#fly alaric

[llovinghome]

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_micromessaging_922 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.

T P U S

[art-creature]

Words by Palestinian writer Refaat Alareer (1979-2023). The poem in full:

If I must die, 

you must live 

to tell my story 

to sell my things 

to buy a piece of cloth 

and some strings, 

(make it white with a long tail) 

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza 

while looking heaven in the eye 

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze— 

and bid no one farewell 

not even to his flesh 

not even to himself— 

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above 

and thinks for a moment an angel is there 

bringing back love 

If I must die 

let it bring hope 

let it be a tale

[florisbaratheons]

Nearly all the Northern lore facts were wrong

Torrhen didn't bend the knee at the Wall, he bent the knee at the Trident. Jaehaerys didn't fly to the Wall, only Alysanne did. Jaehaerys was in KL for the first six months Alysanne was in the North. Rickon Stark didn't welcome Alysanne, Alaric Stark did. Rickon was Cregan's father, not Alaric.

Alaric Stark didn't go with Alysanne to the Wall, she went by herself. Alaric sent word ahead to the Night's Watch that she was on her way. Alysanne attempted to fly Silverwing beyond the wall twice, Silverwing turned her right around and went back.

Ryan, honey, are you sure you read the book?

[hussyknee]

Today is Refaat Alareer's birthday. He would have been 45 years old.

Dr. Alareer used to manage the social media account of Gaza's Municipality. Please consider donating at least a couple of dollars to Life for Gaza, so that his family might have water to drink, clean and safely dispose of waste. They're 40% short of their goal.

If I Must Die  by Refaat Alareer

If I must die,  you must live  to tell my story  to sell my things  to buy a piece of cloth and some strings, (make it white with a long tail) so that a child, somewhere in Gaza while looking heaven in the eye awaiting his dad who left in a blaze— and bid no one farewell not even to his flesh not even to himself— sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love If I must die let it bring hope let it be a tale

Gaza Writes Back: Short Stories from Young Writers in Gaza, Palestine, edited by Refaat Alareer

Free PDF on Research Gate. Free EPUB.

Gaza Unsilenced, edited by Refaat Alareer and Laila El-Haddad

Free PDF on Academia.edu. Free EPUB.

[tunamoth]

refaat alareer - "let it be a tale"

A Palestinian poet who was martyred by an Israeli air strike on 7th of December.

Translation by (@tameeolivefern)

Poem in English and Arabic:

إذا كان لا بد أن أموت

فعليك أن تحيا

لتقص قصتي

لتبيع أشيائي

لتشتري قطعة قماش

و بضعة خيوط

(لتكون بيضاء بذيل طويل)

حتى طفل في مكان ما في غزة

يحدق بالسماء

ينتظر اباه الذي غاد�� على عجل

بلا أن يودع أحدًا

حتى جسده

حتى نفسه -

يرى الطائرة الورقية طائرتي التي صنعتها

تحلق عاليا

و يظن لوهلة أن ملاكًا عاليا

يُعيد الحب

إذا كان لا بد أن أموت

لتجعلها تحضر الأمل

لتجعلها قصة

If I must die,

you must live to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze-

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh

not even to himself-

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up

above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there

bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope

let it be a tale

[idkyetxoxo]

Two | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 2400

Warnings - Joust

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"Viserys, I do not like the girl," Alicent muttered under her breath, her sharp eyes scanning the growing crowd below. 

The arena buzzed with the fervour of a Dornish celebration—nobles and commoners alike filled the stands, eager to witness the spectacle of the tourney. 

Sunlight bathed the sand-covered grounds, shimmering off the banners that fluttered in the warm breeze.

Viserys sighed, already exasperated by her complaints. The king's gaze swept across the sea of eager faces, his weariness palpable. He had no patience for Alicent's endless fretting, not today.

"It does not matter whether you like her or not," he replied, his voice clipped, eyes fixed on the arena below. "Your opinion changes nothing."

Alicent's lips pursed in thinly veiled disdain. She flicked her wrist as though swatting away a bothersome fly. 

"She is bashful," she remarked, the word soaked in contempt. "A weakness, a problem waiting to happen. Mark my words."

Viserys turned to her, his frustration flashing in his gaze. "Well, aren't you lucky you're not the one marrying her," he replied dryly, his patience fraying at the edges.

Alicent huffed, folding her arms across her chest, her expression cold as ice. 

"Yes, but you have burdened my son with that fate," she whispered, her voice laced with venom. 

She leaned closer, her words meant for Viserys' ears alone. "Don't think for a moment he'll thank you for it."

Viserys rolled his eyes, waving her off, uninterested in prolonging the argument. 

As their whispered exchange fizzled into silence, my father and I took our seats next to the royal family, our arrival a momentary distraction from their quarrel.

I settled into my chair, my back straight, hands delicately folded in my lap as I surveyed the bustling scene before us. 

The air thrummed with anticipation, excitement rippling through the crowd like a palpable force. 

This was Dorne at its finest—a kingdom alive with the thrill of spectacle, where honour and blood were intertwined.

"Who fights in your honour today, Princess?" Viserys' voice broke through the hum of the crowd, his gaze briefly flicking to Alaric, who stood beside me rather than readying himself in the lists with the other knights.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips as I leaned back, eyes gleaming with confidence. 

"My brother, of course," I replied coolly, my voice laced with pride. "There is no finer swordsman in all of Dorne. His name has crossed every corner of the Seven Kingdoms." 

I cast my gaze toward the arena where Nymor was already waiting, armoured and poised, his presence commanding the space as though he was born to it.

Nymor caught my eye and offered a quick wave, his expression one of cool confidence. He knew exactly what was expected of him, and so did I.

"He is quite skilled with a sword, your brother," Helaena's soft voice cut in from beside me, a gentle contrast to the tension that hung thick between Alicent and Viserys. "But Aemond is one of the best. I've seen him in practice... he's remarkable."

I turned to her with a sharp smile, the challenge in my eyes unmistakable. 

"We will see," I said, my voice cool and unwavering. "But no one has bested my brother yet. He was shaped by Dorne's blood and sand. He fights like a storm."

As the announcer's voice boomed through the arena, signalling the start of the matches, the crowd roared in excitement. A few early contests played out—mere distractions. 

The true spectacle, the event everyone was waiting for, was the clash between Nymor Martell and Aemond Targaryen.

The sun hung high above, casting a brilliant golden light over the tourney grounds as the trumpets blared, marking the start of the joust. 

I leaned forward in my seat, my hands resting lightly on the armrest, eyes glued to the field where my brother rode out. His armour gleamed, the sigil of House Martell emblazoned proudly on his chest, the sunburst of Dorne shining brightly for all to see. 

He moved with the confidence of a man who knew victory was inevitable, every gesture filled with calm certainty.

Across the field, Aemond rode out with a tension that spoke of battle-readiness. 

His silver hair gleamed beneath his helm, his posture rigid and controlled. He was not here for games—he was here for war. 

But no matter his intent, no matter the fire of the dragon behind his gaze, I had no doubt Nymor would make quick work of him.

After all, the stories of my brother's prowess were not just tales. They were fact.

"You seem very sure of yourself," Helaena said softly, her voice almost lost in the roar of the crowd, though her smile held no malice—only quiet belief in her brother.

"I am," I replied, my gaze never leaving the field. "Nymor is the best. Today, Aemond will fall."

The first clash was as brutal as expected. The two horses barreled toward each other, hooves pounding the earth in sync with the beating hearts of the crowd. 

Nymor's lance struck true, hitting Aemond squarely in the chest. The force of the blow knocked Aemond back, and the crowd let out a collective gasp, the impact nearly unseating him.

I smiled, pride swelling in my chest. Of course. This was exactly as it should be. My brother—unstoppable, relentless—was proving why Dorne's warriors were the fiercest in the realm.

Round after round, he dominated, his lance finding its mark with precision and force, each strike driving Aemond closer to defeat. 

The Dornish crowd erupted into cheers with every blow, already celebrating the victory they were sure was imminent.

Viserys glanced at me, his face taut with discomfort. "Your brother is quite skilled," he said, though his tone lacked warmth, and his eyes betrayed the tension gnawing at him.

"Quite skilled?" I laughed. "He's magnificent."

But as Nymor circled for another pass, something shifted. Aemond, bruised but unyielding, gripped his lance with renewed purpose. 

As they charged again, the air between them thick with tension, Aemond leaned into the strike. This time, my brother's lance met nothing but air.

Aemond's lance, however, hit its mark with deadly precision, splintering Nymor's shield and throwing him off balance. 

My heart lurched, disbelief cutting through the certainty I'd felt moments before.

"No," I whispered under my breath, my hands gripping the armrests of my chair.

The crowd grew quieter, sensing the change. Aemond, seizing the moment, struck again—harder, faster—his fury a sharp contrast to the precision of Nymor's earlier blows. 

My brother, the unshakeable, was teetering. 

On the next pass, Aemond's lance slammed into Nymor's shoulder with a sickening crunch, sending him tumbling from his horse. The sound of his fall reverberated through the arena, followed by a stunned silence, then a cacophony of cheers.

I blinked, shock rippling through me. I hadn't even realized I was standing until my father gently pulled me back into my seat. My mind raced, unable to process what had just happened.

My brother—my brother, the unstoppable force of Dorne—was on the ground, defeated. Beaten.

Aegon, somewhere behind me, laughed with smug satisfaction. "I suppose Aemond is better than we thought."

My mouth tightened, words failing me for the first time. 

I wanted to argue, to say something snide or dismissive, but the sight of my brother being helped to his feet below, armour dented and pride bruised, silenced any retort I might have had.

Aemond dismounted, walking toward Nymor with a cold, composed grace, offering him a hand. 

For a brief moment, the two warriors locked eyes, and I knew that though Nymor had lost this battle, he would not forget this humiliation.

Neither would I.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

I sat beside Nymor as the maester worked, carefully tending to his wounds. My fingers drummed restlessly against the edge of the table where I perched, each tap a rhythm of mounting frustration. 

My lips thinned as I chewed on them, eyes fixed on the cold stone floor. Anger bubbled just below the surface, threatening to spill over.

"I cannot believe you lost," I muttered, my voice cutting through the quiet of the chamber, sharp with the weight of disappointment.

When I finally lifted my gaze, Nymor's eyes met mine. They were not the proud, confident eyes I was used to—today, they were clouded with a sadness I had never seen in him before. 

His jaw clenched as the maester tightened the bandage on his arm, and he winced.

"He was... better than I anticipated," Nymor admitted quietly, his voice filled with a reluctant acceptance that only made my chest tighten further.

I scoffed, sliding off the table and pacing across the room. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, suffocating me with the bitter taste of failure. 

"So because he beat you, that makes him worthy?" I snapped, my voice rising with every word. "Worthy of me?"

The thought of it—of being bested before all those watchful eyes, of their whispers spreading like wildfire—made my blood boil.

Nymor looked up, his brow furrowing. "Of course not," he replied, voice steady despite his wounds. "Don't be ridiculous. A single victory does not make him your equal, nor does it make him worthy of you." 

His words, though meant to comfort, only fanned the flames of my anger.

I halted in my tracks, hands planted firmly on my hips as I faced him. "If I refuse this marriage now, after today's spectacle, I go back on my word. Do you know what that means for Dorne?" 

My voice dropped into a harsh whisper. "Do you know what that means for me?"

He remained silent, his face a mask of guilt and resignation. He had no answer, no words to fix what had been broken. 

Nymor had lost something far greater than just a joust today—he had lost the unshakable faith I had in him, in us, in our edge over the rest of them. 

Now, the world felt as if it was teetering on the brink, and there was no one to blame but him.

"One of us lost our pride today, brother," I whispered, my voice a razor's edge. "And I refuse to be the next."

With a heavy sigh, Nymor slumped further in his chair, saying nothing as I stormed from the room. 

The echo of my footsteps followed me down the corridor, each step a reminder of the sting of defeat that clung to me like a second skin. 

My heart pounded in my chest, my thoughts swirling like a tempest. I needed air. Space. Anything to tear myself away from the weight of humiliation.

But I was not alone for long.

"Princess," came a voice, clipped and cold, like ice against the heat of my anger. Alicent.

I froze, inhaling sharply before turning to face her. There she stood, draped in her regal gown, her posture impeccable, her chin raised in that haughty way that made my blood simmer. 

She looked like she had already won.

"Alicent," I greeted my tone a deliberate mirror of her frost, omitting her title with the precision of a dagger. 

Her lips twitched ever so slightly, and I caught the flicker of annoyance in her eyes before she concealed it behind her mask of royal decorum.

Good. Let her be rattled.

Her gaze sharpened as she stepped closer. "I do not like you," she said, her voice a venomous whisper, each word dipped in malice.

I crossed my arms, a wry smile curving my lips. "I do not care," I shot back, my defiance standing tall between us. Her opinion of me had never mattered, and it certainly wouldn't start now. 

She was nothing more than a thorn—an irritation I could easily pluck away.

Her jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with a fury she struggled to contain. "You are to marry my son," she spat, her words biting like cold steel. "And it saddens me to know he will have to endure such a fate."

Her insult was meant to wound, to slice deep, but I did not flinch. Instead, I met her icy stare with a fire of my own. 

"Your son," I began, voice as calm as a still sea before a storm, "may have won today, but don't mistake that for a victory over me." My smirk widened. "He will soon learn, just as you will, that I am not so easily tamed."

Alicent's nostrils flared, her eyes narrowing to slits. She stepped closer, her presence radiating contempt. 

"You speak as though you have a choice," she said, her voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You will marry Aemond, and whatever pride you cling to will be shattered. You will do as you are told, like all women must. You will bend."

I felt the heat rising in my veins, my fists clenching at my sides. 

She was wrong—so terribly wrong if she thought she could command me, mould me into something docile, something weak. I took a step forward, meeting her fury with my own. 

"Do not presume to know what I will or will not do, Alicent," I warned my voice steady but seething beneath the surface. "I am no pawn in your game, nor am I a prize for your son to collect."

Her lips curled into a cruel smile, eyes gleaming with the malice of someone who believed they'd already won the war. 

"You have no power here, girl," she whispered, stepping so close I could feel her breath. "You will marry Aemond. You will bend. And eventually, you will break."

Her words struck like a hammer against steel, but they did not shatter me. 

Instead, they ignited the fire in my soul, the kind of flame that burns until nothing is left but ash. I took a slow step back, my voice trembling with barely contained rage as I hissed, "I will see you burn before I break."

With that, I turned on my heel and stormed down the corridor, my heart pounding in my chest, hands shaking with the fury of the confrontation. 

Her words echoed in my mind, but I refused to let them take hold. I would not bend. I would not break. And I would certainly not let her think she held any power over me.

As I moved deeper into the castle, away from her poisonous presence, the weight of the day threatened to pull me under, but I would not drown. 

My resolve hardened like steel in a forge. This wasn't over.

Alicent Hightower may have thought today was her victory, but she had no idea what storm was coming. 

Not by a long shot.

A/n - Next chapter is going to be insane (probably one of my favourites out of the whole series)... stay tuned!!

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

[miiroki]

𝘿𝙖𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧/𝙤𝙘

𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.

Warning: Vulgur language, sexual moments (no actual sex)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Maricelle Hightower was born a regal lady, bred to be perfect, obedient, and pliant.

Born from the same womb as her twin sister Alicent Hightower, the two girls were meant for high class living, meant to be royal wombs to any high class lord, or king.

Alicent Hightower had always been deemed the oldest, the most quiet between the two sisters. Due to her submissive behaviour, she had bore the brunt of their fathers actions.

Otto Hightower had tried to bend and fold Maricelle to his whims, but he had been met with consistent hostility and resistance.

In his hold Alicent felt like dough, elastic but agreeable when met with enough pressure and force. Maricelle felt like molten glass, permanent burns and scars would be the punishment for attempting to change her mold.

…

Once Otto had tried to be physical with her, grabbing her wrists so harsh it would leave bruises. Pulling her hair to ensure her conformity.

Maricelle had shown no reaction, and after dismissing her he kept hearing terrible tales from maids and working men alike, they’d whisper how terrible, and cruel the Hightower family would treat their lovable and kind Lady.

It had gotten worse throughout many moons, that other men of higher class had been known to discuss the hot topic.

Otto had asked Maricelle to stop what she was starting.

He was met with a coy face and her bandaged wrists.

“Father, I’m not sure why your listening to the common men so immensely”

…

During Maricelles first engagement with a neighboring Lord, a large event was hosted, which lasted 2 days and 2 nights. On the final night the Lord was said to have excused himself from the celebration and had asked for Maricelles assistance to his bedchambers.

The next day the man was found dead on his plush feathered bed.

No blood, no coughing, no struggle.

Maricelle was seen during that time. Their had been many accounts of her leaving the Lords chambers as soon as she tucked him into bed.

…

Shortly after she was sent home. Her guards and handmaids had been worried for her health, what if this supposed killer had somehow managed itself into the castles kitchen, and would poison their beloved lady.

Otto could recall asking his daughter about the events that occurred that night.

She replied with a familiar coy smile and asked him if he suspected it was her.

To which he replied with a gruff no.

“We all have a time and place father. Lord Alaric has just met his” Maricelle then bowed her head and excused herself from the council room.

Otto swore to himself then and their that he would make sure whomever Maricelle would marry, could handle her tendency’s.

His wishes would come true in the form of a rogue prince.

—

“Has he truly gone mad?” Maricelle uttered to her sister. “What does father want to achieve by marrying me off the Prince Daemon” she scoffed.

The carriage had shook and swayed from side to side.

“Sister” Alicent put her hand over Maricelles gloved ones. “If it is any condolence, Prince Daemon is young and he is always flying to diffrent nations on his dragon. After the marriage consummation, ‘tis certain that you will no longer need to see him”

Maricelle held onto her sisters hand, gripping it tighter. “I suppose. I just hope that I do not see my end like Lady Rhea Royce” she whispered softly.

The people of Kings Landing had known Maricelle as the perfect daughter, kind in every way, mesmerizing in every way. She liked the attention, craved it even. She made it apperant to herself that she would always keep a shark eye and an even sharper ear to hear comments people would whisper about her throughout the cold halls of the Red Keep.

Her father was not opposed to the vision either.

—

“Lady Maricelle” King Viserys had spoken. His voice slightly hoarse, echoing throughout the cold hall of the throne room.

“Your grace” she bowed and held her poise.

“Otto has done his job well with you and your sister. You are both well refined young women, and he aught to be nothing but proud”

She had to stop herself from scoffing.

—

The first time Daemon Targaryen layed eyes on the Hightower women was when he saw her sitting alone on a stone seat near the blossoming flora.

From his spot behind a pillar, his eyes roamed her figure.

Whoever this women was, she was well endowed in all the right areas, the square neckline outlined in intricate embroidery only highlights the swell of her bosom.

Suddenly his mouth seemed dry, and his feet had grown a mind of it’s own. Walking towards the entrancing women, and taking the rest of him with it.

He stood in front of (the still unknown) women.

��The Red Keep gardens are wonderful this time around” Daemon plucked one if the stray petals that had gotten trapped in her hair. “Aren’t they?”

Maricelle slowly fluttered her eyes open, and blinked, being met with the legs of a stranger in front of her. Averting her gaze she was met with the unmistakable likeness that was Daemon Targaryen.

“Prince Daemon”

He hummed, and sat beside her. Making eye contact with while she looked up at him, was to difficult.

Even for a seasonal women wooer like himself.

It was especially difficult when he had a clear view of her plunging neckline, exposing the obvious softness of her tits.

He was a simple man.

“Seems I’m quite well known” He laughed, more so coughed, trying to stop the foreign heat of his ears due to his own thoughts.

She chuckled, and he had started getting dizzy.

“How could one not know of the Rogue Prince”

“I suppose my title precedes me” He mustered to look her in the eyes.

Now close enough, he could confirm that this women had to be a siren. A mermaid maybe. She’d somehow grown legs and had come to taunt him.

Idiot.

He scolded.

Her eyes were umber, with slight glimpses of green when the light hit them just right. If he kept looking maybe he would’ve noticed the similarities between her and her sister, but before he looked strange he had to force his eyes to peel away from her face. Instead he took in her attire.

A verdant green.

If he was in the right state of mind he might’ve put two and two together, but it seems this women was to tempting to think about anything else.

…

The two had chatted the noon away.

Sitting on the stone bench, almost knee to knee, only a whisper parted them, to engrossed in their conversation to separate.

He had enjoyed making her laugh, and while she was in a fit of giggles she had noticed that the sun was no longer high above her, but was now setting atop a hill.

She faced Daemon and had hurriedly said her goodbyes.

Their she left him, high (hard) and dry.

Only the soft billowing of her dress was all he could see as she ran as elegantly as she could away from him.

Daemon sighed. The spell she put him under had started to slowly go away.

It was when he started to walk away from the garden that he realized he has no name to label the maiden that entranced him.

—

The event that night was brimming with Lords and Ladies from around Westeros.

Some had become intoxicated as soon as they entered the great hall.

From her position near her sister and father, Maricelle kept a keen eye upon any figure that entered the room.

Her brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower had been canoodling with the ladies on the dance floor. It was not a sight she wanted to behold.

Finding the party dull, she made her way out of the festivities and found herself back at the stone bench she spent all afternoon at.

She hesitated to sit, but her instincts took over.

Maricelle could feel the cold and sturdy seat even through the many layers of her proper attire. Their was no sound except for the drowing noise of chatter and loot music from the hall just across the way.

Their was no sign of movement, not even servants were seen scattering about.

It seemed like it was just her.

Before she could fully relax, two callused and rough hands gently made contact with her eyes, covering her sight.

“To what do I owe the pleasure” Maricelle laughed softly. Placing her own hands near the ones covering her eyes, clinging onto the man’s wrists

“It’s not every day that I see a dame all by herself, rare in especially beautiful maidens” The man’s voice was tainted in tease.

“Why don’t you reveal yourself”

“As the lady wishes”

Daemon retracted his hands, and quickly held both of her own that were attached to his wrists. He initiated her to rise from her seated position by lifting her hands into the air.

She twirled around and craned her head upwards to face Daemon.

Their hands still holding each others sank between the two, acting like a bridge.

Their faces were to close to be considered polite, and the stone bench parted them by their knees.

“How may I help you Prince Daemon?”

Maybe it was the darkness of the night playing tricks on him, but Daemon swore he could feel her leaning towards him.

“Having you here now is all I need”

She scoffed slightly, “Is this how you charm all women”

“Only lonely pretty ones in gardens”

“So I am lonely?”

“Not anymore”

—

Daemon had unknowingly escaped from the festivities meant for his betrothed to Maricelle Hightower, but he could care less now that a pretty women was running and following him through the castle corridors, all while laughing.

Maricelle held up her dress as Daemon led her by a stretched arm. His other hand was secured on her waist.

The dashed and stumbled through the dimly lit halls, giggling like children.

Maricelle had thought him immature, a barbarian, a beast, and everything under the bright Westeros sun. She still felt that way but even she could admit, he was very fun.

She had also neglected to tell him her full name, wanting to see his reaction at a later date. Which would be inevitable.

…

The two found themselves in the library. Dusty, but most importantly, empty.

Daemon waited no longer, and started to attack her neck. He leaned her on a wooden table, so her ass was pressed against his pelvis, while she faced away from him.

The room was filled with feverish moans and whimpers.

Maricelle’s neckline had been pushed down, along with its many layers. Revealing her plush breasts.

Daemon makes quick work of the clean slate of her skin and littered her with marks of light purple and red bruises.

Daemon on the other was anything but untouched, his hair was being gripped by her right hand, while she had made her own marks on his neck, and jaw. They were much more pronounced.

Daemon had wanted to progress more, kissing her was incredible, but he was sure she was hiding something magical underneath all this fabric. He lifted her skirt and clothing, reaching for her small cloths. His hands caressing her exposed thighs.

Before anything to dishonourable happened, a loud banging was heard from the front door.

“Lady Maricelle? We have urgent orders from your father. A guardsman had seen you entering this room”

It was the nightly watch.

Had her father really been prone to incredibly terrible timing.

I was just about to have the time of my life. Maricelle huffed, disappointed greatly.

“Lady Maricelle, may I enter?” The night watch asked.

Daemon and Maricelle looked at each other with worried looks. If Viserys was to find that he was about to defile a young women who seemed important due to the guard reference of ‘Lady’, he would not be able to avert that kind of crisis.

Otto would be incredibly furious. Maricelle would most definitely be locked up in her room again.

“Uh…please, wait a moment” Maricelle uttered.

“Of course Lady Maricelle”

Daemons head flicked back and forth to his surroundings. Under the table? No. Behind the shelf? No. Behind the door? Stupid.

He then looked at the flustered women before him, all red and blushing with desire. She had pulled those delightful breasts back into their cage, and had tried to hide the marks of desire on her neck with her hair.

His gaze then looked further down, he was still holding onto her skirt.

Under the dress of a beautiful women? Yes.

Maricelle let out a small shriek as Daemon lifted her skirt further up and crawled underneath the large mass of fabric.

Maricelle blushed even harder.

She could feel the way his body was positioned under her dress. His arms had wrapped themselves on her right leg, and he was just hiding on the edge of her skirt.

“Lady Maricelle?”

She twisted her head to the door, and dusted away any remaining evidence on her clothes and made sure to lightly smack Daemons head to let him know that someone was now entering.

“Come in”

The night watch was a fairly old man, suited in the common silver armour, a torch in his left hand, and a spear in his left.

“Lady Maricelle, your father has summoned you to his private chambers, along with your sister”

“Alright, thank you for informing me, you may go”

The man stared and blinked at her. “Um, my Lady, do you not want any company to escort you?”

She tsked quietly, and she could feel Daemons shaking. Most likely laughing at her.

“No need, I will go myself”

“It would be improper of me to leave you to your own defences, especially at nigh-”

“I will go see my father myself” she hurriedly interrupted him, stern in her words.

The man had hesitated to act, but with a sigh he had bowed and wished her good night.

As soon as the doors had closed, Maricelle quickly tried to kick Daemon out of her dress.

“Prince Daemon! I must go!” She spoke quietly through gritted teeth, while holding up her skirt.

He laughed and continued to hold onto her waist now that he was standing straight.

“Alas you must”

He sneakily pecked her lips and whispered a goodnight before watching her scramble away, and out of the room. Leaving him only with the memory of her smooth silk legs, warmth, and another hard on.

Daemon groaned and looked down at his trousers. They were stretched to their limits as his bulge had been trying its best to escape its confinements.

“Hand it is” he sighed.

[flowerygrdn]

WHAT THE FU- || k. parker

pairing: kai x vampire!reader

warnings: swearing, kissing, fluff, obsessive!kai (sort of)

summary: y/n is on her way to the sheriff's funeral when she gets an alarming call from alaric...

a/n: hello, so i used the deleted kai and jo scene for this because, let's face it, that scene deserved kai's redemption.

---

I could hear my heels clicking on the pavement as I walked towards my car. My head was currently tilted downward towards my purse as i was trying to dig out my keys. This is why I need to clean out my shit more often. Aha! I finally found them. After about five minutes of digging.

Suddenly, my phone starts ringing. Now I have to dig that out of my purse. Damn this bag. Once I retrieved my phone from my bag, I saw the screen lit up with Alraic's name across it.

"I know, I'm running late. Can you tell Caro-" I start, but was immediately cut off by Alaric.

"y/n, I need you to get over to Jo's place right now." His voice is urgent and I immediately stop right in my tracks.

"Why? Alaric, I need to be at the funeral right now."

"y/n, just get over here! You'll see why I called you when you do." I didn't know what to do with that. I didn't want to disappoint Caroline by not being there, but Alaric sounds like he's desperate.

"Okay, but I swear to God if it's something stupid, like you got your hand stuck in the sink, I'm gonna be so pissed." I say as I open my car door.

"y/n!"

"Stop your whining, I'm on my way." I hang up and change the gear to drive. Alaric better have a good excuse.

---

I get to Jo's apartment and open the door. I have no clue why it was unlocked. Do they not care about serial killers? My heels click with every stride I take towards the living room and soon enough I'm at the doorway.

"Alright, what was so impor-" I stop in my tracks when I see a devilish smirk from across the room. Along with the stupid expression, I get a little wave. My eyes shoot over to Jo, who's now standing there, giving me a look of pity.

"What the fu-"

"y/n, save it for a better time." Alaric says, putting his hand up to hush me.

A better time? The best time to swear would be right about now. When Kai Parker is standing there, smirking at me.

"This is why you called me here?! Jo can I please kill your fiancé?!" My eyes begin to darken and veins flash under my eyes. My vamp side comes out when I get pissed. Jo immediately comes over to calm me down.

"Okay, calm down. y/n, no one is killing anybody. We just called you over because we knew that if you were here, my asshole of a twin wouldn't try anything." Jo turns her head over her shoulder and sends Kai a glare.

"She's right." Kai shrugs, still not whipping that stupid grin off his face.

"You! I do not want to hear another word out of your mouth!" I demand. His hands go up in defense.

"Yes, ma'am. " he mutters under his breath.

"Why me though?!" I shout some more.

"Because he's obsessed with you." Alaric responds, rubbing his temples. Kai winks at me. I roll my eyes and try to walk out, but Jo pulls me back.

"y/n, please. He claims he's sick, so can you please come with me to my office so we can check him?" Jo's voice makes me calm down a little bit. I've always kind of seen her and Alaric as close friends, family even. So, if me being here ensures their safety, then so fucking be it.

---

Me, Jo, and Kai walk into her office and Jo leads us to one of the rooms.

"Motus!" Jo says as soon as the door closes. I see Kai fly across the room and hit the wall. She then does that one spell that makes your head feel like it's going to explode. It nice to be on the opposite end of that for once.

"Talked to Dad. Guess who's not sick? Him, Liv, and I'm feeling pretty good right now. Which leads me to believe I'm not gonna die anytime soon. So, what's your game?! Tell me!" She shouts.

"I don't have a game!" Kai shouts back. "God!" He shouts again before doing the same spell to her. I fall down next to Jo, grabbing her arm and trying to think of a way to help her. He stops when I make eye contact with him. I'm pretty sure my vampire face flashed because, he looked a little scared.

"As much as my suffering might bring you two pleasure, this is not the way to handle the situation." He stands up and starts towards us. I help Jo to her feet and dust off my dress.

"Is this all just a ploy for you to get more magic?" Jo's tone is an accusing one, and Kai's face twists into a serious one. A face I've never seen before.

"It's a ploy for us all to stay alive, actually. I'm sorry if that seems selfish!"

"I don't believe you! Because you are a liar. And you are the worst kind of liar because your lies sound so much like the truth, it's impossible for me to tell the difference. " That's something me and Jo agree on. No matter what faces I've seen before, Kai has never shown an honest one.

"You're right, I am a liar, alright? I'm the black sheep. You know, the defective twin that nobody wanted." His voice cracks and this gains my attention. Something about me is that, even without compulsion, I can tell when someone is being sincere. And for once, Kai is.

"It must feel real nice for you to stand her, judging me. Surrounded by all the things you got out of life while I spent eighteen years in isolation as the family reject." His eyes flash over to me before returning to Jo. I never thought I'd be saying this right now, but I kind of feel remorse for Kai.

"Let me tell you, every inch of me wants to kill you for that. Every part!" I slowly start to step in front of Jo, but she pulls me behind her instead.

"But I can't. Because the only way that I can survive is if you help me. And I'd like to live, frankly. Because I didn't get to do a whole lot of that before everyone decided that I wasn't worth it."

There it is again. The feeling of remorse for the man in front of me. His words made me realize that he wasn't born a monster. His coven made him that way. All because he was different. Malachai Parker is evil, but maybe there's a part of him that isn't. A part that can consume the evil and make a whole new person.

"I'll give it to you." Jo replied.

"But under one condition. You take it and get out of my life. I never want you anywhere near me again." She spits out.

"Fine."

"I'm not finished. If you break our promise, I'll kill you." My head snaps towards her.

"I'll take myself and our entire coven down with you. Because I don't want to live another minute, afraid of my own brother." I'd never have thought Jo would do that, but given everything Kai did, she has every right. But something inside me hopes, prays even, she never has to do that.

"You got it?"

"Got it." Kai looks over at me again. My eyes have softened, and I'm now starting to see a whole different person when I look at him. He brushes past us and walks out of the door.

---

After Jo gave Kai her magic, He was out the door in a heartbeat. Not before whispering one last thing in her ear. I quickly say my goodbyes and run after him.

"Kai, wait!" He turns around while standing in the middle of the parking lot. His hands are in his pockets, and his lips part at the sight of me lightly jogging. When I stop a few feet away from him, my words suddenly exit my mind. I have no clue what to say.

"You know, I always thought that the only thing that would make me happy was being coven leader." Kai starts. My eyebrows scrunch. I don't know where he intends to go with this.

"The day I met you in the prison world, I started feeling things. After I merged with Luke, I started feeling even more things. And then it dawned on me." He started taking steps towards me. My feet stay planted in the pavement below me and my stomach twist into knots. I don't know what I'm feeling but, I don't want it to stop.

"Sure, being gemini coven leader is amazing. The power, the title, it's all I've ever wanted. But, then I met you. You are what I've always wanted. Well, maybe not always, but from the day that I met you, you were all I wanted, no, needed." He stops in front of me. My breath gets caught in my throat.

"It's always been you, y/n. And I know you hate me. I know I'm just another monster that you and the gang had to face, but to me, you are my world." What is happening right now? Why are his words having this effect on me? Why do I want him closer? What the actual hell?

"When you're happy, I'm happy. When something hurts you, I want to hunt it down and destroy it. So, hate me. Help your friends plot my death. But just know..." His hand comes up to cup my cheek. I flinch, but don't take his hand away. For some weird reason, I like the way his skin feels against mine.

"I'll love you even if I'm in hell." Holy shit.

Kai Parker loves me? How? Why? What the fuck?! Wait...no there's no way...do I love him too? All I've ever felt for him was disgust, but maybe that was just a cover-up. Because what I'm feeling right now didn't just happen within the span of a few hours. I guess it's always been there, I just didn't see it before.

He leans down and kisses my forehead then turns around. He begins to walk away, but I don't want him to. I can't let him.

"Kai!" He stops and turns around again.

I don't think. My body is moving before my mind can process it. My legs are taking long strides, and soon, my arms are thrown around his shoulders, and I'm pulling his head down to mine. Our lips meet in the middle, and his hands quickly find my waist.

Passion. Sparks flying everywhere. That's what I feel when I'm kissing Kai Parker. His hands are moving up and down my back and mine are racking through his hair. We only pull away when we're about to run out of oxygen. We keep our heads rested on each other's and try to steady our breaths.

"I love you, Kai." I feel his arms tighten around my waist. He let's out a breath that sounded like he had been holding in.

"I love you to hell and back, y/n." He says before capturing my lips in another passionate kiss.

---

[demolition-queen]

If I must die,

you must live

to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze–

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh

not even to himself��

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there

bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope

let it be a tale

-Refaat Alareer ( Palestinian Writer )

[a-queer-seminarian]

"And Gaza Lives On" by Refaat Alareer, killed in an Israeli Airstrike Dec. 7

And another war in Gaza Another day in Palestine A day in prison And we live on

Despite Israel’s very much identified flying objects That we see more than our family and friends And despite Israel’s death sentences Like lead Cast upon the head As we sleep Like acid rain Gnawing at our life Clinging to it like a flea to a kitten And stuffed in our throats The moment we say ‘Amen’ To the prayers of old women and men

Despite Israel’s birds of death Hovering only two meters from our breath From our dreams and prayers Blocking their ways to God. Despite that. We dream and pray, Clinging to life even harder Every time a dear one’s life Is forcibly rooted up.

We live. We live. We do.

[tvdvoreandstuff]

Alaric's Misfortune

Alaric sat in his car, completely given up. The love of his life had just been murdered right in front of him, all because of Kai Parker’s actions. Alaric pulled out a gun from his glove compartment, his hands trembling as he aimed the firearm at his head. Tears streamed down his face, soaking into his shirt. But before Alaric could pull the trigger, an invisible force sucked him out of his car, throwing him onto the ground, causing the gun to go flying and dirt staining his suit.

Kai stood a short distance away, with a cruel smile as he watched Alaric struggle to stand. 

“I’m not done with you yet, Ric,” Kai chuckled, using his magic to force the hunter’s body to jerk into a kneeling position.

 Alaric’s eyes burned with hatred, he wanted to do nothing more than murder Kai after all he’s done. As Kai took another step forward, Tyler Lockwood suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground, Tyler had just activated his werewolf curse a few minutes prior and was in the middle of his transformation. The 2 fought for a brief moment before the werewolf sunk his fangs directly into Kai’s neck, causing venom to start coursing through Kai’s veins. Kai groaned in pain as he struggled to fight Tyler off. He opts to cast Motus.

The spell caused Tyler to go flying back, his body magically slamming into the ground.

“Bad doggy,” Kai muttered before telekinetically lifting Tyler into the air, the werewolf started thrashing, his limbs shaking frantically as he tried to get free. 

Kai then opened his maw up wide, using his telekinesis to bring the thrashing wolf into his jaws, Tyler’s head was soon engulfed by Kai’s mouth. Kai didn’t hesitate as he used more magic to strip off Tyler’s tight-fitting clothing, leaving the wolf’s body on full display.

Tyler’s attempts to flee immediately ceased as Kai’s throat muscles clamped down on the wolf, dragging him further down Kai’s throat. Tyler could feel the muscles pushing him down further Kai’s esophagus. Kai’s throat was bulging at this point as he swallowed Tyler up to his chest, licking Tyler’s sweet sweaty abs before swallowing again, this time up to Tyler’s legs. 

After a few more minutes of swallowing, Tyler was fully in Kai’s stomach. Tyler continued to thrash within the walls of Kai’s gut, causing the heretic to let out a deep guttural belch with all the gas shifting around inside of him.

“Now that’s a good doggy,” Kai giggled as he rubbed at his belly, now staring at Alaric who had an even more given-up expression.

“C’mon Ric, don’t give me that pouty face, I still have room for more. Maybe that’ll cheer you up?” Kai questioned as he laughed, taking a few more steps towards Alaric in the process.

“Fuck you…” was all Alaric could say before Kai charged at him and took his head into his mouth. Kai gulped down Alaric’s shoulders as he peeled off the man’s clothing one by one. Kai then licked over Alaric’s chest hungrily, the chest hair adding a nice salty flavor to Kai’s tongue. Alaric could feel his cock getting hard, he knows he shouldn’t be but the feeling of being swallowed whole is turning him on like never before. Kai could smell the arousal leaking off of Alaric’s body, feeling himself getting hard, he swallowed again, this time up to Alaric’s crotch. Kai wrapped his long, pink tongue around Alaric’s erect cock. He pumped the man’s cock several times, each pump initiating a moan from Alaric. After another minute of pumping, Alaric eventually groaned loudly as he came down Kai’s throat. Kai made sure to swallow every drop before swallowing the rest of Alaric’s body down his throat. 

Kai felt his already round belly bulge out even further with the added hunk of meat inside, Alaric was cramped up with Tyler also being inside, the stomach walls clamping around them making them packed tightly together. Kai gave his belly a few more rubs before laying down on his back, burping loudly again as his prey settled in. 

Kai smiled victoriously, knowing he had just won. He eventually fell asleep. The sound of his snores sounded throughout the field.

(I feel like Kai would actually have a vore fetish if he knew what it was. Anyway, I'll try to pump out more stuff soon. No promises!)

[strangelysamantha]

blue moon ❀

damon salvatore x fem!reader.

warnings: swearing.

words: 973.

summary: coming back to mystic falls in the hope that you'll reunite with your former lover, damon salvatore.

request? no

a/n: cute little fluff :) the rendition of the song im speaking of is blue moon sha na na but specifically the grease edition because its slower paced.

my masterlist

————————————————————————-

blue moon,

you saw me standing alone,

without a dream in my heart,

without a love of my own.

you sat at the mystic grill. it was a friday night, the grill was always swarming with people then. you had recently came back. you moved away for five years trying to reshape your life after being turned. you weren’t expecting much to come out of it, the only reason you showed was to see who was still in town. you walk to a bar stool, claiming it. you ask for a shot, ready to let loose.

you saw a lot of familiar faces. none you were too particularly interested in. honestly; you were just hoping to run into an old lover. you look around, after a few more shots you stood up from the bar. there was no sign of him anywhere. you grab your jacket, heading outside. you stroll the streets of town. the breeze crisp, the sky dark.

you're at the bridge now, stumbling throughout the night. you look down at the water, mind drowning with your own thoughts. the peacefulness took over, you gracefully make your way back to the center of town. the stroll allowed you to calm your nerves, maybe he wasn't here. a certain chill ran throughout your spine then. looking down, a crow rests in front of you on the sidewalk. you eye it, intrigued. after a longing look, you continue down the path.

blue moon, you knew just what i was there for, you heard me saying a prayer for, someone i really could care for.

you end up at the grill again, heading inside you scope the place. you head to the bathroom, wanting to take a breather before socializing. after a last glance in the mirror, you leave the bathroom. your eyes fall onto a figure, occupying your seat you had claimed earlier. his black hair fell at his shoulders, a black leatherjacket snug on his skin. your heart stops, a breath caught in your throat. you wanted to see him yes, but the fact he was in front of you, downing bourbon as he talks to another gentleman gave you butterflies. you hesitate, tempted to start a conversation. you decide against it, not wanting him to get an ego at your rush of a reunion.

you grab a few darts, throwing them at the board. "hey." you look over. a girl with blonde hair, and blue eyes, grins excitingly. "hi?" you question. "have i seen you before?" she asks softly. "it's my first day in town actually." her face contorts into confusion. "i lived here five years ago though." you reassure. "hmm, i wonder where i've seen you." you laugh slightly, "i'm not sure." she shrugs, "well it's nice to meet you. i'm caroline!" you nod, "it's nice to meet you caroline." she happily bounces towards the bar, grabbing shots. you laugh slightly to yourself, surprised by her bubbly personality. you get back to throwing darts. you send one flying to the board, a hand reaches out and grabs it before it can land. "hi darling." damon hands the dart back to you, smirking. "hello, damon." you bite your lip slightly, "i think you owe me a drink or two." he grins, taking your arm. "of course." he leads you to the bar stool next to his pal from earlier. "this is alaric, he's a great drinking buddy." you reach a handout, "and who's this?" he questions.

damon places one of his hands on your back, rubbing it gently. "this is a sight for sore eyes. a treasure if you will." his words surprise you. "i've been waiting for this moment rick." you join in, "it's been way too long damon." he nods agreeing. "hey donavon!" the bartender walks over, groaning. "yes?" his voice is laced with agitation already. "shots please and keep them coming."

he walked away, damon glances over, his lips pulled into a smirk. “where have you been all this time?” you hesitate, “working on myself. but i’m good now.” the bartender pours three shots. “what have you been up too damon?” alaric intervenes, "terrorizing the citizens of mystic falls." his comment made you chuckle, "so nothing's changed huh." the three of you down the shots together. "nothing at all."

alaric calls it a night, having school tomorrow. leaving you and damon alone at the bar. "im really glad you decided to come back." you smile softly at his confession, "im glad you're still here. i was worried i'd come back, and you'd have fled already." he tilts his head to the side, his eyes locked with yours. "i guess i stayed because a part of me knew you would come back for me." it was getting late now; the bar was emptying. "i've missed you a lot damon."

and then there suddenly appeared before me the only one my arms will hold i heard somebody whisper, "please, adore me" and when i looked, the moon had turned to gold

he couldn't resist. he softly cups your chin, pulling you into a soft and tender kiss. you gently kiss back, you run your hands through his hair. you pulled away softly, "may you join me in a dance?" you asked. he grinned, "of course." he takes your hand, leading you to an empty space inside the mystic grill. slow music was playing over the speakers. you held damon close, your head on his chest, he held your waist firmly, his other hand holding yours. "can i stay with you?" you lift your head to look at him. "anything. ask for whatever and i will personally make sure you get it." he squeezes your waist, spinning you around, kissing you again.

blue moon, now i'm no longer alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

[screamintoad]

Oops

A/n: I’ve gotten really attached to Jane already

 The wind felt wonderful as Jane flew through the open night sky. She knows it was wrong to “borrow” a broom that’s used for flight class but she just had to follow the urge to see her friend. The air was cold and crisp, it has only been a month since she started attending NRC but every day has been fun. She also enjoyed being able to see her grandpa more often. 

  It wasn’t long before RSA came into her view, now the tricky part, figuring out where the dorms were. Her and Alaric talked basically every day while they got ready for classes so she knew which window to look for, just not where it would be exactly. 

  “Look for the window with the sun banners lining the top.” He told her. Eventually she found the window on the opposite side of the school than where she first showed up at. The broom levitated high above the ground, one wrong move and she could fall. She carefully stood up and balanced on the broom. 

  She reached out her hand and knocked on the glass a few times. She peered inside and noticed a boy with shaggy hair and hyena ears jumped out of skin. So badly, he fell off his bed and onto the floor. The boy rushed to his feet and went over to the window. He opened it and the two had a staring contest that Jane lost. 

  “Oh crud.”

  “Who are you?” The boy asked. His voice wavered with nervousness as he looked around outside as if more people would be there. 

  “Uhm-“ Jane shut her mouth as she pondered her answers. 

  This entire situation looked bad. She’s an NRC student on RSA territory, she’s currently flying around on a broom that is not hers, and she’s currently outside of the window of possibly the wrong dorm room. 

  Wait a minute. 

  “You’re Mika!” Jane’s face widened into a smile. Mika hesitantly nodded, “How do you know my name and again, who are you?” Jane held out her hand for a handshake, “Jane Trappola, pleasure to meet ya. Alaric’s told me about you.” She explained. Now everything started making sense to him. He held a hand to help her into the room. She grabbed the broom that was still floating aimlessly and leaned it against the wall. 

  She sat on the other bed in the room that belonged to Alaric. She noted how he brought the quilt that his mom made him for the holidays in the previous year. “Is Alaric a good roommate?” Jane spoke up, “He’s always been so quiet and has trouble making friends compared to his big sister so I was a bit worried.” Mika nodded along, “He’s a good roommate, I think I got lucky with him because we’re actually a lot alike.” And he went back to reading his book. 

  A few minutes passed before Alaric finally walked into the room. Once he saw Jane he slammed the door shut and marched over to her. “What are you doing? What if you were caught by the staff or showed up at the wrong room?” He interrogated her. Jane pointed at Mika, “Your roommate let me in.” Alaric through a look at Mika and the latter dug his face further in his book as his ears pinned back. “She was very charismatic.” He mumbled. 

  Alaric sat on the foot of the bed, the action causing Jane to bounce where she sat by his pillows. “So…wanna know what drama has surfaced this month?” She asked. Alaric held back a laugh, with a sigh he gave in. “Tell me all about it.” He replied. He glanced over at Mika, “You might be interested in this Bucchi.” Jane froze in place. “Bucchi?” She wondered, “Don’t tell me your sister is Lana Bucchi.” 

  Mika smiled and nodded. Alaric quickly leaned forward to grab a pillow and handed it to Jane so she could squeal into it without waking others up.

BUCCHI TWINS BELONG TO @twtysevapr

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[realtimefanduboutofcontext]

some thoughts

I'm very aware some people think the strike fell flat during its last few steps, but it's good that we had SOME coordination rather than none. I hope that we can arrange this again, because our action towards Israel should hit it where it hurts - the organizations that support it

At the end of the day, you are fighting with your voices, with your wallet, with your protests, uplifting each-other and honoring the memory of the 26,000+ martyrs who were senselessly killed by the IOF, while also remaining steadfast to protect those who are still alive.

The fact that there are still Palestinians with hope should signal to us all that there is a light at the end of this tunnel. Freedom for all of Palestine. Freedom for all oppressed nations. For Sudan, for Congo, for Yemen, for the Uyghurs, and many more. And if nothing else, please document their memory like Palestinians would want you to.

I will share with you the poem written by the Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer, titled "If I Must Die". He wrote it before being killed by the Israeli army.

If I must die,  you must live  to tell my story  to sell my things  to buy a piece of cloth  and some strings,  (make it white with a long tail)  so that a child, somewhere in Gaza  while looking heaven in the eye  awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—  and bid no one farewell  not even to his flesh  not even to himself—  sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above  and thinks for a moment an angel is there  bringing back love  If I must die  let it bring hope  let it be a tale

إذا كان ال بد أن أموت  فال بد أن تعيش أنت  لتروي حكايتي لتبيع أشيائي وتشتري قطعة قماش  وخيوطا (فلتكن بيضاء وبذيل طويل)  كي يبصر طفل في مكان ما من ّغّزة  وهو يح ّّدق في السماء  منتظرًاً أباه الذي رحل فجأة  دون أن يودع أحدًاً  وال حتى لحمه  أو ذاته يبصر الطائرة الورقّية  طائرتي الورقية التي صنعَتها أنت تحّلق في الأعالي  ويظ ّّن للحظة أن هناك مالكًاً  يعيد الحب إذا كان ال بد أن أموت  فليأ ِِت موتي باألمل  فليصبح حكاية ترجمة سنان أنطون 

Thank you so far for sharing what I've been learning this past week, and cumulatively these past few months. I have hope for Palestine. I just hope that we can break the system so the bloodshed will stop soon enough.

Until then,

CEASEFIRE NOW! FREEDOM TO PALESTINE!

[baseballbitch116]

However Long It Takes - Chapter Five

Klaus Mikaelson x oc slow burn series

Charlotte couldn't help it. Something about Klaus was so intoxicating, so magnetic... She couldn't stay away from him. And it seems like the feeling is mutual. How does she keep ending up in these situations with him? Especially when her "friends" hate him so much. Is Charlotte in way over her head?

Word Count: 1994

Warnings: Mild violence and talk of death

Masterlist | However Long It Takes Masterlist

Chapter Five - The Vampire Hunter

The next day was nothing short of chaos. Elena and Caroline were captured by the new invincible vampire hunter Alaric at the high school, so you met with the Salvatore's and the others at Elena’s house. You were talking with Stefan and Jeremy in the kitchen when a soccer ball went flying into the kitchen after busting open the front door. “What the–” A piece of a fence flies in next and you grab Jeremy’s arm, pulling him to crouch behind the kitchen counter. Damon is suddenly taunting whoever is throwing the objects into the house as you remain in cover with the younger Gilbert. Eventually, the throwing stopped, but then you smelled gasoline and heard a familiar voice. Klaus?

Against Stefan’s objections, you vamped from the kitchen to the front door and were met with an angry Klaus. His eyes go wide, clearly not having realized that you were here. “Charlotte,” he says with a serious voice, holding a newspaper and a petrol can.

“Charlotte get back,” Stefan calls out, and Klaus’s angry eyes leave yours to glare at him for a short moment. Instead of listening, you step outside and are almost chest to chest with the angry hybrid in front of you.

You stare into his eyes, essentially challenging his rage. He narrows his eyes at you for a long moment before throwing the newspaper down onto the ground and putting the petroleum can down. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, and he just proved it. “Elena’s not here. Alaric took her and Caroline and he’s holding them hostage at the school.” You inform Klaus matter-of-factly. He closes his eyes tightly in exasperation and sighs. Stefan steps outside behind you and you can feel his body heat radiating onto you from his close proximity to your back. You don’t miss the intense glare Klaus shoots his way, but don’t dare start anything right now.

The men start coming up with a plan to get the girls back and you went off to the side of the house to try calling Elena in an attempt to get Alaric to answer. In hindsight, this wasn’t the best idea – because while your guard was down, someone was able to snap your neck.

~~~

You woke up in a classroom, tied to a desk chair. When you tried to move, your body burned and you quickly realized that the rope was covered in vervain. An evil chuckle made you look up and you locked eyes with Alaric. He looked so malicious, not like himself at all. To your left were Elena and Caroline, each in their own chairs. Caroline was in the same position as you, except with pencils in each of her hands and a rope in her mouth as well. You felt bad for her as you watched her wincing in pain. Alaric walked over to you and you lunged up, fighting the pain to try to snap his neck. In your weakened state, Alaric easily subdued you and slammed a pencil into your shoulder blade. You screamed in pain.

Alaric and Elena argued back and forth as he tried to get her to stake one of us, but she refused. Eventually, you spotted an opening when Caroline tried to get free. You took the chance while he was distracted and lunged up from the desk, throwing it at Alaric and using your elbows to break the rope. You took the pencil out of your bicep and threw it into Alaric’s neck, then took off running. You vamped away until you reached the furthest hallway and stopped to lean against a wall momentarily, catching your breath and trying to think. You knew you needed to figure out a way to rescue Caroline and Elena, but you weren’t sure how.

A hand grasped your mouth out of nowhere and you were pressed into a larger, hard body. You resisted and tried to scream to no avail, before the person grabbing you said: “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s me. It’s okay, you’re safe.” Klaus whispers in your ear, slowly removing his hand from your mouth. He places his hand on your shoulder and leans in to your ear: “We’ll save them. You go straight home. You stay inside. Do you understand?” You are too frazzled to respond, a combination of the fear, adrenaline and his hands on your body. He grabs your arms and turns you around to face him. “Do you understand me?” he demands, staring into your eyes with his intense blue ones, his hands on either of your arms. He looks genuinely worried and uneasy, but you felt safe now that he was with you. You nodded after a moment to process what he actually said, relief washing over you.

“Thank you,” you murmur gratefully. He stares at you for another long moment, many different expressions washing over his expressions before he vamps away toward the direction you just ran from. You waste no time and vamp in the other direction out of the school and straight home as fast as you could, just like he told you to.

You waited anxiously in your house for hours. Practically bit all of your fingernails off worrying about Klaus, and the others. Alaric was as strong as Mikael, if not stronger. Esther had given him immortality, so long as Elena was alive, he was. And he had an infinite white oak stake. It didn’t get much worse than that. Not only would you be heartbroken if he did manage to kill Klaus, but that also meant that everyone from Klaus’s bloodline would die too. Yourself included.

You texted everyone but no one had answered. You stared out the window for any sign, but nothing came. Alaric would be trapped in the school until sundown, but what about after the sun set? Would he come for you? The others?

Klaus: Are you okay?

You nearly dropped your phone in haste to open the text from him. It had been two hours since you got home, you were worried sick.

Yes, are you? Where are you?

You were not concerned with appearances or how you came off right now. You needed to know that he was safe. That everyone was.

I’m coming over. Stay inside.

Your heart rate picked up, anxious about Klaus being over at your house for the first time. As stupid as it felt, you began cleaning up. Using your vamp speed to try to hurry, tossing things into the closet or picking up random objects. Klaus arrived a few minutes later, knocking on the door sharply. You took a deep breath and walked over to the front door, where you could see him through the glass. Something that you hadn’t even considered yet was whether or not you should let him inside. You’d compelled your mother to put you on the lease last time she was here, so you did have the ability to invite him in if you wanted to… Was that a good idea? It could very well come back to bite you…

You opened the door and glanced around before meeting his gaze. “Are you okay?” you ask quietly, scanning him for any signs of injury. He cocks his head to the side and stares at you for a long moment before responding.

“I’m fine. Esther certainly gave him loads of power.” he huffs angrily. The sun is low in the sky now and you know that as soon as the sun is down, Alaric will be leaving the school. He’d be free all night until the sun rose again. What should you do? There’s no way you’ll be able to sleep knowing he’s out there, his sole mission to kill all of the originals. You didn’t want to see them die. The others had already somehow managed to kill Finn, not that you cared – but all of the vampires from his line died with him. Which was the only reason you were apprehensive about even Kol dying. But the other three… You’d grown to like them. “Are you going to invite me in, sweetheart?” he changes the conversation and his signature smirk returns. He’s not calm right now, and it puts you on edge a little. Did he have an ulterior motive?

“Yes, Klaus, come in…” his brows raise in surprise but he outstretches a leg and places his foot over the threshold. You take a step to the side against the wall and allow him to walk inside, then pull the door closed behind him. Suddenly, you are standing very close to him, with your back nearly pressed against the wall. He seems much larger than you suddenly, even though he was only a few inches taller. His intense blue eyes burned through your soul and he actually took a small step toward you, making you back up into the wall. You are stunned and you know that he can hear your heart pounding in your chest. His smirk remains and he brings his right hand up and brushes some hair out of your face. He grins as he tucks the hair behind your ear. His fingertips brush the skin of your cheek and you close your eyes in bliss, his brief touch warming your skin and erupting a fire inside of you. It was impossible to be subtle or conceal your emotions around this man. You force your eyes open and meet his gaze. “I can hear your heart hammering in your chest,” he taunts you, placing his right hand on the wall beside your head, pinning you. His body is radiating heat onto yours, but he’s not touching you.

“Klaus…” is all you can bring yourself to say. Words have escaped you, and all you wanted in this moment was for him to close the gap between your bodies. All logic and self-preservation went out the door the moment he touched your face. You were so incredibly attracted to this dangerous man.

He moistens his full lips after you say his name, leaning his face in closer so that there are only inches between you.

“Hmm, I like the way my name sounds on your lips,” he murmurs. The tension between you is so heavy, it makes it hard to breathe. He leaned even closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, and you lifted your head up to invite him to kiss you… And then his phone went off, startling you and completely killing the vibe. You quickly stand up straight and Klaus takes a step back, his face falling into a scowl as he pulls the phone out of his pocket. You literally have to catch your breath and put space between the two of you, feeling like you could not breathe so close to him.

He answers the phone, saying: “What, Stefan?” he growls into the phone. His sudden mood change caught you off guard, but you wonder if it is because he was enjoying what had been transpiring between the two of you just as much as you had been. “Fine,” he huffs before hanging up and returning his gaze to you. “Got to go, love,” his voice softened when he spoke to you, making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“But what about Ric?” you ask, reaching out to grab his bicep as he approached the door. He turned back to face you, glancing at your hand on his arm before smiling softly.

“I’ll be fine. You stay inside, away from the windows. Don’t go outside until after sunrise.” Klaus instructs you. He looks at you for a long moment then quickly leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. Your breath hitches and he pulls back only enough to look into your eyes for another moment, then takes off out the door with his vamp speed. You stand there for a long moment, catching your breath from the intensity of what just happened before hastily closing the door.

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