#peasant uprising

[yarrayora]

me on my own blog: of course people want to read nuanced and interesting storyline about court intrigue why else would they be reading comics about nobility

me reading comments on webtoon: oh

[illustratus]

The Jacquerie (1358) by Henri Grobet

[francy-sketches]

Where are you from and are you really feudalist? :)

Yeah I'm a 14th century english lord I love feudalism it makes peasants die

[atopvisenyashill]

What Rhaella and Aerys were genderbent? Cause it seems unlikely that a male Rhaella would ever be friends with Tywin Lannister or make him his hand while female Aerys probably wouldn't be friends with Joanna or the Princess of Dorne. And I doubt Rhaella was at all obsessed with blood purity like Aerys was so Steffon and Cassana likely live, and a male Rhaella would most likely be a much more benevolent king than Aerys was and would not tolerate Rhaegar treating Elia so poorly and would be furious with the whole Lyanna thing.

okay huge caveat here that i am an angry working class anarchist at my core. but the thing you gotta understand is that

the prophecy still exists that the heir comes from aerys and rhaella's line

even second born, a male rhaella lives a wildly different and INFINITELY more privileged life than normal rhaella

a female aerys is not gonna be allowed to do the shit male aerys does

Female Aerys would absolutely still be friends with Joanna - yeah yeah Joanna was considered the ~love in Tywin, but Tywin is simply not gonna fall in love with a woman with no backbone, look at his own daughter and his sister for examples. Joanna was likely just as full of herself and probably still plenty cruel as a woman was possibly allowed to be. Loreza/Princess of Dorne might be a stretch due to Aerys' racism but a) we don't know why Loreza became lady to the Queen and b) Aerys was smart enough to realize that Dorne was politically useful even if he was racist about it, that's why Elia married Rhaegar (or one of the reasons anyway). Not a stretch to say girl Aerys has them both as ladies, which puts Elia and Tywin in boy Rhaella's circles. MAYBE however, you switch out Loreza for a Celtigar or a Tarth lady since they also have Valyrian blood.

But barring all that - even with a slightly more even temper and a less extreme reaction to Duskendale, a male Rhaella is born believing he is practically a god amongst men, that a prophecied hero will be born from his line, and that he is entitled to and owed his sister's body. That will do a number on ANYONE especially if he's being pushed by his much more paranoid sister into doing stupid shit. I think a male Rhaella is likely to be a very middling type ruler on par with like, the Viserys' or Jaehaerys II. Not bad, not good, just kinda there. And since even our great Aegon the Unlikely couldn't keep his brats in line, it seems unlikely Rhaella will keep Rhaegar in line. If BOTH of them are obsessed with the prophecy? Bad news. Even if Rhaella disapproves of Rhaegar kidnapping the daughter of a Lord Paramount, she is NOT about to declare the crown prince a traitor. Look at the way Viserys II dealt with Aegon IV literally attempting to rape Naerys to death.

I'm not saying Rhaella is a bad person, but Rhaella is very much informed by her suffering, her gender, and her circumstances. Ultimately, Rhaella decides to crown Viserys in lieu of brokering a deal with the Rebels. So ultimately, a Rhaella without a history of being abused on the basis of her gender is likely to act like any other monarch would when faced with a Rebellion no matter how valid - crush it! She's not gonna burn Rickard and Brandon alive, but when faced with the decision of choosing between her lords or her heir and the very sanctity of the crown to be able to do what it wants, she's gonna choose the crown. The rebellion is probably less of a violent conflict under her, but my money is on a lot of unrest - and no way in FUCK are Robert, Brandon, and Rickard gonna follow Rhaegar after he made off with and forcibly impregnated Lyanna. I truly don't think the Rebellion can be avoided; put off for a while maybe, turned into a less violent conflict. But ultimately the Lords - and even some of the smallfolk! - are sick of the Targaryens and their weird ass ways. Aegon IV and Daeron II actively tried to make things better and several wars started over this. That's just how monarchies are - eventually, those bitches get their heads chopped off and its a miracle it doesn't happen sooner.

[youknowsureyya]

The great cat massacre is the most gen-z humor experience ever. I can see the peasants making a tiktok during the trial.

[potatoesandsunshine]

da:i hates sera so much and for what

[romanceyourdemons]

the imperial chinese examinations are a godsend for enjoyers of pathetic historical men such as myself. they gave rise to so many types of guy, such as: guy who failed the examinations like forty times and despondently wrote one of the great works of chinese literature between failures; guy who failed like ten times and decided “you know what? this is bullshit. this all has to go” and started a brutal peasant uprising; guy who just barely passed and was suddenly thrown into a very high military position, which he has ABSOLUTELY no training for; and guy who failed several times, faked a degree, got hired by harvard to teach chinese, had his fake degree discovered after he got to boston, begged harvard to let him teach because otherwise it would be really embarrassing for them all, taught like seven students, and died of pneumonia

[sailorsleepymoon]

Just finished the shadows between us and it truly is one of my favorite books of all time. Maybe it isn’t the most well written book to ever exist, but I don’t give a fuck!!! It serves cunt!!!

[opencommunion]

recommended resources on Lebanese resistance and its context

this has been in my drafts for a long time bc I wanted to find more audio resources but in light of recent events I'm posting as is, and will add more later. pdfs for texts without links can be found on libgen ⭐ = start with these 📺 = video resource 🎧 = audio resource Hizballah ⭐ Lara Deeb, "Hizballah and Its Civilian Constituencies," in The War on Lebanon: A Reader, eds. Nubar Hovsepian and Rashid Khalidi (2007)

⭐🎧 Electronic Intifada Podcast with Rania Khalek, "Why Hizballah would deal Israel a deadly blow" (2024)

⭐🎧 Electronic Intifada Podcast with Amal Saad, "How Hizballah Aims to Deter Israel" (2024)

📺 Rania Khalek, Interview with Hezbollah's Second-in-Command Sheikh Naim Qassem (2023)

🎧 Rania Khalek and Julia Kassem, "The Hybrid War on Lebanon is All About Weakening Hezbollah" (2022)

Hassan Nasrallah, "Voice of Hezbollah: The Statements of Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah," ed. Nicholas Noe (2007)

Judith Harik, "Hizballah's Public and Social Services and Iran," in Distant Relations: Iran and Lebanon in the last 500 years (2006) Sarah Marusek, Faith and Resistance: The Politics of Love and War in Lebanon (2018)

Abed T. Kanaaneh, Understanding Hezbollah: The Hegemony of Resistance (2021)

Karim Makdisi, "The Oct. 8 War: Lebanon's Southern Front" (2024) Political theory ⭐ Ussama Makdisi, "Understanding Sectarianism," in The War on Lebanon: A Reader, eds. Nubar Hovsepian and Rashid Khalidi (2007)

⭐ Rula Juri Abisaab and Malek Abisaab, The Shi'ites of Lebanon: Modernism, Communism, and Hizbullah's Islamists (2014)

Ilham Khuri-Makdisi, The Eastern Mediterranean and the Making of Global Radicalism, 1860-1914 (2010) Tareq Y. Ismael and Jacqueline S. Ismael, The Communist Movement in Syria and Lebanon (1998) 2006 war ⭐ Gilbert Achcar and Michel Warschawski, The 33-Day War: Israel's War on Hezbollah in Lebanon and Its Consequences (2007)

The Electronic Intifada with Dahr Jamail, "The world just sat by" (2006)

The Electronic Intifada with Bilal El-Amine, "Lebanon in Context" (2006) The War on Lebanon: A Reader, eds. Nubar Hovsepian and Rashid Khalidi (2007)

Civil war and 1982 invasion ⭐📺 Up to the South, dir. Jayce Salloum and Walid Ra'ad (1993)

⭐📺 Wild Flowers: Women of South Lebanon, dir. Mai Masri and Jean Khalil Chamoun (1987)

⭐ Souha Bechara, Resistance: My Life for Lebanon (2003)

Jean Said Makdisi, Beirut Fragments: A War Memoir (1990)

Bayan Nuwayhed al-Hout, Sabra and Shatila, September 1982 (2004) Ottoman era Charles Al-Hayek, "How, then, did you try to rebel?"

Lebanon Unsettled, "Lebanon's Popular Uprisings"

Axel Havemann, "The Impact of Peasant Resistance on Nineteenth Century Mount Lebanon," in Peasants and Politics in the Modern Middle East (1991) Ussama Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism: Community, History, and Violence in Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Lebanon (2000)

Peter Hill, "How Global was the Age of Revolutions? The Case of Mount Lebanon, 1821" (2020) Mark Farha, "From Anti-imperial Dissent to National Consent: the First World War and the Formation of a Trans-sectarian National Consciousness in Lebanon" (2015) French mandate era ⭐ Kais Firro, Inventing Lebanon: Nationalism and the State Under the Mandate (2002) Sana Tannoury-Karam, "Founding the Lebanese Left: From Colonial Rule to Independence" (2021) Idir Ouahes, Syria and Lebanon Under the French Mandate: Cultural Imperialism and the Workings of Empire (2018)

Malek Abisaab, Militant Women of a Fragile Nation (2009) Misc ⭐📺 Leila and the Wolves, dir. Heiny Srour and Sabah Jabbour (1984)

⭐ Fawwaz Traboulsi, A History of Modern Lebanon (2007)

Karim Makdisi, "Lebanon's October 2019 Uprising" (2021)

[its-not-a-pen]

first day as a small-town sherif and you discover that some of the convicts you're transporting managed to escape in the night and since the penalty for letting prisoners escape is death, and the penalty for being late because you were looking for escaped prisoners is also death, you decide to free ALL of them and go hide out in the wilderness for a bit, except the convicts are super grateful so they make you their leader and it turns out they're decent guys who were exploited by a tyrannical government, so long story short you're crowd-sourcing for a peasant uprising and would anyone like to chip in?

3650th day and due to a series of unforeseen events you are now the emperor and founder of the han dynasty.

[vantage-point-india]

Peasants and Tribal Movement Part 1

The Sannyasi and Faqir Rebellion was a series of armed struggles against British rule in India. The rebellion lasted for four decades, from the late 18th century to the early 19th century, and involved people from various backgrounds, including holy men, religious kings and nobles, and common villagers and city dwellers. The rebellion was sparked by the British East India Company's attempts to restrict the movements of religious mendicants and collect taxes from them. The rebels, who were often referred to as Sannyasis and Faqirs, were able to gain support from local rulers and common people, and were able to carry out a number of attacks on British targets. Although the rebellion was ultimately unsuccessful in overthrowing British rule, it is considered to be an important precursor to the Indian independence movement.

[cathkaesque]

When it comes to understanding migration, this needs to be taken into account: if you are in a rural area in the global south, like Honduras, you have basically no access to social services, medicine, and education. In fact, the funding for those services is actually being cut, as the social security funds have been looted by corrupt politicans appointed by a military coup. Then you have to factor in that you likely have no access to the land, and no access to credit to buy seeds, and have to sell yourself for basically pennies to an agroindustrial giant. The peasants feed the local people; the agroindustries feed the Americans. In Guatamala, there is a neo-corporate fuedalism where you are allowed a patch of land if you are willing to work, unpaid, for coffee plantations which sell their produce to the German company Ritz. If you attempt to settle unoccupied land, a local businessman will claim it is his without any proof, and the police will take his side because the Agrarian Reform Institute, which issues land titles, is controlled by coupists whose main concern is squeezing as much wealth out of the country as possible. Thugs will murder a man and his wife in broad daylight, and the judge will respond by evicting you and your family from the land.

There is nowhere else for you to go but Tegucigalpa, where you can work trying to wash car windows or selling snacks to passing cars for a handful of lempira a day. Or perhaps you could work for a few dollars a day in one of the maquila factories making textiles for the American and European market, which are set up in special economic zones called Charter Cities where the constitution and labour laws do not apply, which can close down and spirit away whenever they like to another country when they are more willing to sell their people for even less. And then you have to factor in the hurricanes that sweep through the country, destroying everything, that the rains no longer come when they used to but when they do they come in flooding torrents. Much of the north of Honduras is currently underwater; most of the banana and coffee plantations have been destroyed.

And then you factor in when you tried to change this via electing a better government in 2006, he was overthrown in 2009; when you tried to get organised and resist the coup, your friends, your loved ones, your trade union leaders and peasant resisters all turned up mysteriously dead while the military and police worked with drug gangs disguised as agribusiness like the Dinant coproration to burn down villages that opposed them. For trying to change things in the way that you were supposed to, through non violently protesting, organising, and voting for something better, you were subjected to a decade of counterrevolutionary terror and violence that the “international community” not only ignored but gave its active approval to. All of the factors listed above have not only been ongoing for the last 10 years, they’ve been intensified, hothoused by the global counterrevolutionary terror that was the response to the 2011 wave of post-financial crisis uprisings and revolutions and accelerating climate apocalypse.

And at the same time, all of this is being done so more of the country can be turned into a massive cash cow for the benefit of foreign corporations and domestic oligarchs. The wealth of your country is siphoned off and flows around the American and European financial system, benefiting them and building a consumer disneyland that looks like paradise compared to your situation. That could, even if you are worked for nothing, give you a few dollars to send home that could build your abuela in the countryside a nice home for her to live out her days. What other option is left for you and your family other than joining the exodus of people heading north, to the countries where the wealth and profits and rewards of your homeland’s suffering are being kept. And after you cross mountains and rivers which freeze you to death and sweep you away, you are faced with a massive border wall of ahte and soldiers on horses which hit you with sticks. You are faced with an immigration detention centre that will chain you to your bed while you give birth and separate you from your baby who will be given away for adoption to a white couple. When you make a charge against the border fence in Melilla, fed up with being kept in shacks with nothing while the Northerners debate what to do about the problem people their greed has forced to move, the Moroccan police will beat 35 of you to death.

And then when you get there to that golden paradise, you end up doing work not dissimilar to the work you were doing back home, working for pennies (though pennies that are valuable enough back home to buy the family that remain the tiniest slice of comfort) for an agroindustrial giant that supplies supermarkets with cheap produce picked by cheaper people. While you work in the fields, a crop duster plane will spray you with paraquat; when support organisations try to raise this with OSHA they will ask for the plane’s number, and when this can’t be provided they will say nothing can be done. In fact, inspectors are ordered to stay away from the plantations on the Texas border. A member of the Border Agricultural Workers Project says she hasn’t seen a normal child born on the border in 20 years, such is the effect of agrichemicals. If you fuck up in the slightest, have any interaction with the state, you will be deported and sent back to square one. There are a 14 million migrants in the US in the same precarious state, effectively without any way of enforcing their rights. My aunt is a Mexican migrant in California. Her son was deported because he got a speeding ticket. It was 15 years before she saw him again, other than through the bars of the border fence, when she finally got her green card.

The situation in Honduras can be repeated for almost any other country. Syria, Venezuela, Iraq, South Sudan, Libya, all the headline countries are countries that have been subjected to a severe counterrevolutionary terror. The processes of dispossession and destruction of peasant economies and communities (primitive accumulation to use the Marxist jargon) have been hothoused over the last decade by war and violence. I just wish that relatively comfortable people in the imperialist countries realised that the “migrant crisis” is the result of policies that their governments forced on others. Violence that their elites made their fortunes off. What a monstrous, barbarous way of life we have.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your royal husband decided to have some fun under the layers of your skirts. Essentially, your duty is to cockwarm him during the court meetings. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, cockwarming, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 2851 AO3

The emperor has no shame.

He is getting himself a wife – a pretty one, a perfect one. You’re a princess from a kingdom lowly enough to never fight him, but also from a big enough that the marriage would be somewhat fine in the eyes of his advisors. Not like he cared, of course – not like he didn’t destroy your kingdom anyway, killing your alleged parents and the real princess in hiding. You knew that if he wanted to, he’d pick up a peasant rat from the street and proclaim her his prettiest courtesan.

You just happen to be more unlucky than a peasant rat. 

But, oh, he has no shame indeed. 

König hates his court – there is no surprise here. The only people he appreciates are the ones he hired himself – peasants just like him, brought from rags to riches, earning their worth in gold through undying loyalty. Fierce soldiers and cold generals – no place for aristocrats whose only prospects are the names of their families. König doesn’t care for the rich women in his harem – the same women who took turns adoring you as their newest addition, pretty little princess who will finally pay them some well-deserved attention. König doesn’t care for the opinion of his court, the old men who only here because the emperor knows there is some dignity in the old age, and their family’s money can go to fuel the empire’s prospects. 

You’re spread open – but concealed with skirts, a small mercy of your husband who couldn’t say less about saving your dignity. You whisper into his ear, a hiss mixed with a concealed moan – the advisors are too busy with chatter and idle quarrels about the next taxation over your land to see what their royal family is doing. If anyone noticed your ragged breath or König’s small movements, they knew better than to say anything. 

Maybe, this is why he didn’t care to stop the court ruling over some minuscule issue – taxes over your fallen kingdom, the way to make him richer while his opponents would fail, possible coup, and a few magic uprisings on the borders. These were all minimal threats to his throne – the same throne you were spreading your legs on. Your dignity as a fair maiden only saved by the heavy skirts that cover your lower areas. Your dignity as royalty is only saved by your pursed lips and complete silence in which König, the glorious ruler of the greatest empire on this continent, is using your warm cunt as a way to pass the boring court time.

You can feel everything – every throbbing vein of his manhood pulsating and twitching inside of you. Grazing your walls with its royal length, you only have as many opportunities to grunt and switch positions before his advisors start to become suspicious. You knew he wouldn’t care about them thinking of his as some impure creature made of lust – but you also hoped to have at least some social lubricant as a newly appointed queen. With your title being as pointless as the church’s charity work, you’d have to fight tooth and nail to get loved by your people.

With König keeping you confined in the castle walls and his harem maidens making sure you’re coming enough times per day to never walk without support, there aren’t a lot of ways for you to gain the love of your people.

A royal advisor – small, old man – is looking at you.

You smile.

König pushes his hips upwards, forcing a tight scowl on your face. The advisor turns away. 

— Y…you have to stop before they notice. 

He smirks, the emotion hidden by his mask. You’re adorable – pretty, naive, so unconcerned with the empire’s problems that he is surprised you weren’t the one to try to mount him in the first place. He thought that eager young princesses should be driven crazy by lust, wanting to get on whoever’s manhood is big enough, too secluded by their parents to care about dignity…yet there you were, behaving like a perfect empress. Lips pursed and tongue-tied. 

Too bad he wanted to make you scream. 

— You don’t sound begging enough, your Highness. In this room, I only accept pleads. 

His awkwardness washes away as your cunt squeezes him even more, the perverted power play is definitely doing something to your nether regions. He didn’t want to move at first – too satisfied with simply having your warm body here to satisfy his cock but now he can’t help but jolt his hips upwards once in a while, making you squeal and spread even more wetness. He is addicted to the feeling of your body around his – by god, you truly are irresistible. The man who never once touched a woman from his harem filled with aristocrats and richest daughters on the continent is now going mad for a girl whose only prospects are pretending to be a princess. 

Emperor feels like a rabid dog that was thrown a bone. A yearning boy who just saw a glimpse at the naked female form and resructured his whole life around it. A monster whose only goal in life is to snatch any pretty thing he sees. 

He rocks you on his hips, steady hands on your waist. No one suspects anything, but you still grip his hands, still hiss and plead. If you’re only willing to touch him to make him stop…well, then he simply wouldn’t stop. 

— Please, stop…doing this? 

— Doing what?

He stops, however – some of the old men in the court are looking at the two of you, interested to hear whatever you were speaking about. König is glad he switched to your language. König is glad he learned this language before he abducted you – having his recious princess attached to his hip and being the only one she can communicate with is…endearing. Enticing. Just a little bit precious.

— You’re distracting me. 

— Please, my lord…just wait till the end of the meeting. I beg of you. 

— You were doing something important?

You sigh, biting your lips. Trying so hard not to lash out at him, he finds you amusing. Adorable. So precious, he doesn’t know what to do with a pretty thing like you. Perhaps, there is a point in allowing you to rest…as long as you’re behaving, of course. As long as he can trust himself around you. 

He smiles, fighting the urge to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet aroma. It would mean he’d have to take off his mask and, while he adores you, he can’t quite do that in the presence of duying memorables in his court. Only his most trusted men are allowed to see behind his mask – and of course, the privilege of seeing the emperor being so nice to his wife is something that has to be earned too. As much as he would love to strip you naked and proclaim his love to every single inch of your beautiful form, it would mean sharing the view with the others – and oh, the emperor is too possessive for that. 

Maybe he could order a painting later…after you’re already with an heir, of course. The empire is waiting for him to keep up appearances. Everything for the sake of an heir. Not simply because he fell in love with a peasant girl who is far too perfect to be a maid to some spoiled brat. 

— Very well, Meine Liebe. Since you’re being so kind to your husband.

Husband, husband, husband.

König can’t help but grin. The proclamation of his status feel awkward against your skin, and the old fear and anxieties of his position are catching back to him – but he’d be cursed if he didn’t enjoy the way you’re looking at him while he is saying that. The way your breath would bitch and head spread across your body. There is something about making you embarrassed that he adores – maybe it’s your expressions. You’re a sheltered girl ,after all. Untouched and pure – or was like this before he met you, of course.

The old men are staring at you outright now, their expressions unreadable. König can assume they know what’s going on – an arrogant emperor is feeling too bored with the meeting and decided to use his pretty young wife to entertain himself…and there was this reason, of course. But more than anything else, König wanted to proclaim his undying love. Nothing in this kingdom would make him leave you – not even his duties as an emperor. A cursed being like him doesn’t deserve love but, luckily, you’re not the one to make that choice.

Your pussy is soaked, inviting any action – but he is stopped fully now, taking some documents into his hands as the meeting is dismissed, the advisors are scattering around like rats around his throne. He thinks about ordering a throne for you – something small and elegant, standing so much smaller than his own, no one would ever mix you up as being a politically important person – someone worth killing, that is.

König would order you your own throne, but that would mean you’d stop sitting on his lap so nicely every day he is having meetings with his servants and advisors. It would mean he couldn’t slip his manhood past your lower lips, spread you on his cock, and slowly rock you on his hips before finally filling you up with his semen. You can feel it dripping down your legs, soaking into the fabric of your undergarments and skirts – yet another dress ruined. 

You’re lucky König is civil enough not to simply rip it from your body, finally revealing your chest to his hungry hands and tongue. Oh, how much he would love to enjoy your body while the others can’t do anything but shiver in their pathetic disgust and jealousy. The prettiest woman in the country is his – and if someone would ever try to question if you’re beautiful enough, he will kill them himself.

Once the last advisor gets out of the room, you sigh with relief, your pussy clenching on his cock and painting it with slick. You are getting on your last shreds of patience here – your husband is not a small man, his manhood is enough to make you feel sore after just being in halfway, but the position you’re in made it possible for him to bottom in your precious, fragile body…you can already feel the bump growing in your belly – perhaps with heir, perhaps just with the emperor’s semen, the man who treats you like you’re simply a toy for his pleasure.

— You’re embarrassing me, Your Highness.

You sigh, biting your lips as you stop struggling with your moans. The pleasure ripping from inside of your body was replaced with soft contention – the soft motions of his hips going back and forth, rocking you on his cock as you’d murmur to him softly. He takes one hand to unwrap you from your corset – like presenting himself with a beautiful gift, a precious little pastry stuck in fabric and ribbons. 

— Still, I’m their empress. You shouldn’t…it’s inappropriate. 

You sigh with relief as you’re finally allowed to breathe fully – and you rest your head on his chest, almost ready to fall asleep. He works on documents for a bit more – his cock resting calmly in your folds, fixing his seed in place. You couldn’t care less about the staining, knowing full well that you’d just ask the maids to burn whatever dress was ruined this time. Understanding fully that he would simply buy you new ones – and with warm weather finally approaching, you hope for lighter sets.

— I doubt these relics noticed what we were doing. 

— You’re their empress, ja. And I was just showing them that we’re trying for an heir. The public could get anxious otherwise. 

You laugh dryly. He never failed to remind you of your true place. 

— I should probably visit the doctor then. To know for sure. 

— I don’t want others touching you without a reason. 

— Is an heir not a reason? 

— I don’t need one. 

You laugh again, looking at him with that hateful glint he already got used to. You almost stopped looking at him like that – only reserved for the especially heated moments. Your hatred for him had almost died out, replaced with soft, quiet acceptance. Never being able to run away or kill yourself, you can finally say that there is no way out - and that you can start accepting your role as the glorious empress. A glorified breeding mare. Toy made to be used by König – and the one that he cherishes most. 

— Why then…

— Peasants want a brat on your hip, to know that the nation would thrive. No one cares that I do not intend to die at all. 

He brings a couple of grapes to your mouth, plunging them into your soft lips as you’re trying to shake your head, not having energy to eat anything in your current state. You feel like a decadent pet, getting on his lap and enjoying the attention – but, of course, the attention wasn’t something you sought out. You’d do anything for him to simply stop – but sooner the earth got blown off than König letting you go while you’re looking oh so sweet and delicate, half-naked on his lap. Just like a perfect princess should – and even though your title didn’t mean anything to anyone, you still wanted for at least someone to treat you with respect. Well…looks like this someone would have to be you. 

You open your mouth as he proceeds to feed you – it’s easier to just give in to his whims. You might not like him as much as he wished to, but you know you can tolerate him. Maybe even like him – given the time, of course. And you didn’t have much of it, unfortunately.

— You think I might be with child? 

— I can just stay in the bedroom the whole time. I don’t want public visits. 

König grasps your hip, massaging the soft flesh. He has to break you out of heavy skirts for him to do that – the empire’s fashion changing rapidly as the new empress doesn’t really like killing whales for her skirts. It was an in-door dress, of course, something gentle and flowy – but still, without bone protection and ten skirt layers, you almost feel naked. Without tons of fabric between you and him, you feel trapped – suffocating, even. Gods, this is almost pathetic.

— I’d have to order you new dresses. 

— They don’t even know my name. 

You pout just like a spoiled little princess – and König laughs, feeding you another grape. It doesn’t look like he is so busy with work right now - if anything, he almost looks like stalling, buying his time with the documents while he can enjoy you in an almost not disturbed state. Even though you hate the feeling of dried cum on your thighs, you’re still not quite sure whether you want to call for maids so they could help you with bathing. Somehow, sitting on the emperor’s lap, you almost feel content. Completed. The feeling you only got when you were with the princess…but oh well, looks like you do enjoy serving the loyalty. On your hands and knees, on your back, on your tummy…

— Public needs to see their empress. 

— They might learn in the future. 

— You can’t make me into a princess. I’m not…royal enough. 

You scoff, nuzzling your head against his chest. You can stop resisting him, if only for a second. Trying your best not to sound like you really are angry at him – because you aren’t, not anymore.

You close your eyes, licking your lips. Sighing deeply. 

— You did fool me at first. 

— It wouldn’t work with your advisors. 

— They know better than to argue with me even if they were to suspect something. 

He plays with the meat of your breasts, squeezing and tugging. Smiling smugly as you whine, clearly not wanting him to use you so rudely – but it’s not like you even have a choice on the matter. You learned to enjoy it, some way, somehow. Making it feel like you actually want it – even though you do feel extremely drained. Too drained, to be quite honest. 

But, oh, it was a good day – the best day you could have, probably.

***

In the end, it was the best day you possibly had. 

Mainly because the drink the servant had given you after König finally settled you into the bedroom like you were a cat needing its owner to tuck her in, felt like iron and liquid fire on your tongue.

Mainly because instead of helping you get out of your dress, the servant coldly observed the way you would grasp your throat in a feeble attempt to get the liquid out. 

Mainly because…

Mainly because, as much as König wanted to believe his little captive princess is safe within the castle walls, she is in no way immune to assassinations from the inside. 

Your vision darkens before you can finish.

[aronarchy]

A copy of the first reading list, if you dislike clicking on Google docs links:

The liberal news media is working overtime to silence Palestinian voices. As we sit thousands of miles away, witnessing the massacre through social media, the least we can do is educate ourselves and work to educate others. Apartheid threatens all of us, and just to reiterate, anti-Zionism ≠ antisemitism.

Academic Works, Poetry and Memoirs

The Revolution of 1936-1939 in Palestine: Background, Details, and Analysis, Ghassan Kanafani (1972)

Palestinians: From Peasants to Revolutionaries, Rosemary Sayegh (1979)

Popular Resistance in Palestine: A History of Hope and Empowerment, Mazin Qumsiyeh (2011)

My Life in the PLO: The Inside Story of the Palestinian Struggle, Shafiq al-Hout and Jean Said Makdisi (2019)

My People Shall Live, Leila Khaled (1971)

Poetry of Resistance in Occupied Palestine, translated by Sulafa Hijjawi (Baghdad, Ministry of Culture and Guidance, 1968)

On Palestine by Ilan Pappé and Noam Chomsky (2015)

Gaza in Crisis: Reflections on the US-Israeli War Against the Palestinians, Noam Chomsky and Ilan Pappé (2013)

The Politics of Dispossession: The Struggle for Palestinian Self-Determination, 1969-1994, Edward W. Said (2012)

Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique, Sa’ed Atshan (2020)

Stone Men: The Palestinians Who Built Israel, Andrew Ross (2019)

Ten Myths About Israel, Ilan Pappé (2017)

Blaming the Victims: Spurious Scholarship and the Palestinian Question, Christopher Eric Hitchens and Edward W. Said (2001)

Palestinian Walks: Notes on a Vanishing Landscape, Raja Shehadeh (2010)

The Gun and the Olive Branch: The Roots of Violence in the Middle East, David Hirst (1977)

Gaza: An Inquest into Its Martyrdom, Norman Finkelstein (2018)

Fateful Triangle: The United States, Israel and the Palestinians, Noam Chomsky (1983)

Israel and Palestine: Reappraisals, Revisions, Refutations, Avi Shlaim (2010)

Politicide: Ariel Sharon’s War Against the Palestinians, Baruch Kimmerling (2006)

The Holocaust Industry: Reflections on the Exploitation of Jewish Suffering, Norman G. Finkelstein (2015)

Light in Gaza: Writings Born of Fire, Jehad Abusalim (2022)

Nakba: Palestine, 1948, and the Claims of Memory, Ahmad H. Sa’di and Lila Abu-Lughod (2007)

Peace and its discontents: Essays on Palestine in the Middle East peace process, Edward W. Said (2012)

Three Poems by Yahya Hassan

Articles, Papers & Essays

“Palestinian history doesn’t start with the Nakba” by PYM (May, 2023) 

“What the Uprising Means,” Salim Tamari (1988)

“The Palestinians’ inalienable right to resist,” Louis Allday (2021)

“Liberating a Palestinian Novel from Israeli Prison,” Danya Al-Saleh and Samar Al-Saleh (2023) 

Women, War, and Peace: Reflections from the Intifada, Nahla Abdo (2002)

“A Place Without a Door” and “Uncle Give me a Cigarette”—Two Essays by Palestinian Political Prisoner, Walid Daqqah (2023)

“Live Like a Porcupine, Fight Like a Flea,” A Translation of an Article by Basel Al-Araj

Films & Video Essays

Fedayin: Georges Abdallah’s Fight (2021)

Naila and the Uprising (2017)

Off Frame AKA Revolution Until Victory (2015)

Tell Your Tale Little Bird (1993)

The Time That Remains (2009)

“The Present” (short film) (2020)

“How Palestinians were expelled from their homes”

Louis Theroux: The Ultra Zionists (2011)

Born in Gaza (2014)

5 Broken Cameras (2011)

Little Palestine: Diary of a Siege (2021)

Al-Nakba: The Palestinian catastrophe - Episode 1 | Featured Documentary

Organisations to donate to

Palestine Red Crescent Society - https://www.palestinercs.org/en

Anera - https://support.anera.org/a/palestine-emergency

Palestinian American Medical Association - https://palestinian-ama.networkforgood.com/projects/206145-gaza-medical-supplies-oct-2023

You First Gaza - https://donate.gazayoufirst.org/

MAP - Medical Aid for Palestinians - https://www.map.org.uk/donate/donate

United Nations Relief and Works Agency - https://donate.unrwa.org/-landing-page/en_EN

Palestine Children’s Relief Fund - https://www.pcrf.net/   

Doctors Without Borders - https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/what-we-do/where-we-work/palestine

AP Fact Check

https://apnews.com/article/israel-hamas-gaza-misinformation-fact-check-e58f9ab8696309305c3ea2bfb269258e

This list is not exhaustive in any way, and is a summary of various sources on the Internet. Please engage with more ethical, unbiased sources, including Decolonize Palestine and this list compiled by the Palestinian Youth Movement.

[merwgue]

Why Feyre as High Lady Could Lead to the Night Court's Downfall (Or, How to Ruin a Court in 10 Easy Steps) comming from someone who is planning to study international relations and whos whole family is quite familiar with it:

Look, we all love Feyre. She's fierce, she's brave, and she can paint a mean flower. But let's be real: as High Lady of the Night Court, she's a Fucking diplomatic nightmare. If there were an award for "How to Piss Off Every High Lord and Their Neighboring Courts," she'd win it. Twice. Here's why Feyre's reign might just bring the Night Court crashing down faster than rhys can growl or cum to the image of his child

1. Explosive Temper and Poor Diplomacy Let’s talk about the High Lords meeting in A Court of Wings and Ruin. Remember that? Feyre’s blow-up at Beron wasn’t just a passionate defense—it was a major diplomatic fuck-up. Yes, Beron was being a total asshole, but diplomacy often means biting your tongue and playing the long game. Feyre's outburst could have easily cost them an alliance with the Autumn Court, potentially turning Beron into an outright enemy. With Hybern on the horizon, losing any potential allies could have been catastrophic. Instead of keeping things cool and trying to find common ground, she let her temper flare, risking everything Rhysand had worked for to keep the courts united. Feyre basically threw a damn match onto a pile of political dynamite.

2. Alienating Potential Allies Ah, the Summer Court fiasco. Remember when Feyre decided it was a good idea to steal from Tarquin? Not just any theft, but a "Hey, let's be friends—JK, I’m taking your most powerful magical artifact" kind of theft. Brilliant move. And then she had the nerve to act all shocked when Tarquin was pissed about it. "What do you mean you're mad I stole from you? We're supposed to be allies!" Gee, I wonder why Tarquin wasn’t thrilled about that little betrayal. It's like borrowing your friend's car and returning it on empty, with a dent in the side. And by "borrow," I mean grand theft auto. Feyre, maybe try not to screw over potential allies next time? Just a thought.

3. Emotional Decision-Making Feyre often lets her emotions drive her decisions. While being passionate isn't inherently bad, it becomes a problem when it overrides logic and strategy, especially in the high-stakes world of Prythian politics. The High Lords meeting is one instance, but it happens repeatedly. Her open hostility toward Tamlin, even if understandable on a personal level, didn't help the broader cause. By pushing him further away instead of seeking some form of truce, she risked driving him into Hybern's arms. A High Lady needs to think beyond personal grudges to what’s best for her people and her court, and Feyre struggles with that balance. You can't just say "screw it" and go off on people when the fate of your entire court is on the line.

4. Ignoring the Complexity of the Night Court And let's not forget the Night Court's lovely little secret: Hewn City. You know, that underground hellhole they basically keep under lock and key. Rhysand and Feyre are all "Oh, look at Velaris, it's so pretty and free!" Meanwhile, half their court is rotting in a glorified dungeon. And what's Feyre's big idea for dealing with Hewn City? Oh, right, pretend it doesn't exist. Smart. Because ignoring a potential uprising within your own court is definitely the way to keep things stable. It's like the French Revolution all over again—if the Night Court were France, then Feyre's approach is like Louis XVI ignoring the starving peasants while hosting extravagant parties. Eventually, ignoring the discontent and keeping people oppressed leads to revolution. Treating Hewn City like an inconvenient problem rather than addressing it is a recipe for disaster.

5. Undermining Rhysand’s Diplomacy Rhysand spent centuries mastering diplomacy—playing the long game, keeping everyone in check. And then comes Feyre, storming in like, "Oh, you spent centuries building these delicate alliances? Well, watch me fuck it up in five minutes." She's like that one friend who always says, "Hold my beer," right before doing something incredibly stupid. Rhys is trying to keep the court from crumbling, and Feyre's out there acting like diplomacy means "scream at the enemy until they go away." Newsflash: That’s not how this works. This isn't some street brawl where whoever yells the loudest wins. It's politics. You know, the art of not making enemies out of every living soul around you?

Conclusion Feyre's got the passion, the guts, and the fighting spirit of a warrior. But when it comes to actually leading a court? She’s like a bull in a china shop, if that bull also happened to have a grudge against every piece of porcelain in the room. Being High Lady isn’t about who's right in the heat of the moment; it's about playing the long game, keeping your people safe, and not, you know, burning bridges with every other court. If she keeps going down this path—alienating allies, ignoring the needs of half her own court, and letting emotions drive her decisions—the Night Court is in serious trouble. Feyre needs to understand that diplomacy isn’t about who can throw the best tantrum. It’s about avoiding a revolution and ensuring the stability of your people. Otherwise, the Night Court might fall not because of an external threat, but because its own leader is too busy screwing things up from the inside.

[sanjoongie]

𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖

🏵First Flower chosen for The Language of Flowers event held by @cultofdionysusnet

🏵Prompt Chosen: Zinnia {loyalty}

🏵Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader (f)

🏵Genre: smut, angst

🏵Trope: soulmate, immortal love

🏵Au: Vampire au, sleeping beauty inspired

🏵Rating: 18+, MDNI

🏵Warnings: supernatural strength and speed as per a vampire's powers, mentions of blood, death, war, {Kinks} penetrative sex with no barrier, wet grinding?, over stim, praise kink, Switch! reader, switch! yeonjun

🏵Word Count: 3,163

🏵Beta's: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii

🏵Summary: when you, a vampire master, learned of your lover Yeonjun's death, you fell into a deep sleep rather than mourn the loss. Yeonjun, as it turned out, wasn't dead but was devoted to waiting until you woke up. This is your story~

🏵banner by @cafekitsune

~~~Present time~~~

Yeonjun laid against the glass coffin where you rested, sighing hard enough to fog up the glass for a moment. He traced a heart through the condensation and then laughed at his own corniness. To make matters worse, his situation with you was a bit of a Romeo and Juliet vibe and it almost made him roll his eyes at how horribly cliched it truly was. 

During an uprising of the peasant-human fiefdoms, Yeonjun as your right hand and lover had gone to quell a major rebellion. News had travelled back that Yeonjun had been mortally wounded and ashes had been sent to you in a perfume bottle. When your fiefdoms had been settled and the humans soothed to the point of peace again, you went into a deep slumber, mourning the loss of your love. 

In actuality, Yeonjun had been wounded but simply restrained and unable to return to you. By the time he had arrived at the castle, it had been too late. So he waited loyally by your coffin for you to wake up.

Some vampires slumber for a few hundred years. Living as an immortal can be draining, and so, a deep slumber is necessary to maintain your sanity. But you had gone to sleep with a broken heart. So after centuries had passed, and your anniversary of your slumber bordered on half a millennia, Yeonjun wondered if you were ever going to wake up.

And still, he remained by your side. How could he ever abandon you, after you thought he had died? He visited you every sunset, as soon as he woke up from his daytime slumber, visiting your coffin with flowers and a bright smile. He would tell you of what happened within the kiss recently, keeping you up to date in case you absorbed his words. He never once left the castle or took on another lover. His heart was yours, and as an immortal, that meant until both of your undead hearts were ripped from your chests.

“My love,” Yeonjun sighed for the umpteenth time, gazing upon your slumbering visage. 

Yeonjun's heart ached that you were so close and yet so far away. Did you dream of him in your deep sleep? Is that why you never awoke? Because you could be with him in your dreams if not in your waking hours? 

~~~In the Past~~~

You dreamt of a simpler time with Yeonjun. You had just become a master vampire and Yeonjun, looking to move up in a court, wooed you to his best abilities. You entertained his advances, if only to amuse yourself.

“And where do you see yourself in a century or two?” you wondered, lazily drawing a sharp-nailed hand along his side as the two of you lay in bed.

Yeonjun pushed his lips to the side in thought, his hand buried in his bed head hair. “Truthfully? I crave to be written in our books of history. I want my name to be penned in ink.”

You knew he was a social climber but you didn't know he wanted to make a name for himself in that regard. “Truly?”

Yeonjun nodded. “Why else be immortal if not to be immortalized in history as well?”

You moved to lie on your stomach to focus on the conversation at hand. “How much of our histories have you read?”

Yeonjun smiled, somewhat embarrassed. “A lot. Most of them. There’s a few periods I haven’t been able to get my hands on. The Rose Wars seem to be kept by only the oldest of us.” You raised an eyebrow at him and he had the decency to duck his head and laugh. “Yes, that includes you.”

“There’s a reason the Rose Wars aren’t readily available.” You sighed, drawing a sheet up with you as you made to sit on the side of the bed. 

Yeonjun wrapped his arms around you from behind and absentmindedly bit you on your shoulder. He didn’t break skin but it was almost a worried movement, like a puppy that needed to teeth. “Is that a no?”

You patted his hand in reassurance. “That’s a no for now, my pet,” you informed him.

“Is there something else I could tempt you into saying yes to?” Yeonjun’s voice lilted, teasing and tempting wrapped into one sentence. 

“There’s a few things you could tempt me into saying yes to, Yeonjun,” you mused.

“Ride me? Ride me hard?” Yeonjun practically whispered into your skin. 

You found that you couldn't say no, like you figured. 

Yeonjun had a perfect body to gaze upon while you rode him. Since it was his request to ride him hard, you glided your pussy lips along his length and made him squirt on his stomach for the first round. Insatiable for the faces and noises he made when he came, you were quick to push his cock inside of you, covered in his own cum, enjoying the stretch that came with it. You were bouncing on him in no time, making Yeonjun cry out. 

“So much!” He moaned, blunt nails digging into your thighs and hips, leaving crescent moons in their wake. 

“You can take it, can’t you, my pet?” You purred, pussy pumping his cock for pleasure. 

Yeonjun nodded, tears threatening to spill down his face. Once he worked through the over stim, his hips began to buck up into your ass, seeking pleasure that your cunt was giving. Your body undulated above him in waves, taking it slow. You moved a hand behind you to brace your weight, watching as Yeonjun’s cock dived into your swollen cunt again and again. 

“Such a pretty cock for such a pretty man,” You teased. 

Yeonjun’s fangs delicately dug into his lips. You could see he was attempting to hold back his own pleasure to wait for your own but he was simply too easy to pet and wind up. He watched with wide eyes as you sucked on your middle finger and brought it to your clit. He couldn't handle the way your pussy clenched with the added pleasure and he came inside of you, his second orgasm of the night. 

You tsked loudly, watching the blood he had drunk from the vessel you two had shared climb up his neck and cheeks in a heated blush. “You have some training to do, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun panted, a whine threatening to escape the back of his throat. His cock was still hard inside of you but you were overstimulating him again. You leaned forward to chuck his chin. “Take it, my pet. You won’t have to endure this if you could only hold your own pleasure back.”

Yeonjun’s fists curled into the sheets below him, that previous whine finally growing big enough to pour from his pretty pink lips. His body attempted to shrink away from the pleasure/pain you were giving him but there was no avoiding it when his cock was so deep inside of you. 

“How…can I…hnnnnn…compete against…your experience?” Yeonjun managed to push out. 

You chuckled darkly. “You’re the one that looked to seduce an elder, youngling.”

Yeonjun laughed, and you wondered if you’d push this one past his line of sanity. “If I had known what I was getting into…”

You moved to press your chest against his, lips a mere whisper from touching his. “Would you have stopped yourself?” You wondered.

“No, I would have prepared,” Yeonjun corrected you.

You slanted your lips over his, giving him a messy kiss, careful of his fangs. Yours were carefully tucked away, a trick one learned later in your vampire life. “I prefer to break my toys,” You told him.

Yeonjun locked his arms behind your back, with the new strength a youngling vampire possessed. He was stronger than you, in this moment, and there was nothing you could do to stop him--physically at least. You could have sucked him of all his lifeblood or hypnotized him to slit his own wrists if need be, but you wanted to see what Yeonjun would do. With his new speed, you found yourself on your hands and knees, your face pushed into the sheets where only moments Yeonjun’s back was on. This new angle hit deep inside of you, and you moaned at the sensations it brought as well.

“If--If--” The slapping of Yeonjun’s pelvis to your ass was punctuated by Yeonjun’s hisses at the feeling of his cock inside of you. “If I can hold back this time--If I can make you come--You’ll give me the book I need.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” You laughed, muffling another groan as Yeonjun’s cock was hitting the deep part of you. 

“A chapter,” Yeonjun bargained. 

You laughed again but Yeonjun wasn’t giving up. He grabbed your wrists and crossed them behind your back. Your ass was truly bouncing off his pelvis now. You had to give him this; he was fucking you good. Good enough to keep him around, maybe.

“You think one lousy withheld orgasm is enough to learn restricted texts?” You barked in disbelief.

Yeonjun grasped both your elbows, pulling your lower body upwards, giving all the leverage and control he needed to truly fuck you. You were at a loss of words now. All you could do was moan in pleasure but Yeonjun wasn’t as pussy drunk as he had been before. Had it been an act for you to lower your guard? 

“I’ll fuck you for a hundred years, receive a word for each day, if that meant I could learn.”

The words shock you to your core, and almost sober you. “Who are you?”

“You know my name.” Yeonjun’s smirk could be heard through his voice. “Scream it loudly so the others can hear it.”

~~~Present time~~~

“Are you going to see her again?” Taehyun asked with wide eyes. 

Beomgyu twitched his phone left and right as he played a game on it. “Of course he is. He’s stupid. That hasn’t changed.”

“Beomgyu!” Soobin scolded the younger vampire.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “What? You think so too.”

Soobin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeonjun, look--”

Yeonjun waved his hand at Soobin, half his face pulled into a sneer. “Don’t bother, Soobin.”

“Do you even remember what her voice sounds like?” Kai asked the hard questions.

“We’re together when we sleep, of course I do,” Yeonjun shouted over his shoulder. 

The castle was so old, he had to watch his step. Torches had changed to flickering lights to LED mood lights. The world had changed but Yeonjun’s resolve hadn't. He was going to be there when you woke up. When, being the key word. 

Life was different now. Instead of fiefdoms, vampires owned well-to-do companies. Beomgyu owned half of Silicon Valley. Blood taking was exchanged through Snapchat and Whatsapp. The vampires didn’t fight much over territory anymore but you might see a few get into it at a club, if they had a long-standing feud. The only thing that hadn't changed was Yeonjun’s unwavering loyalty to you. 

~~~In the Past~~~

A hundred years soon passed. Yeonjun was barely through a quarter of the history he had sought after but it almost wasn’t as important as it had been when he first had sought to make himself a part of your life. Now, he was your right hand, the one who ensured your choices and rulings were followed. He easily killed in your name. It wasn’t that he utterly loved you, which was the case, but more so your mind, your justice, was law and word for him. He would follow you into the bowels of hell and back, if only to make sure your feet never felt a spark of heat from the underworld.

“Yeonjun?” 

Your lover was always a step or two behind you no matter where you went. Tonight you were on the rooftops of your castle, viewing the beautiful night sky. The moon was mostly covered with a shadow and that saddened you. You had wished to see her in all of her glory. At least you had the stars.

“My love?” Yeonjun moved to your side, palm sliding along yours until his hand clasped yours.

“There’s a war coming. The air smells of unrest. The humans are a superstitious lot but the world’s been bad to them these few decades. They’ll look to revolt. They usually always do when they think there’s someone to blame.”

Yeonjun slid to lean on one knee, bringing your hand to his lips as he kissed it. “I will eradicate them.”

Your eyes slid to Yeonjun. He wasn’t a youngling anymore but he didn’t have the centuries you had under your belt. He had yet to really read the ebb and flow, despite his years with his nose in a book. He would get there. You had faith. 

Your eyes moved back to the sky. Even the ocean full of lights changed, and it seemed untouched by time. “Just prepare yourself, my pet.”

Yeonjun perked up, and if he had been a dog, his ears would have been pointed forward to you to listen. “Can we play tonight?”

You tossed back your head and laughed. Tears beaded at the corner of your eyes, you were laughing so hard. “You’d think that your libido would have died down a smidgeon.”

Yeonjun slowly but firmly kissed up your arm. “I always crave your body; I am never satiated.”

“I love you,” You murmured.

Yeonjun’s eyes softened, eyes lighting up with adoration of you. “My heart will only stop beating when yours does.”

You scoffed. “Such an outdated way to commit yourself as a vampire. We died a long time ago, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun looked at you with every serious bone in his body. “If there is no you, there is no me. Our bones and muscles are knit together. There is no beginning or end. It is simply you and me.”

“I thought you read history not poetry,” You teased. Still, you exchanged a loving kiss.

“I read whatever I can get my hands on,” Yeonjun argued, lips chasing after yours when you sought to finish the kiss. “Now answer my question.”

You cupped Yeonjun’s soft cock through his leather pants. “Let’s get you some blood first. Then we can play to your heart's content.”

Yeonjun’s fingertips tickled your jaw as he looked to steal more kisses. “I need only your breath against my lips, your heartbeat against mine--oof!” He clutched his stomach where you had hit him. “Okay, enough poetic words, I get it!”

~~~Present Time~~~

Yeonjun found his familiar place by your coffin, folding his arms under his chin so he could stare at your face. These days he swore he could see micro expressions on your face. He was sure he could tell when you were reliving your nightmares instead of dreams. There was the tiniest of frown lines between your eyebrows but no one else could see it when he pointed out. He could also tell when you were living the good times with him. He had studied the curve of your lips for centuries; he fucking knew when they had a sliver of a smile. He often made you do that when you were awake, not looking to validate his corny lines. 

You were waking up soon. He knew it. Once upon a time, you told him that you could anticipate what would happen next. That you had lived so many lives and so many faces that you had accumulated the sense when change was coming. Yeonjun had finally earned that trick after centuries of watching over you. 

“I have so much to show you when you wake up,” Yeonjun sighed softly. “But first, you're going to fuck me until I can't forget what it feels like to be inside of you again.”

“Yeon…jun…?”

Yeonjun threw himself backwards, the raspy voice coming from the glass coffin filled with flowers scaring him. He rubbed his eyes, blinked several times and then crawled back up to where you were lying. Your eyes were pale, indicating you definitely needed some blood, but they were open.

Tears gathered at the corners of Yeonjun’s eyes but he smiled so brightly. “You’re awake.”

Your eyes widened with the recognition that your lover was indeed not dead. You sat up with speed becoming of a vampire, sending the top of the glass coffin straight into the wall adjacent. It shattered with bone-rattling noise, but you only had eyes for Yeonjun. “You’re alive.”

“I have waited for you,” Yeonjun sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “I have been here while you slumbered, guarding your body. Have you dreamt of me, my love? Was I good to you in your dreams?”

You raised your sharp-nailed hand to cup Yeonjun’s face. His tears wetted your hand but you cared not. “How long?”

Yeonjun hiccupped. “I’m almost as old as you were when you began to sleep.”

“Oh, Yeonjun,” You lamented.

“I was here every day. Every year. Every century. I knew you would need to see me, to touch me to believe I was real. I don’t care how long you slept. I just wanted to be here when you woke up.” Yeonjun’s shoulders finally stopped quivering, calming down.

You smiled so tenderly at Yeonjun in that moment, and he swore he might break, like the glass coffin lid you had shattered only moments ago. This moment didn’t feel real but it was all Yeonjun wanted, for this to be real. “You really did mean when you said that it is simply you and me.”

Yeonjun took your hand cupping his face and brought it to his lips to kiss the back of it, just like the last night you shared before you were fooled into thinking he was no more. It made your throat tighten with emotion. “My heart will only stop beating when yours does.”

You surged forward, throwing your arms around Yeonjun’s neck, and kissed him. You kissed him like it had been you waiting five hundred years for HIM to wake up. “I love you,” you gasped. “My heart will only stop beating when yours does.”

Yeonjun lifted you out of your coffin, cradling you in his arms. He carried you into the main chamber of the castle. He had to cross through them to bring you to his bedroom--your shared bedroom.

“Holy shit.” Beomgyu whistled. “She's fucking awake.”

Kai dropped his phone on his face in shock while Soobin smacked the back of Beomgyu’s head. “Have some respect.”

Taehyun teared up but dashed his tears away. “Romance isn’t dead!”

“Wait…Yeonjun! Where are you going?” Soobin called out.

You chuckled under your breath. “Did you say I was going to fuck you until you can't forget what it feels like to be inside of me again?”

Yeonjun hefted you in his arms so he could bury his face into your neck. “I know you just came from a coffin but I don't think you will be leaving the bed for a few days.”