just a bad person), whereas it's not confirmed that Baela ever did.

"Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death." --- In the show, Rhaena is seen visibly upset and in mourning at her mother’s funeral. I don't believe it's selfish of her to want Vhagar. Would you not want to have something of your mothers after her passing? To Rhaena, possessing Vhagar was most likely a way to honor and remember her mother, as well as a way to gain a dragon.

"She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up." --- She has enough respect and awareness to assume that taking her mother’s dragon on the day of her funeral is not appropriate. According to you, it’s concerning that Rhaena apparently isn’t mourning her mother, but Aemond shows no hint of remorse or respect for Laena or her daughters on the day of his aunt’s funeral. He displays little to no emotion over the death of his cousin’s mother/his aunt, and then claims Vhagar the same day as her funeral.

"Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly" --- Lucerys was not sent to “Convince Borros”, he was simply delivering his mother’s message. He doesn’t “drop dead”, he was killed (or murdered depending on how you interpret Aemonds’ intentions) by Aemond.

"Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away" --- Jacaerys wasn’t immediately killed during this battle. Why is it a bad idea to send away people you love who are too young to fight/defend themselves, especially after a young boy (Luke) was killed already in the war?

"Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already" ---Aegon and Sunfyre were already injured, but Baela’s dragon, Moondancer, was a baby in comparison (Size of horse), yet still prevailed in killing Sunfyre. Baela may have “lost” the battle, but so did Aegon and Sunfyre (Aegon was severely burned/never fully recovered and Sunfyre died due to its wounds)

"Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes" --- Rhaena had no dragon, and has never been shown/described as having sword training or battle experience like Baela. Even when Rhaena did have a dragon, it was still too small to ride/do damage with. What would you have her do? She was sent to the Vale for her protection, and likely couldn’t leave. She married a Hightower, but it is never stated that she wanted or chose to marry him. Most likely she had no say in it, it was probably arranged by her brother or another lord. With how much you and other greens talk about how Alicent was forced in an arranged marriage to the king (I agree it was an arranged marriage and I pity Alicent for being forced to endure what she did), you don't seem to consider that many if not all other marriages in Westeros are arranged, Including Both Baela's and Rhaena's marriages

Sorry this was so long lol, also my apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance😅

Actually thank you for being such a polite and sweet person, it’s always so nice to have a civil conversation with someone else and discuss opposite ideas! ❤️ Please never apologise for any typos, we all make plenty!

So to answer all of your questions (my answers may be a bit short, excuse me for that, I have a terrible headache and I’m working on my thesis):

- Absolutely the fuck not, I make sure to clarify in the last paragraph of my post that there are much more evil kids in ASOIAF, such as the one you mentioned. It’s just that in HOTD they are in no way pure angels and the fandom assigning them the “baby that can do no wrong” title baffles me.

- I’m in no way a show/ book purist, I choose to treat both of them as entirely different pieces of media because that’s what they are to me. I can’t say one is canon and the other is not. I believe that they are standalone versions of the same generic story. Generally, most of my posts are HOTD critical (like the one about the kids you’re referring to) and I only cite F&B as source when it comes to events that have not yet happened/ or were altered in the show, e.g. the deaths of Jace and Jof, Rhaenyra disinheriting two eldest daughters etc. But you’ll never seen me cry that “Oh, Aegon was never a rapist in the book!” because the book is a different version and this is no longer canon in the HOTD show. So until these events are proven to be non canon either, I’ll reference them, as they are thoughts I had when I was reading F&B. That being said, in HOTD Lucerys’ and Aemond’s age difference was drastically reduced so I will not be giving Luc brownie points for being a couple of years younger than Aemond. To me they’re both children at first, and then they’re both teenagers when Luc laughs at Aemond’s face. He may not be an evil mastermind, but I don’t see anything less than problematic, let alone praise worthy, in him. Side not, I also think kid Aegon II was a despicable little thing for the way he bullied his brother, but at least he made up for it when it really mattered, am I right?

- As I said, my post concerns characters in HOTD and their equivalents in F&B are only brought up when their actions are not proven non canon in the show. Jof was never part of the incident in HOTD, hence why I didn’t mention him, but like… shoving your unsupervised younger family member back because he’s trying to get you into trouble for something that does not concern him in the slightest, still doesn’t sound worthy of being ganged up and disabled to me. Both show and book Rhaenyra should have really taught these kids to mind their business. Aemond insults Rhaena after she challenges him. Aemomd tells them they’ll die screaming after 8 pairs of hands have tried knocking his teeth out. I don’t know about Luc, but I wouldn’t be shocked when someone that I kicked down to the ground with 3 other people wants me to die, but that’s just me. Maybe don’t throw hands in the first place? Say you’re sorry before you pull out a knife and try to de-escalate what you started? Lol.

- Luc is not simply just a messenger, he is in line for the Iron Throne and a core member of Rhaenyra’s family. Sending him as an envoy to Borros with nothing to offer back was obviously his mother’s fault, yet this doesn’t make the way he demanded Borros’ loyalty any less disrespectful and unimpressive to Borros himself who received him. Aemond, on the other hand, who in HOTD is only slightly older than Luc, came baring a logical proposal.

- Aemond insulted Jace after he laid hands on him. Jace attacked Aemond because everyone else was doing it. He is violent for all the reasons I stated. And at the dinner table, he is violent because his immediate reaction to hearing something he doesn’t like is to throw hands.

- Jace kicked Luc in the chest and knocks the wind out of him, grabs him by the collar and screams “what was that?”. He is violent and jealous of his uncles, that was the whole point of the scene where they see how good of a fighter Aemond is and they just stand there sulking, and he is upset that Aemond folded him in half during the dinner fight that Jace started. He is upset they’re not as good and he takes it out on his brother.

- I am referring to the scene in which he’s speaking Valyrian and tells his mum what kind of king he is determined to be to which Rhaenyra replies that he should take it down a notch because there’s plenty of time until that happens “unless you’re planning to depose of your own mother” and Jace’s answer is to say nothing.

- I don’t bring up Alicent’s rumoured relationship with Mushroom because it’s not show canon and this is a show discussion. I bring the Sara rumour up because it is not yet proven to not be canon. So sorry for being repetitive about that, I hope I have conveyed my way of thinking, lol! ❤️ And to be fair, we don’t personally know Cregan or what he wants, lol. He did conveniently wait for the winter to end and marched down only after the war was over, so he definitely is the type of person to look after his own people and interests first. In the new leaked dialogue of his it sounds like he’s berating Jace for the way he treats the people of the night’s watch. So we’ll have to wait and see.

- I consider her evil both because of her fight with Aemond but also because she pulled out a knife and sliced the face of the guard who asked her not to approach her brother when he was king. I think you’re a bit confused about the rat pits, lol. The first time we hear of them is from Mushroom when he said that Aegon II was found in a rat pit in which he’s explaining that children fight. So a rat pit was never about rats lol. Rats is a nickname for the poor kids there. And then it is confirmed that Baela also frequented there and placed bets, by betting her money or clothes, so fuck them both lol.

- I don’t consider Rhaena making it her priority to claim her mother’s nuclear weapon for herself when her corpse wasn’t even cold yet a galant action to honour Laena. I see it as desperation to gain Daemon’s approval, but to each their own.

- All the other points you mention were made in order to clarify that all of these kids completely failed in whatever task they sought to accomplish and have no achievements, making them unimpressive and not praise worthy. (Btw, Sunfyre actually survived for months after and ate Rhaenyra? HE was the one to kill Moondancer, not the other way around? Sunfyre died due to the combined damage he received during the war because he was the dragon that participated in most battles and won them all.) Like, kudos to them for trying if you wanna applaud them for that, but they all like… failed. So I’ll not treat them as if they’re the best next thing after sliced bread, lol. I’ll treat them as they are in canon and not people’s head-canons about them: violent entitled underachievers.

[phatm0th]

Archie the Painslut

18+

heyy so i recently started the show The Great on hulu and even though i haven’t finished it yet (not even on season three yet) i really wanted to write about Archie. This was meant to be much shorter but i kept coming up with new ideas and it snowballed into this.

this is a plus size reader fic because im plus size and i say there aren’t enough of those out there. this is like, the second fic ive ever shared with the first one being on ao3. (i’ll post this one on ao3 soon) i feel like it could’ve been better but im still quite happy with the results. hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

tags: plus size!reader, priest kink, femdom, overstimulation, oral sex, nuns, riding, slapping, choking

You were enjoying your gig as a nun in the empress’s court so far. A month prior, Russia’s new ruler sent out a pamphlet encouraging women to join the church. Other parts of the world required quite a bit of work for a woman to become a nun, but this was Russia. You jumped at the opportunity, not wanting to be married off to one of the men in your village. All you had was a brief interview with Catherine The Great herself and secured your position as a nun. You truly enjoyed it, too. Food was nice, you had made a few friends, and it was quite a simple job. Celibacy got a little difficult, but self pleasure always helped. There was one thing though, one man, rather, that annoyed you to your core.

Well, most men of the court annoyed you, always either undressing you with their eyes or making jokes about your size. This particular man annoyed you in another way, though. Archie, the patriarch of Russia, wanted absolutely nothing to do with you. He regularly interacted with other members of the clergy, but you might as well have been invisible to him. He seemed pretty high strung the first time you met him. He offered you a curt, “Hello, pleasure to serve the lord with you,” or something, and not much else. When you passed in the halls, he looked straight ahead. If there was a risk of brushing up against you, he would walk in the opposite direction. There were plenty of people in the court that didn’t interact with you and you didn’t give a shit. The truth was, you really, really wanted him.

One night, at a party, you saw your friend, Marial, drinking and speaking with someone you couldn’t see. She saw you walking towards her and beckoned you forward, smiling. “There’s my favorite nun! Are you enjoying yourself?” she greeted. You nodded, slightly tipsy. Then you noticed, directly to Marial’s left was a stone cold sober Archie. “Oh. Hello Archie,” you mumbled. He stood up abruptly, “Hello. Must go,” he said, then quickly walked off. You sighed heavily, and plopped down onto the spot he was sitting. “What’s his fucking problem with me? You know, he’s barely said a word to me since I got here!” you slurred. Marial smirked and asked, “Is it not obvious?” She paused and stared at you as if waiting for you to give her your best guess. You lifted your shoulders in confusion. “He wants to fuck you!” she said with a laugh. “Very funny jape, Marial,” you lightly elbowed her. Her face became as serious as you had ever seen it. “I’m serious! And it is quite fucking obvious,” she gestured with her hand holding a drink to Archie, stood in a dark corner by himself, staring at you intensely. You locked eyes for a brief moment then he left his corner, disappearing into the crowd of drunk nobles.

Marial confided one other thing in you regarding Archie before the party ended. That being, he was very easy to tempt. He was slipping into his “old ways”, she said. And the only way he prevented himself from fucking his way through 70% of the court was self-flagellation. With that information, you hatched a plan.

Your plan commenced the very next morning and you woke much earlier than usual, hoping to catch him before the court grounds filled with people. On some mornings, Archie would have his too small breakfast in the garden on a bench. You managed to get your hands on an especially juicy peach, and you followed Archie to his place in the garden, careful to not be discovered. You waited a few moments for him to get comfortable and take a few bites of his food. “Beautiful day, Archie!” you said as you walked towards him. He choked on a mouthful of slightly burnt and very under-seasoned eggs. He swallowed thickly, trying to regain his composure. “Yes. As all things made by God are. Must you be so… energetic?” the irritation in his voice was apparent, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes drank you in, looking up and down your curvaceous form. You brought one arm up under your breasts, lifting them in a way you hoped was subtle but still seductive. You rested the other arm on top of that and brought the juicy peach to your lips.

“Do you like peaches, Archie?”

Before he could reply, you took a large bite of it, sighing in satisfaction as if it was the best peach you’d ever eaten. (it was) A bit of juice from it ran down your chin and onto your large breasts, staining your habit. Archie averted his eyes from your body, focused entirely on his food. You tossed the peach aside. “Oh, I have to do something about the mess I made,” you said, feigning concern. “Enjoy your morning!” You walked off, swaying your hips much more than necessary.

Phase two of your plan was to occur that afternoon. You watched Archie’s every move for the second time that day, and found yourself lying in wait like a predator hunting its prey. You stuck your head out of an empty room watching Archie walk down the hallway with one of his notebooks in hand. You waited until he got close enough and rushed right into him, “accidentally” knocking his notebook out of his hand. Several sheets of paper spilled out, one landing right under an end table next to the both of you. “I’m so sorry, Archie! Let me get that for you!” You got down on your hands and knees and arched your back, sticking your ass out as you reached under the table. You collected all the papers that had fallen around his feet and picked those up too, then presented them to him, still on your knees and staring up at him through your eyelashes. He shuddered quite violently and let out a harsh breath. Without a word, he snatched the papers from you and quickly walked off.

The third and final phase of your plan was that same evening. Catherine had planned a celebratory dinner for one successful month of introducing nuns in her court. You got there as early as possible, securing your seat right next to Archie. Before dinner began, Archie said a prayer to bless the food and you looked up at him from your seat, squeezing your thick thighs together. It was both meant to tease him and provide yourself with some much needed relief. You weren’t entirely sure if your plan would even work, but just the thought of finally fucking him was enough to make you wet and needy. He noticed and began stumbling over his words, clearing his throat. He managed to get through it though, and sat back down. A few minutes into the dinner, you rubbed your leg against Archie, lifting his robes slightly. He stopped eating and looked at you with a pathetic look in his eyes. He opened his mouth shakily but before he could say anything you stood up quickly and excused yourself from the table. Nobody seemed to give a fuck as everyone continued eating and having their hushed conversations. The only one that seemed to notice you spoke at all was Marial, giving you a knowing look.

You made your way to a completely empty room pretending to look busy with a vase of flowers. You were counting on Archie following you into it, but after a few minutes of waiting, you were beginning to believe he wouldn’t show. Maybe you should’ve explicitly said what you wanted. Maybe he just wasn’t attracted to you. Maybe he just really wanted to stay celibate. As your mind wandered, you didn’t notice the door close behind you.

You felt his presence when he was just a few inches behind you. His hands rested on your shoulders then slowly moved them to your tits as he started kneading them through your habit. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered harshly. Any other man would’ve gotten stabbed right in his cock for such a bold move but a wave of heat overtook you as you felt his breath hot against your ear. He sank his long fingers into your thick waist and gripped you roughly. You hoped it would bruise.

“Fucking finally, Archie.” You grabbed his forearms and ground your wide hips back onto his clothed, impossibly hard cock.

He started licking your ear and panting like a fucking dog. But before you could really get started you heard the empress call his name, likely wondering why he had disappeared from the dinner.

His perfect hands stopped groping you and he gasped as if waking from a trance. “This cannot happen!” he hissed, quickly prying himself from you. “Disgusting!” Before you could reply, he left you in the empty room. You weren’t sure if he was disgusted with himself or with you.

The next day was slow. You slept past breakfast and when you finally emerged from the bedroom you shared with another nun, the first thing you heard was some guard joking about you finally going on a diet. Any other day you would’ve had a comeback. Or a slap. Nothing today, though. You couldn’t even give him a dirty look. You just walked off.

You roamed the grounds, trying to find something to keep yourself busy but you to no avail. Archie found you disgusting. You faced rejection before but nothing ever stung this badly. Maybe it was because you had your hopes up this time? Marial herself told you how he felt about you, and she knew him better than anyone else did. Marial saw you walking alone, eyes downcast. She looked concerned as she walked towards you. You noticed and quickly walked off randomly turning corners of the palace until you believed you lost her.

You stood still, trying to catch your breath when you heard something strange. A shaky groan, muffled by the door you were standing in front of. Archie’s door. You held your breath and listened hard, thinking it might’ve been a groan of pain. He panted heavily, and let out a strained exhale of your name. You acted on impulse and discreetly opened the door.

There sat Archie at his desk, chair turned to the side so he could stretch out his legs. Cock in one hand, and a peach with one bite taken out of it in the other. He didn’t even notice you when he brought the peach to his mouth, licking into it as if it were a wet cunt. You thought he must’ve swiped it right after you tossed it yesterday.

A wave of heat overtook you and you slammed the door behind you and locked it. “I thought you found me disgusting,” you said, voice even. Archie jumped violently, but notably did not let go of himself. He looked at you guiltily and gave his cock a tight squeeze. His chest heaved as he worked his mouth, trying to speak. “It - it was not you I was disgusted with. It was me. I should not give in to my urges so easily, but every time I am around you I cannot control myself!” his voice rose on that last sentence as he broke away from your gaze, staring at the floor.

“Archie…” You didn’t know what to say. You decided instead that words wouldn��t be very effective anyway and decided to walk towards him. Your breasts heaved as you tried to even your breathing. You had never been this horny before, not even yesterday when you had Archie pressed against you. Before you realized it, you were looming directly above him, watching him subtly pulse his fist on his cock. Archie said, “As the patriarch, I really should not-“ SMACK. He let out a startled noise as your hand made a quickly brightening red mark on his face.

He looked up at you, panting, mouth agape as he wrenched his hand away from his cock. He dug his fingertips into the arms of his chair and furrowed his brow. You were worried you had taken it too far before he shot up out of his seat and pushed you backwards against the nearest wall. He gave you no time to speak - not that you were complaining - as he pressed his lips against yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and you savored the taste of each other. You felt one of his long legs jam its way in between your thick thighs. He ground his leg onto your clothed pussy, feeling your wetness through three layers of clothing. His hands roamed every inch of you he could reach without breaking away from the kiss, as if he was trying to commit your shape to memory. You buried a fist in his long hair, yanking his head away from yours. He moaned harshly and dropped to his knees rather violently. His hands caressed your calves as he inched his nose closer and closer to your heat. He buried his face between your thighs, almost suffocating himself as he sniffed you through the thick fabric of your habit.

You pushed his head back and lifted the hem of the habit to your mouth, unwilling to wait another second. He gasped harshly and shook as he finally got a full view of what he had been fantasizing about for weeks. He lunged forward and sank his fingers into your plush thighs, trying to pull them apart so he could have his fill. He kissed your mons first, savoring the feel of the hair against his lips. He pushed his head even further, licking and biting at your already wet inner thighs like a man starved. You supposed he was starved in that regard. As much as you enjoyed his exploration of your lower half, he wasn’t licking where you needed it the most, and you were starting to get desperate. You decided to take matters into your own hands - there’d be time for his perverted licking and sniffing another day. “Archie!” you said with the fabric still clenched between your teeth. You roughly grabbed his hair and angled his head exactly where you wanted it. His mouth was right against your clit and he immediately put it to good use, licking one slow stripe along the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You heaved a breath of relief as he finally, finally started giving you what you needed. Archie moaned as he sucked your clit, the vibrations only doubling your pleasure. “It feels so good to finally give in, right Archie?” He pulled back to reply but you roughly shoved his face back where it belonged. He made a sound between a gasp and a whimper before going right back to servicing you. He moved his tongue from your clit to your pussy. His nose bumped your clit each time he moved his head, making you feel better than you thought possible. Your hips bucked, and you curled your fingers in his hair once again, trying to ground yourself.

After a bit of tonguefucking you, he replaced his tongue with one of his long, perfect fingers, and his mouth took its rightful place against your clit yet again. Pleasure shot through you like lightning as you felt his finger brush up against something you hadn’t known was there before. His assault on your gspot in combination with his relentless sucking of your clit made you dizzy almost. The sight of him almost made you cum. On his knees, one hand wrapped around his long cock and the other pleasuring you. His eyes were closed in bliss as he devoured you. You gripped his hair, forcing his head still as you ground your hips into his face. His eyes shot open and met yours. They were watery, and dilated. He somehow looked completely serene, but enraptured at the same time.

You had seen that look only once before. You followed him into the woods one day and watched him eat a berry. You watched him talk to God, watched him partake in the purest, most sacred form of worship he knew.

That was it. Once the realization dawned on you, you were cumming all over his hand and face before you knew it. You were loud and shaky, the hem of the robes shoved in your mouth did very little to muffle your voice. You pulled his hair so hard he was sure to have a headache in a few hours. He let out a few short grunts himself, eyes rolled into the back of his head and the hand on his cock finally stilled.

You let go of his hair and managed to relax the tense muscles in your body. He stood up on shaky legs, eyes wide as he watched you collect yourself. When your vision finally cleared you saw that he was still hard. “What the fuck?” you asked, panting. “I still want to fuck you. It took a great deal of effort to not cum just then but I managed to stave it off. I wanted to save it for something special.” You were still buzzing with oversensitivity, but you couldn’t deny that you wanted to fuck him too.

You both made your way into his more than humble bedroom and you were finally able to take off your now dirty clothes. You faced each other, just admiring each other’s bodies for a few moments. You were finally able to take a good look at his cock. It was long and leaky, protruding around 7.5 inches from his skinny frame. Archie himself looked almost frightening. His head was tilted slightly downward, pupils blown, chest heaving from excitement. (?) He wore a wide grin as he drank you in, eyes lingering on your tits. You almost wanted to ask him if he was okay, but then he embraced you, jamming his tongue in your mouth and groping you yet again. He broke the kiss just as fast as he started it, saying, “I want you on top. Please.”

Archie was much taller than you, but you weren’t sure how strong he was. What if you hurt him?

Oh. Right.

You lightly pushed his chest, encouraging him to get on his bed. He quickly sat on the bed and you followed, climbing into his lap. You stood on your knees, slightly towering over him as you leaned down to kiss him again. “Sit,” he all but demanded. You could not deny him. And you were eager to see his reaction to your weight on top of him.

You sat in his lap, finally resting your weight on top of him in the way he’d been so eager for since he first laid eyes on you. Well, not quite. He wanted you on his face, but he was too eager to fuck you, so this would have to do. He placed his hands on your ass, kneading the cheeks apart, admiring your softness. You moaned and ground down onto his cock impatiently. Archie wouldn’t budge, too focused on kissing you and feeling you up. You lifted your hips, much to his chagrin, to guide his cock inside your eager cunt yourself. He let out a harsh exhale as if he had been punched in the gut. You breathed shakily, surprised at yourself for taking all of him at once like that.

Archie buried his face into your neck, whimpering. You didn’t move just yet, trying to adjust to the stretch of him. You occasionally clenched, liking the effect it had on a desperate Archie. You were ready to move after a bit, and you lifted your hips just once to test the waters, pulling him out almost completely before slamming back down onto his lap. You leaned back so you could get a good look at his face as you began grinding yourself on his cock. He was biting his bottom lip so hard he drew a bit of blood. His eyes rolled back in his head as shaky, high-pitched noises escaped him.

“Archie,” you said, an idea forming. He didn’t notice. “Archie.” you said again. Your hips stilled, and that seemed to rouse him from whatever high he was chasing, but then you slapped him. Hard. To make sure he was paying attention. You felt him throb inside you. “What?” he asked, confused as to why you had stopped moving, but grateful for the slap. “Do you want me to hurt you?” you asked, hand still lingering on his cheek. He throbbed again. “Yes. I will not last long.” Neither would you. You slapped him again, enjoying it almost as much as he was. “Lay down then,” you said as you rose off him.

He guided himself back into your wet heat as he laid flat on his back. His hands made their way to your lower back as you immediately began riding him again. You wanted to slap him again but decided instead to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back onto the under-stuffed pillow it rested on. “Ooooh,” he moaned weakly, enjoying the dull burn in his scalp. “Open your mouth,” you demanded. He obeyed, sticking his tongue out for good measure. You spat in his mouth and he swallowed gratefully. You moved both of your hands to his chest and scraped your nails across it. “Yes!” Archie shouted. You pinched his nipples roughly, twisting and flicking them. Archie’s legs shook and he dug his nails into your lower back as he moaned. You liked the sting of it more than you thought you would, and your orgasm was approaching quickly.

You decided you wanted him to cum first. You rose your hips and slammed them down harder than necessary, feeling his balls and thighs slap against your ass loudly. He gasped, startled by the change in pace. “Close!” he shouted. Your right hand shot to his neck, closing off his airflow as you moved at a punishing pace. All Archie could manage like this was “c- c- c-“ You assumed he was trying to say “cumming,” as his entire body became stiff. You felt him pulse inside you a few times, each pulse followed by a spurt of cum.

Your hand around his neck loosened. You stopped moving your hips. He gasped for breath, savoring every bit of air that made it into his lungs. After he was breathing normally, you angled your hips so that his cock would hit your gspot on each stroke, and began riding him again at your relentless pace. The air he had just gotten back was knocked out of his lungs as he gasped from oversensitivity. You watched him writhe, unsure if he wanted to get away from you or drive himself even deeper. High, undignified noises left his mouth as you overstimulated him. Your orgasm hit you suddenly, and began grinding into him again, enjoying the feel of his pubic bone grinding against your clit. He laughed madly as he watched you take your pleasure from him, uncaring of his pain.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as you collapsed next to him. You were both sweaty and in need of baths, but that could wait until later. You stared at the ceiling, wondering what to do next in regard to Archie. You turned to face him and saw that he was staring at you intensely as if he saw God himself, and all his infinite love and wisdom, in you.

[littlefishbigsea]

Going into part two of The Spymaster & The Priest, I’ve been diving back into a lot of ACOTAR research which really just means I’ve re-read the wiki a thousand times and obsess over Reddit theories.

That said, I’ve got my own idea of how I imagine SJM will approach Azriel and Gwyn in the next couple of books, CC3 included. It’s one shared by some across the internet but the more I think about it, the more I like the direction it takes.

That said, spoilers ahead. Don’t be mad at me.

Azriel at the end of ACOSF, seems to be going through some things. He’s lonely. He’s obsessed with having a mate, to the point of trying to usurp another’s. He’s been grounded - no more spy work. He’s all but been alienated from the River House and the House of Wind. He doesn’t strike me as the type to sit around, either. He seems lost, listless, and maybe for the first time in his life - helpless.

Gwyn on the other hand is almost directly opposite. She’s taken command over who and what she is and will become. She’s determined, driven, passionate and ready to take on the world (her returning to the Tower after the Rite seems more a plot device than PTSD to me). She wants more… cue Little Mermaid music.

That being said.

Azriel is going back with Bryce. He’ll be sent back to help with conflict, likely train Ruhn, and discover more about Truth Teller. Gwyn will go with him. Why? She understands language. Azriel doesn’t. He’ll need a translator at minimum. It’ll be Gwyn because Nesta won’t leave Cass. It’s a toss up if more characters join, but I’m convinced Az and Gwyn are going to cross worlds.

This will push them closer. Az has to rely on her to translate this new world they are both going to have to navigate, forcing them to rely on each other in ways they’ve never likely had to rely on others before. Gwyn has shown interest in multi-world theories and her work with Merrill will come in handy.

This will come with some fun, I think. Bryce dressing Gwyn in modern fashion - finally getting her out of those robes! Let’s take a moment of silence for poor Azriel who is just not going to be prepared for that scenario…

…

Think of all the fun Gwyn is going to force Azriel to have in this new setting. The first time they go dancing? The food? We’ve already mentioned the fashion. Do you think Az is a jeans guy or leather pants guy? Boxer or briefs? 🤤

I’m getting distracted.

There might be some things to work out on how they get back to Prythia. I assume Az will have something to do with their fight against the Asteri - who are able to transcend worlds. Maybe Gwyn takes ownership of the Harp and sings them back.

Anyways, I wasn’t a big fan of CC2, I actually really enjoyed the first book and got too lost in the world building of the second to be able to really enjoy it. Yet, I’m curious as to how these worlds are going to come together and the eventual uniting with Aelin’s.

Also, I think Azriel’s daddy might be a sorcerer who’s chained to a lake surrounded by trees and keeps his soul in a box. Cass has claimed Az is different than other Illyrians and Rhys seems to agree that Az could destroy a High Lord, despite there being no evidence that shadowsinger ability puts them above a High Lords magic. Anyways… it’s fun to speculate.

[hellcatinnc]

I'm the Villainess, So I'm Taming the Final Boss Anime Review

Spoilers Included

This is a anime I knew I was gonna love right from the start. The moment you key in on Claude and its like game over, another hot boy. However I will say the first thought of him was he was gonna be more dominate being the Demon Lord however he is more of a blushy boy hidden behind it all. I love that it starts off like some of the other anime's where the prince pushes the girl out and wants someone else it gave me that 7th time loop vibe there. Although Aileen is no Rishe she is a pretty gutsy likeable character. What did amaze me though is they chose this little meek character or you think she is as this innocent girl the prince chooses over Aileen to realize she is a little bitch. I hated her through out the whole show even the prince was more likeable than her. I love you find Claude isn't even a bad guy he was just pushed out of the kingdom and he made his life among the demons. His powers are pretty cool but one of the highlights to me was after the prince threw Aileen out as trash and she came back to help them for Claude's sake and after they are like accusing her and stuff. Claude appears showing her a carriage to ride in as well as bowing to her to see the look on the ones that sent her way was priceless.

So this is one of them anime's I think its worth watching but don't expect it to be hugely memorable. They copy alot of the types from others like I said right off the bat I saw 7th time loop. Now granted I think it was out before that anime but least that anime had all strong characters to pull you in. I mean I love Claude but to me he is the only real reason in months I will remember this anime. Even the way that seems thing like they are falling into place middle way of the anime and you think there could be a happy ending its like they tried to flip it up and play along the lines that he lost his memory and he had to fall in love with her again. However this was interesting it was rushed in the anime. In like 2 episodes he went from not remembering her, to thinking she is crazy to wanting her anyway to being back in love with her. These don't add up on a timeline. Don't get me wrong I know anime's are only a bit of a manga but some either need more episodes to get their point across or another season. This is one of them so please do yourself a favor and read the manga. Its on my list.

As for Claude is a perfect character to me cause I love my blushy boys even when they come off strong and dominant. He fits that perfect and oh lord when he blushes its not as often as I like but when he does *fans self*. I know I'm not mentioning everyone's name and all like the prince, trust me you will understand it these characters just aren't memorable enough and I wanted to reflect on that. Now don't get me wrong when Claude admits the kind of love he carries for Aileen he is that burn the world to the ground character I love. He will stay good and will try to just watch over the demons and all staying out of trouble. However you hurt her and he will destroy the world. You even see this when he starts turning into like this demon creature thing and only Aileen can bring him out of it.

The lil good girl bitch with her magic sword inside her was kinda stupid but was worse was Aileen had one too. It came off redundant in the end and the fact this was supposed to be a anime based off a video game they were in just fell short for me. I think you even lose that a couple episodes in and they never mention it much after that. To me it has so many connections to 7th time loop its unreal however no where near as good. I wish I had wrote this review the day I finished it because I honestly believe in just a weeks time of finishing it, this becomes too forgetful. Yet its not rewatchable for me to go back and watch for a more in depth review. For this I apologize, but I did want people to know its worth watching and I still give it a 4 out of 5 star but that is mostly to deal with Claude and Aileen over anything else. The story line is probably a 3 at best and the rest of it can fall easily at a 2. The visual isn't bad like it was good enough for me to see Claude is a hot boy.

There is this point though that Claude mentions he wants to spoil her, make her cry, and ruin her that I thought I was going to lose my shit in. Somehow that one line pulled me in to his character and made me continue to watch. Luckily its near the beginning but definitely what coasted me through however also what makes you think of a dominant lord type and he falls short to that. I really do love how he looks at Aileen though like she is the most precious thing he has ever seen even when he tries to come off more evil. I love the devotion of the demons when he is gone they go after the so called good guys. It really is flipped you will find yourself rooting for the dark side thats supposed to be bad. I do find the bad guy so to say in this is annoying she is all the way through I mean look at her smug face you can tell she is going to be annoying the moment you see her.

The friendship you see with Claude and his two right handed guys was a bit sweet but the betrayal really wasn't even needed like it didn't have much of a punch to the story line and felt like it was pushed more than believable to me. The point of them making that Claude the only way he can marry Aileen is taking the proper place on the throne it makes her father look like a gold digger and that he don't give a damn about his daughters happiness. Even at one point where they dressed her up as a boy just to fit her in to spy on Claude again very over used. This anime really is a cliché in so many things but I will leave it there give it a go and hope you enjoy it.

Check out the trailer though and be your own judge.

[stardustbarbarians]

Even Sinners Drink the Wine

A Too Pretty For War prologue

Part Two

A Samuel Kiszka / Daniel Wagner fic

Summary: Years before he became the king of Athens, Prince Samuel risked his life in order to save his best friend.

Tags: Prince!Sam, Court Member!Daniel, life or death satiations, Savior Sammy, Sam-centric

Trigger Warnings: graphically depicted violence, blood, discussion of death/dying, spiders (if I miss anything please tell me!)

Words: 6.4 k

A/N: One more part after this! Thank you everyone who read this so far, you mean the world to me! I realized I forgot to put this on the first part, but you do not have to have read Too Pretty For War to read this one as this takes place before the events of that story. That being said, enjoy! <3 (Also, warning, that violence in the TWs starts pretty quickly)

+++

As Samuel trekked his way down the hall to the chambers Lord Aetós slept, he made a stop in the kitchens. The wine jug was heavier than he expected it to be, but not so heavy that he needed both hands to wield it. 

His knuckles curled tightly around the handle as he knocked on the door to the man’s chambers. Now, he had a plan. He was going to offer the man some wine and try to get him drunk- 

“What in the name of the gods do you need to disturb me at this time of…” the man trailed off as soon as he saw it was the youngest royal at his door, his sour disposition switching over to a placating one. “Prince Samuel, such a pleasure-” 

Sam couldn’t stop himself. At the sight of that traitor, his rage boiled over and broke like a poorly constructed dike. His knuckles stung, flexing his fingers as he stepped into the room. 

“Your majesty??” he frantically questioned, looking up at Sam from his spot on the floor with wide eyes, nursing the spot on his cheek Sam had hit. 

“I will only give you this one chance, snake. Tell me what poison you used on Daniel, and maybe I will spare you,” he darkly ordered after setting the wine jug down. He approached the downed man, looming over him like a mountain. 

“Y-Your majesty, I do not know what you speak of-” 

Samuel had driven his foot right into the underside of the man’s jaw. A loud clack! had resounded in the room as his teeth collided and his head was sent backwards and smacked into the ground. 

“Cease your lies, you mongrel!!” Sam bellowed after Aetós’s head collided with the stone floor. 

The prince fastly approached the lord, the man on the floor attempting to scurry away from him. But, he simply was not fast enough. Sam was able to easily and swiftly grab the man by his clothing that he balled up into his hands, both of his legs planted on either side of the vermin’s legs and lifting him up to be within a hair’s breadth from Sam’s nose. 

“You will tell me what you have done to cause Daniel to become sick or so help me not even the gods will recognize you once I am finished,” he hissed out through his gritted teeth, his grip on Aetós’s clothing so tight it was in fear of ripping. 

Rather than answer, the man spit in Samuel’s face. Releasing one hand, Samuel wiped it away from his skin, noticing the blood mixed in with the revolting saliva. He felt disgust roil underneath his anger, barely suppressing a gag. With that same free hand, he coiled back and stuck the man like a venomous snake, his fist clashing with Aetós’s jaw. 

He did not quit there. In fact, he released his hold on the man only momentarily before pinning his arms down with his knees. He delivered strike after strike, blow after blow with only small breaks between each punch to interrogate the man. Blood had begun to streak across the traitor’s face, droplets being splattered across the white stone floor in a stark contrast. 

“Relent already!! I have it on good authority that you were the culprit, you rat!! Now spill your guts before I do it for you!!” 

Aetós, in a twist that the young prince had not seen coming, simply began laughing madly. It was a repulsive sneer that had crossed his face. His lips peeling back to reveal blood-stained teeth, even some of that crimson liquid bubbling out of his mouth as he laughed. 

“You do not possess the backbone necessary to kill a man, pretty boy,” Aetós mused, a dark amusement swirling in his beady black eyes. 

With a sneer pulling at his lips, Samuel emitted a growl from his lips and released the traitor from his grip. He quickly made for the wine jug he left by the door, snatching it off the table and all but running back to where he left Aetós to rot on the floor. Pinning his arms back under his knees, Samuel pried open the man’s mouth with his hand before spilling the wine down his gullet. 

The man protested vocally, even trying to eject it with a few involuntary coughs as the liquid became too much for him to physically handle and began to gag. When the jug was emptied, Sam threw it away across the room, hearing the ceramic shatter as it smashed into the floor. He clamped his hand over the traitor’s mouth, keeping it there until he swallowed. When it became evident that he would not do so voluntarily, Sam pinched his nose shut so he had no choice but to do so. 

Samuel watched with a close eye as he saw Aetós’s throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes wide with fear as he thrashed against Samuel’s hold on him. He may or may not have kept his hands over the man’s airways longer than necessary, but who is to say that happened. 

When the prince finally let go, Aetós gulped a huge gasp of air as soon as possible. His eyes locked onto Samuel, a look of fear and disbelief swimming in them. 

“What deemed that to be necessary?!” he yelled, leftover wine dripping down the side of his face and even matting his hair to his scalp. 

“That, you lying rat, was the wine jug Daniel was served at dinner this past evening.” Sam could not help but smile at how wide the little snake’s eyes got at the statement. 

“You are bluffing,” Aetós spat. But, there was no masking the fear in his eyes. 

“Perhaps I am. But, I want you to stare me in the eye and ask yourself: do you feel lucky?” 

Aetós regarded him for a moment, debating on whether or not he believed Samuel. After a moment of very tense silence, the prince noticed the man finally break. A sheen of sweat broke out across his skin, his eyes fully drowned in his fear. 

“It was a flower called Asclepius’s Lament. That is what was used. There is an antidote, but I have no knowledge on it,” Aetós clumsily informed, his voice shaking as he spoke. 

“Oh, you useless-” Samuel did not finish his statement before slamming the rat’s head into the stone floor with a considerable force. 

“What is happening here?” came a voice from the doorway. It was spoken in such a casual tone that Sam hardly believed that the person was speaking to him. But then, he remembered they were possibly the only souls awake. 

The young prince turned his head to be faced with his older brother positioned at the entrance of the chambers, his arm leaned up against the frame and the other resting on his hip. 

“Jacob, I-” 

“He assaulted me for no reason, your majesty!!” Aetós interrupted. 

“Quite, snake!” Sam cracked him across the face with an open palm, the sound near deafening. 

“Samuel,” Jake prompted in a voice he had heard their mother employ when attempting to diffuse a fight between siblings. 

With a huff of irritated breath, Sam launched into his explanation. “I have it on good authority this is the man whom is behind Daniel’s poisoning and he just admitted to it. He used Asclepius’s Lament.” 

A rage of his own crossed the crowned prince’s face, but it was considerably more subdued than that of Samuel’s own. Still there was no denying it was there. 

“You know we cannot simply beat men to death, Samuel,” Jacob scolded, making Sam want to bow his head like a child, “but… no one has said anything about beating one nearly to death.” 

A wicked smile spread over the young prince’s face. He was pleased to know that his brother was on his side in this matter. 

“That being said, I believe you have reached that line. If you would please get off of the good Lord Aetós, he has a pair of shackles with his name inscribed upon them in the dungeons,” Jake informed, pushing off the wall in order to make towards his brother and the traitor. 

Sam happily obliged, waiting for Jake to be close enough to restrain Aetós without fear of him slithering away. 

“What of the wine staining his clothes?” Sam’s older brother questioned, looking over the mulberry stains spread across the man’s chiton. 

“I… well… I forced wine down his throat and made it seem to be the same wine Daniel drank at the banquet in order to pull the information needed out of him,” Sam timidly explained, a heat burning at his cheeks as he spoke. 

A slow, proud smile spread across Jacob’s lips. He laughed heartily as the young royal’s words processed through his mind.

“Oh, dear Samuel. Do not let anyone tell you you are not smart.” Jake clapped him on the shoulder with the hand not holding Aetós’s hands behind his back. 

A prideful smile of his own worked its way across his face, Sam ducking his head at the compliment. 

“Now, go and inform Giatrós of what you just told me. I shall join you shortly after I dispose of this waste,” Jake ordered, shoving the traitor forward and towards the door. 

Sam nodded, wasting no time as he swept down the halls of the palace towards the infirmary. He felt his nerves shift into overdrive as his mind forcefully showed him a reminder of the deplorable condition of his best friend’s health, how pale and helpless he looked. His heart lurched into his throat as his feet managed to carry him even faster down the hallways. 

He was one step closer to saving Daniel. 

+++

Even though he was careful not to wake Daniel upon entering the physician’s chambers, he did not afford that same luxury to Giatrós. All but breaking the door down, Samuel caused the poor healer to jump up from where he had been hunched over his work bench. 

“I bring news,” Sam rushed out, his eyes adjusting to the light of the torch that burned in the room. 

With a grunt and a brush of his hand over his weary eyes, he addressed the youngest royal. “And what is this news?” 

“I know what happened to Daniel. He was poisoned with a plant named Asclepius’s Lament,” he informed, his breathing labored as the running from that traitor’s chambers caught up to him. 

Samuel did not like the way Giatrós’s eyes widened at the information. He seemed… shocked. And not in a good way. In fact, all the color drained from the physician’s face. 

“Who would do such a thing??” he hissed, a hand reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. He was looking through the prince rather than at him, his mind far from grounded in the present moment. 

“I assume this is bad…” Sam felt all of his blood drain from his face as well, involuntarily swallowing as the deviation of Giatrós’s reaction sunk its teeth into him. 

That seemed to pull the healer back to the present, his eyes casting their way towards Sam. He shifted in his seat in order to better face the young prince. Sam knew this body language all too well, having seen it from his father the day he told young Sammy that Joshua would no longer be around. 

“I-I am afraid that this is as worse as it could possibly get. The poison is slow acting, but brutal. We have three days left of Daniel’s life… if we are lucky.” 

Samuel felt those scalding tears forcing their way back out of his eyes, his hand flying to his mouth in order to suppress the scream that wanted to escape his throat. Why had the gods hated him so? What had he ever done in order to receive so much of their torment?

“But… but there must be a way to heal him. He cannot just - just die!!” Samuel had failed at keeping his emotions at bay. 

He could feel his father’s disapproval at his pathetic display, but he could not stop. Everything was culminating and now he was fully faced with the reality that maybe Daniel could not survive this. 

“There… there is something-”

“Tell me. Whatever it is, I shall help you. Please,” the young royal begged, practically dropping to his knees in order to plead with Giatrós. 

The physician’s face was pulled back in regret. It seemed he was afraid Sam would say exactly that. 

“It is dangerous, my lord. Extremely dangerous. You would be facing near certain death if you went after this antidote,” Giatrós sternly informed, his face as stony as the marble statues decorating the palace. 

“That matters not to me when Daniel’s life is on the line,” Sam shot back, equally as serious as the physician had been. 

With a sigh, Giatrós relented and stood from his seat. He made for his shelves, pulling a large scroll off the shelf and setting it down on his work bench. Sam watched as his eyes scanned the yellowed scroll frantically, his mouth moving every so often as he mouthed a few words. 

“There,” he set the scroll down so that Samuel could also view it. It was a map, a very detailed one. It showed a trail up the mountains to a cave that Sam did not know existed before. “That is where you will find the cure.” 

“Perfect. I shall go now-” 

“Prince Samuel. I cannot in good conscience allow you to do this. It is far too risky for someone like-” The physician bit his tongue before finishing his sentence. But that mattered none. The young prince knew exactly what he was going to speak. 

“For someone like me? Nothing but a pretty face with no thoughts of substance behind it?” It was a bitter tone that had dripped out of the royal’s mouth. 

The physician kept his mouth sealed, his eyes casting downwards as Samuel attempted to look into them. 

“I was the one who got the answers about Daniel, was I not? And now his life hangs in the balance; that is not something I take lightly. I do not need you to advise me on what you believe I am right or wrong for. If I wanted someone to tell me as such, I would have consulted my father,” Samuel spat, each word dripping with venom. 

When the physician still refused to meet his eye, Samuel grabbed the scroll from the man’s hands and made for the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To save Daniel. Someone has to,” he threw over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him. He spared on last glance to Daniel, vowing that he would do whatever it took to see him healthy again. 

+++

Dawn had broken over Athens by the time Samuel had rendered the courage to approach his father. He had spent the rest of the dark morning hours collecting all that he needed in order to make the trip up to the mountains. Right when the sun had poked its head over the horizon was when he realized that he had slept very little that night. His exhaustion sank upon him like a colossal wave, almost causing him to collapse as soon as he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. 

He had opened the scroll on the table in the center of his chambers, glancing at it as he packed his belongings. This was a trip he could make solitarily, but it would be much safer and more practical to bring along a few soldiers or guards. Which meant that Sam would, unfortunately, have to consult his father. 

And did that not just go peachy. 

“No, Samuel. You are not going on this-this… wild and mad chase,” the king sternly told him. He sat atop his throne, Samuel being forced to kneel before his father in an act of “respect”. He looked put together, regal and imposing. Meanwhile, Samuel was still adorned in his clothes from the night prior and he looked a mess. He was certain that his hair had gained its own sentience, if it was not housing rats. 

“Your highness, whyever not?” Sam had to force himself from not sounding like a petulant child, feeling all the world like one in his father’s presence. 

“You are a prince - second in line to the throne, might I remind you. You are not risking your life for this boy. I will not have that.” 

At this, an unfettered rage broiled in the young prince’s blood. This time around, he was unable to contain himself. He forgot his place and stood to his full height, eye level with his father for once. 

“Are you implying that Daniel’s life is worthless?!” 

“No. It is simply worth less than yours,” the king calmly but firmly reinforced. 

“Daniel is your ward! You brought him beneath your roof with the knowledge that he was under your care and protection! And now when he needs you more than ever, you turn your back on him!! You are a cowardice old tyrant and I-” 

“Samuel,” the king interrupted, his tone dripping in warning and his eyes blazing with barely contained rage. He had stepped down from his throne, charging up into his youngest’s personal space.  “I understand that he is your best friend and that you care for him in a way that is… abnormal… but I will not allow you to risk your life for him and potentially the future of Athens!” 

“I cannot stand by and watch him die, father,” Samuel growled from behind teeth gritted so forcefully they were set to shatter. His fingers had curled into fists at his side, shaking with the sheer amount of force he pressed them into his palms. 

“Then turn away,” the king hissed, his tone matching that of his son’s. 

Experiencing a swell of a multitude of melding emotions, Samuel turned on his heel and stormed out of the throne room. 

“YOU ARE FORBIDDEN FROM SETTING FOOT OUT OF THIS PLACE!!” 

The prince spat curses just beneath his breath the whole way back to his chambers, fighting off the scalding hot tears attempting to force themselves from his eyes. As soon as he entered his room, he slammed the heavy door behind him, a growl ripping from his throat. 

“I take the meeting with Father Dearest did not end in your favor.” 

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of another voice in his proximity, thinking he was alone. He whipped his head around only to find Jake leaning against the wall next to the balcony overlooking the sea. His arms were crossed over his chest, a knowing look on his face just barely hiding the amusement at making his little brother jump so badly. 

“Jake, what in the world are you doing in here? And how did you know about my audience with the king?” Sam had his hand over his rapidly breathing heart, pleading with it to cease its needless pounding. 

“Mother told me,” came his response, a shrug of his shoulders following. 

“So she has sent you to calm me and prevent me from attempting anything too rash?” 

“No. She sent me here because she knew our father would deny you,” Jake continued, pushing off the wall in order to make his way closer to Sam. 

Sam simply looked at the crowned prince apprehensively. “What does that mean?” 

“Well, did your meeting with the king go well?” 

Samuel scoffed, rolling his eyes as he pulled out the seat by the table in the center of the room. “Does any conversation I share with that man go well?” 

Jacob leaned against the table, his hip supporting his weight as he stood face to face with his brother. There was a sympathetic smile pulling at his lips. 

“...I called him a ‘cowardice old tyrant’...” 

Jake could not control the laugh that burst from his lips, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he doubled over. 

“I am certain that did not help you,” Jake so graciously pointed out, a wide smile on his lips as well as brightening up his eyes. 

Sam could not help but join in on Jake’s amusement, Sam’s longing for his company over the years compelling him to. He nearly felt normal, but there were crucial people missing from their rapport that reminded him it would never be normal like that ever again. 

“Unfortunately not. He forbade me from leaving the palace.” 

“Oh, and tell me, when was the last time you did as you were instructed?” Jake asked, a fire in his voice that startled Sam a bit. 

“Jacob, this is not a matter of me acting out-” Samuel whipped his head around at the door and back towards his brother. With a tilt of his head, he gestured for Jake to follow him deeper within his chambers. 

The two of them ventured to where Sam slept, the farthest point away from the door. 

“I am fairly certain he placed me under surveillance so I cannot leave without him knowing,” Sam continued in a hushed tone, leaning in close to Jake so that he would not need to repeat himself. 

With a glance of his own thrown towards the door, Jake’s face seemed to take on a new property as he delved deep into thought. This was his war face, the one that was attempting to secure an end to this needless fighting with as minimal death as possible. 

“What do you need for this that is not already in your pack?” the crowned prince asked, his finger pointing at the heavy bag sitting on the table that Sam had left it. 

“My armor and my horse, I suppose,” Sam supplied, wondering how in the world they were going to pull this off by sneaking his armor in. 

A moment passed where Jake fell back into deep thought, his brow pinching together as his eyes cast down at the floor; looking through it rather than at it. After what seemed like minutes, Jake lifted his eyes up to meet his brother’s, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“What say you to a round of friendly sparring?” 

+++

Pythius had been a gods-send for them. He had been the crucial component that made the plan truly work. He had dressed Samuel in his armor, packed Althea as needed, caused the distraction that allowed Sam to slip away unnoticed, and left Sam’s pack in a place where he would easily access it. And, as the young royal riffled through it in order to reference the map on the scroll, he noticed that Pythius had even stocked his supplies better than Sam could have ever done. 

“Althea, remind me to give Pythius a raise for his troubles once this is all over and done,” he spoke to his horse, the phillie flicking her ears back in appreciation as he patted her neck. 

He quickly glanced back in the direction he came, knowing he was well enough away from the palace that he would not be able to see it. But, he cast his mind back to Jake, praying that he would be able to stall long enough that Sam would be able to be far enough from any riders or scouts they might send after him. 

At the thought, Sam clicked his tongue and gently pressed his heels into Althea’s sides to indicate to her to speed up. He had never ventured this far out from home by himself before and it was starting to get to him. But, then he would remember the deplorable condition of Daniel’s health, and a second wind of determination would stream through his sails and give him the motivation to continue. 

I cannot fail

For the most part, the ride was going off without a hitch. He had been partially expecting to come across awful and fearful beasts like those told in the stories of the gods, but the worst thing he had come across so far was a snake that had spooked his horse. Even though it was going smoothly so far, Sam could not shake off this feeling of swelling dread in the pit of his stomach. He felt as if danger was lurking just behind every turn or corner and that if let his guard down even once, disaster would strike. 

However, it seemed that his fears were all for naught. At least, until he entered the cave. 

Referring to the map on the scroll, Samuel made double sure that he was in the right location. The drawn depiction of the mouth of the cave was a near perfect copy of the one yawning before him. It even had the waterfall cascading down to the left of the cave. With a shaky breath, Sam closed up the scroll and hitched Althea to a tree that had grown nearby. From her saddle, he pulled out the torch Pythius had packed for him as well as his flint and steel from her saddle bag. Once the torch was lit, Sam scrounged up his courage, sent a quick prayer to the gods, and entered the cave. 

It almost too closely resembled the cave from his nightmare. Despite the fact that it was pitch black in his dream, he knew it to be similar to that one. The way water dripped down from the ceiling onto his hair, how he would set foot into puddles every so often, even the sounds of his footsteps echoing down the endless black cavern were reminiscent of his dream. 

As he crawled his way down the winding caverns in search of the very plant that had poisoned Daniel in the first place, Sam had the unsettling feeling that his every move was being observed. And no matter how many countless times he glanced over his shoulders, he would always be alone. That is, until he wasn’t. 

During one of the instances where he glanced over his shoulder, he unknowingly walked into a spider’s web. Sputtering and attempting to swat the web from his hair and face, he continued walking and stumbled right into another web. Raising his torch up, he felt his blood turn cold as he saw the light of the flames reflect off of hundreds of eyes. Arachnid eyes. 

There was no time to run before one of them lurched forward from their perch on the cave wall and towards Sam. The prince was able to react in time, slashing his torch towards the offending spider and sending it crawling back into the darkness. As it was scurrying away, Sam finally got a good look at it. It was a sickly light brown color, about the size of a dog, and just about as hairy as one, too. 

And then another pounced at him, but he was able to bat it away. And then another. And another. And another. And another and another-

It became too much for Sam to handle. Soon, he was swarmed by numerous spiders, collapsing to the ground as he attempted to swat them away and tripping on an uneven piece of ground. As he fell, his torch fell from his hand and left him to scream alone in the dim light with nothing to protect himself. 

He felt them crawling all over him, their weight making him feel like he couldn’t breathe. Sam still tried to fight them off, using his bare hands and praying that they were not poisonous; they were clearly man-eating so there that prayer went unanswered. And just when he was certain that his situation could not get worse, one of those monsters reared up and pierced Sam’s leg with his fangs. 

Screaming in pain, his entire body writhed with agony as the venom entered his bloodstream, rapidly spreading through his veins with his hummingbird heartbeat. That was when Sam remembered he had a sword attached to his hip. 

Moving his arm as best as he could, the prince wrestled with the grotesque creatures to grab the handle with his right hand. Finally able to unsheath it, he wrenched it back and pierced the beast positioned atop his chest. Sam wasn’t able to celebrate its death before he was hacking and slashing at the other spiders attempting to make him into their next meal. 

Once the last few scurried away back into the darkness, Sam was able to finally stand. He winced as he put pressure on his left leg, looking down to see blood dripping down from the dual puncture wounds the size of coins. Limping over to where his torch was still flaming, Sam kept his sword unsheathed and walked in the opposite direction of the spider nest. 

The pain in the young royal’s leg was not so unbearable that he couldn’t walk, but it definitely hindered his pace. With a growl of frustration, Sam halted in place and checked the scroll for more information as to where he could find this stupid plant. 

That is when things became worse. The words on the scroll started to dance around the page, twisting and wavering in front of his eyes and making them impossible to read. Blinking a few times and shaking his head, he tried reading it again only to find that the words had altogether vanished. With dread dropping his stomach to the floor, Samuel gulped nervously and slowly rolled up his scroll and stuffed it back into his bag. 

With no other choice, he continued on down into the caverns and prayed to the gods that he was headed the right way; not that they helped him much, historically. But as he traversed down that damp cave, he realized that it was not the words that were to blame for their odd behavior. As he walked, the flames of his torch started to wobble unnaturally before his eyes, the flame even turning blue. 

A piercing headache stabbed through his skull these visuals transpired, causing him to wince. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer the only shade left in the cave. Standing before him, emitting a glowing light, was none other than someone he had missed most in the whole world. 

“Joshua,” Sam breathed, a watery smile pulling at his face. He was so overwhelmed with his joy that he nearly tackled Josh into an embrace. 

Then, he remembered how moments ago, his torch had turned blue. 

“Are you… Are you real?”

With a teary smile of his own, Sammy’s oldest brother shook his head. “I do not know.” 

Sam let out a shaky breath, his throat closing as he attempted to force down his emotions. 

“You’ve grown,” Josh muttered, reaching a translucent hand out towards his brother. 

Sam felt a tear slip down his face as Josh’s hand ghosted through his own. So, he was not real. 

“You have not,” Sam choked, forcing a laugh through his tears. 

Josh dropped his hand back to his side. 

“Why have you come here? Why am I seeing you now?” 

“To assist you,” he answered. Before Sam could even ask his brother as to what he was helping him with, Josh turned away and started trailing further down the cave. Without hesitation, Sam followed him. 

“How is everyone? Did they handle my passing well?” Josh tentatively asked after a few moments of silence. 

Sam swallowed nervously, attempting to find a good answer for “Father started a war”. 

“Jake is doing well as the crowned prince, but he was distraught for a good long while. All of us were. However, we all handled it differently.” Sam’s voice sounded as though he had swallowed sand. 

“What are you not telling me, Samuel?” Josh asked over his shoulder, his hand pressed against the wall of the cave as he attempted to step over a rather large puddle. 

“I-” With a deep sigh, Sam decided he would not be able to dance around the issue. “Immediately after hearing the news of your death, Father declared war against the Spartans.” 

Stopping in his tracks, Josh’s shade turned around to face Sam. Even though he was translucent, Sam could see the conflicted rage boiling in his eyes. 

“Oh, that opportunistic tyrant,” the oldest brother spat. 

Sam could not help but laugh at Josh’s wording. 

“I called him that to his face,” he told Josh, a small proud smile pulling at the corners of his mouth through the wincing pain of his headache. 

Whipping his head around, Josh flashed a smile so bright at his brother, it practically lit up the whole cave. 

“That’s my Sammy,” he praised, that smile staying on his face as they traveled further into the bowels of the cave. 

Before long, Josh pulled up short, stretching out his arms to an opening of the cavern. There was a yawning maw of a drop-off, jagged rocks protruding along either side of the ravine. Howere, beams of sunlight were beaming through cracks in the ceiling, glowing upon the very plant that Sam had needed. 

“What you seek is just beyond this ravine,” Josh told him, pointing at the opposite side of the cave. 

Sam’s heart dropped at the information. He chanced peering over the edge of the drop-off, feeling his head spin as he saw how far down it went. He could not see the bottom. 

“But… How am I meant to get there?” the youngest royal inquired. 

“If you follow this wall to the right, there is a viable passage. But, please Sammy, be cautious. It is very treacherous,” Josh warned, his words dripping with concern. It was in his eyes as well when Sam looked into them. He felt an involuntary pang stab directly into his heart, a long buried ache of loss bubbling to the surface. 

“Will you come with me?” He felt like a young child again, asking his brother to go with him in order to feel safer. 

With a somber shake of his head, Josh offered his best smile. “This is where I must leave you.” 

Tears welled in Samuel’s eyes. He had only just gotten to see his long lost brother just for him to be ripped away again. At least this time around, he was able to hear Josh’s voice, the sound of it fading from his memory with age. 

“Give everyone my love, especially to mother. And tell Jake that he needs to exercise more caution out on the battlefield. It shall be his undoing,” Josh warned, the light that he was emitting started to fade away. 

“Please,” Sammy pleaded, a tear sliding down his face as he witnessed his brother rapidly disappearing right before his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Sammy.” Josh had reached out with his hand and for the briefest of moments, Sam felt the warmth of his touch before he dissipated completely before his eyes. 

Samuel only allowed himself a moment’s reprise before forcing himself to become focused once more. As much as he wanted to curl into a ball and lay crying on the decrepit cave floor, he did not have the time for it. Daniel did not have the time for it. 

Just as his brother’s shade had told him, there was a bridge that connected to two ends of the ravine. But, it was incredibly thin and possibly unable to hold his weight. With a deep breath, the young prince gathered his courage and took the first step onto the stone. Pebbles cascaded down into the depths of the ravine, never to be seen again by the likes of any man. However, when it did not collapse, Sam took another tentative step towards his destination. 

The entire way across, Samuel forced himself to look forward at the beams of light illuminating the deep red petals of the flower. Not wanting to push his luck, Sam leapt forward off the unsafe crossing and slammed bodily into the wall of the cave. His leg with the spider bite ached as he leaned on it unconsciously as well as having rammed it into the wall. His head was still pounding like a blacksmith on his anvil, his vision swimming as he tried to focus his eyes on the plant before him. It was higher up than it had seemed on the other side, just barely out of his reach when standing on his toes. 

With a scream of frustration, Sam banged his fist against the rock. He had come so far just to be taunted for tripping before the goal line. He would not allow the flora to win. 

Bracing himself for pain that would surely be tremendous, Samuel jumped up, grabbed the grouping of flowers he had his eye on, and ripped them from their perch in the wall with his descent. His entire body burned with agony as he landed on his left leg, feeling the wound reopen and blood gush forth. A scream ripped out of his throat as Sam clutched at his injury, bouncing off the dark stone and back into his ears. A few tears slipped from the corners of his eyes before his pain dulled enough for him to make the journey back over the bridge. With a thought cast back to Daniel’s deteriorating health, Samuel carefully placed the whole bushel of flowers into his bag, careful not to let any of the pollen touch his skin in fear of getting sick like Daniel. 

Despite wanting nothing more than to stop and rest, Sam’s torch was bruning out. He needed to move and fast lest he wish to make this place his tomb. Gritting his teeth as he went, Samuel limped his way out of that forsaken place as fast as he could. When he finally saw the natural sunlight streaming in from the mouth of the cave, Sam nearly wept in relief despite his headache worsening in the bright light. 

When he spotted his horse in the same spot he left her, he did weep for joy. Althea was grazing away with not a care in the world and that was just enough to make Sam burst into tears of joy. He was covered in muck and slime from the floor of the cave, his own blood that was still dribbling from his bite wound, and webs from the monsters dwelling inside. With a weary smile, Samuel untethered his horse and got into her saddle, grunting in pain when lifting his hurt leg. 

With an affectionate pat to Althea’s neck, he had her run as far away from that nightmarish place as possible. 

+++

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[bahrtofane]

quick little intro to Yusra lore !! 

Not exactly 100% the apprentice lore i made some changes hehe 

i love writing misery can u tell

—--

Likes to call herself a merchant of the sea (pirate) 

Originally came to Vesuvia looking for Julian, old business to settle, new ones to make. She was commissioned by a nearby lord to do his bidding and needed an old friends to count on. 

Never intended to stay. It was when her ship was overtaken by a flood she was grounded. It's here she meets Asra. It was Julian who introduced them. A few nights after her home was turned into nothing but splinters for her to shift through. Not much remained. A few keepsakes, a map here or there. The odd bundle of cloth and fabric. She pushes on, until she finds herself breaking just at the sight of Julian, empty sobs shaking through her while he can only hold her tight.

That ship was her home, her everything. It took nearly her whole life to get her hands on it, it was a culmination of her life's work.  It wasn't big or grand, but it was hers. That's what mattered most. 

Asra offers to let her stay in his shop, after much persuasion and begging at some points. Finally after a month of rotting in vesuvius streets she finally gives in. 

Asra is kind to her, never prods about the ship or what brought her, even if he's curious to know. They let her say as much or as little. Instead he gives her space and lets his home turn to hers as well. She promises to repay the kindness but he only laughs, swatting her away and going on about his business. 

Shes keen on learning, anything to make her useful. So she learns magic. Enough to be at least somewhat helpful to Asra. It makes her feel much better about her predicament. Gives her time to think about what to do next, keeps the hands busy. Busy hands is a busy mind.

Asra grows fond of her and her heart. He's handsome, undeniably so. Its hard not to fall for them when they're sweet, words that drip like honey from lips made of petals. Eyes that shine in every gaze. He sees her. More than she sees herself. She doesnt know if its the magic or just his own perception, his nature. 

Burying into ever crevice and crack of her being till she's sure she's been memorized. 

“You're beautiful” he sighs one night, out on the market for a little fun.

She blushing now, saying nothing. Instead linking hands. And he understands her all the same.

Not long after the plague erupts. And she is really stuck. With no ship, money dwindling, and the only truly familiar face off in the palace slaving away for a cure. 

Her options are running out. She either stays, or risks making ground on completely foreign territory outside of the city. To take a gamble on if the next town will have the same red beetles about its walls. 

Asra turns out, intends to leave, and he knows the land far better than her. But she can not leave Julian. She came here for him after all, she cant leave him, not now. So they fight, for the first time. Asra begs for her to go with him. To save herself before it truly becomes unavoidable.

“Then you alone may leave. “ she says 

And so he does. 

The lord severs her contract and she instead takes up in the palace. She learns all she can. There's less sleep as the days go on, as the bodies start to pile. They have no place to put them. So they are sent to be burned away from the city. On an island that holds only misery.

Julian comes to her one night, sobbing as he wipes the sweat from his face.

“There's so much death..” 

It only gets worse.

As the counts’ condition worsens, things turn to chaos. So much happens in a single day and yet she doesn't remember any of it. It all blurs. 

She resents Asra for leaving. How could they ? yet there's no room for anything other than work. 

She notices Julians eye before even he does. But says nothing. Everyone knows they're bound to succumb from the very curse they intend to cure. Everyone is losing hope.

Who knew she would be the first to go. 

[samaraark]

"Dating Delilah, Dating Darkness" Part 1

Last Sunday, I heard a powerful sermon titled "Dating Delilah, Dating Darkness" at my church. The message focused on how we often collaborate with sin, drawing from the story of Samson, a man chosen by God and blessed with incredible strength. However, his downfall began when he fell in love with Delilah, a Philistine prostitute woman who did not share his faith.

Samson first met Delilah in the Valley of Sorek, where she captured his heart. Despite being warned by God not to align with the Philistines, Samson pursued this relationship, ultimately leading to his downfall. Judges 16:4-6 tells us, "Some time later, he fell in love with a woman in the Valley of Sorek whose name was Delilah. The rulers of the Philistines went to her and said, 'See if you can lure him into showing you the secret of his great strength and how we can overpower him.'"

Delilah was persistent, and after several attempts, she finally convinced Samson to reveal that his strength was tied to his uncut hair, a symbol of his covenant with God. Judges 16:17 says, "So he told her everything. 'No razor has ever been used on my head,' he said, 'because I have been a Nazirite dedicated to God from my mother’s womb. If my head were shaved, my strength would leave me, and I would become as weak as any other man.'"

The tragedy deepened when Delilah betrayed Samson for money. Judges 16:18-20 states, "When Delilah saw that he had told her everything, she sent word to the rulers of the Philistines, 'Come back once more; he has told me everything.' So the rulers of the Philistines returned with the silver in their hands. After putting him to sleep on her lap, she called for someone to shave off the seven braids of his hair, and so began to subdue him. And his strength left him." In verse 20, it says, "Then she called, 'Samson, the Philistines are upon you!' He awoke from his sleep and thought, 'I’ll go out as before and shake myself free.' But he did not know that the Lord had left him."

This was a stark reminder of how small sins—like Samson's disobedience—can lead to significant consequences. When Delilah cut his hair, Samson lost not only his strength but, more importantly, the presence of God.

My pastor, Rich Wilkerson, emphasized the importance of being careful about who we align ourselves with. He said, "Whoever you align your life with will either push you forward or pull you back. The problem is that when you face a problem or an obstacle, if you’ve attached yourself to someone in the middle ground, they’ll go the other direction in a crisis. And I don't know about you, but in a crisis, I need somebody who has the same faith as me. I need someone who knows how to pray when I'm suffering. I need someone who, when my back is against the wall, will say, 'We may not have the resources, but we know the One who's still in charge.'"

He also warned us to be cautious because, as the scripture says, "Samson was in love with her" (Judges 16:4), showing that you can be the right person and still fall for the wrong one. You can be a carrier of light but still find yourself in love with darkness.

The story concludes with Samson's tragic but redemptive death. After being captured and blinded by the Philistines, he was brought to their temple for their amusement. In Judges 16:28-30, we read, "Then Samson prayed to the Lord, 'Sovereign Lord, remember me. Please, God, strengthen me just once more, and let me with one blow get revenge on the Philistines for my two eyes.' Then Samson reached toward the two central pillars on which the temple stood. Bracing himself against them, his right hand on the one and his left hand on the other, Samson said, 'Let me die with the Philistines!' Then he pushed with all his might, and down came the temple on the rulers and all the people in it. Thus he killed many more when he died than while he lived."

This story and sermon serve as a reminder that our choices and the people we let into our lives can either draw us closer to God or lead us away from Him. Even in Samson's final moments, God granted him strength, showing that it's never too late to turn back to Him, but the consequences of our choices can still be severe. Samara S.C

[ancestorsofjudah]

2 Kings 9: 19-26. "The Second Horseman."

To understand being Jewish, especially if one wants to become a member of the Assembly, one must comprehend the Numbers. They must be memorized and used or their conventions make no sense. They are non-sequential and chance their Values depending on their coefficients. Two glances, for example are not the same as two horsemen, for example, in that number 1 and number 2 do not convey the same degree of magnitude of meaning in the Gematria. Observe:

One Horseman: The Value in Gematria is 39-9, ג‎טט, "divorce gett", "get a divorce decree from the King." This means as a Kingdom of Israel we need to inform the world we are divorcing ourselves from its wickedness.

Two Horsemen: The Value in Gematria is 1358, אגהח‎, agaah, "a beneficial brotherhood."

One man is never enough. Two is ideal. One man cannot create peace, but two can. So a horseman who serves society a divorce decree must then also have a plan for reunity somehow. How this all happens is detailed below:

19 So the king sent out a second horseman. When he came to them he said, “This is what the king says: ‘Do you come in peace?’”

Jehu replied, “What do you have to do with peace? Fall in behind me.”

20 The lookout reported, “He has reached them, but he isn’t coming back either. The driving is like that of Jehu son of Nimshi—he drives like a maniac.”

21 “Hitch up my chariot,” Joram ordered. And when it was hitched up, Joram king of Israel and Ahaziah king of Judah rode out, each in his own chariot, to meet Jehu. They met him at the plot of ground that had belonged to Naboth the Jezreelite.

22 When Joram saw Jehu he asked, “Have you come in peace, Jehu?”

“How can there be peace,” Jehu replied, “as long as all the idolatry and witchcraft of your mother Jezebel abound?”

23 Joram turned about and fled, calling out to Ahaziah, “Treachery, Ahaziah!”

24 Then Jehu drew his bow and shot Joram between the shoulders. The arrow pierced his heart and he slumped down in his chariot.

25 Jehu said to Bidkar, his chariot officer, “Pick him up and throw him on the field that belonged to Naboth the Jezreelite. Remember how you and I were riding together in chariots behind Ahab his father when the Lord spoke this prophecy against him:

26 ‘Yesterday I saw the blood of Naboth and the blood of his sons, declares the Lord, and I will surely make you pay for it on this plot of ground, declares the Lord.’[c] Now then, pick him up and throw him on that plot, in accordance with the word of the Lord.”

Joram and Ahaziah, "to grasp and sieze", the descendents of Ahab and Jezebel, a political union that worshipped lips, cunts, and assholes, all rolled up into a fictitious concept of God that allowed them to commit atrocities are on their way out.

Elisha, The Free Market Economy, at God's behest, anoints a new king, a young army commander named Jehu, "In God's Name."

Jehu is called a maniac because he is the progeny of a prophet who has told him the people must observe Shabbat. Shabbat, a uniquely Jewish concept states we educate persons lifelong in the craftwork of civilization.

Everyone puts something in, everyone gets something out. There are no exceptions. Black people, gay people, Muslim People, drag queens, speed demons, butthole surfers, everyone participates. No one is left behind or locked out.

Persons who teach and enforce Shabbat are treated like they are insane. This label of insanity is a sign of what is wrong with this planet. Contrary to what the TV Preachers and kidz in shirtz say, adult human beings are equipped with the ability to be hospitable, accomodating, patient, understanding, and individualistic in their own non-toxic ways.

We malign it but the idea of the Carnival is essential to health of human culture. Baseball and football games, where crazy people put on bizarre outfits and try to wrestle each other while babes scream on the sidelines is a Carnival. It's an act without a script, it's theater. We worship the people that do it well. Gay Pride is a Carnival, Star Wars movies, comic books, the Mass, all of these things decorate and uniform the human being for the purposes of enlightening forms of recreation that we believe make life dreamable.

Military uniforms, police uniforms, Mormon uniforms, men in black trench coats with big hats, these terrify us because they signal the dream is about to be threatened.

So, the new King of Israel, Jehu, a kind of Jewish Krishna says to the trodden down world, "let us work this out on the field":

v. 19: The King says "fall in behind me"= Ephesus, the New Town, which always follows the inauguration of a new King of Israel.

The Value in Gematria is 10723, יז‎ב‎ג‎, yzbg, "yod, zayin, bet, gimel" "The hand and eye of God are in the House, on the Table."

Gimel= גמל The verb גמל (gamal) means to deal, or recompense in the sense of benefitting from.

v. 20: Jehu, son of Nimshi, "In the Name of God, the Leopard Weapon!"

The Value in Gematria is 5889,החחט‎, the threshing floor. Kings of Israel are born on the Threshing Floor, or regime change. The seed of the society must be separated from its hull and the past must be left behind and swept away.

This is why the King rides ahead of Ephesus, and why it is easy to see that pedophiles like Donald Trump and Charles Mary or despots like Vladimir Putin will never create anything new or brilliant from their positions of power.

v. 21: Joram and Ahaziah ride out to meet Jehu on the plane of Naboth the Jezreelite, "the High Place where God Sows." They hitch up their chariots, meaning they are wed to a destiny they might no longer be attached to or may be appropriate for their actual desires.

The Value in Gematria is 11840, יאחדאֶפֶס‎‎, yechadefes, "to become unified through echad, through the vision and the festival."

= the Passover Seder, "the Arragement". It is a sin to be a party to slavery of any kind, especially the ideological kind which has the effect of stunting civlization. Just look at what has happened to the Middle East and America too, where children have become slaves to religion instead of being rightly guided through the natural causes for human existence, AKA the Holy Spirit.

To be informed one is slaving someone to nonsense or to remain a slave to nonsense is to seek the vengeance of the God of Israel who does not suffer stupid people to procreate, see v. 22:

"When Joram saw Jehu he asked, “Have you come in peace, Jehu?” “How can there be peace,” Jehu replied, “as long as all the idolatry and witchcraft of your mother Jezebel abound?”

The Value in Gematria is 13171, גיא‎זהר‎, gaya zahar, "the whole body, purified."

If we combine the ideas in v. 21 and 22 in order to come up with a "pure arrangement that concludes in peace" then you see how the Gay Pride Mounted Army Soccer Game Parade is the best idea ever. I really think so.

v. 23-24: The King draws his bow and shoots a traitor in the heart. This means he found a Policy in the Torah that allowed him to execute the rogue royal. The Value in Gematria is 13065, יגאֶפֶסוה, "they'll jump, igapeswa."

"to command to feel an affinity for other lifeforms." From agape, "a natural force that is felt in some way or form by every entity in the universe from atoms up to entire societies."

v. 25: Bidkar the Chariot Officer=the son of the thrusting spear.

A son with a spear is a new government with a new constitution and wherewithal. It should be used first and foremost to give the old government a hemorrhoidectomy.

The Value in Gematria is 9781, טז‎ח‎‎א‎, "the Sixteenth" meaning the world needs to act its age, we are always a mixture of the old and the new. The end result should always show an improvement over the days gone by.

v. 26: The Value in Gematria is 11130, קיא‎ל‎, kiel, "the wrong desires fail, the correct ones succeed."

The feminine noun כלה (kala), meaning general completion (Genesis 18:21 and Exodus 11:1 only) but most often complete destruction or complete annihilation and that almost always by God (Isaiah 10:23, Ezekiel 13:13).

The adjective כלה (kaleh), meaning failing with desire. This word occurs only once, in Deuteronomy 28:32.

The masculine noun כליון (killayon), meaning a failing or pining of the eyes (Deuteronomy 28:65 only), or annihilation (Isaiah 10:22 only).

The feminine noun מכלה (mikla), meaning completeness (2 Chronicles 4:21 only). Note that this word is identical to third derivation of the previous root.

The feminine noun תכלה (tikla), meaning perfection (Psalm 119:96 only).

The feminine noun תכלית (taklit), meaning end (Nehemiah 3:21, Job 26:10) or completeness (Psalm 139:22 only).

The masculine noun כלי (keli), denoting some kind of article that (possibly) took a while to make but is now finished, or a vessel that was designed to hold some finished product; a holding pot. This word is very common in the Bible. It occurs in the sense of a general article (Exodus 22:6, 1 Samuel 6:8), a weapon or weaponry (Genesis 27:3, Isaiah 13:5), a musical instrument (Amos 6:5), general equipment (1 Samuel 8:22), temple utensils (1 Kings 10:21), a receptacle (Genesis 43:11), a sack (Genesis 42:25) and even paper-reed boats (Isaiah 18:2).

So it is the job of the New King of Israel to analyze the "arragement" that permitted corruption and delusion to waylay the happiness of the people, to exact revenge upon those who caused it, and exile those complicit, like the persons calling themselves "Mormon Judges". Some get to stay, some have to leave, history learns a valuable lesson in the efficacy of a well-adminstered way of life everyone can fall in love with.

[thegenealogy]

1 Chronicles 21: 9-17. "The Seer."

There are no Kabbalistic references as to why God's response to David's Census took the form of three choices, but we will figure out what they mean.

Obviously, David as the King of Israel, could not become subject to the wiles of Satan and begin a kind of caste system within the Kingdom. If he left one Jew out of the Census, the entire reawakening of the People after their diaspora at the hands of the Babylons would have defaulted then and there.

Due to the response of David's order that the people should be counted, Joab, his son sabotages the project and now David has to face God, in front of everyone, repent and choose how he wishes to atone.

In addition to figuring out the Gematria and Kabbalah in this section we have to build upon the theme of how to know when one has reached the threshold and become a Jew:

9 The Lord said to Gad, David’s seer, 10 “Go and tell David, ‘This is what the Lord says: I am giving you three options. Choose one of them for me to carry out against you.’”

Gad means to cut, like to cut back in order to meditate, or to dredge a riverbed so the water can flow straight and unobstructed from the source. The river want to gush down the banks of a river constructed using Gad is the Euphrates, the River of Attributes, the Tanakh itself.

To Gad, to sit and prepare oneself to receive the river is to also perform har, to lift oneself up. The term also refers to the process of unearthing the sentient being in young persons by teaching them lessons from the Torah.

see:

גדד

The verb גדד (gadad) describes making an invasive cut, mostly in order to expose something valuable. Noun גדוד (gedud) may describe an invasive band of raiders, or more general: a cutting, a furrow. Noun גדודה (geduda) means a furrow or cutting. Noun גד (gad) appears to describe the exposed treasure and may be used to describe a physical fortune, plain luck or a state of felicity.

Verb גדה (gada) also means to cut. Noun גדה (gadda) refers to a river bank. Noun גדי (gedi) describes a young animal, but mostly one that was either just slaughtered or soon will be.

11 So Gad went to David and said to him, “This is what the Lord says: ‘Take your choice: 

12 three years of famine, three months of being swept away[a] before your enemies, with their swords overtaking you, or three days of the sword of the Lord—days of plague in the land, with the angel of the Lord ravaging every part of Israel.’ Now then, decide how I should answer the one who sent me.”

First let's look at the timeframes used in the practices of Kabbalah.

Year=. A year is a "recurring Jewish phenomenon that completes a simple object lesson."

Famines are eras when the Torah is not studied or studied incorrectly. Famines are always out of the question.

Months= months are the increments between the Days of the Week, not the other way around. By the Third Day, the ground was dry and it was safe to walk around on dry land. This same process took Noah and the Ark three months:

13 In the six hundred and first year, in the first month, the first day of the month, the waters were dried from off the earth. And Noah removed the covering of the ark and looked, and behold, the face of the ground was dry. 14 In the second month, on the twenty-seventh day of the month, the earth had dried out. 

So after we accept that violence and corruption are forbidden, the Torah says it takes 90 days (all of which have instructions or tenets associated with them) for mankind to become violence free, ensured of a future on Ararat.

Three months spent enduring the swords of one's enemies, being swept away is the argumentation for why the Great Flood came and went and that is aslo quite ridiculous and out of the question.

Day=Days are the Stages of Evolution God uses to engineer the creation. Each Day has a discrete profile of geologic, biologic, phenomenal and theophanic characteristics associated with it.

Three Days of the sword of the Lord—days of plague in the land, with the angel of the Lord ravaging every part of Israel.’

13 David said to Gad, “I am in deep distress. Let me fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercy is very great; but do not let me fall into human hands.”

14 So the Lord sent a plague on Israel, and seventy thousand men of Israel fell dead. 

The Sword is the question, "Who is God?". The three plagues of Egypt that were designed to topple its spiritual foundations affected both Egyptians and Jews alike. The next 7 sort Jews from Egyptians. It makes sense now that God wants to use the first three again in order to instruct everyone in the folly of David's decision to let Satan flatter him.

The First Three Plagues are:

The plague of blood was against the Nile, the Egyptian's deity. Also, the second plague, frogs, is connected to the Nile, from which the frogs emerged.

As for lice, the Torah itself shows how Pharaoh's sorcerers were unable to reproduce the plague, proving that the plagues were an act of G‑d, not of magic produced by Moses and Aaron.

Since these first plagues were not a punishment to the Egyptians but rather strikes against their beliefs, it makes no difference if Goshen was affected or not. In fact, to enforce this point, it was imperative for the Nile to be affected wherever it was, even in the land of Goshen. Similarly for the lice, by necessity they had to be in all of Egypt to demonstrate its being the finger of G‑d and not a humanly wrought act.

The Nile is the River of Life. Aaron taking charge of it showed the world only God decides what comes out of it. This is closely tied to why we don't quantify each other.

Frogs are gossipers, whose dead bodies stink up the streets. As you can imagine a census whose object is to identify real Jews would not help tamp down the gossip.

Lice are the taking of the Lord's Name in vain. A good example is what Pastor Rober Jefferess and Paula White Cain did when they loaned the Lord's name to the election campaign of a psychopath. One must be able to recognize the Hand of God in all things. David made a mistake and spoke with Satan and the whole country saw it so God infested them with gnats.

This violation of the Decrees is associated with pervasive parasitism because that is what it is like. Blasphemy such as the forms mentioned are very dfifficult to get rid of, as it only takes one louse to infect the entire population, much the same as lice.

13 David said to Gad, “I am in deep distress. Let me fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercy is very great; but do not let me fall into human hands.”

14 So the Lord sent a plague on Israel, and seventy thousand men of Israel fell dead. 

=

A God With A Name Is No God A God Beyond Names Is. The value In Gematria Is 2234.

15 And God sent an angel to destroy Jerusalem. But as the angel was doing so, the Lord saw it and relented concerning the disaster and said to the angel who was destroying the people, “Enough! Withdraw your hand.”

The angel of the Lord was then standing at the threshing floor of Araunah[b] the Jebusite.

Threshing floors are moments in time when all that is needed to secure the future of the People of the Kingdom of Israel is sacrificed. Anything that causes the heart to break, this is threshed away and left behind on the cutting room floor.

This includes one's delusions, fancies, ignorances, long held supertitions, even one's independence; marriage is a type of Threshing Floor:

In preparing Ruth for her meeting with Boaz, Naomi instructed her to bear in mind that everything she was doing was to be lesheim Shamayim — for the sake of Heaven — because the future of the Jewish people was dependant on it.

Upon the advice of the prophet Gad, David purchased the threshing floor of Aravneh the Jebusite. He built an altar there and offered olot and shelamim — burnt-offerings and peace-offerings to Hashem. This property was actually on Mount Moriah, where King Shlomo built the Beit Hamikdash — Holy Temple. (II Samuel 24:18-25, II Chronicles 3:1).

Thus, Naomi said, “You are going down to the threshing floor to beseech him to ‘spread his wings’ over you. Please remember that from your union with him needs to emerge King David, who will purchase a goren — threshing floor — upon which the Beit Hamikdash will be built. The Jews will come there to beseech Al-mighty G‑d to rest His Shechinah — Divine Presence — in that place, and echoing your request, to “spread His wings over them.”

There have been two other Threshing Floors in Chronicles so far.

The Threshing Floor of Kidon=where the oxen stumbled when they attempted to move the Ark.

The Threshing Floor of Ornan=The Center of Cheer where the Altar of Solomon was built.

The Threshing Floor of Araunah the Jebusite=To cause the People to become collected and more nimble after they are desolated.

ארן

The unused verb ארן ('aran) appears to have meant to be nimble, agile, or even high up or aroused, and in cognate languages it yields a noun for a kind of wild mountain goat. The indeed Biblical noun ארן ('oren) means fir or cedar.

The noun ארון ('aron) is the word that is usually translated with Ark (that is the Ark of the Covenant, not the Ark of Noah). But this noun is also used for the coffin in which Joseph's bones were repatriated, or the chest in the temple in which money was collected.

It's not clear whether these boxes were known from the wood they were made of (namely the sprightly fir or cedar), caused society to be nimble, agile or elevated, or perhaps because these boxes were designed to exist within a collective verbal expression from bystanders (after the verb רנן, ranan).

Jebusite=

בוס

The verb בוס (bus) means to tread down or trample with the effect of destruction. Noun מבוסה (mebusa) describes the condition of being down-trodden: subjugation. Noun תבוסה (tebusa) describes the action of it: ruin or downfall.

16 David looked up and saw the angel of the Lord standing between heaven and earth, with a drawn sword in his hand extended over Jerusalem. Then David and the elders, clothed in sackcloth, fell facedown.

In Hebrew, שַׂק (sak) or שַׂקִּים (sakim) is “sackcloth” — a rough fabric woven from goat or camel hair used mostly for storage (and not very comfortable to wear). But that is the point of deliberate mourning: to bring about a sense of humility. The Hebrew word for “ashes” (אֵפֶר; efer) symbolizes ruin and destruction. The fire burns up everything in its path and leaves behind only ashes. Thus  “ashes” (אֵפֶר; efer) serve as the ultimate symbol of desolation.

17 David said to God, “Was it not I who ordered the fighting men to be counted? I, the shepherd,[c] have sinned and done wrong. These are but sheep. What have they done? Lord my God, let your hand fall on me and my family, but do not let this plague remain on your people.”

The dreaded Archangel Gabriel (pictured) is the one that sacked Jerusalem after David chose which form of repentence he wanted to use for his sin of Counting the People. To stop His Wrath all one needs to do is be as one of His Sheep and read the Torah.

The twin archangels Michael and Gabriel, the Question and the Answer, "Who is God?", "He is the Almighty, the Most High" are the defenders of God's Honor and protect Eden and Him from us.

Gabriel is unleashed on Jerusalem, a Teaching City of Peace because contrary to long-standing Torah Doctrine, bigotry was about to take over. Obviously this must not be taught, not at home, not outside.

The Torah says after Joseph died, Egypt was seized with jealousy, and then bigotry turned the Egyptians against the Israelites, and then the stupid ones were turned into slaves.

David's desire to sort his people was an act of prejudice and God responded accordingly in order to prevent slavery - any kind- from happening again.

And if you want to be truly amazed, apply the lessons here to the ones in the former post, "to see God, you must cut yourself free. Cut away the names, the stereotypes, the propaganda, and the vanity, and there He will be."

As for Royals all around the world, they as the Tanakh says do not have the luxury of leaving the Threshing Room Floor, lest the chaff regrow around them.

[kagekitsuneoflight]

It’s kinda funny that Jason is, in every sense of the word, the most normal Robin. Unironically, there wasn’t anything uniquely special about him before he was Robin. He was a street kid. His dad was a goon (which makes sense for Gotham. It’s a goon breeding ground) and his adoptive mom was a girl who fell in love with the bad boy, got disowned by her upper middle class parents and adopted her boyfriend’s infant son. Even his biological mother isn’t anything special! She was just a doctor who ended up becoming corrupt.

Jason Todd was no circus kid who could do an impossible signature trick. He wasn’t being scouted by some evil hidden organization.

He wasn’t the rich boy genius who lived next door.

He’s not the son of a supervillain (as lame as cluemaster is, he still *counts*).

He’s not the secret son of Bruce Wayne.

And he’s not a metahuman, nor did he led a whole organization of teens to fight when Batman couldn’t.

He’s the most regular boy to ever enter become a hero in Gotham. He wanted to do good things for the sake of doing good. He grew up poor with regular parents, where bad things happened to them. The kinds of things that could happen to *any* person living in Gotham.

There is nothing about him, pre-Robin and as Robin, that makes him Not Like Regular Kids.

His dad was a goon (who, depending on the run, was either killed by Two-Face OR. Just sent to prison and killed in prison! Which makes his backstory even PLAINER-) and his mother was a drug addict with cancer. Jason ends up homeless, and almost steals the bat mobile tires. The only thing that makes him stand out from any other tragedy befallen kid in Gotham is the fact he was bold enough to do that, get Batman’s attention, and continue to be bold enough to go against a crime lord (who was apparently his grandmother, the most interesting person in his family, but since she’s almost never brought up, she’s likely no more significant than a one-issue villain in the crime lord power hierarchy). Batman realized that Jason wasn’t going to really stop, and honestly he kinda grew on him, so he decided to adopt Jason, and eventually allow him to become Robin.

There just isn’t anything amazingly special about his backstory. The few moments where something could have been done to make it more interesting (like his biological mother) but ended up taking the most boring option. You can’t do much of anything now to enhance his past without upsetting much more well established canon, and not without making people wonder “well if his grandmother was such a big name in crime, why hasn’t she been brought up before?”

Jason Todd was a wonderful Robin (providing that he actually has a writer who likes him). He has a golden heart, he’s the voice of reason. He’s everything that a Robin needs to be for Batman. But compared to everyone else, he was nothing special. In a way, his lack of Not Like Regular Kids makes him stand out in a much more subtle way.

As if someone asked the question “Do I need to be someone special to be Robin?” And the answer was “You don’t need to be someone special, you just need to be brave, like Jason Todd was.”

[azsazz]

Alpha Save Me

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Request from anon: Hello beautiful creature! I so so adore your writing it is very good! I don’t know if you take requests but can you write an Azriel Alpha and Omega Reader please? I hope that makes sense english isn’t my first language!

Warnings: Smut, you’re in heat and Az sees you through it. Like all smut. Like 3.3k worth of in-depth smut.

Word Count: 3,349

_________________________________________

The ground shakes when he lands and he’s growling at the dirtbag Illyrian alphas who gaze a little too long at the door to Rhys’ mother’s house. She’s away, having just met up with the High Lord before Azriel had been dismissed by her with a nod.

Rhys stands on the porch, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the column so casually, like the horny bastards in front of his home aren’t bothering him in the slightest. Azriel is grateful, thinks he’ll become a great High Lord one day, when he grows up a little and stops baiting the older males at the war camps like the young princling he is.

The violet eyed male nods to him as he shoves his way up to the door, ignoring the muttered insults and assholes spitting at him, focused only on getting to you. 

The whole camp must know you’re in heat. An Illyrian omega was hard to come by, and females were looked down upon but omegas were worse off, treated like property when they should be praised. The women loathed you and all the alphas wanted to do was breed you, but you had presented later than most, and immediately you were in danger.

Your mother was close with Rhysand’s mother, whom she had brought you to as soon as you found out. Being the High Lord’s wife, she knew you would be safe in the most protected house in the camp. It was hard to leave your mother, your family, but Rhys’ mother had taken you in without a second thought and taught you how to make it through your first heat on your own.

You hadn’t even known about the three boys she was already looking after, all alphas and all having presented early, sniffing and huffing outside of your door throughout the entirety of it. They couldn’t help it, instinct was a bitch and that bitch was in heat.

After a good scolding from Rhys’ mother and being sent away until your heat was over, you found yourself as the honorary fourth member of their little pack. You’d learned that they’d literally fought their instincts, beating each other bloody in the training rings, the scent of you caught in the back of their throats. Not even the blood could get rid of it.

They’d protected you for years, and you’d always been a silent admirer of Azriel, who, even at the ripe age of 25, still covered his hands behind his back, ashamed of what had been done to him. 

He was gorgeous, they all were, but you found yourself pining after the shadowsinger, with his deep hazel eyes, cunning smiles, and witty remarks. The wingspan wasn’t something to overlook, either.

And it had been the happiest day of your life, when you’d gone into heat, finally working up the courage of being friends for so long if he would help you through it. In your haze you had confessed your feelings for him and while he thought that it was just your natural reaction – that you’d be saying this to any one of them in this position, he couldn’t help the stutter in his heart at your words.

Azriel had been crushing on you since your mother had brought you to them. He never quite got your scent out of his mind, and he’d fought harder that week than Rhys or Cassian had ever seen, baring his teeth and growling primally like his instincts had taken over him completely.

He could barely stay away when you went into your heats. He often lied to his brothers, telling them that he’d been sent on a mission from the High Lord, when in honesty he couldn’t stand to be that close to you and not be inside of you.

But the course of your friendship was changed forever after he’d helped you through that first one. He’d waited ten long years for you to ask him to help you, and after that first taste he knew that he was done and there was no getting rid of him.

And that was perfectly okay with you.

It’s Cassian who’s pacing outside of your door, worry wracking through his body. He’s chewing on his fingernails, hoping that Azriel gets back in time. The shadowsinger had made them both make a promise – when the High Lord had recruited him as his personal spy – that one of them take his place should you ever go into heat and need someone.

Azriel was a jealous male, growling and glaring at everyone who looked at you, holding you just a little bit tighter when you walked around together. He had gotten in more fights over you than he had when he was training in the camps, and he’d never lost a single one of them. Finally, he had someone who was his, who supported him and loved him, flaws and all.

When he told Rhys and Cassian that he trusted them enough with you in a fragile state, it took more than he was willing to admit. Long conversations with himself and with you, you had both agreed on this outcome. And although the thought of you with another male infuriated him to his very core, he would be less regretful if it were someone he trusted than a random alpha male.

The red siphoned warrior lets out a breath of relief when he sees Azriel, even though his pants are straining and sweat beads his forehead. A reaction any alpha would be having right now, one to mount the omega in heat. The shadowsinger snarls on instinct and the taller Illyrian steps away, falling back towards the front of the house to leave with Rhys.

Your scent hits him full force when he enters the room and it nearly brings him to his knees.

“Alpha,” you groan, because you’re in such a need for release that your mind is all fuzzy, but as soon as the musky smell of an alpha is near you become desperate with the need to be filled.

And your plea would hurt him if he didn’t understand the uncomfort you felt, burning in his own body, the feelings brushing up his spine from the bond.

“I should clean up,” he says but he doesn’t mean it. He’s sweaty, covered in grime and blood from the mission the High Lord had sent him on. Azriel had been exhausted from the long trip, half flying as fast as he could and winnowing the rest, all to make it to you before it was too late and one of his brothers had taken over.

The shadowsinger is nearly in a trance, eyes glued to the way you’re writhing desperately on the bed, fingers furiously fucking yourself, the smell of your slick overpowering and oh-so sweet.

He licks his lips as you whine, “No…don’t care. Need you, Az.”

And that settles it. His hands already fumbling for the ties on his leathers as he strides towards the bed. His breathing turns to pants the closer he gets, the scent of your pheromones has his cock straining against the tight material.

“Have you come yet?” he asks, kneeling at the foot of the bed, admiring every single inch of your naked body, gleaming and dewey with sweat in the setting sun peeking through the curtains. Gods, you were something else, all splayed out before him and desperate for his knot.

“Can’t.” You’d tried it all: your fingers, your toys, but nothing had been able to relieve even the slightest bit of the pain you were experiencing. “It hurts.”

“I know baby,” he soothes, taking your hand gently in his own and slowly pulling it out of you, ignoring your mewl from the loss. Azriel moves it up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around your wet fingers for his first taste of your slick and hums with delight.

“I thought your heat wasn’t until next week,” he comments, rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, admiring the dampness he finds there. You are so wet, dripping and ready for him, your cunt throbbing with need.

“Was thinking about you too much,” you groan, fingers twisting in the sheets, “Must’ve triggered it early.”

His pupils dilate and his eyes go wild with fervor. He knows how much you need it, your body quivering before him, and he can feel you through the bond, the bite he’s marked you with at the juncture of your throat, cock jumping with his own need as you bare your neck, showing off the brand.

He’s been away so long it looks less fresh than when he had left, when it had been completely mottled and red, the taste of it had his mouth numb with pleasure for hours.

His thumb circles your clit and you keen as he slips two fingers into you. They slide in with ease and you moan. You love his hands, the texture of the scarred flesh only adding to your satisfaction, but you need more than this, you want his knot.

“Please, Az,” you beg, writhing in the dampened sheets and whining like a pup, “It hurts.”

“I know,” he hushes, shushing you like a babe. His eyes don’t leave your dripping cunt, adding a third finger and picking up pace. “Give me one, just to take some of the edge off, Love.”

It comes quick, with a flick of his thumb and twist of his fingers you're falling over the edge, orgasming with a cry. Your mind is a haze between wanting more and enjoying the feeling, but it’s not his knot and your body knows it.

You lift your head to complain only for your response to catch in your throat as Azriel lowers his head, nose brushing against your clit as his tongue dips into your soaking heat, lapping your slick straight from the source.

His moan is broken as he licks you with fervor, the taste and noises spilling from your mouth only spurring him on.

And he loves it, your thighs shaking, gasps and pleas falling from your lips as your toes curl with every flick of his tongue. It’s his favorite thing, making you feel good, teasing you and testing how far he can take you while you’re in heat.

Your hips rise into his mouth and he presses a hand to your abdomen, pushing you back into the bed. Your back arches as he slurps, moving to your neglected clit and swirling his tongue around the nub before he’s sucking at it harshly, ripping another orgasm from your body.

He drinks every drop before resting his head on your thigh. He kisses the soft skin on each one before pushing them further apart and licking a long stripe up over your hole, clit, and climbs up your body, sloppy kisses pressed to flushed, dewey skin.

You groan as he tweaks your nipple with his fingers, then soothes it over with his tongue before continuing on his path to your lips. 

He noses over the faint outline of his teeth on your neck and you both shiver at the feeling. Your hands bury in his hair and he presses his forehead against yours, body pushing flat as you both shut your eyes, reveling in each other’s scent.

A sweet kiss is pressed to your lips and Azriel’s murmuring, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hum, bucking up into him, his thick length rubbing deliciously against your pussy, “But by the mother if you don’t get inside of me–”

“I love it when you get like this, all submissive and loud. Gods, it makes me want to breed you.”

You moan loudly at his words, rutting your hips harsher against his, “Breed me then, alpha. I’m yours.”

You moan into his mouth when he slides into you, easily filling you completely. He doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath, he’s pulling out and pushing in just as fast and you keen at the sensation. Yes, this is what you were craving, waiting for all this time while he was on his way back, your alpha stuffing you full.

Azriel sets the pace, jackknifing into you like his life depends on it, like seeing your face as you fall over the edge into bliss is his one saving grace.

You lock your ankles around his waist, urging him on with pleas and kisses.

His hands clench your hips tighter as he tries and fails to hold back the string of curse words falling from his lips. He’s thrusting two, three, four more times before his knot is large enough to lock the two of you together. He collapses on top of you and he’s heavy but it’s surprisingly pleasing, his cock pulsing and body shaking with his orgasm. 

The sensation of him firmly attached to you and the pure euphoria as he spills his hot seed into you pushes you over the edge into your own climax, fingernails dragging down his slick back, avoiding the large wings spread wide around you.

The room goes quiet, only your breathing and his filling your ears. You feel so good, that need satiated for the time being, now that Azriel has knotted you. You know it’s just the start of your heat and your stomach flutters and cheeks redden at the thought of getting to do this all over again with your mate.

Sure, you and Azriel have sex often, and he’s amazing every single time, but it’s a whole different experience when you’re in heat. His words become filthier, more instinctual, and Godsdamn do you love it. The normally quiet shadowsinger loud and unabashed as those filthy words spill from his mouth.

Your pussy throbs at the thought, already ready for another round.

__________

You jolt awake from your light slumber, your heat never letting you fall into a deeper sleep, the uncomfortable feeling warm and buzzing beneath your skin. You need him again, desperately. 

Rolling over in Azriel’s arms, you rut against him and whimper, trying to wake him. He’s still snoozing, but your movements and cries pull him out of his own sleep, body on alert immediately due to the sounds you’re making.

“Love?” he slurs, arm tightening around you as he blinks the drowsiness from his eyes. 

“Please Az,” you mewl, “Please let me…need you so much.”

“Come on baby,” his cock is already hard and throbbing, his body's natural reaction to yours. “You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?” He says as you rut up against him again, whining in response. He helps you sit up, swinging a leg over his hips as he grips his prick in his hand, guiding it to your slick cunt, hissing when you sit down, taking him fully.

It’s messy and rough and you can’t even speak when Azriel takes over, gripping your hips harshly as he fucks up into you. Your head falls back on your shoulders and you feel so good, so full, you can hardly even breathe with how amazing it is, the warm coiling in your gut as he lets out a low guttural moan when his knot expands.

You collapse against his chest and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. You’re panting, heart beating rapidly against his, sated with his cock pulsing inside of you, but now that he’s awake, eyes filled with lust, drunk off of your scent, and he’s not ready to stop.

You gasp as he moves, his knot sinking deeper into you, “Az!”

“Need you to come again love,” he grunts, jerking his hips again and licking hot across your bond mark.

“Wha–” you slur, shuddering out a breath at his movements. It’s all too much, his knot thick and throbbing against your tight walls as you squirm. Every nerve in your body is on fire and you didn’t know how good it could be. This is something you and he had never done before but you’re thankful he did, even if you are so sensitive right now, intense and satisfying in the best of ways.

“Fuck (Y/N)...you feel so good,” he whispers, nipping and nuzzling into the column of your throat. “You can do it.”

“Az,” you whimper, “I don’t think–”

He cuts you off with a desperate, bruising kiss against your lips. “You can baby, trust me. If you really can’t I’ll stop but I know you can. Be good for me.”

You clutch at him, fingernails scraping down his muscled torso and he hisses as you scratch over his pert nipple.

It’s driving you insane and then he’s sliding a hand between the two of you, pressing it against your abdomen like he’s trying to feel himself inside of you and that’s what does it, has you orgasming again with a cry of pleasure, eyes rolling back in your head, slick dripping down your thighs and over his.

You’re shaking to the bone as you chant his name over and over again until it stops. And it doesn’t stop for a long long time.

“See?” Azriel whispers, brushing back the hair on your forehead, matted with sweat. “I knew you could do it.”

You sigh at the praise, humming lazily in response, already halfway to sleep. He lets you stay, holding you close and breathing in your scent as you drift off, whimpering every so often as his cock pulses and his seed spills into you.

__________

The next few days are filled with nothing more than raw, frantic, passionate sex. You can’t get enough of each other and just when he thinks you’ll pass out with exhaustion, the lust ignites and you’re begging the other for more.

He gets you to drink and eat when he can, when you’re sated from release and before you fall into sleep. He admires you when you do, thumb stroking over your cheek as he thinks about you. Everything that he loves about you, so entirely happy that he’s found his mate so young, and even though he’s been through a lot, the Mother has finally given him a break in life when she pushed him into you that cold morning.

Your heat breaks five days later and you wake up no longer burning with need. You lie side by side under the blanket, talking, voices teasing, enjoying each other’s presence and finally getting to chat about something more than dirty talk and lust fuelled words.

You spend the day like this, lazy and pressed skin to skin, sleeping most of the day away when you’re not talking, hands roaming each other’s skin languidly, until the hunger hits and you both opt for cleaning up.

Azriel helps you to the washroom, settling in behind you to scrub your back. You love when he gets like this, after your heat or his rut he’s so caring, so in love with you, never more than a few steps away, sweeter than ever.

Rhys and Cassian are waiting for you when you emerge from the bedroom, cheeky grins plastered across their faces as they fill their plates with food. You roll your eyes, sliding into your seat across from Cassian, an easy smile of your own across your lips.

Azriel takes the empty spot next to you, wrapping a hand around the back of your chair and tugging you closer to his side, a warning glare aimed at his brothers.

You bite your lip, stomach fluttering at his territorial instincts, to protect what’s his. You secretly love it, your big, possessive alpha.

And Cassian, having no boundaries at all, is the one to comment first, his smile a slash from ear to ear, “So, how was it? Did Az get the job done, (Y/N)?”

Your mate growls primitively next to you and you silence him with a gentle hand rested upon his knee.

“More than,” you hum, eyes sparkling as you look over at the shadowsinger beside you. He gives you a small smirk in return before you’re moving your gaze back to the cheeky alphas in front of you, “Now pass the roast, Cassian.”

[ererokii]

worship him, now.

zhongli x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of voyeurism, public sex, god worshipping (if that’s even a warning idk), impact play, hair pulling, choking, degrading (lmk if I’m missing any that you see!) nsfw under the cut// heavily unedited

everyone in liyue had their own unique way of showing reverence towards their lord. Some opened shrines in his honor, others named supplies after him or simply reciting his story. It a truly beautiful the way a nation could come together under one omnipotent being.

you pondered, coming up with different ways to worship the Lord of Geo himself— but nothing came to mind.

you thought about hanging your paintings of different battles that he fought in, your depiction only suited for your mind. maybe leaving something like that would please him right? Or even participating in the Rite of Descension , watching as he comes down to speak with you all about the upcoming year of success.

however, none seem to please you. you felt as if you could do better, bigger even. maybe something could come up and slap you in the face and tell you this is how you should repay your thanks.

meeting your lover, zhongli was a blessing. you wondered if meeting him was a result of your prayers being heard by the archon. either way, you were beyond grateful. after spending two years with him, zhongli taught you the different ways of life in liyue. valuing every single mora (mostly because he makes you both go broke), respecting all history and most importantly— ways to worship your dead archon, knowing it was him but wanted to keep the tradition alive. Even if he had passed, you among many would continue to send wishes to him.

what you didn’t expect was to be holding on for dear life on the golden plates that protrude from the base of the state— cunt full of your lover’s cock.

zhongli’s gloved fingers dig into your soft skin, leaving bruises as he pulls your hips back to meet his thrusts, sweat trickling down the side of his face. your pants and whimpers are the only thing heard in the dead of night, everyone gone to sleep in their beds and wonder for the next day.

his blunt head bumps against your cervix with every rut of his hips, your gummy walls clamping around the penetration.

“zhongli,” you moan out, hanging your head forward. every move, your body jolts forward, tits bouncing as he grabs one roughly, flicking the perky bud with the tip of his index finger.

“How do you think your god would react to a little whore as yourself?” he muses into your ear, teeth nibbling on the shell. “Tell me darling, what do you think he would do?”

you babble incoherent noises to him, the feeling of his cock dragging within you is the only thing you can think about. it’s all so much, waves of pleasuring flowing right after the other as you can yourself getting dragged towards the edge.

“he can’t hear you.” his hand squeezing your throat, shock waves sent to your fluttering pussy as you clench around him unexpectedly, a sharp but low moan leaving his lips. “Speak up will you.”

“M-Morax!” You cry out, back flushed against his chest now as you try staring up at the statue through the blue dim light. you weren’t sure if you were calling out for your lover or the statue— either way your mind was too fogged to even concentrate on this simple task.

through blurry vision, you gaze at the man sitting at the top, legs spread as he holds a cube in his hand. “And what do you want to tell him?”

“I..I wanna give him my thanks!” You gasp, his balls slapping against you with every pound of his hips.

“Do it. He’s a patient man, but even he loses his composure once in awhile,” he brings, biting down on your shoulder.

when you failed to do so, zhongli let out a noise and slowed the rhythm of his hips, listening to your whines.

he gazed down where you connected, watching as you poorly wiggled your hips back into him, wanting to reach your impending orgasm.

you gasp out when his hand comes down on your ass, a stinging sensation left in its wake.

“I said,” he presses down on the small of your back, enjoying the curve you produce. “Worship him, now.”

“M-..Morax,” you slur out, drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Every rut of his hips brings you closer to what you desired most. “T-thank you..!”

Your body trembles as your moans become more high pitch. “Thank you for protecting us!” You sob out through broken cries, your lover’s slick covered cock pulling out all the way before roughly slamming back in. “F-For giving us a new home!”

An electric pulse shoots through your, your fingers going numb from how hard you’re gripping the gold plate. “And what else?” Zhongli growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging you back just a bit. “Look at him when showing your thanks.”

“M gonna cum!” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut as the band was ready to snap. “C-Can I cum please?! I’ve been a good girl please!”

However, when speaking, your head is titled up to the statue, as if asking him for permission.

A gloved thumb rubs small yet slow circles— a complete opposite from the pace of his hips. The stimulation makes you want to squirm away, but being put in this position makes you realize you have nowhere to go.

“Fuck,” a low curse leaves zhongli’s lips, followed by a deep groan. “Beautiful... so beautiful. I heard Morax loves good little whores like yourself...you’re doing so well for him.”

Light kisses are peppered along your neck, the feathery touches just adding more heat to your body. You knew if you came without permission you would be punished, and that was something you didn’t want.

“Please please please,” you mutter underneath your breath, eyes watering from the overwhelming pleasure. As much as your body wanted to give out, you wanted more of him. You wanted him deeper, to fill you up until there’s a bulge , dripping cum.

Your legs began to shake, not sure how much longer you’ll be able to keep yourself up. The way the statue glowed a light blue felt as if it were taunting you to no end. As if Morax was there with you.

Zhongli’s thrusts became more erratic, sloppy as your walls squeezed him to the point where it felt as he could no longer move. “My whore,” he accentuates with his hips, head falling back as he squeezes his eyes shut, puffs of air escaping his lips. “You’re mine..mine only. You worship me and no one else.”

You quickly nod, desperate to reach your end. You wiggle your hips against him once more, a silent cry rumbling in the back of your throat as he pinched the bundle of nerves. One last pump of his hips, the head of his cock bumps against your cervix, throwing you for a loop.

The name of your deity slips past your lips as you enter the state of bliss. You could care less who heard you or if someone caught you. It was a thrill if someone saw you, getting pounded away in front of sacred ground as you thank the God for his deeds.

Morax will be forever thankful for your choice of worship. In fact, that’s the way he wants to be worshipped by you from now on.

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