#when the king says ''no relation.'' he means no BLOOD relation. they are not the same person.

[7-oh-ta1]

I'm not reblogging the post because I don't want to ruin everybody's fun but I saw a post earlier that said ww!link ended demise's curse in that timeline by killing ganondorf. I just want to say that isn't what happened. Villains like Vaati are also incarnations of Demise's malice. Defeating one, another will always come (or sometimes two at a time LMAO). He ended Ganondorf's life, but he certainly didn't break the curse. That blood soaked sea is still going in for eternity babeyyyyy!!!!!

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride ! Something Merlin ? Thanks !

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

Merlin walks in to see Arthur arguing with a dark haired, pale woman and he's pretty sure being alone with a girl in his bedroom is breaking some sort of rule of propriety. Although, he is a noble, and supposedly they do that a lot.

"Merlin!" Arthur says, before he can do something smart like backing away slowly. "Tell Morgana she's an idiot."

Ah. He hopes neither of them notice the blood draining from his face.

This is the apprentice that he's been trying so hard to avoid. How well can she sense magic? Does she already know what he is? Is it too late?

"I'm not an idiot, you're an idiot," she says sharply. "Overhauling a border town like that when you know it will incite King Uther-"

"Yes, a border town, meaning it's in our kingdom and not his," Arthur argues. "My father is lord here and if I want to invest in peasants and depleted soil that's my own concern."

"Are you talking about Ealdor?" he asks, the concern enough to push through his fear. "What do you mean incite?"

Morgana says, "It means to anger or enrage-"

"He knows what it means," Arthur interrupts. "Look, we already have poor family relations as it is, considering what happened with my aunt and cousin. Uther has gone to considerable effort to ignore us and some tilling isn't going to change that. And if it does, I'm certainly not going to arm the peasants!"

Merlin really, really wishes he'd been here for the beginning of this fight.

"You'll what?" she sneers. "Lead your knights there to defend them?"

Arthur's eyebrows go to his forehead and he spreads his hands. "Yes? Obviously? I've commanded before."

She's taken aback. "They're just peasants," she says, but cautiously, eyes sharp.

"You forgot an important word there," Arthur says. "They're my peasants. If Uther, or anyone, wants to mess with Ealdor, they're going to have to go through me first."

Oh.

It's just another version of noble greed, Merlin tells himself sternly, but that doesn't stop his eyes from burning.

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it. 

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience. 

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki. 

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough. 

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing. 

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world. 

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention. 

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?” 

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.” 

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.” 

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists. 

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight. 

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s  looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume. 

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns. 

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,” 

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body  out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.  

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.” 

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his. 

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.” 

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake. 

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.” 

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream. 

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery. 

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%.  but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t���“ 

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side. 

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely. 

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his  perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.” 

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you. 

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast. 

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good. 

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him. 

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.” 

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance. 

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing. 

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself. 

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?” 

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner. 

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars. 

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open. 

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.  

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.” 

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls  his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.” 

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief. 

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit. 

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears. 

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?” 

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.” 

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used. 

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by. 

including none other than shouto todoroki. 

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole. 

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there. 

“bakugou what are you—?” 

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?” 

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust.  “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.” 

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you. 

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too. 

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.” 

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated  kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever. 

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you. 

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks. 

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre. 

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly. 

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body. 

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high. 

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.  

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back. 

he collapses next to shouto after that. 

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.” 

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?” 

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately. 

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath. 

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight. 

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this. 

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.” 

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl. 

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[tokiyumejo]

Demons only care about player's body, or relation to Solomon ?

It's easy to understand craving for fluff in porn game, until you imply game doesn't have fluff at all and go "characters only care about player's body / relation to powerful ancestor".

Easy to tell several people didn't read nor main story, nor card stories, nor Hell-o-Talk chats if they really believe demons only need sex from us or care for Solomon's blood only.

warning: card story spoilers

2 of kings already said how not only they don't see Solomon in us and mc's lewdness isn't the main reason kings like them.

But let's take a look at nobles in particular.

"They only see Solomon in us"

Would Leraye ask for our name and say this if the only thing he cares about is Solomon blood in us..?

Ignoring Satan, Mammon, Leraye and other demons trying to tell us we aren't Solomon for them is something.

Even Sitri who is the special case does call us by our name in the end of his H scene. Might mean even he realizes we aren't our ancestor, no ?

" They only care about our bodies, I don't see any reasons for demons to like mc other than this, Solomon's blood and humans being rare in Hell. "

From Beelzebub Butt card's prologue:

(friend's screenshots)

If demons would only want sex, would Bael remind Beelzebub that drunk mc is human and humans have weaker bodies ? And then carefully handle us ?

From Leviathan's Bath card prologue:

(friend's screenshots 2)

Foras escorted mc to palace by walk after MC encountering a special enchanted angel and Leviathan being covered in enchanted blood...

And if someone will happen to say kings' nobles don't do it genuinely or do it in preparation for something let's remember some of their Hell-o-Talk chats....

Stolas offers to eat macadamia chocolate together if you tell him you want snacks

Eligos wants a playdate with you using 3 angels he caught as dolls

Bathin says you remind him of story that is a Sailor Moon reference

Gusion is touched you thought of him and his wellbeing

Amon in both chats and card stories craves your company not to just fuck, do I need to mention ?

Game does not lack casual talks and fluff especially, see...? Accusing demons of not caring about us as people is something when they care about our wellbeing and ask if we wanna hang out this casually.

How can you say demons only care about sex after this ?

[fallout-fallen-knight]

Related to this post about the Kings, when I say that I want Wastelanders to be weirder, I don’t mean in the Howard/Pagliarulo/Esda mode where wastelanders are cartoon freaks for the audience to gawk and laugh at. Hardly any “wastelanders” in either Fallout 4 or the TV show feel like real people who could exist outside of the immediate scene where they are the butt of the joke. Look at this guy, he fucks chickens, isn’t that weird? Look at that guy, he thinks baseball was a blood sport, isn’t that weird? Look at this guy, he loves American history but he’s wrong about it, isn’t that weird? You point and laugh at the dumb freak and move on.

Contrast that with some of the (non-Wild Wasteland) weirdos in New Vegas. Malcolm Holmes is “weird”, but his character tells you that adventuring and scavenging are (albeit dangerous) ways to make a living in the Mojave; meeting him also starts a side quest for you. Oliver Swanick is “weird”, but his presence immediately tells you that something is very, very wrong, heralding one of the most horrifying scenes in the game. Hell, even Benny has a reason to talk like that - he’s being paid to! They all feel like a part of a larger world.

All this to say, I guess, is that I want to know more about the Preston Garvey impersonator. What’s his deal? What’s his goal?

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Maybe its my intense bias but almost all the Stormcloak Jarls suck? I mean like as people AND as rulers. There's a few exceptions but still..

----

Eastmarch: Ulfric. Helps Nords. Doesn't help anyone else. Even the other Stormcloak Jarls say they think Ulfic is self interested. Many also seem to think his rebellion is justified, but that Ulfric is doing it for selfish reasons.

Falkreath: Dengeir. Lowkey losing his mind. Suspicious of everyone including abjectly loyal citizens. Only better than Siddgeir because he's not corrupt.

Haafingar: Ulfric again except hes King now. See above.

Hjaalmarch: Sorli the Builder. Totally aloof. Morthal's citizens seem to hate her just as much as Igrod Ravencrone. Cut dialogue shows she isn't even interested in ruling Morthal and wants a position in a more prestigious Hold like Riften.

The Pale: Skald. Huge asshole and abusive to everyone. Probably the worst jarl in any hold because he cant even get Stormcloak loyalists to like him. Enough said.

The Reach: Thongvor Silver-Blood. Genocidal and enriches his family via Cidnha mine slave labor. Thinks his money entitles him to power. Huge racist against non-nords. Hates Forsworn but seems to cover up for their presence in the city while also wanting to imprison them for his mines. Basically a dumber racist version of Maven Black-Briar.

The Rift: Laila Law-Giver. Decent as Jarls go but along with everyone else in Riften politics, she is complicit in corruption. Still far far better than Maven Black-Briar *literally* running the city after the Empire retakes it.

Whiterun: Vignar Grey-Mane. Decent old coot. Has pride in his strong Nord values while not being a racist or overly xenophobic (in comparison at least). Seems proactive about working to protect Whiterun and it's people.

Winterhold: Korir. Racist xenophobic bigot who seems to be passing his prejudice to his son who espouses similar views. Actively hates the College despite it being the only thing bringing people to Winterhold anymore. Won't even foster good relations with the only thing contributing to the economy of Winterhold. Complains about Winterholds decay so asks you to get some ancient crown purely so *he* can get more respect from other jarls. No actual benefit to the hold. Literally blames it on the College when it gets extra cold outside.

All in all, the Imperial Jarls of Falkreath and Riften are the only ones who seem worse than their Stormcloak replacements/alternatives IMO.

Of course it's all my opinion! What are your thoughts?

[katerinaaqu]

Wait did Odysseus really get like insulted as sisyphus' bastard son is like he related to that guy who tried tricking death twice

Yes it appears so. In many plays like Sophocles or Eurypedes, characters who dislike him or wish to offend him seem to be calling him "Son of Sisyphus" and het the chorus always chants him as "Son of Laertes" which I find it interesting so it seems to me more like a rumor or an insult for him rather than his real heritage.

As I answred to another amazing ask by @autumn0689 in the past here It is a very interesting subject. So forgive me for the length!

For starters Odysseus is being insulted as a bastard, an illegitimate son. As I answered to the amazing ask by @leynaeithnea about illegitimate children here being illegitimate was a source of shame on its own. I mean even nowadays to call someone "You bastard!" is an insult. Back then it ran even deeper because being an insult of one's heritage (since they believed nobility runs in blood especially the Athenian writers that imposed this). Odysseus is technically a king to mention that as a king he is not legitimate son is like saying he has no right to his position; that he is not even supposed to be there; that he is not worth of it. They also indirectly insult his family as well; Laertes has no legitimate son, his wife was disloyal to him and had a child with another man and Laertes chose to take that child as his own. Calling Odysseus "bastard of Sisyphus" is basically an insult to his entire famiy (thus me making Odysseus go mad at Philoctetes in my random story here

And as I answered to the previous ask it all melts down to who is Sisyphus; a sinner, someone who cheated on the gods twice, someone that as you said cheated on death himself and now he is being punished eternally. Sisyphus was in a way used as the embodiment of human arrogance, shame and example for punishment. They basically call Odysseus the bastard son of the most sinful man. That was to insult him by the way Odysseus too often uses indirect methods to achieve his goals. They basically say "the apple fell under the apple tree". Odysseus cannot be the spawn of a possible Argonaut. He must be the child of a sinful person given how he is not the ideal warrior for his time. Indirectly or not they were saying that Odysseus was the embodiment of trickery, of human arrogance and of someone that will mock even the gods to achieve his goals (ironically that is not the case at least with Homeric hero as we know he was one of the most pious to the gods among his peers -praised by Zeus himself- despite him being known for his great hubris to Poseidon) Another thing him being accused as son of Sisyphus does is to diminish his godly line. Anticlea, his mother, is the grandaughter of Hermes in many sources. Once again Odysseus cannot be possibly sharing his bloodline with the gods! He must be the spawn of something sinful! Thus again the insult.

So far the worst mention of it I have heard was in "Philoctetes", where Philoctetes is so furious at Odysseus that not only does he say he is the illegitimate son of Sisyphus but he takes it a step further and insinuates that Sisyphus sold Odysseus to Laertes. So not only does he call Odysseus the illegitimate spawn of a sinner and a result of adultery but he also says that Odysseus is not worth more than the average slave, given how Laertes buys him from his father for money. But again what intrigues me is that the choir around still calls him "Son of Laertes". Even when Menelaus calls him "son of Sisyphus" in "Iphigeneia en Aulis" the choir still calls him "Son of Laeretes". So it seems more like a rumor or an insult among his peers rather than an actual irrefutable fact.

Hahaha I have come to the conclusion that at this point "Son of Sisyphus" means "son of a bitch" really! XD

For Odysseus himself being called basically a "cockroach that refuses to die" might as well be almost like a compliment and in many cases he has spoken as if he doesn't care for other people hating him (for example in Philoctetes he mentions how he can be literally anything the situation calls for) but I have to be honest by the ideals of his time I do not think he would like it. That would imply not only that his blood is impure but also that he is not equal to the others, that he is not worth to be at their presence and let's face it no one likes the prostect of their own family being dragged to the mud. Odysseus himself doesn't seem always affected by talk on the surface (in Philoctetes he even gives permission to Neoptolemous to do so in order to persuade Philoctetes to trust him) but judging by his reactions quite often when insulted, he explodes. So he is not entirely immune to insults. In fact it was one of these insults that made him explode his anger to Polyphemus and comit his blasphemy to Poseidon (and yes I have written something on that too! Hehehe)

Sorry if this was too long! I hope it helps!

[yanhoe]

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄… 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 𝙄 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩?

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩; 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙮𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙘 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚��𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮/𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞��𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙪𝙢𝙖, 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙨𝙠𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙩𝙩𝙢; 𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 (𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩)

He was more than a man; a creature ripped from the smothering hell he vacationed in. Agony and anguish reeked through his pores, blending into the crimson ichor that he doused himself in. Like a person madly driven off the edge, he’s done something that would put his name down in history for all to remember.

They made him do it. It wasn’t his fault. He repeats this inside his head, over and over—clinging to it with desperation. What he’s done is justifying. There was no other way. He was right… and they were wrong. All of them were wrong for him. All of them but… one.

Like a statue that will one day be built in his honor, Julius stands immobile in a one man blood bath. The smell of copper lingers in the air, the iron sword in his hand never felt so light since the day he learned to wield it.

If they had just stopped mettleing with his life for once, then maybe they would still be here and he didn’t have to kill them. But within the royal walls, everyone was cold and guarded, lacking warmth and affection.

His parents ruled with an iron fist, their words were absolute. Money and power were the primary aim. Why were they so surprised when their own son gave them exactly what he was taught? They should..would be proud.

It was their strictness and high expectations that kept him away from society if not business related—he didn’t even have a single friend. He can’t complain for the most part. His upbringing brought him to you, albeit a little too late.

His angel, the only light to his hellish world, was betrothed to another. Imagine his devastation when he came to find out it was his cousin, the son of a Duke. That could have been him. It should have been him. It will be him.

The injustice of it all ignited a simmering resentment within him. Blame fell squarely on his parents for shaping a life that kept you apart from him. They were asking for death the second they denied his request to break off the engagement. A viscount child has no business with a future king, they said. Who are they to tell him who he can and cannot want?

They’re just lucky their deaths were quick. He can’t say the same for all the other women they pushed on him over the years. He didn't mean to do it the first time. It was entirely an accident. She just wouldn’t shut up. Everything that came out her mouth was horse shit. One fork in the neck, blood spat in his face and on the tea table, there she laid lifeless.

How many people did he have to kill to get it through their thick skulls that he only wanted you? Too many, he’s lost count and they still didn’t care. They brushed all of them off as collateral damage… oh how pathetic they must have felt in their last moments realizing that’s exactly how Julius saw them.

Unnecessary baggage in the way of something greater. Something he’s spent many nights awake, contemplating how to get to you and finally make you officially his. Don’t be confused; you were already his the second he laid eyes on you, but it felt like forever you’ve been out of reach.

Footsteps thud against the marble flooring before coming to a stop behind him. He doesn’t need to turn around to know reinforcements have come, but they weren't fast enough. “Do you think it wise to make an enemy of me?” Julius mocks them, waiting for them to rush him. But they never do. He humors them by peeking over his shoulder, smirking at finding them all kneeling before him.

That’s more like it.

He turns back forward, stepping over the remains of his deceased parents, may they rest in hell where they belong and ascend the many steps to his rightful place: the throne. It sits atop in pure gold, decorated with patterns that go back centuries.

Now for first order of business… he sits on the throne, glaring down at the solders who shake in their armor up at him. Perhaps it was the slow drying blood on his face that got them spooked? His lips twitch, finding this way more amusing than he anticipated.

“Bring them to me.”

That was all the information needed. They knew exactly who he was referring to. Over the last few years, the ex prince has been very foolhardy about his attraction to an already spoken for woman. It’s almost like his mannerisms flew out a window in a blink of an eye.

One man hesitates to leave with the others to receive the person of interest, causing Julius lips to twist into a scowl at the disobedience. “…?” he silently question the man with his steely purple eyes, tilting his head and resting it on his hand in a sense of boredom.

The man swallows thickly, raising a shaking finger to his parent’s corpses, “The bodies, sir?” Well good on him for managing not to stutter at least.

Julius waves him off, “Leave it. A gift for my beloved.” The man flinch at his curt dismissal of his parents, whom he doesn’t refer to as actual beings at this point. He opens his mouth to reply, but Julius cuts him off, now sitting forward on the throne, “Perhaps you’d like to join them since you seem so concerned?”

That’s shut him right up. He bows in respect for the throne before shuffling out of the gigantic room with his tail between his legs. Julius hums in contentment, sitting back against the throne. Now alls that left to do is wait for you and start a life together, as it should’ve been.

He taps and taps and taps his fingers on the gold arm rest of the throne as seconds turn into merely minutes. But it was minutes far too long for him as he grows impatient waiting. It was quiet, he was alone; that was never a good thing. His mind starts to question your hold up.

Did you get hurt? He will murder all of them if even a single hair on you was harmed. What if they decided to use you as a bargaining chip for him to step down from the throne? It’s be a cold day in hell before he allows either two to play out. From where he’s sitting, he figures he has to go find you himself before he drives himself mad with what ifs.

When he finds you because he will find you—he always does somehow. Sometimes you’re not even aware he has…. You’re in the middle of being tugged by the forearm back in the direction of the palace entrance by none other than your fiancé.

The guards are trying to stop him, which is ridiculous to Julius. The man was half his size. A puny little punk. All he would need to do is—one little push—and he’ll fall like a domino overtaking. But this kind of scene needs a different set of actions.

“Have you all lost it? They’re my fiancée!” he shouts repeatedly, face pink in anger as his chest heaves up and down when he pushes a soldier back enough to continue dragging you.

A tantrum that falls on death ears because all Julius can focus on and care about was you. His sight goes fuzzy, black dots dancing behind his vision as his skin grows impossibly hot. How dare… How dare he continue to touch you like you were his? How fucking dare he continue to challenge him, even now?

“Brandon, Let me g—“ your cut off by some liquid splashing specs on your face. The scream came immediately but you were still registering what just had happened with rapid blinking. Everything from there was moving at a speed of a snail.

The soldiers who once tried to stop Brandon before, step back in fear. This is exactly what they were trying to avoid, but he persisted in taking you back home where you belong. The King made it abundantly clear you belonged to him.

Brandon kneels on the ground, wailing uncomfortably in agony as he holds his gushing arm. The bleeding flowed with urgency, the liquid was everywhere! The pink in his skin was losing color quick, you’d think he saw his worst nightmare if you didn’t know any better. It was just Julius, but then again it’s not too far off.

He raises his sword just as Brandon looks up in terror, swinging it down so vigorously, it matches the same fire found within Julius eyes. It strikes Brandon across the chest, deep enough for him to cough up blood but still be conscious…if you can call him that after he falls to the floor, shaking like a newborn cub first time in snow.

“You’re being a bit dramatic, cousin.” he taunts, pointing the end of his sword on his cheek, pressing into it to draw beads of blood, “Truly pathetic considering you bold attempts to go against me.”

Brandon’s lip tremble like he wanted to say something in protest but it couldn’t open wide enough to say even a syllable. Igor stains the corner of his lips and chin as his mind struggles to decide on which wound to aid to first with a single good hand left.

His current state…it pleases Julius so much. Slowly a twisted grin surfaces on his face, making him look even more demented than his actions already have. He’s grown to like crushing those that didn’t understand their place. It’s unfortunate that it’s been mainly family who never heed to warnings.

It finally registers what you’re witnessing, an ear bleeding scream rips from your throat as you fly your hands to your mouth to muffle it. It only aid to hyperventilate you when Julius turns to you, face devoid of the blood thirst from earlier, now evidence of concern.

“What? What’s happening?!” he asks, dropping his sword in favor of seeing about your wellbeing. He was standing in front of you with three long strides. He reaches for your hands, pulling them from your face, gripping them tightly to still your trembling.

When that didn’t work, he places them on your face, forcing you to look at his, which is still soiled in the blood of his opponents. “Tell me what troubles you, my love?” You claw at his hands in a desperate attempt to separate, but he doesn’t even flinch.

Words can’t even describe the fear rattling your very being. He wasn’t even human—a monster—that’s the only explanation for the lack of empathy and ability to harm others without a second thought. Were you next? The thought made you sob harder.

He didn’t like that. Not even a little… Maybe it’s because he’s foolishly in love with you but your scared expression wasn’t one that sit well with him. It both worried and irritated him the longer it went on. “Stop it now.” he demands, holding your face tighter, eyebrows furrowed as he focused solely on you, “I didn’t give you a reason to cry.”

He meant that in a reassuring way—that’s how he tried to come across but you interpreted it differently. With his appearance and actions, it was terrifying to say the least. You’re shaking your head in protest, “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry,” you apologize for no reason.

Hurting YOU was the farthest thing from his mind now that you’re within arms reach. He wants nothing more than to keep you close, where you can suffocate him with your unconditional love that he craved since laying eyes on you. So don’t you look at him like that and don’t you speak to him like he didn’t jump through hoops to get this far.

Before Julius can try to soothe your woes, a tug on his trousers leg caught his attention. He tsk looking down, seeing Brandon, who somehow pulled himself together and crawled over to him. From where Julius was standing, he really did look like a pest—he just keeps pestering and meddling in his affairs.

It really pissed him off that he didn’t just die already. Can’t he see he’s in the middle of something? Well… since he wants to be a pest so badly, he might as well be treated as one. The corner of his lips twitch, rising into an unsettling grin as he still holds your face firmly.

He doesn’t even consider how he might look in your eyes as he lifts his leg up, slamming his foot down on Brandon’s face, barely making a dent in his skull. To your horror, he repeats it over and over again, each stomp more aggressive and purposeful than the next until his brains were peeking outside his head and his eyes popped out of its sockets.

“Hey—“ Julius calls out to you after a while. He noticed your lack of attention on him. You were too busy gawking at what remains of your ex-fiancé. “Look only at me. Are you trying to upset me?…”

He wasn’t already???

“As my lover, you’re not allowed to look at any other man… unless you want me to gift you their head as consequences.”

𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙄 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

[nonexistent-alfa]

So it's basically confirmed that the Thames household and the Archduke's House of Snow are related? Because I 200% believe they are. Dennis basically confirms it when he recalls the portraits of the last Archduke's family. The youngest young master of that family was speculated to have survived and gone into hiding and continued his lineage somewhere. Now, that happened 200 years ago.

What if the youngest young master of the Archduke's House of Snow fled to a different dimension when his family was annihilated by the Purple Bloods. A dimension which we know as Nameless 1? Of course a fugitive like him wouldn't have continued with the Snow family name. So he started his family of Thames. (Gasp- what if the youngest young master's name was Thames Snow? Or maybe someone else in his family was named Thames whom he named his new family after?) It makes sense because we don't know exactly how far the Thames family's history goes. All the noble households in the kingdoms don't necessarily have to have a history as old as the royal family. The Thames and Snow families both being famous for their red hair is a detail that I don't think Yoo Ryeo Han-nim would have included without deeper intentions.

With that in mind I went back to the chapter where Cale exchanged words with fake Hilsman and... It kinda shook my belief that the Thames are the Red Bloods. Even though I thought before that it's gonna be the same as the Dabi-Touya reveal. But Fake Hilsman admits that he is not a Hunter and seems to have grudge against the Hunters.

In fact he says "anyone with Thames blood should loathe the Hunters". That it'd be a shame if Cale didn't have the drive to annihilate the Hunters. If we think of it in relation to the Archduke's House of Snow and go with the theory that the House of Snow is the predecessor of House of Thames, then it makes sense for the Thames to loathe the Hunters (Purple Bloods) who almost wiped out their ancestors.

Okay, let's make a list of things we know so far in relation to this topic

The Thames household perished when Jour Thames was young. The young Jour, the conscience in the half of Jour's ancient power presumed to be in her mid teens by Cale, says "so I really did end up alone" when she reads the diary of her older self. Which means the Thames household perished sometime after that, but still before she graduated from Academy because that's where she met Deruth and Deruth says the Thames had perished since before he met her. So within that short timeframe of Jour's mid-to-late teens, the Thames household perished (or went into hiding more likely).

Zed Crossman, who became king at a young age, helped erase the records of the Thames household. It's also speculated that Alberu's mom died because of the Hunters. Well, it's only Cale's speculation but it's a highly likely possibility.

After disappearing from the royal palace after it was attacked, Zed has been dimension hopping??? Because God of Death can't track him down because his location keeps changing. Is he the one chasing or being chased? Whichever it may be, I think the answer is pretty clear as to who his enemy is.

I think it's the Five coloured household. They're the only ones who don't have a home base unlike the other households so if Zed is the one doing the hunting then it makes sense for him to be running around. The Black Bloods patriarch said the ones responsible for the incident at the royal palace were the Five-coloured before dying. So if Zed is the one being hunted, it also points towards the same household.

Additionally, Fake Hilsman said there were Hunters present at the Puzzle city battlefield where the Sealed God's temple appeared. Cale noticed a couple of strong individuals recruited by his father were missing at that point. Safe to conclude those were also the wanderers of the Five coloured household.

The Hunter household known as Red Bloods which is thought to be perished is extremely important in all of this since (and this is a spoiler even to myself) Jour's presumed brother (the fake Hilsman), who is a Thames himself, and Cotton (God of War's holy maiden) are looking for them. Choi Jung Gun also told Cale to look for them in the Sloth test.

Which reminds me of the other source of information in Cale's inventory. The white mask worn by the White Star. His ancient powers were Embraced in that mask by Cale. If he only wishes, he could talk to White Star's conscience in the ancient powers, which I don't believe would have disappeared with his soul. He could ask White Star about how the Thames perished.

But, from what we can gather from all this is that the Thames (and Snow) are likely not Red Bloods.

[astrumark]

── GIVE ME THAT LITTLE BIT OF SATISFACTION ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond needs your assistance after a battle, in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: blood, curse words, smut with plot, use of coconut oil as lube, hand-job, p in v, tits sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie, a hint of sub aemond? oops? :3

WC: 5.3K

NOTES: obviously this is my take on what happened after rook's rest. the show's approach next year will definitely be different. but it's fun working with the book's events and its lack of minor details (you can fill it in however you wish!).

Your eyes flutter open with a jump, a firm hand gripping your shoulder. You didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, or what hour it was, but certainly wasn't the time for your shift yet. It takes a few seconds for your cloudy vision to focus on where you were, now noticing the older servant in front of you, and you look at her dazedly.

"The prince has just arrived, and requests your presence," Annabel explains.

Aemond. Immediate relief washes over you as your face softens. "Very well."

You leave the servants' quarters as fast as you can after fixing your appearance, and as you walk through the halls, you notice the castle is way too agitated. Tension and seriousness ripple in the air, and you start to feel uneasy as well, mind fumbling with numberless possibilities.

It's one of the gold cloaks that finally speaks a little louder, talking fervently about the victory of the greens at the battle of Rook's Rest. It had been quite a few days since their army had marched, and news was often shared about their progression. Usually, you tend to avoid it, since most of it makes you feel sick in your stomach.

Besides the armored man, there is no more commemoration or sense of victory. Not on this side of the castle, at least. Lords were probably planning on throwing banquets, but people like you are too aware of the damages of the war, and how at the end of the day the smallfolk suffer the most. Countless common people would die in the name of greedy royalty that know no limits to their ambition, families ruined beyond repair, a ravaging hunger was plaguing the poorest, and the coffers would soon be emptied, money being spent on battles other than improving the realm and making life easier. It's obvious how no good could ever come regardless of the result of the war.

You find Annabel again, shouting order after order, the middle-aged woman was the one in charge of the servants for a good while now and was a reliable source of information.

"What happened?" You approach her.

"A lot happened, child." Her tone is somber.

"Did someone die?" What a foolish question. Not just someone, but hundreds.

"The queen who never was and her dragon."

You grimace, reminiscing about the princess back when she was visiting the Red Keep. Although such casualties are expected during the war, it is still difficult to grasp that the imposing woman is dead. It's fearful how one's life could be ripped from them so suddenly. A paralyzing concern floods you. Aemond being back does not mean he is unharmed.

"Has the prince been hurt?" Your voice falters, your heart pounding with fear.

Annabel's gaze flickers to your face, and you could see her disapproval, almost making you wish to recoil. But she would never say a thing about your unusual closeness with the prince, being unlike her to intrude in personal affairs. You are aware she doesn't like Aemond or any of the royals, but then again very few did. You have grown to understand it was not only because of his eye, or lack thereof, but because he simply did not inspire sympathy. Aemond is stoic, defensive, and difficult to relate to. You were only one of the very few lucky enough to know better.

"The prince is fine," Annabel says and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "However, it is said the king is in critical condition, it is not known if he will recover, and his dragon is unable to fly, one of his wings was damaged during the fight."

You gasp, in your slumber you have forgotten about the man, not being concerned about him in the slightest. Anyhow, you feel your mind almost melting as you process the shocking news and the aftermath of it. If the king were to perish, that means Aemond would be regent until his nephew is of ideal age. Seven. "Poor Sunfyre."

Annabel tries to scold you, but the amusement behind her blue eyes is hard to conceal. "You are pitying the dragon, not the king?"

"Well, people have the free will of choice, and are aware of the consequences their actions might have… a dragon can only obey their rider's command, isn't it right?"

"We cannot say. These magical creatures are beyond our comprehension."

You ponder. "That is true."

After the quick conversation, you make your way to one of the huge kitchens, assuming the prince would probably fancy a bath. Warming up buckets of water, you carry them to Maegor's Holdfast with the help of three other servants.

A strong smell of blood and smoke fills your nose as you enter his quarters, and your eyes widen. The expensive rug is stained and marked by large boots, and even more astounding is the prince's appearance.

Aemond is lounging on a chair close to his study table. His face and hair are covered by blood, ash, and dirt, and splatters of dried blood stains his black and gold armor. His braids are loose, and you can even notice some twigs tangled in his silver strands. However, the prince's hands are the most distressing, gloves discarded at some point and almost fully covered by the red liquid. With a frown, you deduce it must be from his brother's injury. He looks haunting, almighty, and ruthless. There's a scowl on his face, though his eyes seem perturbed.

You notice how the servants' hands seem to tremble slightly as they pour the water into the bathtub in the next room, their eyes never daring to look up while adding some essential oils and chamomile herbs to the water as well, however, you cannot share their fear. All you wish to do is reach out and comfort him. Leaving one of the buckets outside the bathroom, you can see from the corner of your eyes the one-eyed man dismissing the other servants with a wave of a hand, and they seem eager to oblige. You kneel in front of him.

"I am glad you are well," You squeeze his knees. "And tremendously sorry for your brother."

Aemond does not respond, and his gaze is piercing as he stares at you as if memorizing each detail of your face. You don't look away either, a comfortable but powerful silence pairing between the two of you. His fingers slowly graze your cheek, and you do not mind the blood, eyes closing with the delicate caress.

"Help me undress, will you?"

You nod, aware he was never one to talk in deep about his emotions and thoughts, to allow himself to be vulnerable. Nonetheless, you've been noticing this quietness getting worse ever since Storm's End, and although concerned, you would not push him. Especially because you weren't even aware of the extent of your relationship. That he has a certain tenderness for you is clear, but the amount of liberties you could take with the royal is not as much.

Carefully undoing his heavy armor, the pieces fall to the ground with a whump, and the clothes underneath are a lot easier to deal with. His defined body slowly comes into view, a few goosebumps arising on his bare skin with the sudden lack of materials. Aemond's nakedness is of no surprise to you, though you could never help but admire him. Grabbing a cloth you wet it in the bucket nearby and start to clean his face first, hoping to get rid of the thicker layers of dirt before starting the bath.

Your touch is light, afraid to harshly rub any scratches, big or small. "Are you hurt in any way?"

Aemond shakes his head. "None of the blood is mine," He says. "It's from the princess and my brother, and their dragons. I believe some from Lord Staunton and his garrison as well."

You shudder with discomfort and drift your attention to cleaning his hands, the cloth immediately being painted red, you discard it for another as you move to the other hand. You've always enjoyed tending to him.

His hair comes next, and you take off his eyepatch. Undoing the braids is quick, long accustomed to it, though his strands are now sticking and smelling terribly, like a pan that spent too much time on fire, simply nose scrunching and suffocating. Aemond moves his head side to side with a growl after you are done, the bones of his neck cracking.

The prince sighs pleasantly as he enters the tub, and you grab a bowl to wet his hair. The silver strands get soaped quickly as you massage his scalp with both hands, his good eye close, and the sapphire twinkles.

After washing it, you fetch another soap bar, one that the merchant guaranteed you was special, something about adding more oils while making it. There was no harm in trying, and you were surprised by how such a thing made his hair healthier, not as dry which means fewer cuts, and more tamed and lustrous. His strands instantly become more emollient as you run the soap along the length.

Aemond seems completely unbothered as you get to scrub his body, the fine hairs covering his arms and legs so light it's barely visible. It's, in fact, a moment of relaxation and customariness, a routine for both of you. But the water is already dirty and gray by now, and you cannot help but recall it's not only ashes and dirt but also the mixed blood of people and beasts alike. Some perished.

You do not notice the silver-haired staring at you until he speaks. "You do not seem very pleased."

You raise your eyebrows. "Is there something to be pleased about?"

"Is there not?" He squints his eye. "We have just won a battle."

"Congratulations."

"Your sincerity is appreciated." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You know you can speak freely with me." He studies your face.

You bite your lips, focusing on the task at hand and adding more soap to the scrubber. The prince would never understand your point, so you would rather avoid a useless discussion. Especially today.

Unfortunately, he doesn't give up, cocking his head. "What is restraining you from doing so? Are you disgusted? Would you prefer me to not have killed all those cunty traitors?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Would you prefer to have that whore sitting on the throne? Is that the reason for your unpleasantness? Do you believe she's more suitable than my brother? Than me?"

You look at him sternly, the scrubber falling to the water with a splash. His face is now a lot closer to yours, but he does not intimidate you, never did, and probably never will. But he hits a nerve, and your mouth moves even before you could notice you were speaking.

"I would prefer your family to resolve the succession issue in another way other than submitting the kingdom to a devastating war with horrendous consequences, for all of you certainly, as proved by your nephew's death and older brother's injury now, but mostly, innocent people that have nothing to do with your schemes." Your voice holds a cold rage. "That is my opinion if it's of any importance to you, but I highly doubt it."

Aemond scoffs, shaking his head and averting his eye for a minute. His finger rests on top of his mouth, and there's still blood underneath his nails. He inhales to control his annoyance. He looks like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind, closing his lips and opting for another choice of words.

"You would not understand it, as a commoner." He looks at you up and down, not with the usual desire, but with a hint of superiority now, clear in how the corner of his lips twitches upward dismissively.

You are quick to respond. "Nor would you, as a prince."

Deafening silence. You have a good point, the drastic difference in your backgrounds would never let you completely understand one another's views and priorities. Aemond sighs.

"You are lucky I am fond of you." A truce.

You chuckle. "And I do not dislike you entirely."

The prince smiles, tight-lipped, but it is lovely, showing off his beautiful dimples. The rest of the bath goes calmly as you resume the chore. You wrap his hair in a cotton towel, and his body in a linen one. You leave the prince to dry himself while you make your way to the bedchamber, gathering loose mud green trousers and some shea butter.

The one-eyed stands in his full glory as you spread the product all over his lean body. Back, arms, chest, and stomach, then his legs. When you get up from your kneeling position, his hand wraps around your neck swiftly, bringing your body forward and kissing you.

You return it immediately, deep and eager. However, it's also contemplative and cozy, almost lazy as you taste one another. Your hand rests on his forearm, the softness and warmth of his lips never failing to get you weak on the knees, and he smells great now, fresh. Your eyes seem unable to open as you get lost in the small kisses and teases.

"Do not resent me, beauty." He says as you part.

You smile against his mouth, you thought it was precious when he got like this, clingy in his way. It was only on these rare occasions that he let his pride and loftiness aside, and would do everything to prevent you from being upset with him. Seeking your comfort in such an intense manner it was flattering.

A verbal answer doesn't leave your lips, you just kiss him again, and it's enough. "Get dressed and sit down." You motion to the dressing table, throwing the trousers at him.

You comb his hair delicately, adding some sunflower oil to his scalp before braiding his damp hair, he prefers it this way, claiming it was the only way it wouldn't get tangled up in the morning. You start from his very root, sectioning small amounts of silver hair and crossing them over in between your fingers, slowly but surely creating a beautiful and tight pattern. It's not a fast process, but you delight in it and you suspect so does the man in front of you, almost purring as you work. Tying the end of it, you rub his shoulders affectionately, his skin always warm beneath your palms.

"I am sore," Aemond complains. "A massage would be great."

You grin, pecking his cheek from behind. "As you wish, my Prince."

He is truly very tense, and you cannot fathom how distressing all that he witnessed is. You suppose it was a life-changing experience, in the worst way possible. It was clear how his eye hardened considerably in a short time. You would have surely run to the hills in his place, but he doesn't. He breathes and keeps his composure, hiding away all his fright, pretending to be indifferent, that he accepts his duty and the price of it gladly. But nobody would, less they lacked emotions.

Aemond lays down on his stomach, folding his arms above his head. Grabbing a bottle of coconut oil from the table, you take off your shoes and raise your dress to your knees before crawling on the bed to sit on top of his butt.

His body jolts as you drip a generous amount of oil on his large back, his muscles flexing. His body is so magnificent you could easily imagine a greater force meticulously creating each detail of it. Aemond moans the moment your hands start to caress his lower back. Your first touches are gentle, tracing circles up and down with your fingertips, mapping where you can feel some knots. Your hands move from his sides, to his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck, pinching it slightly.

"Fuck," Aemond grunts, voice muffled by the mattress. "This feels nice."

You add more pressure, stroking his back up and down, and after a few minutes back to tracing firm circles, this time with the heel of your hand. The prince is unable to contain noises of pleasure. Laying one of your hands on top of the other, you start the process of pushing his spine, once again beginning down and going up. A few cracks are heard.

Then, you add gentle pressure with your thumbs on his knots, his grunts are now a little bit more uncomfortable, but it's necessary. After you are done, you softly knead his back up and down, and then start switching between circling and stroking.

Aemond's moans along with the feel of his skin start to alight a desire in you, your lower stomach tingling in a known and annoying manner, womanhood pulsating with each new sound. It doesn't help how your filthy encounters had been becoming less frequent, the prince growing too busy with the war, and often you would feel bothered and insatiable.

It's unconscious the way you start rubbing on him, trying to relieve the ache you feel, and you do not realize what you are doing until he grips your thigh, halting your tentative movements at once.

"Stop teasing." He warns.

You stammer, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not, I–"

Suddenly you are pinned down by the prince, your positions switched as you utter your confusion by the suddenness. You should've been used to his strength and fast reflexes by now. "Do you deem your behavior acceptable?"

You swallow, trying not to smile, and feign innocence. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes? You are unaware you were rubbing yourself on me like a bitch in heat?"

"I would never do that, my Prince."

"You would never…?" He chuckles, feeling amused.

"During my work? No." You shake your head in denial.

"So, if I touch your cunt right now, you would not be wet?" He cocks his head.

You bite your lips. "Not at all."

"Forgive me for not believing your words, but I shall need proof." Aemond's hand sneaks under your dress, fingers moving slowly from your shin to your thigh, his eye never leaving yours, daring.

You giggle when his finger parts your folds, rubbing the dampness between your legs. You buck your hips, in need of more friction.

"Liar." Aemond disregards with a click of his tongue, his pupil blown out as he circles your bud.

"Aemond." You gasp, eyes closing.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, I've been taking care of you so well..." You try to negotiate.

"But I deserve so much more attention, don't you agree?" He kisses and licks your collarbone, finger never faltering, teasing.

"More?" Your breath is labored, and your voice is weak. His hand leaves your heat.

"I have killed a whole other dragon. It is not frequently one can say it. Yes, I believe I am due special treatment." He faces you again.

"I see," You grin. "You want me to do all the work?" Your lips brush his. "Such an idle prince." You provoke.

"Watch your mouth," He warns, pecking you. "I am merely tired. It's been eventful."

"Conveniently for you, I am feeling generous today." Your hands trail his bare waist.

"You are?" He smirks, nose touching yours.

"Uh-huh, and very happy you are unscathed."

"Show me, then," Aemond kisses your jaw. "Just how grateful you are."

The kiss you share is lecherous, wet, and rushed. Aemond does not fight you as you flip your bodies over and climb onto his lap, an evident bulge in the thin trousers that contours all of his cock tantalizingly. Even the clothed friction makes you both shudder, and you gather all of your strength to not start instantly grinding on his shaft.

You pull his trousers down, and his manhood springs free. Big, thick, veiny. Dripping coconut oil on your hands, you rub them together. Aemond wets his lips in anticipation.

Your hand slides through his length with no difficulty with the help of the oil, and the smell of it is delicious. You start jerking him off, and the prince hums in satisfaction.

Aemond wasn't the most vocal in bed, you realized it soon into your affair, but with time you had discovered the exceptions, the things that would make him forget all about his inhibitions and scream in pleasure.

After stroking him for a while, you cup one of your hands, very slowly circling his tip with the palm of your oily hand, fingertips dragging up and down his length while you do so. Aemond breathes sharply, his stomach twitching.

"Seven hells, love." He mutters with a tight hold on the sheets due to his sensitivity. You smile.

You focus on your fingertips, running them up and down his shaft lightly. Aemond adored the delicacy of the movement, the gentle yet torturous pressure, promising and unforgiving, kind and cruel. Then you circle his head again, again, and again. Careful to not hurt him. Aemond grunts, his eyebrows pinching together and face completely flushed as he bites his lips harshly, trying to hold back his moans, but you know it won't last long.

"Stop, it 's too much." He whines, but the delighted sound that escapes his mouth tells you to do anything but, his body trembling.

"Aw," You coo mockingly. "We know you can take it, my Prince."

You add more oil to your hands, holding his length and rotating your wrist as your palm rubs over his tip and shaft over and over. He completely let go as he closes his eye, his grunts being replaced by enchanting high-pitched and broken moans. It's quite pathetic the sight of him, the mighty and fearsome prince so supple on your hands, forehead glistening with sweat and breath erratic. Anyone outside could hear him.

"My love, please." He begs in the middle of whimpers, all of his body hair stirred up.

"Please what, my dear?" You ask innocently.

Aemond squirms. "I need to come," He gasps. "Please, please, please."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

You change the movement, keeping it only on his sensitive head, your other hand squeezing his balls. His voice gets louder, face twisted in pleasure as a tear falls down his gorgeous face, violet iris shining bright. You can feel your cunt soaked and throbbing achingly with the view.

He comes in a silent scream, hips bucking as hot loads of his spend fall into your hand and his shaft. You spread some of it around his length, still jerking him off as you help him ride out of his peak, the prince's body spasming.

"That's it," You praise him. "Good boy."

Aemond's breath is heavy as you find his lips, and he struggles to follow your pace, but he tries anyway, messy and urging. "Now you are going to be even nicer and let me use your cock, won't you?" You whisper.

His eye is lidded as he stares at you and nods, and you cannot resist the urge to press two sticky fingers to his curved lips, Aemond opens his mouth with no resistance, licking your hand clean. He's so compliant, somehow still lost in the void between the extraordinary bliss and the present moment.

"Anything for you." He mutters.

You grin. "That is what I like to hear."

Even if not necessarily frequent, happening mostly when he was worn-out or glum, it was rather obvious how letting someone of your position have control over him in bed, one of the very few situations in which you could be so blunt and disrespectful to a high-born, aroused the prince more than he would ever admit, a time in which he could forget about his obligations and just be good to you.

It doesn't take long into your kissing until you can feel him growing hard again, hands eagerly grabbing the hem of your dark red dress and pulling it up around your waist.

"Stupid dress." He complains in between lustful kisses, struggling to get rid of the clothing.

You laugh and help him take it off, throwing your apron and the dress somewhere around his quarters. Aemond instantly latches onto your right breast once you are fully naked, tongue hot and wet twirling around your nipple, and making you shiver and mewl as he sucks it into his mouth as if he is starved, your hand pulling at his braided hair.

Too impatient and greedy, you push him back on the mattress, positioning his member on your wet and tight entrance before lowering yourself down on it. You both moan at the stretch. It is spellbinding the way he watches you on top of him, making you feel like the most desired person in existence, his hands on your hips tightly.

You feel so full and excited you could almost see stars, the position has always been one of your favorites, his cock being able to reach just the right spots in this way.

"Seven, you feel perfect inside me." You gasp, grinding back and forward, your lungs clenching with the sudden and powerful wave of pleasure, so strong it is maddening.

Aemond growls, his body jolting with the motion. "You are a fucking witch, woman."

"For knowing exactly how to deal with you? I might as well be." You grin viciously, your hands resting on his chest.

Your eyes close as you rock your hips slowly and sensually, strained moans already leaving your mouth, and your bud brushing over his pubic bone makes you tremble. It's doubtless the best sensation you have ever felt, his cock dragging against your walls marvelously.

"Fuck, you fit me so well," You say out of breath, fastening your grinding. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"

You lean over slightly, pressing yourself more to him as you begin to bounce on his cock restlessly, the sinful noises echoing in the chamber only increasing your pleasure.

Aemond whimpers, both by the change of the movement and your words. "Always good for you, my love." He repeats, choking out.

Aemond's hands come to grip your ass desperately, certainly to leave bruises later, but now it's nothing but motivating for you.

He suddenly sits you both up, mouth finding one of your breasts again, saliva coating it as he plays with your nipple with tongue and teeth with no care. The sensitivity makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Delightful yet torturous whimpers on your lips as you continue to ride him mercilessly.

Sweat covers almost all of your body, and you feel as if you were burning from the inside out, the prince not looking any different, his cheeks and nose terribly reddened. You don't even care about the slight throbbing of your legs getting tired, or for the man you were fucking anymore, simply focused on the building of that rapture that feels so close yet so far. Your hold on his shoulders is firm beyond pleasant, but you assume his mind is elsewhere, and not in how your nails are breaking his pale skin.

You needed this badly and you knew you wouldn't last long. The knot inside you tightens hazardously, and you furrow your eyebrows, your bouncing getting even more frenetic. However, as good as it feels, you are growing overwhelmed as you ache for a release that's taking too long to come, somewhat stuck in a sadic joy. You whine out of glee and anticipation, too fucking eager.

"Don't stop, love," Aemond says with a groan, letting go of your breast with a pop to give attention to the other, his sucking sloppy as you pull at his hair harshly. You moan.

Not even in a thousand years you would dare to. When the long-awaited white-hot pleasure slams your body, you feel like ascending to the seven heavens itself. It's astoundingly overpowering at first and then diminishes in ripples as your heart drums painfully inside your chest, cunt fluttering around his member.

Your breath is heavy as you slow down, shivering and a little weary. Aemond moans while watching you come on his cock, and fortunately, he seems disposed to help you as he lays down again, bringing your body flush against his. He seems very roused as he impales you with his cock from beneath, growling into your ears while his hands squeeze your ass possessively.

You whine due to overstimulation, his thrusts are relentless, and the squelching sounds more prominent with how much you soaked his cock not too long ago. You are unsure if you want him to finish already or just keep using your cunt as he wishes regardless of your comfort, and the sheer thought of it inflames you.

It's surprising how fast it comes back, that burning and expectation in your lower stomach, apparently even stronger now. All that was not him and his cock in your womanhood is long forgotten. Blood rushes hot in your veins, high-pitched mewls and low grunts blending.

"By the Seven, Aemond." You hide your face in the crook of his neck, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

"Can you give me another one?" Aemond pounds into you harder, the smell of the shea butter and coconut oil from earlier consuming you. "I want to give you another one, beauty. I want to make you feel exceptionally good, yes?"

You try to respond to him but you just babble, teeth biting into the conjecture of his neck and shoulder, painting it red and purple, too dumbfounded to think or to measure your strength. But it seems your bites only incite the silver-haired more, his shoves faster and his groans broken.

One of his hands circles your waist securely to lock you in place, no falter in his thrusts. The wave of elation that suddenly crashes down over you is potent, numbing all your senses for a few seconds, but you are certain you must be screaming as you squirm. Your legs shake tremendously and your eyelids feel heavier.

Your second peak and the clenching of your cunt send Aemond over the edge. He bucks his hips, stilling inside you as he comes with a prolonged and deep grunt, head tilted back and lips parted. You didn't know what good action guaranteed you the privilege to see such a beautiful thing. Getting off him as he tries to regain his breath, a good amount of his warm seed drips in between your thighs, walls spinning as you feel quite faint.

Your back hits the fluffy mattress, your heart pounding in your ears and black dots cover your vision, which is slightly blurry. Shutting your eyes, you could not say how much time has passed as you recompose yourself and wait for your skin to cool down, but when you do, you are shocked to see the prince already soundly asleep next to you, mouth hung open as exhaustion had finally caught up to him after the latest events and your passionate indulgence.

Chuckling, you roll to your side as you watch him, his expression for once serene and breath even. You trace your finger gently across his straight eyebrow while appreciating the details of his face. The concern comes back to torment you as you wonder what the future has reserved for him, but you try to brush it off. You could only pray for his safety.

You recall the first time you saw him sleeping, it was quite unnerving, only the sapphire shining brightly while his good eye rested, but now the gemstone staring back at you was not only usual but comforting, a unique and enchanting charm in your opinion.

After getting up, you grab a cloth to clean the two of you, and although with a drowsy complaint from him, you manage to tuck the one-eyed in warm sheets. You put on your servant robes again and organize the mess you could deal with at the moment, gathering his armor as quietly as you can to be cleaned later. Pecking his pinkish lips slowly, you exit his quarters, feeling completely satisfied.

TAGS: @godrakin @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

[rainy-writers]

poor pitiful greens, who would’ve been slaughtered had Rhaenyra taken the throne. They had every right to usurp her because obviously they and their children deserve to live…obviously they deserve to live more than Jace, Luke, little Joffery, Aegon, Viserys, Baela and Rhaena who also would’ve been slaughtered had the Greens succeeded, right?

It kills me when people say that the greens would have been slaughtered had Rhaenyra taken the throne because they were too much of a challenge and use that to justify usurping her. Like you do realize…if they’re a challenge to Rhaenyra and her kids then it’s vice versa? If they can’t live while Rhaenyra reigns then that means Rhaenyra’s kids can’t either. But apparently it’s okay for Jace, Luke, Joffery, Viserys, Aegon, Baela and Rhaena to die if it means your favs get to win. All of a sudden, you’re okay with children dying if it means a man can now rule Westeros. A woman and her innocent children dying is okay to you because what? It’s “normal for a woman to rule?” Aegon should be King because…he’s a man? Because Viserys spent years advocating for him, right? Because this rapist, abuser piece of shit and his psychotic brothers who burned millions and allowed for the rape of little girls are somehow better than their sister who only raised taxes?

Alicent can fear for her children’s lives against the woman who’d never even think about harming them, but Rhaenyra can’t fear for her kids—who Alicent literally tried to get executed for years?

And don’t give that bullshit: the Greens would never!

Uh, canonically, they did! Unprovoked! Before they even got the fucking throne! They did it with Rhaenys and Luke—who, no matter much you call him Strong, is still related to them from Rhaenyra. Team Green has personally harmed their own family, their own blood in broad daylight and have celebrated doing so, so what makes you think they’d spare the rest? What honestly makes you think they’d let them live? Luke was a child, so no, even the children wouldn’t be spared.

Alicent has spent over twenty years fear mongering and terrorizing her own children to the point where it just could not happen. They would execute every single one of the Team Black kids down to Visenya if she had lived.

Yes they would’ve killed two year old little Aegon and Viserys and they’d have been happy to do it. Lest we not forget these are the same people who threw a party, canonically, when Luke was killed so…yeah. Aemond and Daeron probably would’ve forcibly married Baela and Rhaena and raped them…But that’s okay to you people, right? Because at least it isn’t happening to the fucking misogynist Greens who didn’t deserve the throne anyways.

The difference between them and Rhaenyra is that she has never given any indications that she thinks Kinslaying is right. Book or show, Rhaenyra understands the weight of such titles and what it would mean. She understands it would forever stain the name Targaryen if she killed not one, but SIX members of her own family. Obviously it’s this fucking Rhaneyra that would’ve killed them all though, right? It’s Rhaenyra, and not the Greens or her idiot brothers who canonically been classified as Kinslayers and usurpers, who would not have let TG live.

Book or show, you cannot even argue that they’re not Kinslayers because hopefully even TG stans aren’t so delusional to outright deny what we’ve seen. Which means that YES, they would’ve killed all those kids and then used their big scary dragons to terrorize anyone who didn’t agree—as they did the exact same media you’re seeing them in.

In the same book or show, nothing ever indicates that Rhaenyra would kill them. In fact, she actively gives them a chance to bend the knee after they kill her son, and furthermore, she does not spend years terrorizing her children with the idea they’ll be slaughtered so they have to kill the other side, even the children, because if not they’ll do the same to them.

The only difference in this scenario is that the people who raised the TB kids would have spared the Greens, while the people who have been raised to be hateful and spiteful against even the innocent people in their family would’ve given the TB kid’s death not second thought.

You guys simply don’t understand the tabooness of Kinslaying, and it’s becoming a popular trend that people think you can just get away with it and nothing will happen. You cannot just go around killing people of your own fucking family with no consequences. No matter how delusional you and Alicent might be, it cannot happen without major consequences. It’s the main reason majority of Westeros DID NOT support the greens bc it’s an AWFUL thing to do. There is nothing worse to the people of Westeros than a Kinslayer, not even a rapist. It is the ultimate crime to commit and it shows your lack of understanding of this world if you think Rhaenyra would just do this. Even if you don’t like her, her character was described as someone that would NEVER.

Meanwhile, you know who went down in history for doing this? Not once but twice? And one of those was a child? You know who still fucking did and was willing to keep doing it until an entire side of their family was wiped out?

The Greens.

The difference between them and Team Black is that TG spent twenty years harboring hate for a woman and her kids who did not even give them a second thought. It’s almost laughable how unimportant they were to Rhaenyra until the day they killed her son. The day Aemond killed Luke and Aegon threw a feast to celebrate the worst crime imaginable to a Kingdom he was supposed to rule, is the day you should’ve realized how different and how much more deserving Rhaenyra Targaryen is compared to her monster brothers.

I do not fucking care that Alicent was young and dumb and manipulated once. The women who poisoned her own children, the woman who was willing to kill a fucking newborn and said I quote,

“I hope the whore dies in childbirth.” Was a grown ass adult and would not show an inch of mercy. Even show!Alicent would have no choice, because it was her idiot planning that put her psychopath of a son in the ultimate position of power so she couldn’t even stop it if she tried.

So tell me, what makes you think Helaena, Aemond, Aegon (who were all adults during the dance, mind you), Jaehaera, Maelor, and Jaehaerys deserve to live more than Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Baela, Rhaena, Aegon, Viserys, Visenya (possibly), or anyone that stood as a threat to Aegon’s reign?

Surely you can’t say it’s because Jaehaera, Maelor, and Jaehaerys are just children.

You root for the one Team whose succession will end up with them all dead, as canonically it did, instead of the woman that would’ve spared them. Book or show, there’s never any evidence she would harm them unlike the literal people you root for. There’s only one scenario where everyone lives and it’s when Rhaenyra Targaryen sit the throne. Because we’ve seen how well it turned out for those kids and everyone when she was usurped, so rooting for Team Green bc you want to ‘spare the children’ is a contradiction in itself.

Or, just say you’re a misogynistic asshole like we already know and be done with it.

[bloodyopvs]

The Sanguinarch isn't a bad villain or a cliched one.

The only thing that his writing suffers from is the fact that a lot of the finer points in his characterisation were easily missed or flew over our heads due to Arknights's ambiguous writing — I also had to do some deep lore diving to the Arknights Terra Wiki to be able to piece a more coherent picture of him, something more profound than merely 'he's just a mindless psychopath and a remorseless war criminal'.

And it strikes me what he was actually meant to be, in Chapter 13, where he was the main villain.

He is, for lack of a better word, an inverted Jesus figure.

There's a lot of things supporting this.

First, we have the crown of thorns (actually the thing that got into this rabbit hole) that his chibi, boss sprite wore in his second phase. His artist, Chuzenji, also drew him with the same thing. The crown of thorns's symbolism is obvious. Jesus wears one, including his depiction in the famous movie, The Passion of the Christ. Though, it's probably not that special on its own; but it's only the tip of the iceberg.

Then we got the meaning of his name, a portmanteau of a Hebrew word and an angel's name —— 'Dook', meaning pierced, and Ariel, an angel whose name literally means 'Lion/Hero of God', at least according to the Terra Wiki —— and things are starting to get intriguing. Put together, 'Duq'arael' means 'Pierced Lion/Hero of God'. The angel's name aside, the lion is an animal that symbolised 'God's strength and command', one that was closely related to God, to the point where C.S Lewis, author of the famous Chronicles of Narnia, use Aslan, a lion, as a stand-in metaphor for God.

And yes, the deeper you go into Sarkaz lore, the more you discover that it was heavily inspired by the lore of Abrahamic religions in real life, although I won't delve too deeply into this or start drawing parallels to real life events, since it's an extremely sensitive issue. But my point is that Arknights has always been deeply influenced by religious mythology and symbolism, and Duq'arael's name goes deep. It hinted at us on his true character——how he views himself.

(Him killing his own elder brother, who was an 'ideal' King of Sarkaz, was also a clear allusion to the story of Cain and Abel, and ties in with the occult theory that Cain was the first vampire in history, but that's an aside. Though this also serves to strengthen the point that Arknights has always been deeply influenced by religious mythology and symbolisms.)

Back to the topic, I would also argue that his design cleverly reflected this hidden allusion. His uncanny colour palette—white, red and black—could be interpreted as a reversal, so to speak, of Jesus's darker robes and dark hair (as he was so often and popularly depicted to be). His entire design screams vampire nobility, but there's something uncanny about it, which was highlighted when we were first introduced to him in Chapter 10 (or was it 11?). He was described as an ordinary-seeming nobleman, one who wouldn't look out of place speaking about current politics in Victorian telly.

More than that, though...although he wears black and red, 'traditional' vampire colours, his main colour is obviously white. White hair, white clothes.

Both the absence of colour, and the colour of purity, innocence, and rebirth.

Duq'arael is also the 'Prince of Blood'. Amiya, during their confrontation in Chapter 13, asks him what does blood means to him. As a concept, as a symbol——a meaning. Now his answer here isn't that important (although it's curious that he equates it with suffering, especially that of the Sarkaz's), but there's a hidden symbolism bomb here: Blood symbolised passion. When someone angers us, for example, we say that it makes our 'blood boil'. When our lover arouses us, or when we were afraid during a horror movie, we say that it gets 'our blood racing'.

In line with this, Dukare's goal——what he hopes to achieve by sacrificing so many people, including his own people——is to give the Sarkaz, who had been robbed of not only their homes and lands but also their entire identity, who had been brutally dehumanised and discriminated against for centuries, salvation.

At least in his perspective. He spilled a single drop of blood for them, a drop of pure Teekaz blood, in order to give them this salvation as well as to once again summon their original sin in the form of the first Originium. He even goes so far that this is their curse——the curse of being a Sarkaz, the curse of Originium. The implication here is that he wanted to SAVE them. But because he's twisted, because he's 'inverted' Jesus, he accomplishes that by sacrificing others on the cross instead of himself. A selfish 'saviour'.

He also blesses the Sarkaz with his blood, granting them strength. Once more: misplaced salvation.

But wait, there's another layer to this.

Duq'arael's the ONLY one who saw himself as such. He has a saviour complex despite his pretenses to be indolent, and obviously, due to the crimes and sins he committed, others saw him merely as a murderer, a monster, and a blood purist. Someone who can't let go of the past, and is still heavily fettered by it——someone who blatantly refuses to let go.

He, after all, killed his elder brother out of disappointment. He also testifies that he saw several other Kings of Sarkaz come and go during his long life, and with each passing one, he grew more and more disappointed, more and more disillusioned. More and more jaded. That is why he wanted to kill Amiya too; obsessed with slaying her, even. Not because he's blindly obsessed with murder in itself (perhaps not only because), but because he's past the point of saving. Which was his tragedy, and one that Amiya and Logos mourned after they pushed him off the Feranmut.

This motivation of offering salvation is also likely why he agreed to help Theresis take Londinium. He had alluded to it himself; his ultimate goal or even his motivation wasn't to rebuild Kazdel, especially not as the shitty mobile city that most recent Sarkaz remembered it as.

No, he wanted to 'save' them. To offer them salvation; to return their birthright, which is the entire world of Terra, to them. Back from the hands of the Ancients and the Elders, outworlder races who once wrested it out of their grasp and then proceeded to give them misery for centuries. Millennias, even.

Again, that is his role——The False Saviour.

I don't get why Chapter 13's title was 'The Whirlpool That Is Passion' at first, but then I realised that HG was being sneaky. They couldn't possibly call it 'The Passion of the Vampire', which would be TOO on the nose, so that's why they call it that:

The Whirlpool (symbolising Dukare being twisted by his past and his disillusionment) That Is Passion (the Jesus symbolism). It's very clever.

In addition to all of the above, on their 4th Anniversary art, his artist drew him with a white lily. The flower of (you guessed it) purity, innocence, and most importantly, rebirth. It does work with his image as a vampire, plainly speaking, and the Master of the Crimson Court who's obsessed with the purity of the blood, but I'd say it's more than that, since the white lily is also Mary's flower. Mary, as in the Mother of Christ.

So, no, The Sanguinarch isn't a bad villain. While he is undoubtedly a war criminal (wouldn't say that he's misunderstood, since he's an absolute dipshit nonetheless), he's not 'just' a psychopath.

[hotlikewasabi521]

imagine, if you will, a sbg fantasy au

I don't know if anyone's done this yet but here we go! I'm a huge fantasy nerd, so I might be biased here, but I think sbg in a fantasy setting would go hard. now you could really throw in any ships, but personally, I built this idea around Tyden and Taylyn

so consider this:

(fair warning, this got a lot longer than I thought it would, I kinda ran with it)

Tyler and Taylor are the prince and princess of the kingdom, but they've essentially been running the country since they became teenagers what with their father having passed away and their mother being unfit to rule due to her mental state after her husband's passing. After their father died, Tyler still takes on the role of caretaker of sorts. Sometimes he even has a habit of burning himself out, Taylor and Ashlyn have to remind him often that it's okay to take a break. Ashlyn actually pulled him to the side one night and practically forced him to let Taylor start taking on more responsibilities, just so that he wouldn't fall under the weight of the kingdom.

On the subject of Ashlyn, her parents served in the king and queen's royal guard, and she even followed in her parent's footsteps. Considering both her lineage and the fact that she basically grew up with Tyler and Taylor, she winds up becoming the personal guard of the prince and princess(the twins) and the acting captain of the royal guard once she's deemed ready (which considering it's Ashlyn, is relatively quick). When it comes to her hearing, she'd definitely have some sort of wool or something put in her helmet to help muffle any loud noises. But her hearing also makes her a perfect guard, even allowing her to keep surveillance a fair distance away.

Eventually, it comes a time when the advisers decide that Tyler is of an age that he needs to find a suitor. The twins manage to fight it for as long as they can but when they turn 19, there's no getting around it. This would be around the time that Aiden and Ben show up, though for an unrelated reason.

See, Aiden is a prince himself, and Ben is a nobleman(title unknown) with close blood relation to the throne as well. Aiden isn't exactly all that into being a prince though, he'd rather go out, have fun, and be an adventurer (which is exactly what he's doing in the twin's kingdom) Ben is there to make sure Aiden doesn't get himself killed or cause any trouble with any foreign powers (friendly or otherwise).

As for Logan, well, his knack for astrology isn't going to waste, that's for sure. See, he's the apprentice of the kingdom's Royal Astronomer. And he absolutely loves it. Not only does he get to study the stars and be able to help support his grandparents, who would still run a flower shop in the capital's town square

Now of course rumors floating around the castle staff that Taylor has a secret love. Granted they can never catch a glimpse of the mystery suitor, (thanks to Ashlyn's super hearing) but the kitchen staff has it on good authority that it's someone from the royal guard. (Ashlyn and Taylor likely would have kept their relationship on the down-low for a bit in the beginning, but would eventually take it public, I mean, who's gonna stop them? the twins run the country, and of course, their mom just wants them to be happy and maybe give her a grandkid or two if either of them wants to have any)

That being said, the idea of little secret late-night rendevous where they wander the castle grounds talking and maybe wind up stargazing in the gardens is too good to pass up (They may not know as much about astronomy as say Logan, but they would definitely make up their own constellations and stories to go with them)

As for our other pair: Naturally, Tyler has a very strong opinion of Aiden. He's not exactly princely, and he does NOT like the fact his attitude when it comes to the politics of being in a royal family. But at the same time, this not-so-princely prince isn't like any other noble or royal he's ever met. He's intrigued. Deep down, there's a part of Tyler that wants to know more about Aiden and the world that he's gotten to explore and adventure through.

In the end, Aiden may or may not be the one who manages to get Tyler to enjoy his youth while he can, convincing him that the weight of the world doesn't have to fall on his shoulders alone. And Tyler may or may not have found himself a suitor in the process.

[elysianightsss]

Would you mind doing a dabble on Folklore!Piglin!Techno and his version of the Blood God and Voices? Like how he was picked, that’s if that’s part of his verse

Folklore!Piglin!Techno

Warnings: 18+, smut mentioned.

In the Folklore verse, Techno was chosen to be The Blood God, when the old one died. And when I say chosen I mean like Harry Potter chosen one. He had no relation to the last blood god, he just suddenly heard the voices.

At first he felt like he was going crazy, the voices wouldn’t be quiet. They had their opinions which they couldn’t wait to share with him. Techno had to learn to live with it, he had to learn to be patient and relax.

Due to being the new Blood God, the faes, fairfolk, elves and dwarves respected him as their new king. He lived like one, in an ancient building graced with the finest food and drink that could be found.

In keeping with tradition, after two hundred years of being king The Blood God is hounded by the voices in his head to find his ‘one’ or mate. A more common nickname for mates is ghivashel which means ‘treasure of treasures’ but Techno loves call you fiðrildi, which means butterfly. He will explain why later.

Just as Piglin speak Dwavish, their mating customs are quite similar to Dwarves too, however their primal instincts and urges are a whole lot stronger than theirs. Piglin are half pig so their animal side takes over and heightens everything.

Techno knew you were his mate when the voices instantly went quiet, it gave him a type of peace he never thought possible. The voices fell in love with you, every single one of them. They talked about you non stop, every little thing you did, whether is was cute or sweet and there were even the more crude ones.

The only time they were quiet for Techno now was when he was fucking you. The mating ritual was so important and powerful, Techno needed all his focus and attention on you. The voice understood that, something that Techno greatly appreciated.

[greenqueenhightower]

Hey.

I constantly argue back and forth with TB stans that Jace, Luke and Joffrey aren't legitimised just because Laenor, Corlys and Viserys go along with Rhaenyra’s lie about them being "trueborn". As I'm sure you're aware, in Westeros only a king can legitimise the illegitimate by first declaring their bastardy and then legitimising them afterwards. And TB stans. Just. Don't. Get. It. They also seem to think that the King's word is law in Westeros. They don't understand that this a feudal monarchy where the king and his vassals are reliant upon each other and both must respect the social contract in order for the Westerosi social structures e.g. monarchy to be maintained.

IMO, they fall for the narrative trap of the Targaryen characters. Just because Viserys and Rhaenyra say that the King's word is law doesn't actually make it law. It's only law as long as the king has the ability to enforce it. Therefore, if a king did something insane in the eyes of his noble polity, e.g., try to place his bastards in the line of succession, they'd rebel proving accurately that the King's word is in fact not actually law. Aerys's overthrowing is a great example of this. As is the reign of Daeron II: if his word was law and everyone had to obey him, no one would have joined Daemon Blackfyre's rebellion.

Anyway back to TB stans. I think alot of them don't actually realise how the world works. Even GRRM confirmed the bastardy of Rhaenyra’s 3 son's for goodness sake. Every time they try to deny it using the aforementioned argument it only confuses me. Are they insecure about Rhaenyra having illegitimate children? Is that how far they're para-social relationship with her goes?

They also have another stupid argument that Rhaenyra's kids having her blood means that they can inherit her throne. No no no no no no no no no. THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS TB. If it was Westerosi lords with bastard relatives, it would allow them to inherit. You have to be trueborn. It's unfair but these unfair laws are what keeps Westeros from constant civil war. That's the point of inheritance law in the Seven Kingdoms.

Anyway, sorry about the rant. It's just that sometimes when I argue with certain TB stans they don't seem to understand the laws of the world they're fans of. They will bend over backwards to excuse their faves, not understanding that you are allowed to criticise a character you like (& in their case love). I think Rhaenyra is an interesting character - moreso in the book TBH - I just don't get why so many TB stans willfully refuse to understand the way in which the laws of the world she inhabits work. Any thoughts?

Hi anon, it took me forever to get to your ask but you're right! 💚

Not all TB stans share the same views, and there are people in here with whom you can converse intelligently, but I have also seen the discourse you're referring to, and it is very annoying when the stans don't get it.

You put the Westerosi legitimization process very well. If we consider the greater Middle Ages-inspired world-building context that Westeros is based on, it makes sense why bastardy is a stigmatized social issue. Blood "purity," lineage, and legitimacy are important because they are the only way land and titles are bequeathed and inherited.

The King is the only one who can legitimize his own illegitimate children as heirs, but he can do so for other illegitimate children, regardless of whether these are related to him by blood. King Louis IV, for example, legitimized John II Duke of Brabant's son, Jan Cordeken, after a petition John wrote to him thus enabling him to inherit his father's fortune and found the House of Glymes. From Ancient Egypt, Greece, and Rome to Enlightenment Europe, there are examples of Kings legitimizing not only their children but also the children of their officials, courtiers, and friends. It was seen as granting a favor to them, and when it came to personal matters, a King might choose to legitimize his children when he ran out of heirs, or in the case of Louis XIV, because he could and wanted to.

In other words, Viserys, who knew of but chose to ignore Rhaenyra's sons' (his grandsons') bastardy, had ample time and opportunity to legitimize them but chose to blind himself to the truth instead. What was that about Alicent calling Viserys "weak" in one of the deleted scenes of S1? Well, "weak" isn't the only word I would use to describe him... also irresponsible, foolish, and inadequate.

Nevertheless, the legitimization process in history was seldom favored by the court, the King's vassals, and the people, and caused quite a stir. As you say, the King's law didn't hold up that much ground compared to the law of tradition and at times the Church. The people didn't care if a King legitimized a child by naming them heir... the stigma of being born "illegitimate" wasn't washed off that easily, because bastards were seen as devilish, impure, half-breeds, unnatural hybrids, and so forth. So Viserys choosing to ignore the issue face front was bound to be catastrophic, because no matter how he tried to silence the tongues that wagged by threatening to cut them off, the issue of his grandsons' apparent bastardy remained, and THE REALM would not accept any of them on the Iron Throne, for the same reasons.

And Viserys did nothing about it. He could have confronted Rhaenyra when Jace was born and reminded her of the stark reality of the consequences of what she was doing. Not only did he name Rhaenyra (a woman) as his heir, which alone was controversial and unprecedented, but a woman with three illegitimate children, whose existence never even tried to correct or prevent. Viserys alone weakened Rhaenyra's claim with his lack of foresight and counsel.

If TB uphold the "Viserys loved his grandsons and he accepted them as they were" narrative, they are not only deluded but lack media literacy as well, because Viserys DIDN'T CARE if his grandsons were trueborn or not, or if that would plunge the realm to war, the same way he didn't care that he had named Rhaenyra as his successor when the realm, who was so used to having Kings for centuries, knew he had THREE legitimate sons of his own.

So my two cents on the discourse would basically be that those who don't understand the social and political repercussions of Rhaenyra having bastards, not being counseled as to why this is destructive, left on her own to raise them, and having to cope with the consequences of her actions as she realizes that the father she so loved and admired didn't protect or support her at all, are missing out on a much more interesting character in Rhaenyra and a more complex dynamic with her sons, who she now understands are exceptionally vulnerable and potentially threatening to her cause.

This is a far more intriguing reading than anything TB stans are getting at with their "no criticism" ban on Viserys and Rhaenyra.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hey!

I want take a request for the 1k event :)

Hobbit fandom, Thorin

How he react if fall in love with a single mother/ he became a step dad

Okay, but like, that is such a cute idea. Thorin is already a father figure to his nephews, and stepping into the role likely wouldn’t be too difficult for him. Thank you for sending this in. I hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 628

1k Follower Event Rules

ao3 // taglist // 1k event masterlist // main masterlist

Thorin does not have any children of his own, but he has acted as a father figure to his nephews. So, when he falls in love with a single mother, it feels completely natural for him to slip into the role. The thing is, when Thorin first meets her, he has no idea she’s a single mom until much later, and yet that doesn’t change the way he feels about her. It’s not a deal breaker.

If Thorin meets her before the fall of Erebor, I can see him meeting her at the market in Dale, the two of them bumping into each other, lots of quick apologies, perhaps Thorin is helping her pick up the things he knocked out of her hands. A meet-cute moment that quickly blooms into something more.

If Thorin meets her after the fall of Erebor and during exile, I can see their love being a slow burn. Perhaps he is staying in a small town or village, working as a blacksmith temporarily for extra money to support himself. Their paths cross over and over again, their interactions brief before becoming something like friendship and then eventually something more.

If Thorin meets her after Erebor is reclaims and he’s king (and he doesn’t die), the dynamic would certainly be different. I think it would be super cute if she doesn’t have any idea about who he is, and therefore treats Thorin like anyone else. This is how they interact so when she finally makes a move on him, Thorin accepts, and it isn’t until later that he reveals who is he.

In terms of headcanons:

Thorin wouldn’t care if you’re a single mother or not. He sees it as a bonus that he gets to be a father right away instead of having to wait.

He is respectful of your role as the primary caregiver and understands that he’s coming in as a secondary individual. Sometimes this frustrates him because Thorin can struggle with figuring out how to act appropriately with a child that isn’t his blood relation. He wants to build a good relationship with them, but he doesn’t want to end up pushing you or the child away because he messed up.

Thorin will not take any negativity about this dynamic from outside voices. If someone expresses their opinions and it puts you and/or your child in a bad light, Thorin won’t listen to it. He is open to listening, but he won’t listen to negativity about you or your child. If you’re his, there isn’t any reason for anyone else to shove themselves in to have a say.

He is protective of the two of you, and the people who care about him the most feel the same way.

Thorin will do his best to make your life easier even if it makes life a bit harder for him. You know he does this, and absolutely hate that he puts your above himself.

Thorin always takes time to look after the kid so that you can have alone time and just because he wants to. His relationship with your child is just as important to him, and he wants this to feel like a family unit.

Thorin encourages your child to be whatever they want to be while also preparing them to take on greater roles within Erebor (if this comes after its reclaiming). Just because your child isn’t a blood relation doesn’t mean he doesn’t see that child as a son or daughter.

He won’t get it right all the time. Thorin will mess up…a lot. He is stubborn. He can be arrogant. This will certainly get in the way of things. But Thorin will always try to have some patience even when there is none to be had.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

@firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth

@miaraei @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @ninman82

@thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos