#high king and queen of a continent? a joke

[loreandletters]

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Chick-Fil-A

The King, L’landis Plebarin, hadn’t stopped speaking. He stands ramrod straight, a large, obnoxious sword at his hip. The land behind him unfolds like a tapestry, a beautiful window into a world of fantasy. In Peter’s home, birds would dot the sky; here, there are dragons. They’re on the balcony of this prestigious building, so the view is high up and unobstructed. There’s no skyscraper to break up the horizon, or a thick smog to block it. 

The building they’ve climbed the steps of reeks of a strange otherness, enshrouded in a beauty that Peter has only known to be in ancient cathedrals and grand eastern temples. It’s beautiful, really. He’s sure they brought him up here to tempt him with their wealth, their beauty and fantasy. What a real fucking shame this King and his servants only know how to spew filth. 

“- and crush our enemies, who threaten our world.” 

Yeah, Peter had stopped listening after ‘we will gift you with slaves to own and women to conquer.’  

A high collared servant of some sort stood smugly by the Kings side, a polite smile scrawled across his wrinkled face. His too long robe fell into a puddle onto the floor, spreading out like a puddle of piss, except it floated before it could touch the stones beneath their feet. He wore another dress underneath, covering his feet, and Peter thought if magic was used so thoughtlessly, they might not be as stupid as they sound. Damn. There goes his punch-and-run plan.

The King stood confidently, his aged face warm with invitation. What a crime, for such a conventionally attractive man to be this vile. “What do you say, hero?”

Peter smiled, because sadly, he wasn’t the one with a giant sword on his hip or magic at his fingertips. “Your enemies, the Demons, are they the only ones I have to fight?”

“I wish it were so.” A weary look overcame the King. “Our land is surrounded by enemies. To the west, lay the Lipkons, who vie after our riches. Should we defeat them, I’m sure their Queen will make a valuable concubine.”

“Queen Kelamine is a proud woman, unnatural through and through. Worry not though, pride makes for feisty bed warmers,” the servant remarked. Fury burns begins to warm his skin, and Peter thinks how satisfying it will be to smack this fucker.

“They are a Matriarchy, the fools, so naturally they will be the easiest to fell.” The King rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Right.” Peter agrees in pure habit alone. Strangely, this feels like dealing with an old customer, one who begins spewing the most ridiculous shit completely unprompted. He employes his usual coping method: a flat smile, a nod, and a dash of a desperate hope that he’ll get through it without getting yelled at. Fuck, it’s so annoying. He’d just finished with this shit not an hour ago, getting off a stupidly long shift with a line that just wouldn’t end. Fuck this old man and fuck Chick-Fil-A. 

“And then to the east, the dirty Halflings have made a kingdom of their own.” The King laughs like its a joke.

“A rabble of bandits more like, liege,” the servant says, “they are nothing to worry about. Built out runaway slaves and illiterate bastards.”

“Yes, we have nothing to fear from them,” the King agrees, “the North is ours, thankfully. The Dukes in charge had rebelled some time ago, but we have reasserted our control. Their heir resides here with us, so hence, the Northern loyalty is secure. And of course, the South is rife with the Demon Empire. So, yes Hero, we are in desperate need of your help.”

“I understand.” Peter closes his eyes. He’s cold, only standing on this balcony in his thin, red uniform. He hadn’t even been able to walk through the door of his apartment before all this shit. Couldn’t get iskeaied into a nice place, could he? Or any of the other kingdoms? Couldn’t be the east, or the west, or even the Demons - he had to get the sexist slavers, smack dab in the middle of the continent. No chance to run, no place to go.  What the fuck is his life.  

“So, Hero, will you take this challenge?” The King sounds confident, as if there’s no world in wich Peter will say no.

Fuck you, let me go home bitch, Peter thinks viciously, resentment bubbling up because this never should have been his problem. This man doesn’t even see him as a hero, just pawn in a really fucked up game. Kinda like Kaden, the power tripping bastard that thought being a manager of a round down fast food restaurant was equal to being god. Kaden only bothered to start acting nice when an audit came about. Fuck the King, fuck Kaden, and fuck Chick-fil-A.

“You’re asking a lot of me.” Peter grits out as politely as he can. Damn it all, just let me go home.

“You are right, what we ask of you is tremendous. But, know this, you were not summoned at random,” reverence emboldens the King Plebarin’s words, and Peter has to shove down the urge to scratch his face off, big fancy sword or not. “You were brought here for your strength, inwards and outwards. You may not believe in yourself, but I believe I do. You will be the one to save us, Hero. I know it.”

Oh, I’ll do more than that. Peter nods, more to himself then the king. Resolve slowed his heart,  quieting its rabbiting pace. Save you? Ha! I’ll be a hero, alright, just not yours.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Peter bowed, his righteous fury and determination filling his chest, “it’ll be my pleasure.”

the king has a large problem. The hero that was summoned thinks slavery is "a bad thing" and women "should have rights"

[youareatragedy]

The audacity of people hoping Rhysand and Feyre will become High King and Queen. The person who enforces segregation among his own people, and the person who destroyed a whole country just because she wanted to get back at her ex. The audacity.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt.6

(Cersei x Fem Reader x Jaime. Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

"Are you happy now?" Robert raged as Cersei gazed dispassionately at him. "It's not enough you bring your whore across the fucking continent; you have to make a show of fucking her in front of the whole camp?"

"You don't bother to hide your infidelities" Cersei glowered, "why should I hide mine?"

"You humiliated me!" Robert slammed his cup on the nearest table, pouring himself another helping of strong ale.

Cersei simmered in silence. She knew what she did was foolish, but the satisfaction of the court knowing King Robert was the cuckold for once was almost worth it.

"It was an offense to The Faith, not to mention High Treason! I should have both your heads on pikes"

"Robert, please. It's not like she can father my bastards, like your mistresses have."

Robert's bloated face blanched at this, and Cersei rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't act like it was some big secret."

Robert's rage returned, further fueled by indignation.

"Out of my sight, woman. Before I have you scourged in front of the whole camp."

She left willingly, knowing exactly where she would find you.

Jaime had been charged with keeping you company while Cersei received her tongue lashing, and the queen found the two of you at play like a couple of teenagers.

"Sister" Jaime grinned, his arm pressed against yours as the two of you held a thin candle between your forearms. "You're just in time to watch this little minx lose."

"How are you?" You ignored Jaime's taunts as the flame grew closer to your skin. "What did he say? Am I to be sent away?"

"I don't know. He didn't say much of consequence, he mostly just blustered." Cersei poured herself a glass of wine and watched the flame between your arms sink lower. Jaime was starting to sweat now.

You frowned, unsatisfied.

As it had turned out, Cersei's little exhibition had spread through the camp like wildfire. You received looks ranging from awe to disgusted from everyone you passed the morning after, and certain people wouldn't even look you in the eye anymore.

"Just ignore them, sweetling." Cersei had said. "They don't matter."

To your great relief, Sandor didn't seem to care at all. All he said when he heard was "It's about time."

Sandor had become something of a comfort to you this past month, and while he tried to treat you with mostly indifference, it was clear he was partial to you as well.

"FUCK" Jaime cursed as the flame reached his skin, flicking wax off his forearm and rubbing the bright red skin soothingly. "Have you no sense of pain?"

You didn't answer, only smiling coyly and kissing the burn on his flesh. "Poor baby"

"I should finish packing your things, Your Grace." You sighed, standing and brushing grass off your dress. "We'll reach Winterfell by this afternoon."

The last stretch of the ride was surprisingly easy. Your mare had adjusted to your leadership, and your body had grown accustomed to the long distances.

"Are you sure you're not embarrassed to be riding next to Queen Cersei's Whore?" You teased Clegane as he mounted Stranger next to you.

"Not as embarrassing as trying to keep her little cunt of a son alive long enough to inherit."

"Sandor" you hushed him with a blush, fearing you would be heard. "You mustn't joke like that. I'm on thin ice as it is."

Sandor made a guttural scoffing sound and eyed the horizon.

Winterfell was truly, unbelievably massive.

It had to be, to house as many people as possible when the harsh winter inevitably fell upon the land. What were those ever-ominous house words?

Winter is Coming.

"Clegane, Y/N" The king's squire rounded his horse along side Stranger. "The King wishes to speak with the two of you, right now."

"Now?" You blinked but steered your horse behind Sandor, who seemed equally skeptical as you neared the large, rumbling royal coach. The King, it seemed, had opted to arrive in style rather than on horseback.

"Halt" a voice called, and Robert exited the litter, followed by an unusually tense and somber Cersei. One look at her face, and you could sense something was horribly awry.

"You asked to see us, Your Grace?"

"Indeed" Robert breathed, looking very pleased with himself. "I thought the two of you ought to know, shortly after our arrival at Winterfell, the two of you are going to be married by a Septon of the Faith of The Seven. Congratulations."

You very nearly fell off your horse in shock.

"Y-Your Grace, I don't understand I-"

"Young Lady," The King whipped back around, his jovial face replaced with a look of contempt. "I ought to have you stripped naked and whipped through the streets of Kings Landing for treason, do you understand that?"

His tone shocked you into submission and you gazed at the ground fearfully.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Instead, I'm showing you something called mercy. I'm allowing you to keep the skin on your back and solving our current issue as diplomatically as I can. You should be on your knees thanking me, instead of talking back."

"Yes, Your Grace. I'm very sorry." You nodded, "Thank you for showing mercy, I will strive to be worthy of it."

"And you." Robert eyed Clegane. "Bed her, ignore her, lock her in a sept somewhere for all I care. Just keep her away from my wife."

Sandor nodded slowly and you cast your gaze on Cersei whose face was twisted into a look of utter frustration and disappointment.

As the litter took off once more, a deep coldness settled into your stomach. You should have known it was too good to be true.

"Y/N?"

"I am so sorry."

"I-" Sandor paused, considering his next words. "I didn't expect that, did you?"

"No." You shook your head. "Oh Gods, Sandor I am *so* sorry. I never meant for you to get dragged into this. If I had known-"

"He didn't kill you" Sandor cut you off. "Just be grateful for that for now."

"How are you so calm about this?" You turned to face him, "In fact, this whole trip you have been unnervingly cavalier about this whole situation. You were just ordered by your king to marry some no named nobody from flea bottom who's only claim to fame is being the Queen's whore. And you don't even seem upset."

Sandor shrugged, "I've done far worse things on the orders of far worse men than Robert Baratheon. Besides, it's just marriage. I can't imagine it will change things much. On my end anyway."

It's just marriage.

You thought this over a moment. It was true, High-borns married complete strangers all the time. And it wasn't like you and Sandor were *complete* strangers.

"I guess I haven't thought about it like that." You nodded, somehow soothed by his lack of response. "You're right. We just need to...roll with the punches."

You took off a little ahead of him, and Sandor watched your back as you went, oddly enough noting that your riding form had improved immensely.

"You took that remarkably well."

Sandor stifled an irritated groan as the Kingslayer rode up beside him.

"Fuck off"

"No, it's true. You did." Jaime insisted. "I'm impressed."

Sandor attempted to move ahead of him, but Jaime kept pace.

"Seriously though" Jamie grew more somber. "She's a sweet girl. I doubt she even fully understood what she was getting herself into. I'd hate to see her stuck in a life of misery because of this."

Sandor cast him a poisonous glare, swallowing a mouthful of insults and instead saying;

"Just because you've had your cock in her doesn't mean you know anything about her, Kingslayer."

Before sending his horse into a gallop to catch up with you.

You arrived in Winterfell with much pomp and fanfare.

Keeping yourself concealed from the main group, you watched as the official greetings were exchanged, bows and curtseys and full honors bestowed, until Robert separated from the party to pay respects at the crypts.

When the king was well out of sight and there was commotion loading and unloading wagons, Cersei pulled you aside.

"I did everything I could" were the first words out of her mouth.

"I thank you." You wanted to take her hand but did not dare. Not now. "Honestly, it's a better punishment than I could have dared hope."

"Indeed?" Cersei pulled a tense smile, "I thought you and Clegane weren't-"

"We..." you searched for the words, "We've settled into each other. If that makes sense."

"Ah" Cersei's face was tight but tried to remain neutral, "That makes things easier then, I suppose. All the same, I'll find something for you to do in the Keep, sweetling. I won't let him win."

You smiled gratefully, excusing yourself to unload and carry her bags to her and Robert's shared room.

As you left, Cersei found herself wondering exactly which *him* she meant.

[atinyjules]

Reason Talks But Love Sings ft. Park Jisung - Ch 1

a/n: I had a dream about this so I decided to turn it into my newest series!

Pairings: Knight!Jisung x Princess!Lianna

Genre: Fantasy, royal au, fairytale au, romance, fluff, angst, comfort, crack au

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of death, blood, war, plague, violence etc etc.

As the sun begun to light up the sky of Arcelia to wake up it's citizens a rather grand carriage made its way towards the entrance of Arcelia, the biggest kingdom of the Southern continent of Neo. From the little window of the carriage peeked out a handsome and young Prince, Prince Jeno to be specific. But he isn't the main character of this story, our male lead sits a little up front in a horse leading the Carriage towards their destination.

Adorned in Ethil's silver and gold armour, riding on a horse sat Park Jisung, head of the Royal guards and the Queen's loyal protector. Now you must be thinking, how is he the head of the Royal guards? He's the youngest knight present. Well, ever since Park Jisung was a little boy he excelled in everything he did. Especially swordsmanship which resulted him to be appointed as the head of the Royal guards just 7 years into the job.

Jisung's

Arcelia truly is as beautiful as mother said even though I've already be here a handful of times due to the rulers of both kingdoms being the best of friends.

I took in my surroundings and compared Arcelia to my very own Ethil. Arcelia was much more advanced and bigger than Ethil but there was a kind of professionalism that Arcelia gave off, everyone were dressed nicely and went about their day rather calmly.

As we reached the palace of Arcelia's Royal family, I got down from my horse and stood at the side making way for the Lee family to come and stand.

"Welcome to Arcelia." The King welcomed everyone with a warm and endearing smile as the two rulers bowed to each other, the Queens following after. That was when I saw her, Arcelia's beautiful and kind Princess, her highness Princess Lianna. The only female child to grace the Matsushima family in over a century.

I remember meeting her when we were little and once on her 18 birthday. She was as cheerful and beautiful as she is now.

"Jeno~" she said happily and went to give him a hug to which he instantly hugged back.

Did I mention? The both of them have been best friends since childhood.

"Don't you look nice today." Prince Jeno complimented as she smiled.

"Don't I always? I'm just joking." she said making him chuckle as he poked her cheek.

"You do." he said making her thank him when her eyes met mine.

I quickly bowed to her and left making my way to stand behind the Queen. As I walked behind her I couldn't help but let my mind drift of to when I was 13.

• • • {this symbol means the character's flashback}

"Jisung you're not doing it right, your posture is wrong." the commander said making me gulp as I tried correcting it only to feel a sharp pain on my back. He had hit me with his staff.

"If you keep slacking off you'll never be knighted!" he exclaimed making me flinch as he dismissed the rest of my classmates and left me holding dragging two giant iron discs in the rain.

I couldn't help but cry in frustration as I struggled pulling the discs. I let out a cry as I fell to the ground and tried to catch my breath, the rain wasn't helping.

I let the rain drops fall on me until I didn't feel it anymore. I looked at the ground only to get confused when it was still pouring quite heavily. I looked up to see a girl in a veil holding out her umbrella, shielding us from the rain.

"Are you okay?" she asked as I stood up and that was when I finally took notice of who she was. I widened my eyes and began bending down towards the ground to bow when she held my shoulder.

"Don't...come on...you're exhausted." she said as I stepped back.

"Your highness...you don't need to waste your precious time on a squire like me." I said making her scoff as she pushed back her veil revealing her face making me widen my eyes as the princess is to only reveal her face to special people like her family and close friends.

"So was I just supposed to walk past you while you cried with your sufferings? Of course not!" she said and cupped my cheek with her gloved hands.

"Your highness...your veil." I said as she smiled.

"It doesn't matter...what matters right now is to clean up your cuts before it gets infected." she said softly and unrapped the ropes from me.

"It-It's fine..." I said as she shook her head and put her veil back on after which she took me to the infirmary to everyone's surprise and began cleaning my wounds.

After tending to my wounds she talked with me for a while until her guard came to call her so after we bid goodbye she was walking towards the door when she stopped and turned to me.

"Lia...call me me that the next time me meet." she said and smiled at me before leaving. Let's just say my friends wouldn't stop asking me for the next few weeks.

• • •

I shook my head and came back to my senses after the flashback and waited outside the dining room where they would first have supper and well...talk about politics.

I sighed and smoothed out my cape as I stood alone in silence.

"There you are." I looked up to see Prince Jeno who smiled at me.

"Your highness." I said and bowed as he nodded and said something before going inside.

"Go fetch Lianna will you? She had to go take her medicine." He said making me tense up but still agreed to do it nonetheless.

As I walked towards the infirmary I couldn't help but think if she's still not cured of her sickness.

"Is she still sick?" I mumbled to myself as I entered the infirmary to see her sitting on the chair alone.

"Your highness..." I called out to her making her turn back to see me. she was still wearing her veil but I could she the way she smiled softly.

"Jeno sent you?" she asked as I nodded.

"Yes, your highness." I said as she stood up and walked towards me raising her veil slightly above her eyes making my breath hitch when she revealed her face to me again. She looked even more beautiful and mature now...almost ethereal.

"Ah...it is you." she said and chuckled, letting her veil fall back down to conceal her face. She then proceeded to walk in front of me and stop.

"I suppose you're going to pretend we never met and focus on your job." she said and chuckled softly.

"I..." I trailed as she smiled through her veil.

"Don't worry...I don't mind. Now let's get going." She said kindly as we made our way to the dining room and before she went in she thanked me with a smile and left to go inside.

Lianna's

"Forgive me for being late." I apologized and bowed as the waved me off by saying it was alright.

"It's okay sweetheart...now come quick, we have something to tell you." I nodded with a smile and pushed back my veil before sitting next to a very tense Jeno.

"You okay?" I asked as he forced a smile at me making me frown internally.

"Okay...so...as we all know our Lianna is finally of age and at the perfect phase of her life to get married so we're here today to ask for Lianna's hand in marriage for our Jeno." Jeno's father said making me freeze as I looked at my parents who smiled at me happily.

I couldn't help but feel my face begin to burn up with happiness.

"We would be happy to entrust our daughter with Jeno. He's perfect for our Lia." Dad said making me smile softly as I looked at Jeno only to notice how tense and uneasy he was. He was fiddling with the buttons of his coat making me feel a tinge of disappointment.

"Jeno...won't you say anything?" his mother said making him clear his throat as he smiled and turned towards me, taking his hand in mine as he smiled at me.

Fake.

"I'm happy...really happy." he said as I forced a smile.

lies.

"I knew the both of you would be happy." dad said making me force a smile at him and nod.

Lianna's outfit

That's it for the first chapter guys!🦋✨

I hope you guys liked it!💗✨

Reblogs and likes are appreciated💗🦋✨

[giga-wizard-trey]

Sales pitch!

Hello, My name is shannon and I would like to introduce myself and my services to you. I am a worldbuilder, making rich characters, histories, societies, and more. That is where my strong sensibilities lie. In this script, I would like to address how I can help you create more thriving worlds, build truly fascinating relationships, and where I find my inspiration to make such pieces of fiction pop!

With time and experience going through different worlds I have asked how worldbuilding can enhance stories, I have seen many attempts to build something and find it too complex or too vague. Both of these are habitual problems that can be hard to rectify and can leave your story feeling cluttered or unfulfilling. The base for a world should be an idea, a concept, this is the seed you will grow from, whether it is something strictly story related such as "I want to have a society built on magic" or something related to the world at large "I want to have my world be full of deception and cloak and dagger organizations." Once you have that, then the next steps will become more streamlined.

From there you should define an aesthetic, something that will enhance the visuals of your world and while making it distinct, also be understandable and recognizable. Aesthetics like cyberpunk, grunge, high fantasy, and academia. These are not merely tools for a lot of worlds but can become a sturdy pillar you can come back to.

Next would be societies, think hard on this if they are going to play a role, something feudal? or corporatist? or one where strength comes before anything else? A lot of the time we will see kings and queens, princes and princesses, and they are built upon a foundation where they strictly are a lineage that owns the kingdom. Its people and its culture derive from that fact, classes almost become relegated to their lines directly, where a villein or a yeoman would stay as such until some act that came from above their station would change it. A society like this might have guilds meeting in secret to have some say in their life, and from there opportunity rises. The last piece I will put in this section is that of a message, defining a message nowadays is more important than ever. Like all art, people will interpret your story differently, but having a message you can stick to will become invaluable as your write the arcs and the characters that will keep your story alive. A strong foundation with no purpose may house a pretty building, but with no inhabitants and with it tucked away in some corner where no one will see it? it becomes a mere plot of concrete faster than you would think.

Next, I would like to speak about building relationships, and my personal method. I think in exchanges and connections, people exchange many things, comfort, company, monetary value, and affection. But if they interact, there is a form of exchange there. "What exchanges will a character bring?" is a vital question to ask, a joke or a poem can certainly be done by a character who is simply there for one scene but does your story rely on such a thing? Or does your story rely on characters whose inner workings and roles are established and they regularly interact and comment on one another actions? In the world you are making keeping these in mind can help, one that relies on characters making one joke and exiting a scene may benefit from a world or town wherein community and public spaces are seen primarily for interaction, there doesn't need to be a specific reason in your world why they said that joke, but there should be some reason as to why they said any joke to a group of people who they don't know.

In conclusion, I will say that building a thriving world relies on you understanding the starting core concepts that made you want to write this in particular, the theme that will project itself into the minds of the readers, the societies that fill your world, be it a continent, planet, or galaxy, and the message you want to send to your audience and have them keep long after they are done reading.

Fiverr Link: https://www.fiverr.com/shannymuffin130/help-you-create-a-thriving-and-living-world-for-your-story

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen (Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Fem!Reader)

Summary: There is a new ship in the land, carrying riches Westeros has never seen before. The people are interesting, sharing some common and other completely different ideas. Aemond decides to deal with one claiming to be their Princess, the beautiful Y/N, and something clicks in place.

Content Warning: canon divergence (duh), i have only watched the show, might contain some spoilers, reader has black hair and brown eyes (typical of most desis) and wear kajal (kohl), reader will be good at maths and physics (i had too i need the representation), reader is hindu and will talk of hinduism, there will be “strong” jokes, I invented a whole new continent in the hotd universe, okay? Explicit language to be expected, other than that we are good i guess? No other physical description of the reader is involved

Ps: will use hindi, sanskrit and odia (translations in parentheses). Currently this is just an idea, i will write further if the motivation and plot strikes. 

Series Masterlist

It had been a rather dull autumn afternoon, the only highlight yet being the morning flight Aemond had gotten with Vhagar. Business in the council was proceeding as usual, with Aegon missing and their grandsire, Otto Hightower acting as the King Reagent in his stead while their mother, Dowager Queen Alicent Targaryen sat at the head. The lords had been discussing an upcoming tourney when a messenger came in with a flushed face, looking as though he ran from port to the Red Keep. He barely caught his breath before he started speaking.

“There is a large ship being docked in the port, Your Grace, My Lord Hand,” He breathlessly said. “Their messengers speak mostly in a foreign tongue, but they claim to be here for trade. They say their princess is with them, those strange people. They are asking for permission to enter King’s Landing.”

“Where are these people from?” Otto Hightower asked. “Did they say?”

“They said… Bharat.” The messenger added, still struggling to catch his breath. “Your Grace, My Lord Hand, you must send your word with me back, the matter requires your urgent attention. They wish to speak with His Majesty in his court.”

“I don’t think a message would be apt for this situation,” Alicent calmly said. “It is better if we send a representative of ours with you, Ser.” Her big brown eyes scanned the room once, and said, “Ser Cole, I would like you to go to the docks as Aegon’s representative, make sure that these people are not of ill intentions.”

“It would be better to send a royal to accompany Ser Cole, Your Grace.” Ser Willis Fell said, earning agreeing nods from the other lords in the council. “For if this Princess' claim is true, it wouldn't be… appropriate for a Knight to meet a lady of such stature. If My Lord Hand could go-”

“I will accompany Ser Cole,” Aemond said. He agreed, if it were indeed a princess of a foreign land, sending a non-royal to speak with her would reflect poorly on them. A foreign land meant more resources and soldiers, and they needed both of them in abundance as the war threatened to bloom in Westeros and Essos. A strong alliance for them meant a weakness for their opponent.

“Aemond-” Alicent started, but he interrupted her.

“I’ll be fine, Mother.” He said. “I really wish to see these strange people claiming to be traders.” Aemond’s gaze fixed on the messenger, who seemed to cower under his calculating stare. Of course, the eyepatch must have been a contributing factor with the reputation that he had built for himself.

Vhagar was simply too big to fly to the dock, so Aemond had to take a horse along with Ser Cole, unfortunately. It took them a bit over an hour but they managed to make it to the dock before sunset, and there he saw it: a ship in the horizon, larger than anything he had ever seen before, gleaming like liquid gold in the late afternoon sun. A red and white striped flag with a yellow swastik flew high in the oceanic winds.

Two men adorning mustard colored tunics and some white pants with black hair, white turbans and twining moustaches signalled at the ship upon his arrival, and a small boat moved toward the coastline. They were still too far away to make out clearly, but once the boat got closer, he noticed the woman sitting in the front, majestic on the waves. The man and the woman behind her rowed her quickly to the shore.

He thought her claim must be true then, for she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on with her hair blacker than midnight and her brown eyes stern yet deep. Her presence commanded attention, and she carried herself with the poise of a queen.

She was dressed in a lavender and white garment he had never seen before, her dark mane complimenting her brown, kohl-lined eyes. Her body held a certain feline grace - her steps quiet and calculated, her gaze confident and conniving. 

Aemond got off his horse as she stepped off the dock and towards the port, the messenger escorting her to him and Ser Criston, who stood behind him with his hand ready to raise his sword. “This is Princess Y/N of the Bharat,” the messenger said, unable to take his eyes off you. Everyone present on the dock stared eagerly, trying to soak up the gossip.

“And I assume you must be Prince Aemond,” She said, her voice firm but sweet. Her pronunciation held an accent, but it was fairly accurate. He was more surprised to find that she actually knew him by name and recognised him this quickly. “I hear you have a reputation for brutality,”

“Only to the people that pester my family and my brother’s kingdom.” He replied in his usual monotone voice. “I hope you aren’t here to threaten my brother’s kingdom, for I’d hate to put a blade through you.”

“Bharat reaches to you in good hopes, Prince,” She said. “We are merely here to offer trade: we have skilled workers manufacturing weapons, chariots, even defences of all sorts. We have great food and spices. You ought to give us a chance to present our goods before disregarding us.”

“Would these weapons fight against dragons, Princess?” Aemond asked.

“There’s only one way to find that out,” she said. “I hope to be able to get an audience with the King, we will do as he sees fit -  we shall leave in peace if he demands that, my Prince.”

“Mhm,” Aemond glanced over at her and her people once more. They all had a curved knife strapped to their hips, and the princess carried a two-foot long blade in a bejewelled holster, the hilt seemingly made of gold with a leather grip. He noted the big gold hoops that gleamed in her ears and the three large rings that occupied her right hands’ fingers. “Only you and one more person will be granted permission to meet the King,” He carefully said. “And… you must leave your weapons behind.”

“Going into a foriegn land with no people and no weapons seems like a fools’ errand, my Prince,” She countered. “Are your swordsmen and fighters so incapable that you are afraid of being attacked in your own palace by two foreigners?”

Aemond slowly blinked, a devious grin forming at her words. “Very well then,” he said, voice decisive. “You and your companion must be accompanied by a knight or me at all times, for we have no intent of trusting someone… unfamiliar with our home. Times like these demand such action,”

“I hope we wouldn’t bore you with our dull company,” She said, brown eyes glinting with amusement, and something dark, something he pictured in his own gaze.

“I can tell that your company will be anything but dull, Princess.” He said. “Ser Criston, please get two mighty steeds for our companions from Bharat.”

Presently, they stand in the King’s Court, the drunkard King sober for a change. Aemond supposed the foreign Princess’ commanding presence was a contributing factor to his brother’s sobriety, but he knew it was her enticing allure, her charming voice and her regal poise that appealed to him. The princess reminded him of wildflowers - magnificent, all consuming in their scent and most of the time, deadly. 

His keen eye had not missed the way the knights of the Kingsguard and the lords at the court had eyed the bejewelled sheath of her blade up and down, as if trying to see through the sheath and capture the blade.

“You talk of trade, yet you carry weapons deadly enough to cut a man,” Aegon noted, gaze eagerly fixed on the woman in front of him. The whole court was silent save for his words, all eyes and ears focused on the stunning princess. “What sort of trade requires that, pray tell me,”

“Your Majesty, the blades are to defend the supplies,” She said, voice neutral. “And to hunt animals for meat. The blades only cut through those who threaten our peace, honour and survival.”

Aegon scratched his chin, leaning forward. “What did you say your trade in?”

“Spices, fabrics, weapons, gold, skilled labourers,” She said, seemingly holding everyone’s gaze at once. “Silver, bronze, blacksmiths who can build chariots, soldiers who would kill for your cause.”

The silence that followed was ringing, one could hear everyone’s breath.

“Why do you need this trade?” Otto Hightower asked.

“My Lord Hand,” Princess Y/N started with a respectful bow. “Why do merchants sell? Why does a servant work? All of the work that we do comes down to one thing - money and power. We have skilled labourers, we have gold, we have silver, we have copper. But even gold becomes worthless when it is in excess, and the flow of trade would make both of us more powerful.”

“What would we get in exchange for our money?” Dowager Queen Alicent asked. Aemond knew from the gleam in her big brown eyes that she was curious, at least, about the goods the princess promised.

“Allow me to present to you a small gift, Your Grace,” The Princess bowed again. From the bags, her moustached companion fetched the finest of the silk Aemond had ever seen - his fingers involuntarily twitched at the sight of the sage-green fabric. A servant brought the fabric from the foreign man to his mother, who was visibly impressed by the silk. “It is the finest silk in the known land, Your Grace,”

Another sample was a thick gold chain with a tiny hourglass pendant, given to his Grandsire Otto Hightower. “My Lord Hand, this hour glass turns over itself in a period of five and forty minutes,” She said. “It is made of the most intricate designs and is sturdy enough to be worn daily.”

“For His Majesty,” The Princess said as her companion fetched a foot long box wrapped in a silver-grey cloth. “We present the blade forged by our best swordsmiths, we present a gauntlet sword - Dandpatta - made in silver reinforced with the best steel we make.”

Aegon eagerly opened his present, the silver blade almost blinding in its shine. He stood up and tested the blade, and commented, “It has great balance, Princess.”

“I am glad to impress Your Majesty,” She said. Her companion fetched another box wrapped in silver-grey cloth, this time the servant handing the box to Aemond. He opened the box, normally, as the Princess’ sweet voice said, “For those who prefer sleath over pomp, for the one known to be quiet, I present to you, Ratri, the blade of the night. It is made of the highest quality of wootz steel, and can cut silently even through the toughest of barks and scales.”

It was a wicked blade, curved slightly like a scythe, but much smaller and easily concealable. When did the princess get to study each of them? Has someone been ratting them out to people they didn’t even know existed? For such precision in giving gifts was impossible without proper prior knowledge of the receiver.

The Princess turned to Haelena and curtseyed for the first time. “For Her Majesty, I present a jewellery set fit for a Queen of her stature, it is all in steel reinforced gold - can be used as a weapon lest someone corner the beautiful Queen.” 

“Quite thoughtful of you, presenting these gifts,” Aegon said, clearly impressed by the sword he received. “I will let you trade with us, Princess.” 

Perhaps you had impressed his brother with the presents you had so thoughtfully brought, but you had imprinted yourself in his head with all the inside information you must have known to think of such gifts. Either that or you and your companions were quick judges of character, but that seemed a bit of a stretch. Your face was one he could never forget, with the intense kohl and the gleaming brown eyes and hair darker than the night, you were a sight meant to be remembered.

The only logical explanation seemed that you had spies in the Red Keep, getting updates about everyone from that source. He had to find that source, pull it off the roots, for you knew the royal family a little too well.

The court was dismissed and you were sent back to let your ship dock at the port and your people had been granted an empty warehouse to store the goods along with a clear plot of land to build the temporary housing facilities your people would need.

Alicent had generously offered you to stay in the castle walls, but you had politely declined, saying that your heart and duty lies with your people and travelling companions. Aemond respected that, his respect for you growing tenfold on learning that you spoke in four tongues and were learning a fifth. But he had so much to learn from you, and from your manners in court today, he knew it would be a big challenge for him - you had earned his respect, but he had to know how you spied on his family without them being aware of you and your peoples’ existence.

How was it that the mighty Targaryens with their dragons had never explored the unknown? How was it that a fleet of ships managed to survive the unresting sea from lands so far away that the dragonriders didn’t spot it? It was this primal hunger for answers that urged him to get closer to you, to dig out the answers he needed to sate his curiosity. Why were you promising them your soldiers? Were you one of his half-sister’s ploys to usurp the throne that was rightfully Aegon’s? Were you sent on a mission, falsely pretending to be a princess sent by Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen to wipe his family clean and leave the Iron Throne vulnerable and up for them to do as they please?

There were so many questions, but no answers in sight. Aemond doubted you were from Driftmark - you and your people were too different, with skin that glowed like gold under the sunlight and new languages he hadn’t even heard of before. Self-appointing himself as your contact person to the King’s council, he frequented your camp, not seeing any ill intent - at least for now.

But he didn’t know what to make of the Bharatiyas either. The people were welcoming and nice enough, even treated him to delicacies he never could have imagined. There were some names he was struggling to speak, but Aemond was nothing if not determined. With the eyes of a hawk and the hearing of a wolf, the dragon carefully observed the foreigners and slowly picked on your languages. 

One of them - Hindi - was simpler than the other tongues that people used. It seemed there were as many dialects as there were people, and Aemond found himself terribly lost as he tried to keep up with them. But he had vowed to himself that he would learn to understand your languages, at least. Yet, he was drawn in by the complexities and fun of their culture, how they worshipped their Gods and Goddesses; how each member of the camp contributed to the working; how the few kids there were allowed to be exposed to the Westeros languages and culture (lack thereof, he thought later).

Aemond had never expected to enjoy someone else’s customs this much. He had appointed himself on a mission, and he wouldn’t let himself be distracted. He swore that he will abstain from gazing at your intense eyes and glowing skin, from the confidence you exude and the power you command.

But each second he spent in your presence, he found himself more enraptured by you - your kohl lined eyes, your pretty mouth, your heavy gold jewellery and the delight with which you spoke. He would be damned to the seven hells and beyond with all the teasing he would get if Aegon or Daeron ever read his mind, full of thought with admiration for you.

Here it is! for all the desi!readers out there like me, I hope you enjoy this. This part mainly describes their entrance and welcome, and I will try to include more political intrigue as I write further. Do drop by some scene ideas that i can include so all the desis feel represented. It is currently 2 am for me but today is Halloween and my birthday so I am posting this as a treat for myself (yes this is another treat for me hehe) Lets hope that i can get around to finish this one. Also, if you are a team black stan who would rather stay off some anti-sort remarks, i am sorry loves but this one is not for you. Better if you scroll past than start an argument.

[count-alucard-tepes]

First impressions Hunter x hunter - part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Chairman selection arc

1. Oh...my...God! Its fucking Ging?! Finally!

2. The zodiacs are cool....but did they really have to change their appearances..wth.

3. I can't get mad at Pariston, he's too cute.

4. Alright...so the Zoldycks are just as batshit crazy as most families are...got it.

5. Hisoka is back and like a bad bitch, he's wearing those high heels. Yasss queen.

6. I ship Hisoka and Illumi so much.

7. Is Alluka a boy or girl? The pronouns are confusing.

8. Pariston's dry ass jokes are hilarious and he is officially a fashion icon.

9. You know my baby daddy Morel has it all sorted out...that's my man.

10. Did Leorio just punch Ging?! Give this guy a bells!

11. Killua is our baby that must be protected at all times.

12. Leorio admitted to everyone that he was beating his meat while Gon was kicking ass and watched a loved one 'die'...tmi

13. Ging is actually cute...I'm gonna admit it.

14. Fem-Kite is awesome! I was expecting them to dress like him.

15. Last scene was the best, Morel and Knov getting wasted while Knuckle, Palm, Shoot, Taco (lol I forgot his name) and Meteorite (forgot his too...chameleon dude) are chilling at the hospital while looking at photos from Gon.

16. Ahhh Kurapika, I miss him so much! He got them eyes! Yass

17. There are too many DILF's in hxh thb.

Dark continent arc

So glad to see Kurapika back?!

Alright, princes...14 of them...damn...eight baby mommas...hot damn.

Wait...those are just the wives....alright now, King, you're a freak.

Yoooo! Netero had a kid?! He definitely looks like his daddy....lady killer.

This looks like a shady arc already...still recovering from the Chimera ant bullshit arc.

Was that guy...wrestling with a lion? Nice...hobby...I guess...wth

Can Kurapika get more badass?!

Alright...Hisoka got his ass handed to him by a guy named after a detergent. LOL

Machi and Hisoka definitely did the nasty...she's too soft with him.

Bruh...Hisoka's crazy ass did not just kill the cutest spiders...why.

Alright...is that a whale? If not, why does this look like a whale!?

Alright...Prince Benjamin just tore off his shirt...I'm his number one fan girl now.

These nen beasts are too awesome! I need to see Gon's and Killua's.

This king...motherfucker...wants his kids to kill each other...even a baby...parent of the century.

This plot is shady as hell, something crazy in about to happen.

Oh hell no...the spiders are in the whale ship...Kurapika is about to go off.

Illumi?! Why are you here?!!! GTFO

Bro...you're telling me HxH has been on hiatus for years...what in the actual fuck?!

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Three Firsts

Day 2 of Jeankasa Week 2021: First Kiss

Ao3

There are different types of first kisses: The one at the beginning of a relationship. The one to seal a relationship forever. The one to welcome a new life into a relationship.

Another nightmare. Three years, and they haunted him at least thrice a week –the faces of his fallen comrades, the millions of children stomped into the ground, the thousands of families left without a home to return to. He faced them in his nightmares; they accused him of not having seen the signs in Eren earlier, they accused him for not running after him the day he’d left, for not forcing him to tell Mikasa -once and for all- how he felt about her.

Perhaps this was why he’d become so dead set with Armin’s ideals of peace. He wanted to help the world and the island, yes, but above all, Jean wanted absolution.

“Jean,” a voice called, and in the crowd of millions pointing fingers at him, Jean recognized it immediately. His friends’ voices anchored him to sanity, but this particular voice was also anchored in his heart. “Jean, wake up.”

Jean came back onto his senses. He’d fallen asleep at his study table in the royal library, where most of them spent their time now that the negotiations had started. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and stretched against the chair; budgeting wasn’t his forte…nor was it to try and convince a rich western president to spare scraps for the refugees. But Armin had trusted him with the tasks and Jean couldn’t let him down. Besides, he didn’t have the heart to leave all the work to his negotiations partner, who had surprised them all with her abilities with numbers.

“Hey,” Mikasa said to his right, reaching out to graze his arm with the palm of her hand. Jean jolted in his seat, confused at the sight of her. Mikasa drew her hand away and recoiled, and he wanted to slap himself in the face for his stupid reaction. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice.” He hurried to say. Mikasa’s lips formed an O and nodded, looking more relieved that he hadn’t been terrified of seeing her. Jean smiled, noticing her rucksack lying on the table…and the empty tables around. “What time is it?”

“Midnight, almost.”

“Huh?” Jean said, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here? Wasn’t Armin leaving at six today?”

Mikasa shook her head. “He left at five,” she corrected, giving him a sideways glance. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I didn’t want you to walk back alone.”

Jean’s heart leaped in his chest, and he pictured a small rabbit bouncing inside his torso. He shouldn’t be surprised, his mind reminded his heart. They’d exchanged letters before his arrival, they’d been comrades at arms in the battlefield, they’d stopped the end of the world together. Of course, she would be concerned about him. That didn’t mean she felt anything special for him.

Friendship love was still love. He didn’t aspire to anything else. Five months had passed since their arrival, and he was content with just spending time by her side, seeing her smile come onto her more and more naturally.

“Buses aren’t running anymore, are they?” Jean guessed.

“Last one must be leaving now. Historia took the last royal car about an hour ago,” Mikasa said, looking at the pocket watch Armin had brought for her from the continent. “It’s going to be a long walk back.”

Jean sighed and gave her an apologetic look. Historia had given them rooms in one of the newest buildings in the district, with beautiful views of the countryside and rivers and only a fifteen minute drive away from her own residence…and a whole hour walk away from the royal palace. “I’m sorry, Mikasa. You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

“It’s alright.” Mikasa replied, coming to her feet, grabbing the pink cardigan she’d laid out on her table. “We need to get going, though, before all the drunk people come out of the pubs.”

“Allow me,” he said, standing from his chair and taking the cardigan from her hands. She blinked up at him, almost startled, and Jean had to chuckle. “Turn around, please.”

She did as he requested, and Jean helped her put her arms into the sleeves, then flattened the wrinkled fabric on her shoulders. Mikasa looked at him over her shoulder, locking her eyes with his for a moment that stretched an eternity. “Thank you,” she whispered, her low voice creating a pocket universe around them even in the empty room.

“We need to get going,” Jean said, clearing his throat and reaching out to grab her backpack from the table. He focused on the books he’d laid out and began stuffing them in her bag. “Can I put these books in here? I’ll carry it for you. Mine’s already full.”

“I can carry it.”

Jean shook his head. “No, let me. I’m the one that’s taking all these books home.”

“We’re both working the budgets, Jean, I can carry my own backpack.”

“I can do it.”

Mikasa pressed her hand against the paper he’d been about to stash away, stopping him midmotion, narrowing her eyes as if examining a new life organism. “Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Not a ghost, but the outlines of his desire for her, which he’d worked so hard to suppress the past months. The impulse of kissing her overcame him whenever they did their runs to Historia’s orphanages, whenever he saw her smile and play with little Ymir and her friends (who loved clinging to her three at a time, since they knew she was the strongest around), when she was focused doing calculations he was too dumb to understand…when she spoke to him.

She’d grown so talkative the past month. At first, it had only been with him and Armin. But the more time passed, the more he noticed her opening to people. The other night, he’d seen her having dinner with Pieck, Hitch, and Annie. From their table, he and Armin had heard her laugh alongside for something Pieck had said about Annie. Later that very night, she’d walked back to their apartments with him, talking about the littlest matters and court gossip Historia filtered down to them whenever she felt bored.

Being her friend was his most precious treasure, and Jean didn’t want to ruin it by putting his romantic love for her first.

“I’m fine,” Jean replied, turning to look at her after a deep breath, counting to ten as he always did whenever he felt the urge to kiss her. The curiosity in her deep eyes pierced through him, and in the enclosed space, Jean’s almost felt as if an invisible force drew his body to hers. He straightened before he got any closer, clearing his throat yet again, ignoring the pink tint of her cheeks. “We need to get going.”

_________________________________

In the end, she hadn’t let him carry her backpack for her. He seemed tired enough as things were, and a couple of extra pounds on his back would do nothing to help his health. He ate well enough, but he never got many hours of sleep, and it concerned Mikasa. She wanted to wake him up before, at eleven, when Historia had sent her errand boys to let her know the last car was leaving the royal library…but he’d looked so cozy on the chair, she hadn’t had the heart to wake him. She’d decided to wake him until the nightmares started, certain they would catch the night bus.

Not that she didn’t enjoy walking the whole way back with him. They’d done it plenty of times these months, when their work extended long hours into the night. In most occasions, they’d walked back in a group, accompanied by the banter of Pieck and Reiner, or by Connie’s longing remarks for his girlfriend at the continent.

Besides, she’d taken a liking to dinner with Annie, Pieck and Hitch the past couple of days.

All in all, it had been a while since the last time it’d been the two of them alone on the road home. She liked being alone around Jean; his presence gave her reassurance. At first, it had been like a firm, sturdy ship that had pulled her out of a sea of monsters and terribly high waves crawling with corpses. But now he was a tree; a tall tree overflowing with beautiful ripe fruit, perfect words for any situation, with astonishingly wide branches to cover her from the searing pain of guilt and grief.

It had taken a while for his roots to take hold in her heart. But they were there, growing deeper with each day, cementing themselves further and further into her soul.

She’d felt this before, when her first home had been ripped away from her, when that little boy with the green eyes had reached out to her and offered her a new one. Back then, they’d been surrounded by so much horror that she hadn’t figured out exactly what the boy with the green eyes had meant for her. Now she was an adult, however, well past her first heartbreak, her first lost love. And she recognized the same warmth in her heart whenever she looked into the hazel speckled eyes of the man walking by her side.

“The moon,” she said, pointing at the sky. “It’s really pretty tonight, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Jean said, looking at her instead of the sky. “Are you cold? Do you need my sweater?”

“I’m fine,” Mikasa shook her head and rubbed her hands together. “We just need to walk quicker.”

“I can carry that for you.”

“Jean.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you carry it,” he said with a kind smile. “But if your back is sore tomorrow, don’t blame me.”

“I won’t.”

“Because I’ll tell them the truth, Ackerman,” Jean said, chuckling as she turned to look at him with her brow furrowed. “I’ll tell them you’re as stubborn as the will of kings, three times more stubborn than the queen of Paradis itself…I know, I know what you’re going to say. ‘You’re an idiot, Kirstein’.”

“You are. And you’ve learned from the best,” Mikasa quipped back. “I mean Connie.”

Jean laughed, his voice mingling with the echoes and faint music coming from the pubs around them. Mikasa covered her mouth to laugh; she’d never thought anyone would ever consider her funny…no, she had never thought she would ever feel compelled to tell a joke, or just act her age, ever again.

Her friendship to Jean was her most precious treasure after those three years. Her love for Armin had not wavered, he was still the only family from her past she had left, but Armin would have his own family soon, at the continent. And she couldn’t blame him or force him to stay. She wanted him to move on from the pain, even if that meant leaving her behind.

The thing was, Mikasa didn’t want Jean to leave her behind.

“You look thoughtful.” He pointed out as they passed another pub.

“I’m thinking about Armin,” she replied. “About the wedding.”

“Are you excited about it?”

“Not more than he is.” Mikasa said. “I’m just shocked.”

“Shocked?”

She nodded. “We fought so much against them, the Marley warriors, the titan shifters. And now we’re dining with them, and Armin is marrying Annie.”

“Strange turn of events?”

“It’s weird how life doesn’t go as you imagine it,” Mikasa replied, tilting her head back to look at the moon, its surface rough and damaged, and still the most beautiful sight in the sky. “If you’d asked me five years ago how I imagined my life, I would’ve told you…”

Her voice disappeared gradually as she realized she’d almost mentioned Eren. Jean didn’t mind talking about him; in fact, that’s all they had done the first couple of weeks, reminisce about the past, about their time as soldiers. However, the more time they spent together, the less she liked bringing him in conversation. Why, she didn’t understand. He’d been Eren’s friend, after all.

“You would’ve said you wanted to spend the rest of Eren’s years by his side.” Jean finished saying. “You don’t need to be ashamed to say it. You love him.”

“I loved him.” She corrected, not wanting to look at Jean. Her love for Eren was there, of course, but there was only so much love she could give a dead man. “And you’re right. That’s what I would’ve said…and I would’ve had no idea of what to do afterwards. That would’ve been the end of the line for me. I never thought I’d be alive after Eren’s death.”

“What do you think you’d say now?” Jean asked. There was no hidden message in his words, just genuine interest for her wellbeing, for assurance that she would not drown in grief again, as they’d found her upon their return. “If someone asked you how you imagine your future now, what would you say?”

“I’d say I want to keep living,” she said, with much more certainty than what she’d expected. “I want to keep living with you guys. I want to see little Ymir at school. I want to be at Armin’s wedding, and at Connie’s wedding. I want to keep hearing Hitch’s jokes. I want to keep walking home with you after work and make dinner together.”

“I wanna keep making dinner with you too.” Jean replied, with the longing look she’d come to recognize so well the past few weeks.

Mikasa brought her hands up to her face to blow hot air into her palms, hoping the gesture would cover the color in her cheeks, thinking perhaps she could blame the cold, if he asked, or if he stared too much –he did tend to stare at her every now and then.

“Hey. The skin in your fingers is cracking,” Jean said. He grabbed her hands to examine them, stopping in front of another pub. “I know you’re saying you want to keep living, but catching a cold isn’t precisely going in that direction.”

“Are you going to scold me like a kid for forgetting my gloves?” Mikasa asked, her gaze threatening to turn into a glare.

Jean gave her a playful smile. He brought out a set of bandages from his pockets and began wrapping her fingers with the soft fabric. “Exactly. Papa doesn’t like when children forget their winter clothes, especially when it’s starting to snow.”

Mikasa snorted again. “You’re such an idiot. Please don’t call yourself papa.”

Jean laughed, and they wrapped themselves once again in their little universe. It happened often, when they cooked, gossiped about the court or simple when they worked their budgeting books in the library. One look from either of the two, and they became separate entities from the reality around them, with their attention solely on the other. It was a nice little trick they had; it was what had turned this friendship of theirs into her treasure.

“Put my gloves on, please,” he said, putting them in her hands. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“Jean, a cold isn’t deadly.”

“Still.” He said, his face growing serious. “I don’t want to see you hurting.”

Mikasa opened her mouth to say something, but the crowd coming from the pub to their right was louder. A group of twenty people or so, all their age, surrounded them in a circle of drunken laughter and cheers, their voices too loud for her liking, their faces red and bodies oblivious to the snow that had started falling from the sky. A man older than the rest had a violin in his hands, and despite his efforts to play the cheery little melody, Mikasa and Jean cringed at the dissonant sound from his strings.

“We need to get home. They’re not dangerous, but they’re too loud.” She told him, huddling closer to him. Jean put a hand on the back of her head and the other to her waist, as if to shield her from the crowd. A group of girls pulled the violinist to an empty stretch of street. The man, emboldened by being in front of the crowd, stood on a bench near him and played even more passionately.

Jean turned to look at her, laughing. “He’s really bad, isn’t he?”

Mikasa felt her chest moving in laughter. She closed her eyes as another set of high notes pierced the night. “He’s awful,” she laughed, huddling closer as two couples began to jump nearby. She opened her eyes, cringing still. “Take me home, please.”

Her eyes met the hazel in his; he was staring at her again. There were snowflakes on his hair and face, and his cheeks were more blushed than the cheeks from the people around them. She felt herself relax in his arms and the stupid little tune from the violin became muffled in her ears. “You have snowflakes,” she pointed out, lifting herself up on the tip of her toes to run her thumb along his eyebrows.

She traced a line with her finger down his jawline, wondering when he’d grown into such manly shapes. He leaned in, barely half a centimeter, and her body took that as all the invitation she needed. Mikasa grabbed his face with both hands and touched his lips with hers, moving them in an awkward, simple motion she’d seen other people her age do.

She thought he would push her away that second he held his breath; she thought he would reject her advance, tell her he saw her as nothing more than a friend –a possibility that, she was shocked to realize, made her feel as if an iron fist squeezed the blood out of her heart.

But after that moment of initial shock, Jean wrapped her waist with his arms and lifted her in the air, kissing her as a longtime lover. Whoops and cheers surrounded them, and the violinist stopped playing for the blessed seconds their lips moved against each other.

He put her on the ground and pressed his forehead against hers once they’d finished, catching his breath while the drunken crowd clapped and cheered. He closed her eyes and so did Mikasa, both at a loss for words of what they’d done.

“Oi!” the violinist shouted, and the crowd quieted around him. “Aren’t you the Ackerman girl? The titan-killer? Stronger than a thousand men?”

Mikasa tensed in his arms; she was accustomed to being antagonized by some groups in the island, but she’d hoped the alcohol would keep them from recognizing her. She didn’t like the idea of getting into trouble with Jean there.

“Yes,” Mikasa said, lowering Jean’s arm, which he’d begun wrapping around her protectively. If this was going to be an argument, she didn’t want them to antagonize Jean. “I am. Why?”

The violinist smiled, playing an out-of-tune chord in excitement. “I knew I recognized ya! I didn’t know you had a sweetheart!” he shouted happily. “I saw you in Trost! You saved our lives and you were just a little teenage kid! I never thought I’d see the day I’d see you happy and married.”

“Oh,” Mikasa said, relaxing. “We’re not married yet.”

“Yet?” Jean asked suddenly.

“That’s a lovely sweetheart you’ve got there, boy. Take good care of her or she might as well will rip your balls off,” the violinist half-shouted, half-laughed, putting his instrument under his chin and bowing in their direction. “For the happy couple.”

“For the happy couple!” the crowd cheered on. The violinist resumed playing –or rather, he resumed murdering the song— and the crowd resumed their celebration, forgetting about them as soon as another couple began kissing. Mikasa pulled him by the shirt, leading him into an emptier street. They stood under the shadow of a tall building, away from the crowd but near enough to still hear the violin, although this time the song didn’t sound quite as bad.

“They didn’t take anything from your backpack, did they?” she said, clutching on the floor to inspect hers.

“Did-did you say yet?” Jean managed to stammer. Mikasa looked up at him, and a smile came to her at his shocked expression. It was just so easy to smile when he was around. “Did you say we’re not married yet?”

“You’re going to get a nosebleed, Kirstein.”

Jean laughed and dropped his backpack next to hers; he clutched, close enough that she smelled his cologne. He inspected the contents of his bag for a brief second and then gave her another look. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Do you want to?” Mikasa said.

“I’ve wanted to for a whole month now. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, though, Mikasa. Just tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy.” He said in an urgent whisper. The raw intent of his words took her breath away; he’d grown into such a good man, he’d become such a good friend. She couldn’t deny him another kiss. No. It wasn’t that she couldn’t deny him a kiss.

She just wanted another kiss. From him. Not anyone else. “You’re not.” Mikasa said, cradling his face with both of her hands. “Your kiss did wonders to cheer up the night.”

_________________________________

Mikasa waited for the music to begin while tapping her slipper on the cobblestones, ripping another flower petal off the bouget to rob its soft surface. At this point, she’d walk in with nothing but skinny branches in her hands. She fanned herself with the bouquet, thinking should’ve cut her hair beforehand; It was late spring, but the heatwaves were already upon them. Her dress was light enough, but Mikasa guessed the nerves were playing against her.

He liked her hair long, though. And she loved feeling his hands running through it.

“Are they ready yet?” she asked Armin the moment he walked around the corner.

“Historia’s ready,” Armin said, then scratched the back of his head. “Jasper is tuning the instrument.”

“We’re just signing those documents,” Mikasa said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her back against the wall. “None of this has to be this grand…he can just play that silly little tune of his and be done with it.”

“Weren’t you the one who got insisted on getting this violinist guy? You went all the way into the inner districts to find him. Something about it being special?” Armin said, arching an eyebrow. Mikasa gave him an icy look, but that didn’t erase the knowing smile on his face. “You’re going to get your dress stained against that wall.”

She straightened and turned around, allowing Armin to shake the dust of the back of it, her eyes set on the birds flying overhead. “Was he nervous?”

“He had to change his suit twice from sweating so much.”

Mikasa lowered her head to snort. “I’m not surprised.”

“Turn around,” Armin asked. Mikasa did as he requested and allowed him to wrap her up in an embrace; she leaned her face against his shoulder and took a deep breath, steadying herself. Her feet had been trembling in anticipation for a good hour. “I’m so happy you get to smile like this.”

“Me too.” She said, coming apart from him, tucking her hair behind her ears. Soft, mellow notes drifted to them from inside the greenhouse Historia had provided for them and Armin gave her an excited smile.

Mikasa sighed in relief; the violinist had assured her he was good when sober and she hadn’t doubted him, and she was glad Connie had kept him from any pubs until the ceremony. She wouldn’t have minded to hear the same stupid tune from their first night together, but the prospect of queen Historia officiating a wedding ceremony with a drunken violinist…Connie aand Reiner would’ve found it hilarious, to be fair.

“Are you ready?” Armin asked, offering her his arm. Mikasa looked at the birds once more before focusing on her childhood friend.

“Yes.” She said, intertwining her arm with his. Armin kissed her cheek and looked away to wipe a stray tear from his cheek against his shoulder, Mikasa guessed. “Thank you, Armin. I love you.”

It was so easy to tell the people she loved that she loved them. He’d done that for her; he had managed to open her constricted heart by just being there with her. He’d saved her from herself in such a kind, gentle way, and it was something she would forever be grateful for. It was one of the many thousand reasons why she’d fallen in love with him.

She felt like a giddy schoolgirl by seeing him at the end of the hallway, hands clasped in front of him, staring at her with tears in his eyes. The feeling grew as her friends turned to look at her, all smiling, even Levi. And while she knew her head ought to have focused on happiness, Mikasa was reminded of all the horrible things they’d seen together as Armin walked her down the aisle. All the people that were missing in that crowd of friends, people they would never see again.

It made her wonder. what was it about her that was so special? What was it about her existence that had given her the right to keep living, make new friends, fall in love with this wonderful, perfect man waiting for her at the altar…why was her heart so full of happiness now. Why couldn’t she share this happiness and her love for Jean with Sasha, Hange, Mina, Marco, Eren?

“Hey,” Jean whispered as Armin let go of her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the matter?”

Mikasa lowered her head. “Not everyone’s here to celebrate with us.”

“They are here.” Jean said. “They’re all watching over us.”

He took her arm in his gently, not to lead her to the altar, but to hold her steady. He’d noticed her change of expression, a change not even Armin at her side had seen. And, putting his own desires aside -as always when it came to her-, he spoke in the low, caring voice she adored so much. “We don’t have to do this right now, Mika.”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Jean asked. “If you want to call it off—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her hand went up to caress his cheek. “I love you.”

He smiled at her, looking as charming as the princes from little Ymir’s fairytales, awakening that childish giddiness in her heart that had escaped her so quickly at the thought of her fallen comrades. “I love you too, Mika. But I mean it, if you don’t feel—”

She kissed him in the lips for a long couple of seconds, uncaring about the curious gazes from their friends on the seats. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. It’s been like that for a while. It’ll be like that forever,” she whispered in between kisses. “It’s time we make it official.”

Historia cleared her throat from the other side of the altar, and she and Jean turned to look at her serious gaze. A childish giggle echoed across the place, and Mikasa guessed that was little Ymir, delighted to see someone other than herself had gotten in trouble with her mother. “You’re not supposed to have your first wedding kiss yet.”

“Let’s go,” Jean whispered. “She’s gonna bring firing squads back.”

“I heard that.” Historia replied, not without a hint of annoyance. Mikasa giggled, intertwining her arm with Jean.

“Are you sure?” he asked her in a low voice as they finish making their way to the altar.

“I told you before, haven’t I?” she said without looking at him. “Your kissing works wonders.”

_________________________________

Jean knew he shouldn’t have left for the coastal towns with the welcoming party for the Hizuru commission at this point. But she’d insisted. And she was as stubborn as the will of kings.

Luckily, the little influence he had had gotten him an overnight train ride. And then, he’d found a horse. Few people used horses at the island anymore, but it’d been the quickest way to avoid the traffic of the newly built roads. And since he couldn’t take a horse into the grounds of the royal hospital, Jean had had to run.

He stumbled into the hospital room with sweat running down his forehead, hair sticking to the nape of his neck despite his ponytail, out of breath, but just in time. Armin was at her bedside, his face purple due to the pain of having his hand being squeezed by her.

“You’re here!” Mikasa sighed at the sight of him, then looked at Armin. “Make room for him.”

“I’ll let your mom know you’re here, Jean.” Armin informed him, running out of the room. Something in Jean suspected he was just relieved to have the chance to get some ice for his hand.

He ran to her bedside, brushing hair away from her flushed face. “How much longer?” he asked, his chest aching from seeing her twisting on the bed from the pain.

Mikasa cringed as another contraction came over. “You came just in time.”

He kissed her forehead. “Is it bad?”

“I could say I’ve felt worse,” Mikasa said, closing her eyes as her pain increased. “But I’d be lying.”

“You’re perfect,” he said, kissing her forehead one more time. “I wish I could do this for you.”

“You’d be crying like a baby by now, Kirstein, you and I know that.” She teased, and Jean laughed in relief. If she had energy to give him snarky, serious remarks, she would be fine.

“Ah, this is dad?” a woman he guessed was a physician asked, coming in the room escorted by two young nurses. Mikasa nodded, and the doctor acknowledged Jean with a polite nod. “You made it just in time, sir, she’s all ready to push.”

Jean swallowed hard, exchanging a look with Mikasa, noticing fear in her face for the first time in a long time. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “You can do it.”

“I know I can,” Mikasa said, taking a breath through her mouth. “Just hold my hand through it.”

He took her hand into his and suppressed his squeal of pain when she began pushing, thinking he would look like a complete dumbass if he complained from some hand squeezing when his wife was giving birth right in front of his eyes. Despite her quiet nature, it didn’t take long for her to start screaming as their child came out of her, and Jean could only whisper encouraging, love-filled words to her as she brought forth the life they’d created. The life she’d grown and carried for a whole nine months.

Jean had never thought his love for her could grow larger, but he’d clearly been mistaken, he thought as Mikasa crumbled back onto her chair and tiny little squeals filled the room. The physician and two nurses began cleaning their child, and Jean fell to his knees at the side of her bed. “Are you okay?” he asked, kissing the hand that had almost broken his just a moment ago.

Mikasa nodded, kissing him once on the lips. “And our baby?”

“She’s fine! A perfect, healthy baby girl!” the doctor announced, bringing her over to them wrapped in a yellow-colored blanket. “Want to hold her first, dad?”

“Let mom have the honors,” Jean replied, staring in awe at the tiny human crying in the doctor’s arms. “She just did all the work, didn’t she?”

The doctor placed their baby in Mikasa’s arms, who grabbed one of her tiny hands and kissed it while making shooshing noises. Jean stared, mouth wide open, at the sight of his wife and his child. Two perfect beings living comfortably in a peaceful world; his family, all he’d ever wanted. He swallowed hard, wondering what he’d done to deserve such a beautiful, perfect sight, what he’d done to deserve to be loved back by her.

Jean looked away, wiping the tears spilling down his eyes with the back of his hand as their daughter fell asleep at the sound of Mikasa’s voice. “Hey, dad,” she called gently. “Come see her, don’t cry.”

He leaned forward on the bed, and Mikasa kissed his cheek, using one of her hands to wipe his eyes. “She’s so beautiful. Look, she has your black hair,” he whimpered, running a careful finger across her soft arm. She gave him another smile, the type of smile he’d grown so accustomed to see these past years, a smile that people had doubted it even existed during their years at war. “Mikasa, I love you two so much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered while kissing his neck. “I love you so very fucking much.”

“Hey, language,” he said, kissing her lips and then grabbing their baby’s tiny hand again, speaking with a silly, childish tone of voice he’d heard other fathers use with their newborns. “We’re gonna need to get a swear jar or something. Mom and uncle Levi will fill that one up nicely.”

“Want to give her a kiss?” Mikasa asked.

Jean nodded eagerly, leaning forward to give her a small peck on the top of her tiny forehead; their baby stirred in her sleep, and it didn’t take long for her to begin crying. “It’s okay, Jean. Don’t be scared. Do you want hold her?”

“I’m fucking shaking here, I’ll drop her.”

“Language, Kirstein.” She reminded him, faking that serious expression from her teenage years. “Give her another kiss, come on.”

“She’s going to cry.”

“Just do it?” Mikasa said. “I want to see something.”

Jean sighed and leaned in to place a peck on her daughter’s cheeks, copying Mikasa’s shooshing noises as he neared her. Soon after his lips touched her, their baby quieted down again, closing her eyes as she settled against her mother’s breast. “Hey, how did you know that was going to happen?”

“She’s just like her mom,” Mikasa said, setting her eyes on the baby girl they’d created, the baby girl they would pour their love onto for the rest of their lives. “Your kisses do wonders to cheer up the women in this family. Remember that.”

[bloodycassian]

Branded - Az x no gender reader

Reader helps Az figure out where an artifact came from. No smut. 

Putrid stale air rose from the island off the spring court coast. The Illyirans all glanced at each other nervously. 

The rebellion when Tamlin had found out about Nyx had been...subtle. He began with calling a meeting, the first in his court in several years. Where he then proceeded to inform the rest of the courts about Nyx and his paranoia of the night court wanting total control of Prythian.

 “No different than the king that the drunk hellcat slew.” He had grimaced, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table. Cassian tensed, jaw clenching at the mention of his mate. Rhys shot him a look that had his general stay in place. The  meeting would not last long if Tamlin made many more remarks like that.

“The king that you allied yourself with, Tam?” Lucien cut, crossing his arms over his chest. His metal eye clicked - narrowing at his once friend and ally. 

Tamlin bared his teeth, the rage plain on his face. Rhys had no idea how deep the rage and pain went however. He shuddered as he circled lower with his brothers. The smell was getting worse. Rage and love were blinding effects to the mind but...enough to..torture people? To what end? 

The shanties and tents among the dead island were somehow in worse condition than the Illyrian camps. And the bodies… Azriel felt his stomach churn at the sight of the malnourished figures laying among piles of blankets. 

Trying to stay warm from the cool sea air. Tamlin never spelled the area to withstand more intense weather conditions. He had wanted them to suffer. Cassian was scouting ahead for any survivors. Azriel and Rhys walked up the creaky wooden steps to the biggest cottage in the makeshift town.

 “Mother above…” Rhys breathed as the door swung open into darkness. Azriel was next to him in an instant, letting his shadows take him over the steps. Quiet as the wind. 

His heart fell out of his body at the sight before him. Scattered in the dark room were pieces of bodies, tattered linens and blood. Cauldron, blood was everywhere. But that wasn’t what knocked the air from his lungs. In the center of the room, supported only by spikes and spears was the body of a horned wolf. Golden fur turned a dark brown from crusted blood. 

Tamlin was dead. 

Rhys was backing up, knocking into Azriel’s shoulder. Shock weighed both of them, making them numb. Rhys kept backing, down the steps until he fell on his ass into the mud next to a pile of dirty blankets. 

“Rhys-” 

“No, I dont… No.” His hands combed through his hair, pulling slightly. 

Cassian arrived then, his face a bit pale. “What-” His eyes went blank for a moment and his jaw dropped. He ran to the cottage to check for himself. Rhys couldnt even speak to him. Azriel took a breath, cracked his knuckles and grabbed Rhys’ arm. 

“Go back to her. Tell Elain-Nesta, whoever to watch Nyx and tell Feyre. She needs to know.” Azriel forced his high lord to make eye contact. His eyes were muted, but he nodded numbly. Azriel turned to follow Cassian to the bloody room. His shadows whispered to him that Rhys had gone. He breathed easier knowing Rhys was at least listening.

“Az, you see this?” Cassian called. 

He approached the wolf body apprehensively. He had never liked Tamlin, not since what he did to his almost-mother. Rhys’ mother. His head was spinning with the politics of other courts learning that Spring was now barren of a high lord. He prayed to the Cauldron that none would find it suspicious that the night court had found Tamlin. 

Cassian was pointing to the shoulder of the beast. The brand almost looked like a stamp with how deep it cut. An image of a lit torch, blood dripping from the edges of it. He didnt know if the blood was the design or if it was from the wound. 

“That’s not an insignia i know.” Azriel murmured. 

“The queens maybe?” Cassian wiped his hands on his trousers, fingers lingering towards his dagger for safety. 

“I think I know someone who may be able to help.” Azriel sent out his shadows, searching as far as he could. He would find what kind of metal made this.

+

“It’s Torvakian. Not rare but uncommon even on the continent.” You explained, weighing the metal in your hands. Azriel had it brought to you by his dark shadows before he had even arrived. 

By the time he did you were able to glean a sample of the piece and compare it to ones similar. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means it’s from even further east than Rask. You’ll have to be more specific about what you’re asking.” You tossed the branding iron back to him. He wasn’t his normal… neutral self today. He was almost mad.

“Shouldnt you know this, being a spymaster and all?” You chided, turning from him and pulling another dark iron from the wall. It was similar to the piece he had brought you, but the forging was different. Like it was carved from an entire stone instead of being put together. 

He sighed and ignored you. “Do you know anything about the insignia? Are there other courts that this represents?” He was definitely in a  bad mood. You wished you could offer him a drink, but he had been non stop questioning the entire time. Really, Rhys should pay you as well. Being the go to mystery metal solver whenever any foreign courts tried attacking… it was job security you supposed. 

“I’ve never seen the insignia. Maybe you should go ask Clotho-” He cringed, his shadows gathering around his shoulders. “or maybe Gwyn, shadowsinger. She’s trained enough with the scholars to know” You clipped, knowing it would shake him. 

If he was going to be grumpy then you could be too. You knew about his late talks with the Valkyrie, yet he was always spending unnecessary amounts of time just around you. Joking, sharing lunch and stories from the continent. You had even roughly planned a ‘dream trip’ with him there. All theoretically, of course. 

His eyes smoldered, cheeks deepening in color. You felt yourself flush red and turned from him. Pretending to inspect a sword on the wall, you felt his presence shift. You knew where he would be before you turned. You swallowed. He was right beside you, not a word spoken.

“I dont want Gwyn-” He breathed, placing a scarred hand on your wrist gently. “I want you.”

He lowered your hand and his fingers slowly slid over the back of yours. The texture of his was interesting, firm but soft as well. His fingers interlaced with yours, as if asking permission. He was slow, so damned slow with this. As if you were going to run away. 

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed lightly. 

[robinchan-hananomi]

One Piece 1023

I have a lot of thoughts here about the new chapter. There is a lot of things to unpack here!

So first, things I loved! I absolutely loved Zoro and Sanji’s dynamic in this chapter. Yes, the two were bickering a bit but honestly it felt like their comments were more to reassure each other than anything. Zoro immediately noticed that something was wrong with Sanji and Sanji responded honestly, that his body has felt funny ever since using the raid suit a second time. Zoro probes to see just how deep the concern is, asking if Sanji is going to slow him down, and Sanji’s answer seems to reassure him enough that he almost jokes, teasing Sanji about his eyebrows. One the flip side Sanji knows better than almost anyone just what kind of shape Zoro is in right now. They both look out for each other and they tease each other during the start of this fight, but it is mostly them being more like ‘look asshole, I know you’re trying to see what the extent of the damage is but I swear I am fine enough to knock this son of a bitch out’.

And make no mistake, Zoro and Sanji are probably going to have a lot of physical issues after this chapter. Sanji mentions that his body is feeling weird. This could be anything from the raid suit being intentionally designed to hurt Sanji to his body just not being able to cope with the strain the new technology is putting on him. The mink doctor also just reminded Chopper that while Zoro is up now, he won’t be for long and that he doesn't even want to imagine what kind of shape Zoro is going to be at the end of the fight. No matter how Wano shakes out, Zoro and Sanji are going to be hurting and will require some serious rest and TLC.

After Sanji and Zoro face off against King and Queen, we also get a small moment for the opponents to communicate. On Queen and Sanji’s side, Queen talks about how Judge experimented on his children and questions the validity of Sanji’s claim of being completely human since he can light his body on fire. Sanji admits he’s probably just that dramatic. On the other side Zoro notes King’s unorthodox fighting and when King points out there is no need to follow technique and method in combat, Zoro agrees and reminds King there really isn’t anything preventing Zoro from ripping out King’s throat with his teeth.

Now Zoro and Sanji are only able to fight King and Queen in peace due to Hyogoro and Kawamatsu’s efforts. Kawamatsu prevented a Beast Pirate from taking a shot at Zoro and Hyogoro explains that anyone who tries to help either side at this point would just be in the four combatants way. While they watch the fight, they comment about Zoro.

The thing is, Zoro has been connected to the Shimotsuki Clan from the start. Zoro’s hometown is Shimotsuki Village. In the SBS corner, Oda explained that the village was founded about 55 years ago by Shimotsuki Kozaburo, the man who forged Wado Ichimonji and Enma. Kozaburo’s son Koshiro ran the Isshin Dojo, which used the Shimotsuki Clan crest as it’s symbol and Zoro had worn that crest his entire childhood. Koshiro’s daughter Kuina was Zoro’s best friend and rival. Then Zoro met and fought Shimotsuki Ryuma, whose family name was again confirmed in the SBS corner. More on Ryuma in a minute. Ever since Zoro has entered Wano, he has been even more connected to the Shimotsuki Clan. The Clan had two Daimyo’s that we know of, Ushimaru and Yasuie. Zoro has spent a lot of time in Ringo, Ushimaru’s territory, and even combated with Ushimaru’s retainer Onimaru a few times now for Ryuma’s sword Shusui. On the other side Zoro befriended Yasuie and his daughter Toko. While all the strawhats were seen to be fond of Toko and quite a few met Yasuie, Zoro spent the majority of time with him.

Now as for Ryuma. Ever since the Monsters oneshot was tied to the One Piece Manga, fans had noticed the similarities between Zoro and Ryuma. The two look very alike in appearance and they had many similar mannerisms. They also have the connection of sharing a sword, Shusui, and both decapitated a dragon in the air. And now, apparently, Ryuma had lost an eye in his adventures and was known as a one eyed swordsman...which I mean his zombie did have a scar on his face that would have gone over his right eye along with bandages covering his right eye so it’s not really a surprise.

The two citizens of Wano comment that Ushimaru is a direct descendant of Ryuma and note that Zoro has a similar appearance and style of fighting to Ushimaru and by extension Ryuma. Now if this is because Zoro is somehow part of the Shimotsuki Clan (which I actually kind of hope not), or if it is just a coincidence about appearance and the other similarities are because Zoro trained at a dojo from the Shimotsuki Clan is still up in the air. Either way, I really do like the idea of developing Zoro more and I have been waiting for someone, anyone, in the manga to finally notice just how much Zoro seems to be connected to this family.

Anyway, back to the chapter! While Zoro and Sanji keep two of the three calamities busy, we see there is a LOT of other things going on. I’m not going to go in order of the rest of the chapter because I want to organize my thoughts a little.

So first, which is actually the last thing to happen, is Momo is now 28 years old. He has Shinobu turn him into an adult because he can only do so much as an eight year old. It is a fantastic way to follow the panels of the battle that came before it, because we see the samurai are willing to die to bring about an age where Kaido’s reign has ended and Momo’s time can start. They believe that Momo will bring Oden’s will and bring Wano to a wonderful future, they believe it so much that they are willing to die for it. Momo answers that belief by giving up twenty years of his life. Understand while twenty years have passed for everyone else, it hasn’t for Momo. Momo just had Shinobu mature his body by twenty years in order to get stronger, bigger, and be able to take a stand against Kaido. There is going to be a lot of issues in the future with having an eight year old in a twenty eight year old man’s body, but just like Zoro and quite possibly Sanji’s physical health; this is a bridge to cross when we get to it. After all everyone has to survive the battle and win before they can worry about what is next. So now as a much bigger and stronger dragon, Momo and Luffy can go face Kaido together.

On a side note with everyone talking about being ghosts and all, it’s kinda fitting that it is implied that Momo looks like Oden. Now we really will have people think they’re seeing ghosts.

We also have Inu and Neko fighting Jack and Big Mom’s son. These fights are not just about defeating Kaido either. There is an element of revenge to them both. As Inu sends Jack through a wall, he expresses recalls all the pain Jack brought to the people of Zou. Just like Neko talks about Pedro while fighting. And yet the two talk about how everything they lost, all that they suffered through, was all part of the road to get there, now, to bring Kaido and his Beast Pirates to an end. And the two are using their badass Sulong Form.

The last big note for this chapter is Marco’s memory of his discussion with Whitebeard. It is implied that King’s race are the Lunarian, and that King is the last one. They lived up on the Red Line in a long ago past. Marco recalls Whitebeard talking about how it was ‘God’s Land’ which is honestly giving me super Skypeia vibes. What exactly is this God’s Land?

Because we hadn’t talked too much of the Red Line, I for whatever reason, always imagined other people living up there. We knew the Celestial Dragons lived on the Red Line, but because it is like a long continent of linked together islands I just naturally assumed other races and beings lived up there. That doesn't appear to be the case. Which to be fair I am a fool for even thinking that because now that it’s put that way I realize a group so pompous and self important as the Celestial Dragons would never allow anyone so lowly as normal people to live so high in the world as they do. So they enjoy their life in the clouds while driving any peoples and race either off the Red Line or to extinction.

Marco brings up the old conversation to Izo, after the latter saves him for drifting off in a battle, and Izo says Marco sounds like Whitebeard when he was drunk. Whitebeard was part of the Rocks Pirates, the Pirate crew that shook the world to it’s core almost a whole generation before Roger even appeared. Whitebeard has seen some real shit. I wonder just what all Whitebeard knew about the world, and I wonder just how much he tried to impart on his children only for them to think he was drunkenly rambling?

Anyway, it was a fantastic chapter and I am so freaking excited to see where we go next!!!

[wolf-zer0]

Ya want some WORLD-BUILDING????

Have some world-building!

*REMINDER* This is based on characters, not real people.  I’m not going to be writing any shipping/smut content, especially involving minors.  Please be respectful of content creators’ boundaries!

The Crystallos Empire (AKA the Antarctic Empire)

Largest the countries (takes up most of the southern half of the map) but agreed to stop expansion after a bloody battle with Valeriana 

Centered on a large snowy mountain in the middle of the tundra 

Mostly stays out of other countries’ business, but will step in as a last resort 

Has some of the most well-known citizens in the world because… they’re pure chaos 

Attack at your own peril 

Has vast deposits of ores and gemstones, and the metalwork from Crystallos (mainly weaponry, armor, and jewelry) is highly sought after 

The only known food export is potatoes.  Wonder why… 

Associated Colors: Royal blue, light blue, crimson, gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: gothic vibes, white stone and large stain glass windows, not particularly opulent or extravagant but still impressively royal looking, think catholic cathedral but brighter and with less Jesus (can you tell I’m a recovering catholic yet?), spires shooting into the sky that’s visible even during a blizzard, cavernous halls full of sunlight and echoes, snow that can comfort and kill in equal measure

Notable Members:

Philza Minecraft:

Angel

Visible wings look like a harpy eagle

Probably the most powerful person in the world

Didn’t mean to start an empire it kinda just happened

Also didn’t mean to adopt kids but his Dadza alarm went off

Usually kind but will not hesitate to use violence when necessary

Technoblade: 

Is pig.  

With braid.  

At least 8 feet all

Extremely adept fighter, skilled in almost every form of combat.  

Not a people pig, prefers his potato farm to being a prince

Hella protective of his family but will not hesitate to bully when given the opportunity

Wilbur Soot: 

Muse who can influence people through song

Can’t totally control people (yet) but can subtly push them in a certain direction

The public face of the imperial family

Would rather insult than fight but can and will cut a bitch if he needs to

Because inspiration is fickle he’ll have some … strange episodes (see: the Sand Incident)

Tommy Innit: 

Child.  

Chaos incarnate.

Is he human?  Is he not?  No one’s sure yet.  

But he’s a gremlin and a hellion and willing to throw down at any moment.  

Has a surprisingly caring side, but no one outside his immediate circle has ever really seen it.  

The Kingdom of Valeriana (aka Dream SMP)

Oldest of the countries 

Located in the middle of a massive forest at the center of the main continent 

Home of the Fae Courts

Ruled by a single king who is chosen by a tournament held every 100 years 

Known for causing chaos in other countries, but after an Incident with Crystallos they have kept their meddling to annoyances rather than outright declarations of war 

Considered the most magical of all the countries, and traditional enchantments almost all come from Valeriana 

Associated Colors: neon green (duh), bright yellow, forest green, light brown, blood red (more saturated than Crystallos), rose gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: spooky art nouveau (idk what else to call it), lots of plants and nature but with an edge of danger, poison gardens and carnivorous plants, hedge mazes that lead everywhere and nowhere, laughter deep in the forest, deer with eyes just a hair too human, Alice in Wonderland on steroids 

Notable Members: 

Dream: 

Current king of the Fae

As long as he’s touching the ground, he knows where everything and everyone is

Can terraform

Unlimited in the boundaries of his kingdom

Much more limited outside of his realm

No one has ever seen what he really looks like, even before he took the throne

Since people outside the kingdom don’t know who he is, he’ll wander the outside world and challenge random people to fights

Never says what happens to the losers

Only one person has ever beaten him: Technoblade

He might have a lil obsession around Techno, but it’s fine.  

A little competition is healthy.

Sapnap:  

High Lord of the Summer Court

Dream’s right hand man

Likes fire a little too much probably

George: 

Human that Dream took a liking too and yoinked from the mortal world

Dream and Sapnap made him immortal but he hasn’t realized it yet.  

Skeppy: 

Changeling who started growing diamond-like scales across his body

Is vaguely allied with Dream simply because he’s Fae, but is more loyal to BBH

Like a lot of other Fae, likes to make challenges but he makes them less deadly.  Not totally safe, just less deadly.

Badboyhalo: 

Demon who was kicked out of hell because he was too nice

Found Skeppy in the Overworld and the rest is history

Cursed by the Demon King that the moment he says a swear word, the entire world would end, but can never tell anyone that he is cursed

The Merchant’s Guild

Not quite a country, more of a international power 

Oversees the largest and most important businesses in the world 

Makes sure that no laws are broken between different countries and everyone gets a fair shake 

Has a very large reach, so some members have dabbled in espionage for various groups 

From the outside it looks like the whole thing is kept together with duct tape and hope, but its actually pretty functional

The main members are just… a lot. 

More concerned with keeping things working than influencing other nations (although there are still jokes about it) 

The most valuable thing they trade in is information

They have a lot of fingers in a lot of pots, but are trusted with their information 

Associated Colors: dark blue, teal, deep yellow, burnt orange, copper

Aesthetic/Vibes: art deco babie, angles and lines, very modern and streamlined, sleek suits instead of armor or robes, whiskey in a crystal glass, wars won by words not weapons, knowing when someone’s lying without them saying a word

Notable Members:

Schlatt: 

Ram-man with a plan

Not that bad of a dude, but is in a position where he is constantly in possession of highly sensitive information and that does things to someone’s mental state

Drinks pretty regularly but not a full blown alcoholic

Trying his best

Can be a snarky asshole sometimes

Quackity: 

Lucky duck.  literally.  

Duck man with an uncanny ability to absorb good luck from people (typically Fundy) and apply it to himself

No one knows when or why he joined the guild, but now he’s there

Pretty damn smart, but hides it behind humor

Fundy: 

FOX!  

With BEANS!

Trying his goddamn best but life (and Quackity) make it very difficult

Usually is stuck with the shit end of the stick when getting jobs/contracts/etc. 

Wilbur being his dad is an inside joke that’s gotten a life of its own.  

(No Fishfuckers Allowed!!!)

Puffy: 

Badass sheep lady who captains a ship and commands her own armada

Schlatt’s sister

Also part of Storm’s Landing’s council and acts as the main liaison between them 

Do not fuck with her she will kick your ass.

Storm’s Landing

Port city that became a country after becoming a safe-haven for seafarers

Led by a council of important people, with the head of the council known as the Admiral 

Closest ties to Crystallos and the Merchant’s guild because: 

1) Clingy supremacy!!!!

2) it’s a good idea for a guild to have good ties with a large sea power

3) all the dads for Tubbo

Associated Colors: navy blue, scarlet, white, brass 

Aesthetic/Vibes: Nautical (obviously) with heavy “Age of Exploration” vibes, barnacles crusted on treasure chests, think tall ships and pirates and shit, respecting the ocean because holy shit she’s gonna smash your boat to pieces on a whim because she can, has an edge of darkness because when you go deep enough who knows what you’ll find down there (maybe mermaids???) 

Notable Members:

CaptainSparklez: 

elected to Admiral after the previous Admiral went missing on a routine voyage 

(idk who it used to be, I just wanted to make him new at leading)

not 100% sure about the whole thing, but handling it pretty okay

still answers to “Captain” instead of “Admiral”.  

Niki:

If Storm’s Landing had a queen, would be it unquestionably

Never gets robbed even though there’s a well known “underbelly” in town

Could probably end wars with her croissants

Has a significant history of empathic abilities in her family, so she can tell how people are feeling at all times

Eret: 

Owns a magic store in town that really only shows itself to people who need it.  

Having a bad mental health day?  

He’s got a warm blanket and a cup of your favorite warm beverage waiting.  

Dysphoric?  

She’s got the perfect outfit and affirming words already prepared.  

Trying to find that specific book but can’t remember the title or plot, only vaguely know the color of the cover?  

They’ve got it.  

Ranboo:  

Not sure why he decided to move to a seaside city when he’s not chill with water, but now he’s here and he’s too anxious to leave

Known for teleporting around town randomly when nervous, and the people who find him are always willing to let a hand if he gets lost

Tubbo: 

This boi!  Has so many dads!  

Epitome of “Kindness does not equal weakness.”  

While a lot of people underestimate him, he’s not some fragile little flower

He hasn’t fully grown into his ability to speak to animals (he can only understand bees right now)

He’s just as much of a shit stirrer as Tommy.  

When they meet up, look out.  Something’s getting destroyed.

The Astral Academy

An independent university focused on advancing knowledge in the arcane arts and engineering 

Not a country, but has the political power of one due to their vast resources and building prowess 

People can’t enter unless they are invited or have been given entry as a student 

There are a bunch of potential doors scattered around the continent that could lead to the Academy, but no one is sure where the real entrance is 

Associated Colors: royal purple, lilac, sepia, sky blue, silver, bronze Aesthetic/Vibes: bright academia, massive libraries with bookshelves stuffed to bursting, workshop benches covered in scrap and prototypes, open air observatories, runes waiting to be translated, the crackling energy that comes from successful collaboration, falling down a research rabbit hole, bursting with pride after a project is a success

Notable Members: 

Sam

Purpled

Ponk

Punz

Antfrost

Jack Manifold

I don’t know much about these characters, so if you have any ideas please let me know!

Zero’s OC Land - The North Haven

Smallest and newest country 

Recently gained independence from under a cruel dictator (not schlatt lol)

Located in a pine forest at the base of a huge mountain range 

Has pretty good relations with the other countries, but outsiders don’t know much about them 

Main exports are wood carvings and leather goods 

Associated Colors: Maroon, dark brown, black, pewter 

Aesthetic/Vibes: medieval but with a modern twist, dark wood lit by a roaring fireplace, snow-covered woods without a living soul in sight, half timber houses and detailed wood carving, no outrageous ornamentation or extravagance 

Notable Members:

Tyr: 

Lord of the North Haven

trying to keep his people safe and protected

one of the few remaining Spirits (higher in power than the Fae, but lower than angels)

Spirit of Justice

lost a hand in the war for North Haven’s independence

didn’t want to become the leader but does a pretty good job at it

Adopted 5 kids and is trying his best

Bragi: 

Heir Apparent

24 year old human

can influence the world by speaking (not singing) but has to be careful about which words he uses

has a book full of phrases that have proven effects (a spellbook of sorts)

has a friendly rivalry with Wilbur

Freya: 

Spymaster

actually the oldest but abdicated because she feels she’s not the right person to lead a country

age unknown because she’s the last known [REDACTED] (it’ll be revealed, but I wanna build suspense)

has gyrfalcon wings and heightened senses

chronic insomniac

Forseti: 

Official Librarian

20 years old

hybrid with an unknown entity

has black fingers with sharp claws

always wears gloves to hide them

can create portals to places he’s been or to people he knows (the second is much riskier, but not impossible)

knowledge sponge

wants to join the Astral Academy but is too nervous to apply

Odin: 

Older Twin

The “Sensible One”

17 years old

Has an uncanny sense of direction

Can’t get lost no matter what

Can manipulate magnetic fields

Loki:

Younger Twin

The “Hot Headed One”

17 years old

can manipulate fire

idolizes his older siblings, particularly Freya

The Institute

Creeping around in the background

Up to bad things

Something’s going on in the world, but no one’s noticed yet

They will though… soon

Aesthetic/Vibes: minimalism (the worst kind of vibes imo), think laboratories or empty hospitals, harsh artificial lights and cold floors, labyrinths of monotonous hallways with no doors

[rememberences]

who: @evenfallsbrightest​ where: white harbor’s library, new castle, the north

what were the use of fabels and stories, works of fiction overall, aside from stories to tell children in their youth? to entertain them, to teach them the myths of the continent, to frighten them into sleeping in their beds at night? his eyes narrowed somewhat as he stood within rows of aged books, the familiar smell of old dust wafting through the cold air. his hardened mind of reason and logic had always failed to see the popularity such novels developed with readers; he was not one to read for enjoyment, but for a purpose. there were tribes within the lands of the north; tribes similar to the clansmen that roamed the ranges of the vale, though it was common knowledge that the northern tribes were not as aggressive nor rejected the starks as their authority. it was their history he sought today; whether something had been amended through history to decrease the enmity. 

though he hated such an order; he would never openly reject to aid in what the king wished, despite his own personal feelings toward it; and still he felt a sense of coldness growing within him. not at the king, not at his new lannister queen that was merely a ticking disaster awaiting to happen, not the grafton heir that had decided to play turncloak against his own father, not even the arryn princess for the first time in years. but a coldness toward everything; as though not much seemed to matter. the climate was beginning to match this coldness; the harsher temperature did not bother the lord of runestone as much as other nobles of other courts that had travelled the length and breadth of westeros; a cold bite was something familiar to the vale of arryn, considering the high altitude of many family homes. 

as he turned a corner his gaze fell upon a familiar head of yellow hair, done characteristically neatly, belonging to a small figure sat upon a small velvet armchair beside a crackling hearth. the lord of runestone was quietly taken aback by lady tarth’s presence this far north; so far from home, from the ocean, from the sapphire isle in the wilderness of the north. it seemed life had chosen to be a mirror this moment; both now having lost brothers in the tension of conflict; he quietly walked up to the figure, the floorboards barely creaking as his warm gaze fell upon the book she held in her lap. more fiction, more stories; perhaps people wished to forget their own lives. 

“it seems as though you’re still reading what a certain petyr tarth once described as waffle.” he spoke, his tone low as to not suddenly startle her; though there was a sense of jest in his voice he had not expected to come so naturally, even in his sombre state. placing a hand on the armchair beside her, his dark orbs looked over her; wondering just how far minisa would go to secure the tarth interests. “does your family intend on steering your fleet through the ice of the north?” he asked, his tone serious despite the light joke he seemed to be making. 

[bookofmirth]

I think that Mor was right to call Nesta out at moments and I liked when Amren called out Nesta for saying she was picking sides. However, Amren was completely out of line to seriously suggest that Besta should be thrown into a prison at Hewn City. Idc if Amren has older more violent ways, that screams abusive not only just physically but also power wise. Throwing someone into a dungeon in the worst city in the entire continent because they were being rude is a huge abuse of power, overall seems psychotic, and just screams abusive individual. It wasn’t even like a joke statement, it was an actual suggestion from Amren when she herself knows what horrors lie there (as she is close with Mor). That comment alone discredited any and all indications that Amren actually cared about Nesta at that point in time. It was sickening to read honestly.

I think that Amren just has zero fucks. I know this is an unpopular opinion, but I like her for the fact that she is so different from everyone else. A while back I was chatting with @unpopularcharacterstan and she was saying that the acotar characters feel like contemporary people, like you could you could send a text to Feyre or see Mor sitting in a cafe, or watch Elain's crafting YouTube channel (examples from me haha). And that isn't the most fae-feeling way for the characters to exist? But Amren. Amren is different. She actually feels like she's not from our world or from Prythian. She has a completely different set of values and motivations. She's almost closer to some of the more creature-y fae who live in the Middle, or are considered "lesser" fae.

Okay, since none of that was actually related to what you said - whoops! - I get what you mean. Amren didn't say it to Nesta's face, and personally the suggestion didn't bother me much because Nesta never knew and it was never going to happen. Like Elain saying she wished the mortal queens would burn in hell. Amren is just a bitchy aunt calling out the worst ideas possible ("to the dungeon with Nesta!" "Rhys be the High King!") and we know no one will take her ideas seriously, but she does serve to make other people seem a bit more reasonable. Totally understand being upset on Nesta's behalf though, especially considering that we know more about the Hewn City. I wonder if it's also worth thinking about the fae who live there? Are they all really that horrible, or were they once people like Nesta, like Mor?

I think it's worth noting that Mor did say something similar to Nesta's face:

"You never deserve the benefit of the doubt that good people like him give you."

What Mor said was potentially worse, imho, because she wasn't just throwing it out as a punishment, but saying that Nesta was fundamentally like those horrible people. Nesta was the one who made the connection with the Hewn City, and thought about how the people there had treated Mor. Now, I personally am not mad at Mor for saying this. I think that her character showed Nesta the impact of her actions - the fallout of her behavior and what happens when people draw a line and don't have the time or energy or ability to care anymore. I also don't blame her for being protective of Cassian.

And I wonder if the hint coming from both Mor and Amren was intentional on sjm's part. I'm the last person to give her a bunch of credit as far as complexity or depth goes, but I wonder if the point of both Mor and Amren mentioning the Hewn City and Nesta's ability to fit in there (coupled with the fact that she was able to play the role of Hewn City denizen!) was like sjm saying that Nesta had two options. She was either going to get better, or she was going to get worse. She had reached a breaking point, even if she wasn't able to see it at the time.

Still freaking hate that Nesta got on one knee to apologize. :(

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

Bridgerton & Selective Justification: A Rant

With a Particular Aside in Which This Author Questions if There Isn't a Double Standard at Play in Televised Historical Fiction.

Ok so the other day i posted complaining about how ludicrous the "Will Daphne marry Prince Friedrich?!" Plotline is to me and i referred to Daphne as a "commoner". I got two comments on that post of people saying Daphne *isn't* a commoner because she's a Viscount's daughter. I did respond but I'd like to go a little more in depth into it my thoughts on why this plotline verges on abject silliness to me, based on my (i will freely admit) *limited* knowledge of British aristocracy and the source material itself.

So if anyone reading this has a more detailed knowledge of the Peerage and how it relates to Bridgerton please correct me I'm eager to know more.

So to start out my understanding of the pecking order goes like this:

DUKE/DUCHESS = Highest ranking title in the peerage. Often bestowed on important members of the Royal family not in direct line for the throne. Worth noting is the fact that a Duke in British peerage is different than a Continental Duke. On the European Continent title Duke/Grand Duke can be associated with sovereign rule of an independent state, which has never been the case in England. Dukes and Duchesses are addressed as "Your Grace"

MARQUESS/MARCHIONESS = English equivalent of Marquis/Marquise. Very high ranking in the peerage, closely related to Earldom, but more important  since it has it's roots as the title of border (marcher) lords instrumental in a country's defense.  

EARL/COUNTESS = Referred to as a "count" everywhere else. The difference is the heavy germano-scandinavian influence on early medieval England. "Earl" is derived from the Nordic term for what could be considered a chieftan. Earls being only slightly lower in rank than a Marquess could be very rich and very important. The Earldom of Northumberland was one of the richest in 16th century England.

Now at this point we start to get into the lower peerage.

VISCOUNT/VISCOUNTESS = Addressed as "The Right Honourable". Viscountsies in England tend to almost exclusively be secondary titles held by Marequesses and Earls and passed down to their sons. Any son of a Marquess or Earl is a Viscount. The oldest son inherits the title of Earl plus all subsequent lands estates and incomes. The younger sons could also be viscounts wherever there are titles enough.

BARON/BARONESS = lowest rank of the peerage.

BARONET/BARONETESS = The only British title that doesn't land you in the peerage, the rank of baronet is (as I have heard it described) the barnacle on the bottom of the British aristocracy. It's basically a weird limbo between a Lord and a Knight that was invented by King James I in 1611 primarily as a way to jack up taxes so tbh its kind of a joke.

So Daphne's brother Anthony is a Viscount. He inherited this title from his father which likely means that their father was a second son. As you can see from this ranking list I just did, in marrying Simon, Daph married up. Way up. Not unsusual, given that her family has money and is well regarded.

Now clearly Bridgerton works differently than ACTUAL Regency England. Here, APPARENTLY if you just make a good impression on the Queen she takes a VERY PERSONAL interest in your life and she will marry you off to whatever Foreign prince she's related to who happens to be visiting. But here's where it's a bit wooly for me because there are two different contexts for the term "commoner" in England.  I think we all pretty well know how the European Royal marriage market  worked up through the 19th century, since we all like to make fun of them being inbred. Because there's a bit of a hang up not just about "Royal blood" but also Diplomatic marriage.

In the context of people with titles or peerages being nobles/aristocrats and any one without being a commoner then of course, Daphne is a noble. HOWEVER the context in which I used it in my previous post was ROYALS vs NOT ROYALS. It's perfectly acceptable to refer to someone not of Royal Blood as a commoner. In my replies I used Elizabeth Woodville as an example of a commoner. Now she DID marry a royal (Edward IV) and of course this was a few hundred years before Bridgerton would be BUT EVERYONE thought Edward was crazy for marrying her and she was not well liked because she was seen as at worst a gold-digger and at best an upstart. It was not only an uneven match but a purely domestic one which cut of England from potentially politically critical strategic foreign marriages. This is how royalty worked.

Naturally the strategic aspect of marriages was *slightly* diminished in the nineteenth century, but not really and it was still considered extremely important. Usually a young royal looking to get married was doing so at their family's behest and had a pre-determined pool they more or less HAD to choose from. Marriage to commoners of course  DID happen. It was called "Morganatic Marriage". Prince Augustus of Prussia had a morganatic marriage to a Polish aristocrat. One of Charlotte's own sons, Augustus Fredrick, had TWO morganatic marriages which kept him away from court because his wife could not be recognised due to their having married in defiance of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772, which requires all members of the  British Royal family to obtain the monarch's consent before marrying.

So I posed the very realistic question of "how would this choice to marry Daphne affect the Prince?" I don't know how morganatic marriages were looked on based on Prussian law but it seems likely, especially since Prince Friedrich is the direct heir that this marriage would have caused problems and i find it doubtful that Daphne would ever find herself addressed as "Princess".

I know that Bridgerton is fiction and that in being fiction it is pardoned  for not following courses that would be realistic in actual history. But at what point does "it's fiction" become an excuse for sloppy execution of world building?

The show takes the time to explain to the viewer (in one of the precious few moments of actual exposition) why there are black aristocrats [because the king married a black woman and things changed - which JUST IN CASE anyone is wondering, no Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz was not in any meaningful way "bi-racial" irl, based on the research I've done.] With this kind of deviation from history in a Drama that does, without any official caveats in the marketing, claim to be set in England in 1813, the writers recognised that this needed to be qualified. And in qualifying it, they justify it. They take it beyond fiction into fantasy, but it is justified.

The reason they recognised it had to be justified is because they know that most of the viewers know this is not how it went in history and would hold them to account. So why isn't more care taken to qualify the Liberties taken with the REST of Recency Society?

They talk repeatedly about "Coming Out" into society, particularly regarding Eloise. And Eloise wears her hair down and wears shorter skirts because she's still considered a child because she isn't out. But the IMPORTANT, PRACTICAL parts of not being "Out" are COMPLETELY IGNORED. She and her younger siblings are OUT at SOCIETY EVENTS. CONSTANTLY. Eloise speaks when not spoken to. She speaks DIRECTLY TO THE FOPPING QUEEN (TO WHOM SHE'S NEVER BEEN PRESENTED, BUT I GUESS IF YOU'RE DaPhNe BRiDgErToN's sister you can do whatever you want). There are BABIES at BALLS in this show. For a story that's trying to sell you on the Strrrrrrictures of RRRegency Societeh they're TOTALLY NOT INCLUDING MOST OF THOSE STRICTURES except when the plot demands it.

Why, I ask, is this? Perhaps it is pure ignorance on the writers part. They don't qualify it because they don't know rules like this existed. In which case its just bad, sloppy writing.

OR

They do know about it and ignore it and don't bother to qualify it with a "Oh Daphne a match with Prince Friedrich is so advantageous how marvellous Prussia has recently accepted Morganatic Marriage ahahaha" because they think we a) don't know or b) don't care and ITS STILL SLOPPY WRITING. Which hey, most Bridgerton fans who swallow any swill where hot people catch feelings probably don't care, but that doesn't mean its not careless writing and it doesn't make it NOT condescending. Never write DOWN to your audience.

This show approaches (but by a hair's breadth doesn't reach) REIGN levels of bad in terms of historicity. And the writers of Reign, like the writers of Bridgerton never claimed to be making an authentic representation of history. But perhaps it's because BTon only has 2 actual historical figures (one of whom is SO UNRECOGNIZABLE from her historical counterpart in countenance and personality that they might as well have just made a composite character - "How much can you change a thing before it isn't that thing anymore?") Or perhaps it's the inclusivity shield  but it seems like Bridgerton is getting a lot more leniency than Reign did.

The pass I see given to Bridgerton is "its frothy fun" (and yeah okay these costumes are worlds more realistic to the claimed period than Reign was even with the jacked up, flat bustlines) BUT. SO. WAS. REIGN.

I don't even like Reign but I do think there's a double standard here and I would like to know why.

[thecrenellations]

Return of the Thief Notes, Part Three: The Book of Pheris, Volume 2, Chapters 6-14 and “Alyta’s Missing Earring”

Notes from my first read, October 2020. (Part One | Part Two | TaT)

Contents:  Elephants, guesses about gods and dead men, villain team up, the unexpected, AAAAAAH, elaboration on the word cloud above (which is one big Gen, medium Pheris, medium love, and scattered other names), and more quantitative analysis! I love this book.

Format:  Page number. My thoughts (Context?)

Chapter 6

285. unkingly moment, last night with her at home

MISMATCHED STOCKINGS (I have a thing about this.)

Wedges of ribbons?

285. cute

286. a pitneen? A drunk bird?

Wait. Gift of animals??? Did he steal the thunderbolts wearing it?

A canary no longer

287. Hilarion and Ion, wow

Throw a cup of wine on me

288. War pants! War pants!

What’s Attolia wearing?

Sophos! (the whistling!)

288. Ok fine it’s gonna be sad ... I say as if I didn’t just experience the trial (the last lighthearted moment)

Pepper!

Be careful Pheris

Also Relius went to Dite and Juridius, right? (I was convinced Dite would show up)

Sinerine!

290. SOCKS! Yay <3 magus

I was resigned to not much magus but he is HERE!

He’s … so much nicer than he was to the kids in the Thief, lol

A CART!

Lamb, falling in same paragraph. Worried.

Gen :( Gen you ran all over the palace and leapt in the water last night. You are so stupid.

292. Yay Sophos I love you

Math buddies!

294. I’M SAD.

They have had this convo before

I love them

It’s because I can that I think I should

295. Do not overreach. Eddis is right

Danger in self indulgence?

I love her! “I was outside chasing your brother with a stick”

296. My heart. You have to trust yourself. I don’t know if I can. Then you have to trust us.

Tactical Irene!

Thanks I’m gonna hold on to it: “The Call of life is a s powerful as the call of death, and it is no weakness to answer to it”

297. Oh no. My children. Tell each other things like that!

Great time to be childish, Gen.

Yeah honestly. It’s bothered her FOREVER

299. Pull it together, kids!

Thx Helen

Inkpots … :( :( :(

Chapter 7

302. See … that Continent occupation isn’t good either!

303. Unfortunately that is NOT an alternative. Bc volcano.

305. This is stressful.

Chloe, interesting

306. Elephants

Oh my god it’s better than I ever could have imagined (there was like 10 years of lead up to the elephants, and I thoroughly enjoyed them)

I love him

Gen wtf

Yes drink up those guards (“We could keep [an elephant] in the guard’s bathhouse! There’s plenty of room.” “And the guards will bathe ...?” “In the palace reservoir.” “Our drinking water.”)

#6 Gen about elephants

308. This is gonna be a disaster

Hilarion with an eyeglass

Fuck Pheris is making this up.

Gen I love you

Oh my god

Honestly idk if Gen is having fun but I AM

They’re. They’re such a power couple.

Also Bu-seneth is so rude to Attolia

309. so vague about battle, but I’m sure it’s horrible

310. hero talk. Chills.

311. all the woman comparisons for Gen (“Would [a world with no war and no heroes be a bad thing?” “That’s a woman’s question”)

Wow. Interesting. Anonymity

312. Don’t listen to them Gen!

Bad tempered cooks

313. lol. Good looks.

Gen. the hand joke. Why

Well that was … a scene (I don’t know my Henry V)

Reassuring to have a glove. Which one?

314. No. Bad. This is what I was afraid of. (Nahuseresh baiting Gen with Kamet)

Ok Pheris

315. That cannot be true. (it was not!)

Gen. No. No.

316. Wow. That worked out well. So far.

They called him annux. If Kamet is really dead…

319. Yeah Attolia is RIGHT

Yeah I can’t actually either!

Irene knows. In his story!

320. Glove resolved very fast

Interesting reversal (Gen and his dad)

Maddening!

Chapter 8

322. who’s charging off in a haze of glory now

Philologos wounded

Wait, the attendants follow him in to battle...

Cleon RIP

Temenus <3

No. Stenides

If they ever returned.

His brother died in an explosion

Gen’s tears

This is sad.

323. lion lamb :(

325. At least they have each other

Morality is an illusion. Like safety?

326. that’s what Costis was mapping, right? (nope)

How many has Gen killed now

328. Who. Pol? Ambiades? (The cairn man question remains)

Oh no

Oh no. you can fall from a horse

HILARION!

Is Fordad a spy?

I am just not accepting this yet

WAIT THE MEDES TOOK HIM! (I thought the Attolians had taken Gen, or Gen’s body, at first.)

330. wow things only Pheris can do

GDI Erondites

WOW THIS IS A VILLAIN TEAM UP

332. You gave it to him dude (Nahuseresh asking “Why does he still have this?” about Gen’s hook)

I love Gen. I wonder if he’s afraid.

This is bad.

Whose treason, whose betrayal?

333. Yeah! Kamet said so (“Tell me again that you are king.” “Annux, if you prefer.”)

334. Oh god.

Get your stories straight bastards

Rolled in a rug!

336. Oh gen

Oh god

Yeah this is …

Be careful what you ask for

338. What did he sign as, though, Attolis? Eugenides?

Nomenus wtf

What does mwt have against facial hair (Fordad, Nahuseresh)

Costis please come (idk how I thought he was going to help, but I was in Costis Denial and expected him to show up at any moment)

Everyone must be going through a lot

A face like an open grave

Gen.

Gen I love you

YES

YES

Is he … invulnerable now?

Gen what.

Is he possessed? Is he already a god?

341. Yeah same. (“I think he meant that I should not fear him, either. I did, though ... I still followed him”)

This isn’t being self indulgent or overreaching, is it?

342. RIP Ion Nomenus

“My work”

Oh Nomenus

Does he just exist for the morally gray and loyal angst feelings? It works (...)

344. What did he DO

Yes! Swearing Gen!

345. love all caps Gen

Those names

Aaah

346. Ooof.

Chapter 9

347. moon promises

Yeah

Noooo Philologos :(

Legarus … :(

349. Gen what what

Sparks

Costis? Stenides? STENIDES?

Wow ok he killed Bu-seneth

350. god

See I said Nahuseresh shouldn’t have said that

Also is Gen a bastard

351. WHAT (“Because your council had just voted to kill him”)

Oh Helen

Oh Irene

Does he invite him in?

This is reassuring to the reader (“He can bear his god a little while without losing himself”)

Aaaaah Galen

354. Gen that’s a lot. A lot.

Don’t kill everyone.

So so so x7 of doom

Bye Yorn

I hope he wins too

Go away Nahuseresh

Omg

another fall

Interregnum

Ok it was Lader (when you don’t know who the man at the cairn was, keep on guessing!)

Yeah the circumstances thing is back

Oh god

Oh no

Chapter 10

361. how long has it been?

362. three days

I love them (Elephants! My excellent queen!)

You promised to trust him

364. Oh no. Oh no. (Relius)

370. These Helen convos…

371. Sad. :(

372. Emtis and Lader

Yeah.

Omg

374. Wow

Steal by elephant?

377. Don’t forget about Dite!

378. He’s gonna kill him?

379. Is Dite dead too?

Oh Sejanus

Oh I see

He’s got a mercy taste too

380. Switching!

Lying in moonlight. Hm.

381. Yesss

Nooooo

383. I’m nervous

Gods blessing on your road

Wow. <3

They would have fallen… (if Pheris had gone through with his plan, that’s how they both would have died)

Did not expect Sejanus feelings in Rott.

Chapter 11

386. He’s gonna know. But the trust.

Ion knows.

390. Gen…

Pheris is Lyopidus?

I’m scared

393. I kind of love Ion

More Sejanus, bring it on

I’m nervous

Hmmm… who could it be

395. MoW :( <3 I will not be ok if he dies too

Gen knows the way bc Costis (nope)

Oh my god these two (“I lied” “I know”)

Chapter 12

398. Oh no.

This is not

Her Thief

Irene. “only sleeping” this is what Eddis said to her

But mist… water???

Face touch

402. not living or dead. King

Yes. But no.

403. crying at everything and the MoW next to him

There he went

It was the Eddisians. He fought with them.

404. yeah that’s a lot to deal with, Pheris

405. what a mystery man (Sejanus)

Lol mysterious exit averted

Excuse me that was a difference

406. :(

Am I king

407. Helen is once again right. She’s also always right

MOIRA was Melisande???!??!? (who even knows)

409. ?? Irene?

Same as for Dite. Man loves his brothers. (nephews. you know what I mean.)

Nice.

AAH yup. Add it to the list (“How neatly you tie them together” ... the list of is ways Gen and Irene are becoming more like each other)

410. speaking of which where is Costis!

Hm… what god was that

I love their reactions

411. SPLENDID.

Oh Irene. It’s true <3

It’s so true (“When the king gives his heart he gives it completely”)

Now I’m crying again, at them

412. Gen, she has a point.

Amazing. I … I don’t think she meant to ask like THAT

Jesus, Gen.

You do not know a wagon from a wheelbarrow

413. Irene!

She’d better get home safe.

Gen!

Omg

414. I have another bad feeling, about Gen

415. High king or queen though?

Magus <3

Chapter 13

416. “of course”

That’s ominous

417. No! Sejanus!

A gut wound yikes

418. sadness

419. lol “ill will”

We’re in Roa. My heart’s pounding.

422. I love Gen.

YESSS

Yes I love them.

Sheep.

Kamet!!!

?!?

Costis. Mattresses exist.

424. Oh no.

426. roof dream

Good roof dream

Good job Helen

428. TWINS. Everyone was RIGHT

Reyatimi

Oh shit. The sky.

Oh dear. :( aaah

430. Climbing the rigging!

“it’s just that you have so many least favorite things”

431. I love them (Gen and Irene)

432. I love them (Gen and Helen)

433. RIGHT! I was thinking

I can’t <3 (they’re naming the baby after the MoW, and it’s perfect, and she’s not gonna tell us, huh)

OH MY GOD!!! (baby thief!)

WOW!

434. AAAAAAH (Hector! @threetoadswaltz​ finished reading before me and knew that I would explode about this and I DID, I threw my arms in the air! HECTOR!)

PERFECTION!

435. AAAAAAAAH (this was when it became clear they were going to dance on the roof)

Yes she was (as surefooted as the king)

Is this the first time she’s Irene

Yes.

I’m filled with happiness

Celia and Lavia again … lol.

Lol Chloe

THALIA

CRENELATED wall

HE’S ALIVE

Kamet is a sweetheart

The gods!!!

The gods!

Aracthus

Mystery goddess?

Ula?

Moira! Yes!

(I was very happy. The page itself:)

Alyta’s Missing Earring

Wait. Was it Alyta.

Glad we got a bi god (with all due respect to Immakuk and Ennikar, whose bi-ness and godliness is perhaps more up to the reader)

Got very bi very fast

Also. He’s Gen.

Interesting difference in story

Kathodicia!

Are we literally getting ALL the answers? (No. But so many more than I expected!)

Gen’s grandfather sucks

An urn huh

Omg. Heiro’s earrings?

Oh my gosh.

Same, Gen. Same.

Obvs Phresine knows.

Is Phresine a goddess?

Same, Gen. Same.

She got to tell a story! She is so happy!

I think he’s a little scared

Moleskin

Yeah peace huh

This series is socially sanctioned silliness

1000 Eugenides. Wow.

They did melt though

Little thief.

<3 <3 <3

He’s a character in a story

A big question

Tamarisk? Takima? (We are not getting all the answers.)

That’s it! Thank you for reading - it feels very self-indulgent to type up all of these, but I will honestly take most chances to relive the intense and wonderful experience of reading this book for the first time, which often means looking back at my own notes and sometimes means sharing them with people. Also, I really love reading liveblogs/real-time book thoughts, so here is one from awhile ago ... all at once.

Anyway, check out this word cloud from all of the notes (made with this site):

It’s ... mostly just character names, with a variety of words that express my enthusiasm and feeling (love, lol, wow, yes, excuse me...). Gen is the biggest because I said his name 115 times! Here are some totals for the other characters who came up a lot:

115 - Gen (and 10 Eugenides)

42 - Pheris

26 - Costis

18 - Irene (and 6 Attolia)

16 - Helen (and 8 Eddis)

10 - Sophos (and 4 Sounis)

12 - the magus

11- Kamet

11 - Teleus

10 - Relius

9 - Ion

6 - MoW

6 - Moira

5 - Sejanus

These don’t fully represent how much I had to say about them, because I didn’t always refer to people by name or title ... which kind of explains why Costis’s total is ridiculously high compared to how much he is in the book -  I likely have more notes about other characters, but I didn’t need to bring up their names because they were already present in the scenes I was taking notes on (for example, I think I talked about Relius more than Teleus, the magus, or Kamet, but many of those just referred to him as he, because it was obvious to me who I meant). But also I was just looking for Costis! Anyway. My use of names and titles for the monarchs also really illustrates how much this book reshaped the way I think of these characters’ relationship to them, Gen’s and Irene’s especially.

It’s representative of my feelings about this series that I wrote “I love them” about so many combinations of characters. Who, exactly? And how many times? Well...

5 - Gen and Irene

4 - Gen and Helen

2 - Gen and Pheris

1 - Gen, Irene, Helen, and Sophos

1 - Helen and Sophos

1 - Costis and Kamet

1 - unknown combo of Gen, Pheris, and Relius on p.166, I love them all and can’t remember. Kamet’s map was there, too, and I do love Kamet, so maybe he was in there too.

no matter what the numbers say, I love them all endlessly, and I love this book.

be blessed in your endeavors, yes I will take any questions about these notebook screams, etc.

[aurumacadicus]

for the AUs thing. What about a Warlord AU?

This is totally separate from the warlord thing I’ve been working on.

Steve is the warlord because I’m not original. He doesn’t mean to become one. It’s just... when someone comes and tries to take over his village, he has to fight them off. And when they come back, he has to fight them off again. And of course he doesn’t want them to come back a third time, so he leads an army to crush the threat. And, well, the threats had friends. So he had to fight them too. It’s not something he set out to do, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy battle, the adrenaline of the fight and the pride of victory. He likes to think that one day he’ll be able to settle down, but even he isn’t sure he’ll be able to, if he even lives long enough to.

Tony is a simple farmer. Sure, once upon a time he’d been a prince, but that had been when he was a baby. The kingdom had fallen and he’d been secreted away by the servants before he could even remember it. Admitting he was the missing prince would have been a death sentence, and when the people he had thought were his parents had revealed his true identity, he hadn’t felt any desire to try and take back his kingdom. He had been raised a commoner. He has no desire to expose himself to danger for something he neither understands nor wants. Besides, the Warlord Rogers has always been kinder to serfs than royalty whenever he attacks.

Steve and his army eventually roll through the Stane kingdom to take down Obadiah. Most of the towns they pass through are happy to hear it and offer them food and blankets for their travel. Steve’s eyes linger on a farmer joking with some of the younger soldiers as he walks alongside them. Somehow he looks familiar, but he can’t say why. He’s got nice legs. Maybe he’s seen those legs somewhere before and had just never lifted his gaze high enough to see his face.

They settle on the edge of town before they advance toward the capital the next day. The townsfolk are very gracious, bring them more food, some extra weapons they have lying around that they might use. Steve gets the feeling it would only be a matter of time before Stane was overthrown, so it might as well be him. Then he notices the farmer looking up at him from under his lashes, and, well, he might die in this battle. It would be foolish not to enjoy himself while he can. So he takes Tony’s hand, and introduces himself, and they share a night together before Steve and his army continue traveling again. It’s very fun sex, especially when Tony scowls at him once he realizes he’s the leader of the army and says, “Steve isn’t a very intimidating name.” Steve kisses the scowl from his face, and Tony soon forgets his offense.

They defeat Stane’s army and take the capital. They go through the castle looking for valuables or small things to take for souvenirs when they come across a room filled with portraits. Stane’s is front and center, but the portrait behind him... he’s seen that face before. “Who is this?” he asks one of the former servants who had surrendered after Stane’s death. She blinks at him slowly. “Why, it’s Howard Stark, the king that Obadiah Stane deposed. He and his wife were executed and Stane took the throne. As I recall, his wife came from a smaller kingdom, so they couldn’t rise up in revolt without risking being wiped out.” Steve feels the blood draining from his face. He knows why Tony had looked so familiar now, a portrait of a queen in a small castle on the other side of the continent with kind eyes and a mischievous smile. The same eyes and smile set into a sharply-angled face with dark hair just like Howard Stark’s.