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skyeslittlecorner · 2 months

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Hiiiii, I haven't seen any request about the kings turn into little kids 😭 (like they still got their memories or maybe not), then MC and the nobles have to take care of their little kings (omg just imaging they running around with those little legs or trying to do their work with smol hands 😭😭 that's so cuteeeee). LOVE YOUR WORKS BTW 😘

Thank you!! 🧡This idea is so sweet, my poor heart- It was so much fun figuring out how each noble would behave. And kings alone are way too precious to handle. I’m weak, I’d spoil them rotten the moment I see them 😭

Let's go with the idea that the kings remember their adulthood, but vaguely. They know they are kings, they know they have responsibilities, but their little heads don't quite understand what it all means. Kings, their nobles, and a little guest from other country, I had to.

Satan

Neither you nor Sitri know what to do with this little creature that stands there and stares at you with big red eyes. When Satan stand on tip toes and puts his hands up, you take him in your arms with no hesitation. He nuzzles to your chest with pure love, but soon he gets distracted. With every explosion he bounces. More like he wanted to go outside to fight than he was afraid.

Sitri didn't want to let him go. First of all, it's dangerous, second of all, is it a good idea for Gehenna's people to see this? But you promise you'll be careful. After all, Sitri will protect you, right? And with these sweet words, you get into his head enough for him to agree to go out with you.

Satan really want to fight. As you reached other nobles, this child tried to take Leraye's sniper rifle. Leraye doesn’t mind, but you do. Paimon was the one who bring destruction over you, leaning over Satan and cooing:

“Awww, do you like being in MC’s arms because it makes you bigger?”

Satan’s red eyes blazed with fury. The fists clenched in your blouse reached out to Sitri. Do you think he forgot how to fight? Mistake. When his right-hand devil tried to take him, Satan bit him with such force that blood spattered all over you. You were lucky that before the scythe landed on you all, Belial put screaming Jiyu in Satan’s arms to distract him. Sorry, Jiyu. You're a good toy.

Those who turned out to be the best with little Satan are Zagan and Astaroth. Zagan took him to a private gym away from your eyes so you won't see how much weight he puts for this child on the bar, and when Satan gets tired, Astaroth will put him to bed. Who else can tell fairy tales if not him.

PS. Personal little headcanon that Astaroth was one of the royal nannies, I mean, older demons who have known kings as children. Like Gusion. In the end, Satan took him to the dentist he is afraid of, doesn’t he?

PSS. Paimon is an influencer, right? Better dissuade him from posting photos of the little king on the FacePunchBook, because this time you won't avoid destruction.

Mammon

Mammon is very unhappy with his small body. He would like bigger! But promise him you'll give him all the toys he wants, and you'll already have his attention. Bimet is disgusted by the whole incident. Were the kings again at the dinner prepared by His Majesty Beelzebub? What a waste of time. But he will still follow the child step by step, grumbling under his breath.

Valefor will have fun taking you shopping. You'll have to keep an eye on Mammon, who's taking everything off the shelves, and pick out his pockets before you get to the cash registers. Everything is his, so he takes everything. Eventually you give up and just leave a generous tip to cover any costs you may inadvertently incur.

Eligos will pamper the little king in every possible way, first buying him hundreds of little clothes and then eating tons of food with him. Mammon will happily agree to this when he hears that eating will make him big. You will have to intervene here too. Seeing that he is not able to eat as much as the older devil, Mammon will be pouting, so during the feast you will take him to a rich playground with huge ball pits and slides, which can be found in every decent shopping center. Despite everything, he is the nicest child of all.

PS. What to do with the little clothes once he is back to normal size? Oh, it's simple. Adult Mammon has a solution. You can feel free to keep them because they will be useful for your future children. But first you have to make these children... okay maybe let's stop here.

Beelzebub

The commotion that suddenly appeared in the court was enormous. You heard not one, but two names that moved the devils as you ran down to the hall. Both names were not in vain; Andrealphus stood in the hall with a small, extremely familiar child in his arms. As it turned out, he found it in the dark alleys of Avisos and knew perfectly well that it was the little king. How? You didn't find out because he disappeared as quickly as he appeared when Bael came.

Beelzebub looks around curiously, as if he were in a completely new place. He remembers being an adult, but nobody needs to know that, right? It’s going to be way more fun like this! Of course, Bael has no mercy. Beel's sweet eyes don't work on him. He took little king to the office and told him to paint patterns (if he doesn't do documents, make him paint the paper to prepare for it as an adult.)

This little shit boy will give you a huge headache. All you had to do was let him down for about three hundredths of a second, and he was gone. Once you found him, you first had to take his pistols (from Stolas) and rifles (from Amon). The nobles saw nothing wrong with it. On the contrary, they followed him faithfully, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. They spoil him in every way possible (ok, Amon do it, Stolas tries to stop him but it's Amon). You were saved by Naberius, who managed to keep Beel interested for a little longer. After all, what child wouldn't want to play with a giant, fluffy dog?

Leviathan

Foras and Barbatos conferred intensely while you sat cross-legged with the most beautiful child you had ever seen. Leviathan looked at his little hands with a terrified look on his face. Normal Leviathan would never allow himself to get so emotional. But a child? He was on the verge of bursting into tears. You hugged him. Of all the people in all of Hell, Levi's childhood was one of his worst nightmares. First he froze in fear... and then he hid in your arms. Just for a moment. To calm his breathing a little. And maybe, but only maybe, to cry.

Once the two devils decided it was best to keep Glasyalabolas and Orias away, they turned out to be quite good babysitters. Once he slowly calmed down, Levi wanted to work. He tried, but his crooked child's handwriting looked bad on documents and it drove him crazy (and on the verge of tears, again). Two devils decided it is better to distract him. They took turns sitting with you both, keeping an eye on you and entertaining along the way. Barbatos took you two for a walk and Foras gave him beautiful figurines carved from his horns to play with.

There was no need to worry about Glasyal. As soon as he appeared on the horizon, Levi hung him up as a reminder who was boss despite his petite size. Which Glasyal would think was unfair, because after all, he wasn't trying to knock him off his throne or anything yet. Impressive that there is still so much power in such a small body... It was quite fun to see His Majesty in the pocket version, too.

Concern for Orias was completely unfounded. You didn't know it, but as soon as he saw Leviathan so young, he left the castle. His soul, little, familiar soul suddenly seemed much less appetizing.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb mammon #whb leviathan #skye's little talk

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paranormalactivity5 · 3 months

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LUPRICALIA

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Summary: Eddie leads you to believe he doesn't like valentines, when its quite the opposite, he even plans a whole cute day based on old pagan lupricalia traditions. Eddie munson x fem!reader

Notes: the reader is alternative my fics are x chubby!reader unless stated otherwise. Readers' hair is teased/messy in a cute way, please let me know if this makes the fic uninclusive. For the fit think Misa Amanes pink outfit with the heart but red and and one piece. Cross posted on tumblr and wattpad under paranormalactivity/paranormalactivity5g

A/N: sorry for bad writing english IS my first language. As a pagan and overall spooky girl you know I had to make this my Valentine fic. Although no magick occurs in the fic pagan rituals are discussed. Sorry i never post, writers block is pretty much my natural state

Warnings: none just fluff, but there are references to sexual acts and swearing ig, bad writing, loooong paragraphs sometimes, not proof read WC: 1.5k a shortiee

Eddie Munson was a very observant person, and he prided himself on that, but you didn't have to be observant to notice the change in his girlfriend. It wasn't anything bad just…..different than her usual attire. Instead when she walked up to the bench in the woods where they usually met, a red dress with a heart cut out on the chest adorned her body, a chain hanging loosely on the swell of her waist, paired with black fishnets, a black undershirt that covered her arms and had been torn perfectly, along with black go-go boots and teased hair. She walked up with a pretty smile painted on her red stained lips

“Hi baby” you announced yourself, the boy got up to greet you bringing you into a tight hug and swaying back and forth “Hi princess” in his smooth yet grovely voice that always made your heart flutter. “So not that you don't look gorgeous….but, what's with the getup?” “uhh it's almost Valentine's Day?” you replied as if it was obvious “And?” “And? What do mean and?” you said exasperated by him already “And how does it almost being valentines Day warrant this?” “Because baby it's a beautiful day, a day all about celebrating love, don't you wanna celebrate our love?” she went on teasily, looking at him through her lashes causing him to get distracted for a minute, his eyes falling on the small heart cut out on the chest, allowing him to see the tops of your plump breasts but as his eyes went back up they caught on your half of the matching guitar pick necklaces you wore and it reminded him of the topic, love. “I do that every day!” he protested “Fine, you don't have to love it, just let me have it.” you replied kind of disappointed, why could he not get with the of having a day about yourselves and your love? But oh he could and he was going to, you just didn't know it yet.

Eddie was trying to figure out how to surprise you on Valentine's while also making it more personal, not just store bought chocolates and a small bear when he was reading the Hawkins post and saw a column speaking of the horrors of an old pagan holiday lupricalia perfect. Now, while it was a struggle to find reliable information on it in the small conservative town of Hawkins he finally found some information he was immediately ecstatic at the idea. A lot of the traditions weren't doable, things like animal sacrifice and running around naked whipping women with animal hide, but the other ones, feast, and sex? Yeah, he could do that. So he took out some of his rainy day money, booked a reservation at one of the nicer spots in Hawkins, and began planning

Ever the overthinker eddies not caring replayed in your head for the last 13 days until the day before Valentine's. Did he really think celebrating love was stupid? If so could he not at least pretend for you? Meanwhile, it was absolutely killing Eddie to pretend he didn't care, he could tell it was bothering him, and knowing you were upset because of him hurt, hopefully tomorrow will make up for it.

You awoke at around 10 AM to the smell of pancakes, which confused you because Eddie is many things, but a cook is not one. When you got out of bed walking out of the bedroom into the kitchen of the Munson trailer you quickly corrected yourself, you were smelling burnt pancakes. You stood at the enge of the hallway looking at your man listening to his string of curses for making concrete pancakes until he noticed you “Baby!” he almost shouted as you startled him “Nooooo you weren't supposed to wake up until the pancakes were ready……or I made a second batch” he chuckled awkwardly at the last part but you didn't care about that, you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, gave him a quick peck and when you pulled back you told him “I dont care about that honey, I care that you tried…..and convinced me that you aren't just a heartless man who hates valentines” He giggled into your neck “well I hope I can do more convincing with everything I have planned today” when he said this you immediately kissed him deeply, something about him going out of his way to plan a day with you always seems to get you going “mmph” he groaned into the clip and then pulled away “as much as I love this…thats for later” “so, whats all the fun planned today?” you questioned “well, while we are celebrating i do think that valentines day is a little generic, i decided to make it a bit more personal” you nodded along, already loving this “so i found out the history of valentines day and it comes from a pagan tradition called Lupricalia, and i figure thats more fitting for us, so i figured out the ways they celebrated and fit it into our world” god you loved this man “So they used to have animal sacrificesand obviously we cant do that so i figured we can go see the new nightmare on elm street, seems horrific enough, and then we feast at the marriot on 34th street, and then the one thing that hasent changed, we have hot, passionate sex” he clasps him hands together and all you can think about is how much you love him “i love you so much Eddie Munson” the feeling overwhelmed you so much you just had to voice it. the cutest smile splayed across his face “i love you too princess, now go get ready!” he spoke excitedly and swatted your body as you walked back into the bedroom.

You got yourself ready by putting on a black bustier top with lace trim, a red velvet skirt, and a belt with a bat buckle adorning your waist, again paired with your black gogo boots, and makeup done perfectly when you were ready about an hour later then Eddie and you walked out into the living room where he was sat, he just starred at you, which began to make you nervous until he spoke “god your so fucking pretty” his words instantly made you feel shy “like I wish you could like, be in my head and see you walk into the room,...it would change your life” he always managed to make you feel like a giggly little girl with your first crush “you look very handsome yourself sir” you walked up to him and laid your hand on his bicep, and his face immediately went up in flames, he knew you were easy to fluster, but you knew he was too. As you walked out the door he quickly walked in front of you so he could reach the old van first and open your door “Your chariot awaits madame” in his best British accent “Why thank you kind sir” you replied in your own

When you arrived at the theatre for the screening of Elm Street 3 you got your popcorn and made your way in. About 2 hours later you come out, the movie was pretty good, and while some would argue that it's not a Valentine's movie you think it was perfect. When you arrived at the restaurant it was a bit more on the fancy side, you wondered about the possible cost of this, Eddie could sense this and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

The food was absolutely delectable and it got you wondering what dessert might be like “You know what sounds amazing?” you asked “What?” “dessert” “Ohhhhh…you know what sounds even better? Free desert.” you were confused for a moment when he started to slip one of your rings off your finger but when he got down on one knee, you got what was happening here “y/n l/n, my beautiful girl, my time with you has been the best of my life, you make me see the world in a new way. I love you in ways I never thought imaginable, every day when I look at you, I love you more, which I never think is possible but it always is, will you do me the honor, and let me be your husband?” you started fake crying, which some of it was real due to his words and got up from your seat with a loud yes then kissed him proudly. The other people in the restaurant clapped a little and within 5 minutes there was a slice of chocolate cake on your table. You and Eddie giggled to each other while eating the dessert until you looked up from the cake and saw him looking at you in which a way Aphrodite herself would point and smile “You know I meant every word and one day I really am gonna ask you, I mean there will be a lot more words and a lot more crying but one day…I’m gonna put a ring on your finger..if you’ll so have me.” “of course I'll have you Eddie” You both awkwardly leaned over the table and kissed. As you pulled back you noticed the mark your red lipstick left and went to wipe it away “Leave it.” he protested

When you got home that night and walked into the trailer you pulled him in by his belt loops “Thank you, Eddie, this has truly been amazing.” “no need to thank me, I enjoyed it just as much” You kissed him with all the passion and love that had built up through the night “Now..” you spoke softly “time for some of that hot, passionate sex you were talking about earlier” he grinned devilishly.

A/N: girl you sucked the SOUL outta him that night. Dw he sucked your soul too.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #paranormalactivity5 #stranger things fic

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lovelynim · 6 months

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TickleTober2023/Day 29 - Zombie

Obey me! - MC x Mammon

Using a make-up brush to spread the blue-ish powder over your cheeks, you looked at yourself in the mirror, making sure the whole costume was coming together nicely. Pale, lifeless skin, gruesome fake cuts and wounds all around and even some details to make it look like you were rotting alive. Yeah, that was a nice zombie costume.

“What are you supposed to be?”

Nice, but maybe not so obvious zombie costume. At least, not to everyone. Unamused, you sighed, turning around to face Mammon. “A zombie, duh,” you said, checking out his costume. With fake red horns on his head and a black cape, he was dressed as… a demon. How creative.

“Hah, a zombie?” Mammon laughed, putting a hand on his waist and tilted his head, trying to check out the rest of your costume. “You’re not going to try to eat my brain, are you?” He teased.

“I would if you have one,” you chuckled, your voice full of snark as you highlighted the dark circles under your eyes.

“Hey! Whaddaya mean?” Mammon barked, crossing his arms and puffing his cheeks. Oh, he looked offended - which only made you laugh more.

Turning back to him, you put the make-up tools aside and took a few steps towards the bed where he was sitting. “What? Do you want me to eat you, Mammon?”

It was easy, almost too easy to get him flustered. Just like you expected, his eyes opened wide at your words, probably falling for the second meaning in them. “W-what?!”

“You looked so offended when I said I wouldn’t… do you perhaps have something in mind?”

You could tell how flustered he was, you could nearly feel the heat in his face when you leaned closer. Grinning, you put one hand on his shoulder. He could barely speak, stuttering one thing after the other, totally incomprehensible.

“Hah…” You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes and… “Pffft!”

Pushing him down into the mattress, you managed to lift his shirt in a swift moment. With Mammon pinned down under you, all you needed to do was blow one raspberry after the other, covering his middle with ticklish attention.

“NahAHAha- wahAHAhait!” He cried, putting both hands on your head as he tried to push you away, his feet kicking in the air as you began to nibble close to his navel. “ThaHAHahat’s noHOhot eahAHating! It’s tihIHickling!”

“Same thing,” you muttered in a breath second, using that small pause to catch up your breath before continuing to “eat” the poor demon. After all, if he didn’t have a brain, as a zombie, you needed to feast on something else, right?

A/N: After Tumblr tried to get rid of me, did you guys thought I would lose my streak? NOT A CHANCE

I just couldn't share it with you guys and here is the proof!!!

Anyway, you can expect a 2nd post today, so see you soon!

#miya&mia's tickletober #tickletober2023 #obey me!#obey me! tickling #mammon x mc #obey me mammon #lee!mammon #ticklish!mammon #ler!mc #tickle fic

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bun-lapin · 4 months

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The Gingerbread Gauntlet (part 1)

Summary: The housewardens have a gingerbread house competition

A/N: I meant to have this ready for before Christmas but of course, life had other plans lol The good news though is that I have a whole bunch of new writing ideas and I'm hoping to bust out of my little creative slump once the holiday chaos dies down a bit <3 The overall fic is a bit long so I decided to break it into smaller parts for readability. I'll be posting one part per day and will add links for the other parts after they post <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4/END - AO3 (whole fic)

Word Count: 1.6k CW: crack, silly, shouting, insults, mild swearing, candy/gingerbread

Winter at Night Raven College was a time even more magical than usual. Although the cafeteria was mostly empty, the sight of festive winter garlands draped elegantly along the walls, combined with the soft sounds of crackling flames in the grand fireplace, brought a cozy sense of winter cheer to the room. The alluring scents of sugary treats and winter spices wafted through the warm air from the kitchen nearby and from a long, solitary table set up by the doors to the kitchen. Already covered with an assortment of candies and plates of oddly shaped gingerbread cookies, the table was the very picture of a sweet and festive feast. Around the table, seven striking figures were seated an equal distance from each other and, as the snow softly began to fall from the sky outside, they quietly worked with the bounty of sugary confections before them.

“I swear on the Noble Rulebook of the Queen of Hearts, if I find out someone has been hoarding all of the rose-shaped peppermints, it’s off with everyone’s heads!”

Leona drowsily raises an eyebrow at Riddle and smirks, “What’s the matter, housewarden? We just started. You losing your temper already?”

Riddle scoffs and wrinkles his nose at Leona’s slouching posture, “I’m not losing my temper! I’m trying to make sure there is an equitable distribution of candy decorations for everyone present to construct their gingerbread houses!” He picks up a paper that looks like an architectural blueprint and angrily jabs a finger at a particular section of the diagram. “I am building a gingerbread model of the Heartslabyul rose maze–to scale, I might add–and I require exactly 68 rose-shaped peppermints to construct it.”

Leona slowly blinks at the intricately detailed design in Riddle’s hands and then shakes his head with a soft chuckle. Reaching under his seat, he pulls out a large, glass bowl of rose-shaped candies and passes it to the Heartslabyul housewarden. Ignoring the death glare from Riddle, he turns to the other housewardens seated around the table and asks, ”Can someone remind me again why we’re doing this stupid gingerbread house competition? This seriously feels like a waste of my precious free time.”

Vil looks up from his gingerbread construction with an expression of withering scorn on his face, “We just went over everything not even a moment ago. Did you actually forget or were you just not paying attention in the first place?”

Kalim lets out a bright and hearty laugh from his seat at the table, “I think this is going to be a really fun activity!” He holds up a small gingerbread cookie decorated with dark colored icing and licorice in the image of Dire Crowley, “Plus, we have to do this because the headmaster asked us to!” Waving the Crowley cookie in the air, he speaks in a surprisingly accurate impression of the headmaster, “I’ll be damned if I let those fools at RSA take home the trophy for the Isle of Sage’s gingerbread house competition another year in a row!”

Leona shakes his head with a slightly aggravated sigh, “I’m still failing to see why I, or any of us for that matter, should care about this useless endeavor.”

With a piping bag of white icing in one hand, Azul laughs softly and adjusts his glasses with the other hand, “There’s also the fact that whoever makes the best gingerbread house here today will receive a free PE class credit.”

Leona’s eyebrows rise in mild surprise and then he smirks. “Is that so? Well I suppose that explains why that guy over there is actually here in person for once,” he says as he points down towards the other end of the table.

Idia peers up from his work, the expression on his face equal parts gloomy and irritated, “Listen, I will do anything if it means I can miss any amount of PE.” Turning back to his geometric gingerbread design with a pout, he mutters under his breath, “Although, the main reason I’m actually here is because Ortho literally shot down my gingerbread construction drone.”

With a softly amused smile on his face, Malleus turns in his seat next to the Ignihyde housewarden and says, “Do try to cheer up, Idia. I’ve always felt that festive occasions such as these should be attended in person. A contraption built for the sole purpose of constructing with gingerbread could never replace someone special like you.”

“Oh-! Uh-! Th-thanks Malleus-shi! Th-that’s really nice of you to say,” Idia replies with a nervous grin. While keeping his gaze pinned to his work on the table, he then smoothly reaches into his pocket and rapid-fire taps out a message into his smartphone: AAGGGHH!!! WHYYY IS THE HEIR APPARENT OF BRIAR VALLEY SITTING NEXT TO ME?? SO DISTRACTING (╥﹏╥)

A message notification chimes out from the phone in Azul’s front jacket pocket. After checking to make sure his hands are clean of icing, he takes out his phone and reads the message. With a playful smirk on his face, he taps out his reply: Honestly, I’m more surprised by the fact that Crowley actually remembered to invite Malleus this time. What a rare event!

Idia’s phone buzzes quietly in his pocket and he looks down to swiftly check the message. He glares over at Azul with a small frown and quickly types: yo speaking of rare events! are you wearing the glasses i made for you?? the ones with the built-in camera and mic?? because i deffo remember you saying that they were useless and not your style (¬､¬)

The sound of the cafeteria door loudly creaking open suddenly cuts off Idia and Azul’s silent conversation. All of the assembled housewardens turn to see two fluffy ears atop a head of messy, sandy-brown hair enter the room. With a mischievous grin and a hissing-kind of chuckle, Ruggie waves to the group, “Heya, everyone! I’m here for the gingerbread house competition.”

Riddle frowns at Ruggie while balancing two pieces of messily frosted gingerbread in his hands, “No, you certainly are not! This competition is for housewardens only!”

Leona lets out a loud yawn as he waves Ruggie over to the table. Turning to the rest of the group he explains, “It’s alright, I’m the one who called him here.” Handing Ruggie a piping bag of icing, Leona adds, “He’s gonna build my gingerbread house for me while I take a nap under the table.” Cries of outrage erupt from around the table and Leona’s ears twitch angrily as he raises his eyebrows at the grumbling housewardens.

While carefully setting down a slanted piece of gingerbread atop his elegantly constructed house, Vil states bluntly, “Ruggie is not allowed to build your house for you, Leona. Crowley explicitly instructed us to build these gingerbread houses without any magic or outside assistance.” Raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, he smirks and adds, “If you want this free class credit, you’re going to have to put in some amount of work for once in your life.”

Leona directs a questioning look towards Ruggie who, in turn, raises his shoulders and shakes his head in resignation. Leona waves a hand dismissively at Ruggie, effectively shooing him out of the room, and clicks his tongue with annoyance, “Fine, fine. I got it. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, though.” Grabbing a handful of candies and pieces of gingerbread, he then quickly and expertly begins assembling them together.

Without looking up from his work, Vil smoothly pipes extra icing on the corners of his house and replies in an even tone, “Call me by that word again and I’ll shave off all of your hair to weave into a throw rug for the Pomefiore common room.”

“Hey Vil,” Leona chirps out a soft whistle to catch the Pomefiore housewarden’s attention.

Letting out a short, aggravated sigh, Vil rolls his eyes and then looks over at Leona. “What,” he flatly asks.

With a heavy thud, Leona sets the end result of his hard work for the last few minutes on the table in front of him. Made from rounded pieces of gingerbread and decorated with brightly colored candies, is a large replica of a hand with a raised middle finger. Standing up from his seat, Leona flashes everyone a triumphant little smirk and then saunters out of the room without another word.

The remaining housewardens silently watch him leave and, as the cafeteria door creaks shut, they return to their work with a softly murmured chorus of disapproval. An uncharacteristic silence settles over the group as everyone focuses on their individual gingerbread designs for the next few minutes.

Kalim finally breaks into the quiet with a bright laugh, “It's too bad Leona decided to leave early! I just finished making his cookie counterpart!” He holds up a Leona-shaped gingerbread cookie decorated with chocolate candies and a tiny feline scowl drawn in icing.

Looking up from his work, Vil studies the little cookie with an irritated glare. Wordlessly, he reaches across the table to pluck the Leona cookie from Kalim’s hand and then snaps the head off of the gingerbread figure. Handing the beheaded cookie back to Kalim, Vil flatly states, “My apologies.”

After carefully laying the broken pieces of Leona on a plate, Kalim holds up two additional gingerbread figures. One is decorated with marshmallow pieces and little wolf ears. The other is decorated with fluffy peanut butter frosting and hyena ears. Waving the wolf-eared cookie through the air, Kalim yells in a low, gruff voice, “Oh no! Housewarden Leona! I'll find out who did this to you and avenge the honor of our dorm!” Wiggling the hyena-eared cookie, Kalim says in a smoother, teasing voice, “Shyeheehee! Does this mean I get the rest of the day off?”

-continued in part 2-

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twst fanfic #twst housewardens #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil shoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #crack fic #bun lapin écrit

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ohnomytummy · 5 months

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Hi, I have a story from this Thanksgiving that I thought this community would like, and I don't have a kink blog to post it to so I'm gonna share it here cause I know your box is always open. Lol

I'm relatively thin, severely underweight for a good chunk of my childhood, have always been poor so I've never gotten to indulge too much in feasting, not in this economy. But long backstory short, I had the house to myself for pretty much 4 days straight for Thanksgiving break, along with all the leftover food from the entire family thanksgiving.. I was asked to toss most of it because we didn't have room in the fridge and it would go bad, but I didn't want any of it to go to waste.. you can probably tell where his is going..

I have a pretty sensitive stomach since I get full pretty quick, and I'm also lactose intolerant and most meat makes me gassy (and sweaty for some reason?), but for some reason none of that mattered to me, I put a YouTube series I've been itching to watch on my phone and munched on everything that was in front of me which included:

-almost half of a turkey that had been sitting out on the table for a day

-a platter of cheese and cube/slice things and pepperoni/some other meat I forgot

-I wanna say maybe 20 small sugar cookies (the puffy Walmart ones with frosting)

-about 2 litres total of a miz of lemonade, sprite, ginger ale, and coca cola

- 5 bread rolls with melted cheese and butter

-uncounted handfuls old candy I still had from Halloween....

I didn't even realize I'd been eating so much, but I guess since it was all over the course of about a day (9 hours-ish?) It was gradual enough that I didn't realize I'd gone overboard until the end. I remember reaching for the next thing getting ready and thinking "wow i wonder how much ive eaten" and seeing that the answer was all of it. I was wearing an elastic tank top, and I looked down and holy shit I looked pregnant. The tank top is kind of long but there was maybe an inch of belly sticking out from underneath naturally, and the tank top itself was like vacuum sealed tight to my skin!

This is where stuff gets crazy. I put my hand on my stomach to rub it and I could feel it churning under my hand, from the inside ofc and through my belly. I'd been burping throughout the whole stuffing absent-mindedly, but now that it was all setting in, I felt like I was going to puke. I couldn't even feel nauseous at first, it was just PAIN in my middle and I could barely get up. I'm so glad I was alone because I was moaning and rubbing my belly with both hands, holding it as I tried to get up. I could feel myself bringing up burps with every exhale, they were like.. soft and quiet but also really deep and sick, coming out with every breath, like "... urrrrrrp.. hic-hurrrrrp... uurppp. ur-urrp... hic-hUuuurrrrrrrrrp..." and with groans after each one lmao. I made my way to the bathroom eventually and sat by the toilet, sure I was gonna be sick, but I wasn't. I almost wanted to be, but I think I was just too scared to puke. So I sat back against the tub, facing the toilet, my whole body was covered in a cold sweat atp and i was rubbing my belly, and I could feel every single rumble as it ripped through my stomach and rose up as a belch. I couldn't stop burping like I was just about crying on the bathroom floor, bloated as a tick, belching helplessly. After a few minutes the burps started slowing down, but they were much more wet when they did come up. I think the meat and lactose was probably digesting now because I actually started to feel queasy. I started holding in my burps in fear that the food might come up, but then the air started xoming out the back. Starting with small short toots, leading to nauseous farts that, much like the burps, WOULDNT STOP. I was uncontrollably farting, small short bursts every few seconds and idk how to describe it but the farts felt pukey somehow. My stomach was churning like crazy and I could hear it from the outside (still felt intense as I rubbed it too). All the while the original belches never really stopped, so I was just on the floor, gas from both ends pouring out. My stomach was so hard and tight it felt like a bowling ball attached to me and my shirt was so tight it was so hot in hindsight but I felt like I was dying in the moment. Anyways I eventually fell asleep on the floor, woke up feeling sick, burped and farted next to the toilet again and tried doing the doggy-style yoga pose (best that I could, anyways, with my bloated upset tummy still filled with rotting undigested Thanksgiving leftovers) and kept farting until out of nowhere I almost shat myself, I think the position I was in moved the air along but the air took some stuff with it, so now I had to abandon that and sit on the toilet with a trash bin next to me because I couldn't fit it between my legs (my tummy took up the room lol) and it was mostly just me being sick from both ends, along with super uncontrollable rumbly burps and farts that just would not ever fucking stop.

Once it was all out things went back to normal, other than me being really gassy for a few more days.

I will let my uh *cough* community have this 😳🥵

#thanksgiving #ask #wowowowowowoeow #your poor poor belly #but also not….whoopsie

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bonnymori · 1 year

Text

Captain's food rolls

A/N: This is me trying out writing again, seeing the scene where Kid and Luffy eat a bunch of mochi in Udon gave me an idea. This work feels very goofy for me lol, this whole post is silly, including the pics, I think I'm gonna use this format for now

Word count: 1,3k

Contents/Warnings: Silliness ahead, two lovers being silly. Next up is a law draft ig, either law or killer or heat

The sand under your boots is a comforting contrast from the crass waves of the sea, rumbling and coming near your feet - but not reaching quite yet.

It's unusual, but today is a great day, after a great battle against many marine ships, that you honestly wouldn't dare count, the Kidd pirates share a feast and drinks in a pacific island (even though Kidd scored the secluded place with no 'pacific' methods).

What is unusual, you would ask? Well, normally on the day-to-day of the Kidd pirates, meals are fulfilling, but not so much as to be bloated after eating. Of course, the massacre soldier – and crew's chef – Killer goes great lengths to make sure every member eats well and has a chance of asking for more, but still, in the sea you can ever eat so much, food needs to be watched so the ship doesn't run out again.

In a banquet, though, it's highly different.

The other pirates were kind – terrified – enough to make the beach look very presentable, placing up lighting upon the coconut trees and laying out tables for your friends to enjoy. It looks like some sort of luau, an illuminated beach next to the pitch black ocean, with lots of barbecued meat and endless pitchers of beer. The crew is scattered over the place, most of them are still eating, a few went down the city to find a pretty face to sleep with, and some of them who've had enough of eating are busy playing cards, such as Heat and Wire – you can always observe how they finish eating together, and go kill time together, it's a heartwarming friendship (or more?) between pirates, very similar to the captain and his right hand man.

Speaking of which, during these celebrations, the captain's table is always at the center, a big round table where he can lay down plates and food to scarf down as the night goes on. You observe the captain, aka your lover, fill his belly with delicious meat and booze, a small smile forming on your lips as you know what to expect when the party ends.

It's when something unusual happens, and you can't help but feel giddy.

"Your social energy has ended already, Y/N?" A pair of crewmates join your table, more specifically Hip and Emma, who also seem to huddle together whether to dance or eat during the feasts.

"I guess yes, you always come to a more far away table when you get tired of partying around." Emma answers Hip's query herself, bringing her beer mug to toast with yours, which differently than hers, is almost empty. She observes the small grin plastered on your face and chuckles, "I bet you were looking at the captain just now."

"My, you caught me red-handed." They both giggle at your comment, and you prop your chin on your hand, thinking of a good response, "You know I can't help it, he always looks pretty cute and round after eating so much."

"Yeah, when that happens he can't be rough around the edges anymore, afterall he won't have any edges!" Hip exclaims then covers her mouth to laugh, pulling Emma with her to Wire's table, "We're gonna gamble too, see you Y/N!"

You wave bye-bye to the duo, they are so very sweet.

As they walk away, you glance yet again at your beloved Kidd only to see that he has given up eating to chug on a few pitches of beer, excitedly talking to Killer in the process. Since you don't like approaching while he's eating – it's so messy he's akin to a piggy – you decide to go see him now, just because you'd like to kiss him bye-bye before you retire to the ship.

He doesn't seem to notice when you appear, planting a kiss on his goggles-free forehead, "Hi Kiddo, having fun so far?"

"Heck yes babe, I'm stuffed, and not even done yet." The redhead doesn't even mind the affection, too buzzed and full to protest. You look down, and it looks like he's already displaying a little belly.

You gasp lightly when his arm loops around your waist, your own arms embracing his shoulders and bringing his head closer to give him another kiss, this time in the top of his head – which he happily leans into, after all his hair is a soft spot.

To think about it, from this angle above, his hair really looks like a tulip.

He seems to indulge in your kisses, the alcohol making him loose to public displays of affection.

"Okay okay," You say while pulling him off from you, his arm is bulky but he's weaker from the beer, "I came to tell you I'm heading to the ship to take a short nap. See you later lov."

His eyes blink open, staring at you for a short moment where he lets you go with a 'okey' – you think he got the memo just fine.

Your trek to the ship is quickened by your jumpy strut.

Nap well taken, you've decided to wait for your lover on the deck, knowing very well most of the crew must be passed out on the beach, whether it be the sand or upon the tables or chairs, some would even sleep over the grill so as not to lay on the ground – you can think of a few that would be laying on the tables as well. The point is, nobody really could bother you both at this moment.

Oh lawd he's coming, is your first thought, spotting a big red dot far from the ship, walking with no difficulty yet swaying nonetheless, you just know Kidd is going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.

It's unusual, only happening during the days he feels famished enough to eat for three people in one sitting, his tough muscles disappearing under the new gained weight, how he does it, you cannot know.

But every time you think, he looks so cute.

Your big, angry boyfriend now turned into a big, round boyfriend climbs the plank ladder that leads up on the deck, stopping only once he is a few steps away from you.

There, he flops on the floor, sitting as he looks at you expectantly, knowing damn well that you like his softness when he's chubby like this.

"It's fucking weird the fact you think I look… nice like this." Eustass is the first to break the silence, avoiding the word 'cute' as he huffs at you. It seems his angry act is back, now that he might be a little sober.

Kid groans at your giggle of amusement.

"You look so squishy and soft, I can't help but love your rolls." You walk over to him and make yourself comfortable at his side, resting your head on him but not your weight, or else gastric reflux could a bitch about it at any moment.

He rolls his eyes and looks away with a small blush, his arm looping over your waist much like in the party – at this point, this action feels so familiar to you, you can almost feel it when it comes next. "Satisfied?"

"Very much." You chuckle at him, and silently, sneak your hand up to squeeze one of his chubs.

The big red lets out a yelp caused by the unexpected action, glaring angrily at you. "Hey!"

Even though his tough act, on the inside, Kidd was actually happy to receive free affection, being the selfish bastard he is. At the same time, he couldn't be more relieved, knowing that you could have reacted the opposite of this, and thankfully, you had not. And he loved you for it. But of course, he'd never say that even in a million years.

Eventually, the both of you stilled, the playful bicker coming to an end as the sea waves filled in the silence.

Now there are only two lovers, sleeping soundly side to side.

And content smiles on their faces.

#one piece #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #kid pirates #one piece fanfiction #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x reader fluff #one piece scenario #eustass kid fluff #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x y/n

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thelampisaflashlight · 8 months

Text

Everything Goes On Pt. 7

[Mistakes were made. Not suitable for younger audiences. Previous part here.] Below the cut.

"Ya know..." Swiss whispers to Dew as Papa leads the beginnings of mass, "...I've never been really into this whole going to church thing, but something about seeing you dressed up all modest-like is making me feel strangely pious..."

"I'll make you pious your pants if you don't shut up." Dew glowers, shooting him a glare from his spot in the first row, "Now sit up straight and listen to the sermon."

"Yes, Mom."

"You-"

Mountain pinches Swiss' ear, pulling him back.

"Ow!"

"Behave."

Swiss pouts.

"You both suck..."

Dew sighs and does his best to ignore Swiss' antics, if Aether were here, he would...

"-and now to perform the ceremonial rites, I ask the Bishop Dewcifer to-"

"Wait, seriously, that's your full name-" Swiss whisper shouts leaning forward again.

Dew stealthily smacks Swiss on the back of his head with his tail as he stands before proceeding to join Copia on stage.

"To assist the bishop in this most sacred of rituals, Sister Cumulus will-"

Despite a few minor hiccups -in the form of actual hiccups on the part of a toddler in the back of the hall drinking his juice too fast, and thankfully not Dew himself, because that would have been mortifying- the rites are completed with ease.

Dew had been more or less confident he would remember the words he needed to recite, and that Cumulus would know the order of the candles that needed to be lit by heart, but there's always those last minute jitters to contend with.

Overall, the ceremony had gone well.

By now, most of the siblings have returned to their dorms to prepare for the post ritual feast, save for Copia, Cumulus, a few select members of the clergy who would act as witnesses, and Dew himself of course, so the atmosphere had shifted to a more casual one.

With important figures like Sister Imperator and Mr. Saltarian gone off to attend to matters elsewhere, no one is feeling particularly serious.

Dew, with the assistance of Cumulus, has shucked his outer robes in favor of the simple cassock worn beneath the heavy layers of fabric, and even Copia had removed his mitre, a clear sign to those gathered that this is, essentially, break time.

"Remind me to wear crocs under my robes next time, these fucking dress shoes are killing my feet." Dew groans, leaning on Mountain, who has graciously offered to keep his friend balanced while he kicks off his footwear in favor of sliding on the loose slippers he'd dropped into the ghoul's lap just before the ceremony, "Gonna suck to put those back on..."

"Want to trade?" Cumulus asks, holding up her heels, having opted to go barefoot, the soles of her stocking covered feet being soothed by the cold stone flooring, "Ugh... at least part of the path to the sunken chapel is paved..."

Dew stretches, "I doubt your tiny shoes would fit me."

"Your feet aren't much bigger than mine, see?" Cumulus places her foot beside Dew's, "There's maybe a centimeter of difference."

"Tell you what, so long as no one dies during the summoning tonight, I'll try on your heels AFTER dinner." Dew says, moving to lightly step on Cumulus' foot.

"...Can you wear her dress, too?" A curious looking Swiss asks, poking his head into view from behind Mountain, "And while we're at it-"

"I'm not wearing a dress, Swiss." Dew rolls his eyes, "Shoes are one thing, but a dress is going too far."

"You have worn a skirt before though." Cumulus points out.

"Please don't encourage him."

"You guys, Dew can't wear Cumulus' dress." Mountain says flatly.

"Thank you, Mount, I knew you'd be on my s-"

"Burgundy doesn't match his skin tone, I think maybe a baby blue would be better, like that short little nightgown Sunny used to wear."

"Oooh~! You're so right, Mount!" Cumulus claps her hands together excitedly, "I could even do your make-up~!"

Dew purses his lips then sighs.

"And where exactly am I getting all dolled up to go, Lus? Huh?"

Swiss slides up behind Dew and wraps his hands around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, "Could come by my room later and finish up that back rub Cirrus so rudely interrupted, hm~?"

Dew considers this for a moment, feeling Swiss' hands sink to his hips.

"Hold on, Cirrus walked in on you two getting it on?" Cumulus asks, "Really?"

"I mean, we weren't actually gonna fuck-"

Swiss nods solemnly, "It was an apology massage for being a dick."

"-and then Cirrus burst through my door, busted the lock."

"Undid all of my hard work." he pouts, slipping his hands around to squeeze Dew's ass, earning a swat from Dew's tail, "So mean..."

"Why'd she do that??" Cumulus wonders, crossing her arms, "Actually, Cir's been acting kind of funny lately..."

"Funny haha, or funny bad?"

"More like... funny... upset?" Cumulus places her hands under her chin, "She's been really clingy lately, and only just this morning we had a fight about- Never mind. I'll try talking to her some more later, it's not worth getting into right now, we have to head over to the chapel soon."

"Wanna take bets on spade shape?" Swiss proposes, "I still have my bingo card from Sunny's summoning."

"Satanas, I forgot how informal that all was... I blame being cooped up in the abbey for over a year with you guys." Cumulus shakes her head.

"It felt more like a baby shower instead of a summoning honestly..." Mountain says, earning a series of curious stares from the other ghouls, "What? You all forget I've been on the surface for a very long time now."

"How many baby showers have you been to??" Dew questions, once more slapping Swiss' hands away from his butt as they begin the walk to the chapel.

"I have been many a siblings plus one to these sorts of events." he says, "I have eaten many a gender reveal cake to the sounds of a couple bickering over the fact that one of them wanted a boy or a girl and wound up expecting the other..."

"Ooughh..." the other ghouls hiss.

"There was one that I enjoyed though, it was a bee themed party... 'Announcing The Arrival of Our Bay-Bee'. Very cute, ten out of ten."

"What'd the cake look like?" Cumulus asks.

"A lovely yellow honeycomb without any hauntingly blue or pink dye to make my bowel movements look like I have some kind of disease-"

"So, kits, yes or no?" Aether had asked Dew once while they were laying in bed together.

Dew hummed thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head.

"Can you imagine me as a parent? I'd be awful..."

Aether had cuddled him close then and told him sincerely, "I think you'd be a wonderful dad."

Dew is panicking.

The moon must have decided to have a blue light special, because not only did the summoning spell spit out one ghoul, it spit out two ghouls a freaking baby-

"I-It's not mine."

"Not mine either..."

-who is now clinging onto the front of Dew's cassock for dear life making little alarmed "meeps" whenever someone tries to make a grab for them, having retreated into the folds of the band around Dew's waist to hide when he himself tried to remove them.

"How did this happen??" Copia wonders aloud, looking over the incantations for a third time, "Do... D-Do we send it back?? Did we just kidnap... kitnap?? A baby??"

Mountain gently pats Copia's back, "It's fine, it's fine... and, no, now we can't send it back that would be dangerous."

"What do we do with it then??"

Swiss pokes the lump hiding under Dew's waistband, making the kit wiggle and squirm.

Dew smacks his hand away, "Don't do that."

"Because I'll scare it?"

"Yeah, and it fucking tickles."

"Don't swear in front of the baby!" Swiss gasps.

"I doubt it understands what we're saying." Dew says, placing his palm over the kit, "Thing's tiny as sh-... Heck. Tiny as heck. Probably still has its ears pinned."

"For real though, what do we do with it?" Cumulus asks, trying to peek at the kit from the gap in the band, "There's no way we could send it back."

Dew glances off to the side, "Well... I mean, it's kind of our responsibility now..."

Dinner is... shockingly uneventful.

Mountain had half expected the clergy to crazy at the sight of not only two new ghouls, but a kit to boot, but the overall reception is one of subdued excitement.

It's later in the evening, so, really, he can't be all that surprised, but he'd assumed at least one person would ask about the strange little ball of fluff tucked into his sweater...

Indeed, they'd managed to free the kit from Dew's cassock, but the poor thing started shaking almost immediately upon contact with the air, so Mountain offered to keep it warm for the time being until they could figure out what to do with it otherwise.

Dew, who opted to sit beside him at dinner, spent about half the night feeding the kit scraps from his plate.

Little bits of turkey, less than half a spoonful of mashed potatoes, the teeniest bit of goat milk... Honestly, Mountain was surprised at how easily Dew seemed to take to caring for the kit, only to get a reality check in the form of a reminder that the fire ghoul had raised multiple dogs up from puppies, and the process of feeding and maintaining a kit was not all that dissimilar up until a point.

However, a phantom of a voice plays in the back of his mind.

“Can you imagine Dew as a parent? He could barely take care of himself up until a couple years ago, and that’s only because I spent ages trying to learn what makes him goddamn tick.”

“I’m ready to step back from things and slow down and he’s… he’s still acting like we’re a couple of kits. I… I don’t have the energy to put up with him anymore, so I ended things now before things got any… any worse.”

"I'm tired of being his caretaker, Mount."

Mountain glances at Dew as he feeds the kit another bite sized piece of turkey, using his thumb to wipe away a bit of gravy from its face.

"So... Does this make you a dad now?" Mountain asks, and Dew laughs.

"Nah... I'm not ready to be a parent. Think I'll stick to raising my Hellhounds a little longer." He says, watching the kit curl up to sleep, "Besides, I know there's some ghouls here that would happily take this guy in."

"It's a boy?" Mountain asks, tilting his chin to look at the kit, "And you do?"

"Hell if I know, I wasn't about to check while it was already freaked out." he shrugs, "And yeah, yeah, I do."

Dew nods in the direction of two of the ghouls who had been keeping guard earlier in the evening... Cowbell and Special.

"...What?" Mountain's eyes go wide, "Those two?"

"Shhh..." Dew shushes him, "Yeah, back when... when Aether was still working in the infirmary, they were trying to work on adopting a human kit they were fostering together, but ya know how that stuff goes..."

"I didn't even know those two were a thing..." Mountain whispers, "...I mean good for them, I guess... Also, weren't there three guards earlier?"

Dew nods, then gestures for Mountain to lean over.

"I managed to set Swiss up with them for the evening instead of me, they both ran off before Copia finished the toast."

Mountain blinks.

"You turned down se-" he glances down at the sleeping kit, "-adult fun time with Swiss for this?"

"Ehn, I wasn't feeling up to it anymore honestly..." Dew admits, "It's... different now without Aether. Just not the same when you don't get cuddles afterwards. I mean, Swiss is good at that kind of stuff, but, ya know... doesn't have the same, uhh, oomph to it, I guess."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

Mountain takes a moment to ponder what he's learned.

"...Seriously though, Special and Cowbell?"

"I know, right??"

#lamp writes #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic

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milknhonies · 3 months

Text

A Lesson in Service

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Your evening becomes a nightmare with the Lord of Radier Manor. He is a starved fox looking to ruin your sweet bunny cunny.

Pairing: Lord!Henry Dalgliesh x Governess!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Non-Con, Blackmail, Abuse, Assault, P in V sex, Loss of Virginity, Gag. Petnames "Bunny, Rabbit."

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This was a doozy to write...please I beg you read the warnings. It'll be a whole until I can post another chapter from this story again unfortunately I'm behind and I have a lot of stress going on in my life.

Inspiring Song: "Sippy Cup." By Melanie Martinez

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Monday 9th April 22:55 pm.

As your body collapsed at his feet, the pain the sky rocketed your body surged over and melted into the comforts of a soft pillow and mattress.

You were in the place between dreamland and wakeup, knowing you’re asleep but unaware of how to wake up or if you’re even meant to wake-up. You felt warm. The sound of a crackling fire was by your right side. The smell of the embers burning tickled your nose.

With all your strength your groggily opened your eyes and for a moment winced at the orange light of a fireplace. Your eyes felt impossibly slow and sore. The room blurred for a few moments before you fluttered away the awakening blindness and focused on the world around you. You couldn’t see everything in the room, many shadows loomed far in the distance.

You were laying down on a magnificent canopy bed with long draping curtains and the ceiling covered in paintings of swans and gardens and lakes. There was an every feeling creeping into you.

Your heart thudded in panic.

‘This is NOT my room.’

The beating of your heart drummed in your chest as you caught some air in your chest. Nausea penetrated your belly. With a poor attempt to sit up and use the under bed chamber pot, your body refused to move far. A sharp and stinging pain made you glance at your wrists either side of your head. You squinted at the material wrapped around your skin, digging into your flesh. Rope.

Your eyes widened.

With a better glance down, you gasped in horror. Not a single stitch of clothing was to be found on your body. Your legs had been spread wide and tied down to the mattress by your ankles and knees.

A loud whimper that broke into a quick sob escaped you.

You could feel the warm air from the fire place against the most intimate flesh of your exposed cunt. You tried to desperately shut your legs but the rope would not give in. Hot tears rushed down your face.

You tugged on your wrists and legs as hard as you could. Finally you began to scream.

From the shadows flew out a large pale hand that clambered down on your mouth and muffled your voice.

You recoiled in fright as the light of the fireplace beside the bed revealed the face of the Earl who wore a well spread grinning smile. He sat beside you on the bed and loomed above. For a split second you believed he was helping you, saving you from this strange bound arrangement that you were trapped in. Yet the hope lasted shortly as remembering what has happened in the drawing room came back to your mind.

You didn’t know how nor why but you knew with your intuition he had done this. You visualised that truth quickly.

His heated eyes matched his wide feral grin in a sinister yellow light. His soft thumb rubbed underneath your crying eyes, smoothing out the wetness along your cheeks. His curly hair was far messier than it was when the two of you had met.

You flinched and whined pitifully trying to shake his hand off your mouth.

He looked like a beast and you were a delicate feast for him to feed upon.

“Poor little girl,” he sarcastically worried, clucking his tongue he started to stroke your neck gently with his other hand, “Look at you, entirely powerlessness, tied up in a trap like a silly little country bunny abbit. You’re just a sweet innocent girl, yes?” Henry obnoxiously laughed at his own joke..

Helplessly confused, more waterworks spilled. Henry ripped out a handkerchief from his banyan pocket and forced the fabric into your mouth and fingered it down to the back of your mouth near your throat. You tried shaking your face away, but he held you down by pressing on your forehead. You gagged and coughed while the linen soaked in your spit choked and irritated your tongue by its plain taste.

It was impossible to spit out, your tongue was being pressed down by its amount and thus you couldn’t curl your tongue back and push it out.

You screamed behind the gagged helplessly.

‘This nightmare is unbearable! This cannot be real!’

Your conniving employer surveyed your flesh again and ran his hand down your naked stomach to your thighs and purposely missing what was between them. His hand felt like hot fire spreading around your sensitive skin. Your face was hot, he was looking at the parts of you that you hid with great conservativeness in your governess uniform gown.

His night gown stripped away you saw beneath was nothing, no night shirt or blouse, just a heavenly torso which god had blessed him and the world with.

For a man who supposedly sat in his study all day mulling over paperwork, his physique was moulded by gods’ angels. His skin glowed gold beneath the hue haze of the fireplaces light. And light shade of soft hairs centred his chest Ieading down his belly to his pelvis. A small thatch of hair bordered a thick red piece protruding from him. His cock.

Yoi whined loudly in terror as he climbed onto the bed and over the top of your tied up body. His thighs knelt between your knees. His movement and grace were so perfectly fluid, his protruding middle muscles with his strong hunt for your body. You begged for him to stop, but the gag did all but muffled your howling fears.

You may have been innocent of relations between men and women, but it was well aware what his lordships apparent intentions were. He was about to abuse you, rape you, take you in the ways of the laws of marriage. You were to be soiled! You were to be ruined from any hope of being a proper bride to a future husband.

Anxiety drastically rose in your chest that panted desperately.

You pleaded from your cloth stuffed mouth, “please my Lord, please, you must not do this! I am a virgin of god,” tears slid freely down your face.

‘Don’t hurt me, please stop sir!’

You felt faint but this time you didn’t go under the pressure of unconsciousness. Your body thrusted and tugged at all your tethers. You were losing hope quickly of your escape and so overwhelmed with shock and fear you didn’t know what else to do except sob and beg him to stop this humiliation.

You prayed, ‘what have I done to be so foully punished lord? Help me and aid my freedom quickly!!’

“Hush, hush my little girl ,” Henry placed a finger against his lips to signify the silence he requested, “My apologies for such an unexpected event. It’s just…when I first met you yesterday in my study, your cheeks were such a pretty shade and I wondered how that same colour would look on your little arse. And really, when you bowed before me like a silly chicken- I couldn’t help but imagine my cock between your quim whiskers. By God I was afraid my cock would grow right then and there."

His hands crawled like a spider down to your treasure of untouched purity. A squeal jumped from your lungs and through your gag as his fingers delved into your folds.

Leaning over and softly murmuring into your ear, Henrys warm breath tickled your sensitive skin, “Miss Y/L/N, I do find myself at a stand point where I am madly fascinated and curious of your sweet body. My desire grows with every little noise you make. I am dearly looking forward to when I get to shove my cock right up into this little cunt.”

And as he said it, his forefinger cramped its way inside of your, his first knuckle not pushing any further as Henry gasped. The lord had discovered your thin lining of skin that hailed you as pure as any infant of lust might be. Virginity was going to be his prized.

You weakly lifted your head, and you stared fearfully into his glittering soulless eyes, “Just relax, little bunny. You'll be alright, the more you squirm the more you might bleed.”

You froze as his tongue began to lick and suck at your chest and neck.

“stop it! You must stop it!!! Please! Lord Henry no!!” you squealed beneath the gag.

The vile man stopped his administrations on your neck and applied his heated lips to your face. Not being able to kiss you properly without removing the gag, Henry resorted to the softest kisses to your lips and corner of your mouth. The intimacy of being kissed in such a manner shocked you to your core, it was terribly taboo.

‘What am I saying? Everything is bloody Taboo!’

You drew in a shaky breath when he finally abandoned your mouth to lick along your jaw, and he found the vulnerable skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder. Pulling out his finger from your tiny cunt he watched your body collapse into the bed; the stress was exhausting and your tensing body gave in. His hand pawed through your soft curls above and around your bits.

You moaned and cried a little more as you witnessed Henry suck the same finger he had shoved into you. His dark eyes rolled to the back off his head while he grabbed at his stiff erection.

You felt weak by the sight. In a book about human anatomy, the males’ appendage was not that shape, length or thickness.

You squeaked in fear, hating yourself for being so weak and so scared of him. Your mind felt so heavy with any plan you could devise on how to fight him or convince him to stop. You attempted to beg for his mercy again but he just cruelly smirked.

Jerking your head up, you gave him the sweetest eyes. Tears cupped in the wells of your lashes as your nose sniffled. You shook your gag covered head, “please.”

Henry sighed pleasingly as his fingers wrapped around his cock moved up and down. He was absolutely looking forward to hurting you, to taking away your innocence and to owning you. He bit his lips with a slight smile.

‘How precious, she doesn’t even know the real reason her father’s friend had sent her to Radier Manor? Colin you cruel wicked bastard!’ Henry scoffed internally and purred to his darling damsel in distress as his hand removed itself from his cock to cradle you intimately again. His fingers spread the lips of your mound wide to reveal all the folding petals of your sweet smelling virgin flower.

“Awe now look at that, my pretty little girl , puffy and unmaimed, just so sweet.” Your eyes widened.

Henry had considered giving you a taste of pleasure by a few simple rubs but thought against it,

‘Why should I give her pleasure? This is for my enjoyment, not her. I’ll just fuck her dry.’

Your head rolled back and forth on the pillow as you pleaded, but Henrys attention was now solely centred on the soft folds between your legs. He pushed any troubling doubts to the side and grabbed hold of his eager, dripping cock, blood pounding wildly in his ears.

Henry launched his body onto of yours. You begged and wheezed out to him to release you but he would not.

Dimly aware he was panting with animalistic desire, he allowed pure the beastly lust to take control. He aligned his well crafted cock between your nether lips surrounded by a cuckoo’s nest. Spreading the shiny beads of moisture leaking from the head, the lord slid his shaft back and forth over your entrance. You squirmed and whined and fidgeted as the skin of his blunt tip rested lazily ontop of your entrance.

For one last time, you, the kind governess of the Dalgliesh children begged with tears in your eyes and mucus forming in your nose, “Mercy, please don’t hurt me!”

“Hush child,” Henry whispered with his deep voice and slowly embedded himself inside of you.

You yelled out at the invasion.

‘Pain, oh god please make it stop, make him stop!!’

He lowered his mouth to your face, breathing in your sweat as he down right raped your tied up body, thrusting into your pussy harder, trying to get deep down.

You choked and gasped and reared up beneath him as his pelvis touched your thighs, while your spine curled upright to the heavens with the agonising discomfort of his penetration. Your chest heaved up and down as your body trembled from the erupting pain. His sharp finger nails dug into your hips which he grasped, keeping you firmly still.

‘This is wrong!!’

‘Have mercy!’

You were overwhelmed by the violent assault he was taking out on you physically. Never before had you imagined this was the awful torture women would suffered beneath their husbands.

‘Had his wife endured such pain…twice for the children!?’

The raw cutting into your hole, cutting up the ruins of your maiden head was an invasion into your whole soul being. Your heaving chest let loose a gut retching wail, after holding your breath too long.

Your tear flooded eyes squinted in hatred and disgust at him. The gag around your cheeks loosened and fell down your chin. Your crying was continued as you screamed at him “I hate you! Die you monster! Stop it!”

Henry however only laughed and slapped you across the face. It was not a particularly hard slap, but it stung.

The blood rushed into your cheek that was covered in salty release of sadness. Sliding deeper with every stroke, he released your hip to grip your jaw and hiss sharply into your ear, “You feel so bloody good whore, you’re nothing but a nice warm quim to shove my cock in,” he thrusted in deeper,

You yelled wordlessly in anger while Henry cackled with every pounding, “You’re my. Tight. Little. Rabbit.”

You were now coming to the stand point where you knew you couldn’t fight no matter how hard you wanted or tried.

‘Give up, keep still, it’ll be over soon,’ you told yourself full of sad hope.

His cock, even though causing pain found a strange area in which your body did enjoy, much to your horror.

You could not hold back, the tension within you layered and built higher until it unexpectedly exploded inside blinding pleasure spiralling throughout your entire body. Your eyes saw nothing but white for a mere few seconds. You gasped for air, shocked at the heady sensations swamping you, wondering what strange wildness had taken over your body. You knew Henry had done it somehow.

He sat up and trapped you by the waist in a bruising grip, savagely pounding into you as hard as he possibly could. You grunted and whimpered painfully when he finally release his essence inside of you with a fairly guttural grunt and a groan. His cock still inside you.

He swiped his forehead of the built up sweat when he finished, sweeping his curls hair away from his face. He leaned down and kissed your forehead. He hushed and cooed to you as you continued to cry.

The Earl moved away, and you shivered as his cock slid out from your body. The wave of disgust I’m him and in your self for not fighting harder damaged your soul.

“Say thank you, Sir,” he whispered in your ear, you shook your head at him and choked on your tears.

“Say thank you, Sir,” Henry snarled at your stubborn silence as his right hand curled over and pressed down on your throat.

“Thank you…sir,” you croaked, your voice breaking.

“You are sweeter than I could have imagined,” he told your, his voice dripping with a honey thick tone you would’ve found so charming and attractive if this had never happened. Now you could only trembled at it, find yourself afraid of it. Tears leaked down into the pillow. You turned your head away and shut your eyes tightly praying this was somehow a terrible nightmare.

“If you obey me little girl and learn not to talk out against me, you will find I can be a very kind master. Understood?”

You nodded but kept your eyes closed. You felt his lips press to your ear lobe, and he inhaled the smell of your skin again.

The Earl flipped himself onto his side, lightly stroked your cheek. You wept and shuddered under his ‘embrace’, torn between tears and anger, overloaded with conflicting emotions, wrung out from the carnal encounter.

Unsure how to respond anymore, you only sniffled in reply. Your body trembled in shock as your mind struggled to absorb and understand what had happened this night.

‘How could this have happened? What did I do to deserve this?’

“Sleep,” he commanded and despite having been unconscious before this nightmare, your exhausted body ached. You wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear into darkness completely, just to be away from him.

A single tear escaped to roll down your cheek. You pulled at your the ropes around your wrists again.

Distantly you heard him say, “You’ll need your energy for when you wake.”

No more fight left within you, not that you could put up much one anyway; You let him gathering your bound body in his arms.

His filthy fingers scratched against your scalp as you slowly fell asleep to all the nightmares that would never scare your again due to his mistreatment tonight. You thought back to the kitchen where you should’ve just left. You wish you could go back now and find the butcher knife Chef Mikkelsen used so often, so you could ram it into the black heart beating beneath your cheek.

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Tuesday 10th April. 06:05 am.

Pain, hate, fear, pleading screams, mocking laughter.

This time you knew you were awake. You knew deep down the previous hours had not been a dream. And you knew what the Earl of Jersey had done to you. When your orbs fluttered open you immediately sobbed. Your knowledge was confirmed accurate. A stingy bite came from between your crusty thighs.

Lord Henry was no where in sight.

The room was bathed in natural light from a window with the curtains drawn back. You quickly came to an understanding that the light coming from a window at your right specified it must’ve been morning.

Facing your feet was a door way. Beside the door was a dark leather arm chair facing the bed and a bookshelf.

The room was painted in light cream coloured wallpaper. There was a vanity with a full mirror to your left. You could see most of your nude body tethered to the bed in the vanity mirror. Beside it was a grand wardrobe thrice the size of the one in your room. To your right was a grand fireplace.

The wood was still red with burning embers but the fire had died.

You reached down to rub your raw body. You gasped.

Lifting your right wrist up to your face you noticed a bruising hot rope burn ringing around it.

Your right hand was free…and so were your feet!! But your left hand remained trapped. Sitting up and tugging your right hand down between your thighs you scratched all the dry flakes of old arousal away before slapping your thighs in anger.

You muffled a scream in a multitude of emotions ranging from mourning to the desire to murder.

Folding your face into the ridges of your palm, you sobbed hard until all your bones twitched from the intensity of your wails. Your toes and fingers curled until the knuckles bore a pale hue. Your chin and lip quivered as your nose twitched. Snorting back your tears, you continuously rubbed them with the bottom of your palms. Tears flowed like waterfalls over your warm cheeks.

Your pain stricken tears loomed over the room you were trapped inside. Staring at the door you thought back on your last memories...you swore the monster encased you in his arms; but now he was nowhere to be seen.

Still naked and afraid you slowly and ever so carefully turned on your bottom and slid your feet onto the floor. Your left hand still trapped by the impossibly tight knotted rope, you made it a life crisis to find some kind of item to cut through it.

Your steps were cut short by more than five steps. You knew last night the rope on your wrists wouldn’t have let you move so easily or far.

‘Strange, he had definitely untied the other limbs and lengthened the space for me, why?’

You glanced at the dresser. You held your breath, your five step space had been used up, and so with all your persistence you stretched your right hand out to one of the top draws next to the mirror. A click signified your success as your finger managed to pull out the draw by its ring handle and reach inside to feel a cold, hard object.

‘I must leave this place, I can’t be here! I will leave and find another option in teaching, maybe London has available opportunities; I’ll do anything to keep Odette safe! Dear God, Set me free and guide me to safety!’

Holding it steadily and firmly you lifted out your prize.

‘Scissors!’

The sharp weapon of sewing was in your grasp. you bubbled with excitement.

‘I’m going to be free!’

Your slightly shaking hand with the metal tool shot to the rope that trapped you to this scene. Your beating heart loudly pounded in your ears, your breath suddenly laboured. You were terrified, what if he hurt your again? You couldn’t let that happen; you needed to run.

‘I will go to Mr Ransome! He’ll ride me to the harbour, I’ll catch the next ship out back to the main land!’

Your hand hacked away persistently.

Snip

A finally with your last cut came undone the rope tying you to the bed.

A mixture of joy and fear harboured your soul.

‘I now need to leave through the door!’

The moment you were loose you considered running out the door, but a slight breeze halted you entirely. Your eyes flickered down. Bare to the world was not an option for you to run through the house and escape, you’d be a large sore thumb! It would be a worse humiliation to be so open in front of the household along with the possibility of little Mary and Michael catching you with their innocent eyes.

You looked to the bed with quick thinking and stripped it of its contents. After laying down the scissors you wrapped the layers around your body as best and securely as you could.

But tying your last part of your self made dress, the sound of a click and handle turning from the very door you planned to escape through made you panic and trip over your make shift skirtsfalling onto your backside.

Your hand immediately launched for the scissors still on the bed and swiped them behind your back.

The door flung open with a loud creak. As expected the handsome beast stood in the door frame. you scrambled to your feet, just as the Earl Henry entered the room with his hands behind his back and chest puffed up like a rooster. You bit your lip and looked to your feet, you didn’t realise how small and intimidated you could be made to feel again.

He was fully dressed in a common three piece suit. A pocket watch hung from a clip on his waist.

His leather shoes squeaked as long the floor.

Walking in, he pushed the door closed with his two fingers and in his other hand was a tightly held key that locked you both inside. Slipping the tool of your escape into his pocket, Henry noticed how you; his victim was in a different position that last time he’d left you.

The bastard had a smug grin on his face. His eyes set on your freed wrists and back to the bare bed then back to your covered torso. Dressed in the costume toga of a roman vestal virgin despite its ironical symbolism; it was so sweetly innocent.

He fluttered his eyes and chuckled a little, “It pleases me to know you have learnt simple etiquette; to rise with a bowed head in the presence of those superior to you.”

Your teeth sneered as your eyes glared up at him, “I’m not standing for you,” you licked your lips and sighed, “I was just…startled that’s all.”

You hid the scissors inside the folds of your make-shift skirts, pretending that you were simply smoothing the sheets you’d draped yourself in while gradually stepping further and further away from him to circle around the bed. Distancing yourself from the danger was the easiest and possibly safest strategy to run outside the door.

He shook his head and flashed a mean grin, “Well, all my girls here know when to show respect to their lord and Master.”

His footing rounded you quickly and slammed your hips into the duchess draws, the back of your head snapped back and cracked against the mirror. Tears released instantly even while you screamed at yourself to hold your composure. You made no noise, no whimper or whine, even with the spreading burning headache from the back of your head.

Just silent tears.

His large warm hand lifted up and rubbed your cheek, collecting your falling droplets. You flinched half believing he rose his hand to strike you. His fingers guided your face to the side and thumb jabbed into your jaw and chin. He moved your head side to side.

After so much silence of the earl inspecting your face, you hissed, “I am not one of your ‘girls’ and I do not belong to anyone, therefore I shall not bow or rise under the command of a pompous man with the greed of a naughty child!”

His eyes widened along with a sickly smile.

“My, you sure have a mouth on you.” He chuckled, his finger circled behind the your ear.

His eyes looked into the broken mirror, “The sooner you acknowledge that you are not merely a governess here, the better off you’ll be…little girl.”

An icy tingle spread from your neck to your feet while heat spread through your lower belly and down between your legs.

‘The way he spat, ‘Little girl’, why do I…do I enjoy such a demeaning name!?’ Your lips wobbled.

“Do not call me by that and do not touch me!” you hissed through your teeth and slapped his hand away.

Your other hand beneath the folds squeezed the handle of the scissors tightly with your dear life.

You knew that if you stabbed him, he could die and that you might hang for it.

‘He had ruined you! He had stolen your purity! your special flower!’ you internally lamented.

He shook his head happily like a silly teenager discovering the most immature joke that he found hilarious, his hand glided down your neck and to your chest. With a great boldness and savage hands he roughly groped your breasts wrapped in the sheets and sharply tugged a nipple he found.

A loud pain gasp stole out of your mouth.

Hatred and hellfire sparked in your soul. You quickly grasped Henrys wrist in your hand and threw it aside before pushing him strongly back.

“I said, don’t touch me!” you screeched and lifted up the scissors; you wanted to plunge them into his chest!

Alas, he miraculously anticipated your moves. Henry caught your weapon holding hand by the wrist and twisted it, causing you to cry out in pain and releasing the silver tool with a floor clattering thud.

He quickly wrenched your other arm behind you and clasped both of your wrists together in one hand as he pulled on one of your many ties that secured your sheet dress in place. The ‘gown’ came undone and melted off your body onto the floor.

You fought, believe me you screamed like a banshee and kicked and stomped and smacked your sore head against his rocked hard chest to possible knock the air out of him, it’s unfortunate he was unaffected by your attacks.

“Unhand me you... you... you... Pig!!” you screamed, wriggling in his arms.

Your feet attempted to stomp harshly down on his shoes. Yet it became a little game of shuffle and kick.

“Pig?” he laughed with a bark like sound, “Is that the best you could think of? Pig?! You couldn’t even manage the word arse or idiot or even bitch?” his deep laughter vibrating through his chest, pressed against you, sharing his mirth. “I know you to be naïve little one, but so innocently proper?

Oh this is just absolutely too much,” he gasped, tears of laughter in his eyes.

You scowled at him.

‘I just tried to kill you!’ you thought in horror and anger, ‘you think it’s funny I could’ve ended your life!’

“Release me at once you brute!” You shouted over your shoulder.

“Now, now, not yet,” he grunted and shoved your front into the mattress of the bed, “You seem to be unable to control yourself in the presence of a man...no, why in fact, my presence, the presence of your Master. Once you show some self-control or respect, you’ll be held down right beneath me,” he murmured in a silky voice as he held your wrists together and undid his belt.

You heard the clink and began to tremble. You bit your lip and cried silently into the fabric pressed on your face. The leather wrapped around your elbows and tightened sharply. Henry bound your arms together as he fastened the buckle of his belt. He looked over his work and nodded before running fingers down your contorted shoulder blades, causing you to jump and accidentally release the smallest hiccup. You were a troublesome innocent to him. Still a little girl.

‘Goodness!’ He thought, ‘She is old enough to be my own daughter...’ But was there a hint of guilt in his black heart? Ha! Of course not!

His lips pressed beneath your ear and purred “Tell me little bunny, what did you think of me? When we first met I mean, back in my study.”

“I thought nothing!” You lied, wriggling beneath him, you were trying so hard to turn your body over and face him, you were only able to when he ripped your shoulder over and pressed his hands down on your shoulders with his face so close to yours, your noses touched.

“Oh really, because not for one moment do I believe that. I believe you…had an attraction didn’t you?” he leered, his tongue licking his lips.

His large hands cupped the sides of your face, pulling you against his moistened lips, his tongue pushing past your soft lips, pressing against your own.

Your eyes completely widened, pupils constricted. You were stunned by his shocking boldness. A kiss was the last thing you thought he’d do, you didn’t think such a ‘love’ used thing would be in his abilities after his rash behaviour the night before.

However, when you felt his large tongue pushing itself past your lips like a slimy thick worm, you felt sickened. You tried to pull away but he held your face against his own, you strained against the belt except was unable to lift a limb to him.

You thought about one of his smart quotes about your mouth…‘you sure have a mouth on you’. Henry felt a lift in your lips that formed a small smile against his lips. Cheeky and brave for once, you hatched a nasty thought. You returned his affectionate attentions.

Henry grumbled to himself, he didn’t want you to relax, he wanted you to be scared of him and hate him. He wanted you to fight! It was too strange to him and felt just so wrong after initially fighting against him, you now were warming up to his touch?

Instead a second later he felt pain of raw fire- he yelped and ripped his face back while feeling his bottom lip; he was bleeding! you had bitten him! He couldn’t believe it! But in a way he could!

And despite the agonising bite mark, he loved it!

He may have wanted your submission yes, but he also wanted to see the red in your eyes. Henry wanted your loyalty and your hate. Deep down he considered he enjoyed a woman disliking him and looking at him with disgust written on your face; it awakened what he felt when he saw his wife.

He admitted to his own butler that he loved to fuck his wife as she screamed how much he repulsed her and his existence with his cock tightly shoved inside of her cunt. Something about the situation would always arouse him.

Last night he was bored with you. After all, you only cried and begged. He wanted his governess to screech and claw just how you did now.

Besides, this gave him reason to ‘dutifully punish’ you. Your biting teeth was the second time you’d assaulted him in the last ten minutes, Henry now wanted to hear you really scream.

His hand sharply slapped across your face enticing the very noise he craved.

“You’ll pay for that,” he barked as he pulled your whole torso forwards across his lap, lifting your legs onto your knees, below your chest was his lap. He raised his clean palm high above his head and whipped it down hard against your bottom.

You didn’t scream, didn’t cry, didn’t wail and didn’t weep. You choked.

All the air had encased itself inside your chest until Henry softly rubbed your arse; a little silent choke emitted from your lips before the air escaped in terrible wailing sobs.

“Hurts doesn’t it, little rabbit, sore beneath your cotton tail?” The Earl cooed as he rubbed his governess’ bottom in a circular motion before swiftly spanking you again. You squealed from shock more than pain this time as you struggled to roll off his lap.

“Let me go! I demand you release me! How dare y-”, but your words were cut off by three successive spanks to your rear, causing you to gasp, rendering you speechless.

He goaded you, “I’m sorry my dear, I didn’t hear what you were saying, care to repeat it?” You may have been humiliated, however you were not going to cave in again!

You looked back over your shoulder at him with your meanest scowl, “I said ‘how dare you touch me!?’ You disgustin-“ but was once again rendered speechless as he pelted upon you an additional four more hits to your rear. Heaving and shaking, fight away more tears you growled at him; steam practically blew out of your nose and ears.

The Earl paused, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Tell me little bunny rabbit, have you ever been spanked before?” he rubbed your bottom again, “Probably not... your father was far too busy gambling his wealth to lay hands on his daughter.”

You perked your head and listened carefully, ‘how did he know about fathers’ money?’

“The west country are such a soft people, not to mention squirmy cowards,” he continued. “But that was just a warm up.”

You were fast losing whatever equal footing you thought you had. As you felt his spidery hand rub its way up your bare leg in between your thighs you struggled against his lap, feeling his palm increase the pressure against your spine. His hand froze and pulled away. He laughed loudly at you and patted your bottom.

“Awe little rabbit, by all means struggle! It is a tremendous show to the audience and surely you can feel me press against your rubbing chest, can’t you darling?” He asked, emphasizing the hardness within his pants by grinding up into your ribs.

You felt nausea as though you were going to cause terrible indigestion. He was true to his word as you felt the hard poking of a firm bulge against you. You froze, aware that your motion was indeed causing your tormentor increasing pleasure.

“Oh, don’t stop now bunny, that felt so good!” he taunted.

“Let me go, Henry!” you yelled, careful to remain still against him.

SMACK!

Tears sprung to your eyes, a squeal escaped you, the stinging in your cheeks were ten times worse than his others he’d administrated before.

“Do – not – ad-dress – me – by – my – name,” he grunted, spanking your with each word, seven hard spanks in all, echoing around the room.

You focused all your energy on keeping silent, not acknowledging his power over you. Your pride meant everything if you were to continue to fight and escape, you couldn’t give in, not even in the face of such torment.

“You shall address me as befitting your stature – and let me emphasize, dear little girl, that you may be the governess of my children and I may be your employer, but we are in no way equals,” He stated, as he ran the palm of his hand over your, feeling the heat radiating off your buns.

“Do I make myself clear?” he asked.

You remained silent, you wouldn’t let him get the satisfactory of hearing your cry again, tears he would see but no cry, no matter how hard he hit your, you would not give up!

Clearly not impressed nor pleased by your, Henry dug his finger nails into one of your reddened cheeks, piercing the tender flesh, causing you to whimper in pain and then fall back to quick silence.

“I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” he huffed.

“Yes! Yes... you were very clear,” you gasped and repeated “We are not equals.”

Feeling him lessen the pressure on your hot arse, you hesitated before continuing.

You clenched your whole body and braced for his rage you knew would spit out when you said very smartly, “From our very first meeting Lord Dalgliesh, I discovered the evidence to prove that you are in fact…inferior to me.”

‘Inferior…uncouth slug, foul pig, son of a bastards’ whore!'

The look he shared turned you colder than a corpse in grave mud....

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #dark!henry cavill

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cookiepie111 · 9 months

Note

(this is ceilidh I just can’t reply to your post bc ceilidho isn’t my main account) anyway mute gladiator könig who wins you as a prize and doesn’t really touch you or do anything for days. Just stares at you from beneath his hood while you cower in his chambers, not sure what he wants from you 😵‍💫 it’s half terrifying and half deeply confusing and reassuring because he also drags you close whenever one of the cockier, crueler fighters tries to say something to you

AHHHHH! IM GOING FEARAL!!

I am so sorry I thought the answer already sent I don't even know any more 😭

You're half relieved he hasn't touched in any strange ways, and he keeps you safe. The only issue is when you go outside or sleep. He looms over you when you're buying things in the market. He'd silently sit you in his lap while a feast is going on watching the hunger eyes of the other gladiators, licking their lips for a taste of you, but they know better than to mess with könig. The night is stressful, you worry it'll be the night he'll come and claim what's his but it never comes. Sometimes, he'll sneak into your Chambers to sink into your bed tightly holding you. The worst is how you'll wake up feeling restless and uneasy, in the dark through hazy eyes, you see something staring back at you, eyes floating in the air. You scream, just before his hand covers the whole bottom half of your face. After that incident, you learn to just get used to his starring, though it doesn't make you feel any more comfortable.

#gladiator könig #könig #i have a different take on him thats just so desperate to have you #writing #answered #könig x reader #I've been all over the place

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nine-of-words · 26 days

Text

Out in the Cold (Part Five)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG

Wordcount: 3631

Content Warnings: None

Sorry for such a long gap, I had a crippling bout of writer’s block and then it was suddenly a month later. But I’m pleased to announce I haven’t forgotten how to write :)

You look down warily at the creature scratching at the base of the tree you’re perched in.

This little guy is nothing like that one scary hexopard etched in your memory- the one that supplied the material for your beloved winter cloak.

You sigh at the sight of the creature’s plush fur. You left that cloak behind when you fled the settlement, despite it being one of your favorite belongings. It just didn't feel right to take it with you after… everything… but the biting cold is really making you wish you had caved and brought it along anyway.

This smaller hexopard’s scavenging around for food at its leisure, driven to snack on anything it can get its hands on easily to bulk up for the coming hibernation, but it’s not in a hurry.

Because it’s not currently driven mad by post-hibernation hunger and aggression, you can probably distract it enough that it won’t view you as a tasty morsel to snack on and you’ll be able to slip away. You just need something enticing enough to hold its interest…

Then, looking down at its twitching nose, you realize that its sensitive sense of smell has probably picked up on the dried venison jerky in your pack. Your theory is all but confirmed when you pull out the pouch where your rations are from within, and you swear you can see its eyes light up.

“Alright, buddy. Follow these and not me, okay?” You say, looking for a good place to toss them. Then, you wind up your arm as best you can in your position, and chuck the pouch into the woods in the opposite direction.

The hexopard immediately lets off the tree and lumbers after the pouch, tail swishing behind it as it loudly crashes unbidden through the underbrush.

After a few moments of observation, you slip down the tree gingerly, hoping to not become more interesting than the alluring scent of dried meat. When you get to the bottom, you’re relieved to see the creature so fully engrossed in your ration pouch that you might as well not exist any longer, its snout fully covered as it roots in the opening of the leather. You sneak off quietly while you still have the chance.

Once you get far enough away, you resume your trek at a faster pace. After another hour or so of traveling, you grin from ear to fluffy ear as the sight of the river comes into view.

Salvation.

Your pace picks up without you even thinking about it, your morale boosted by something going right for once. Your tail curls behind you in a delight.

You’re not exactly thrilled at having to give up your only food supplies; yet you’re alive and no longer lost, and that seems like a pretty good trade-off.

Now, all that’s left is to follow the river back to town. Then, this whole ordeal will be over. You’ll be back to your old life, though now enjoying the increase in station in the guild pulling off such a momentous task surely will earn you. Who knows, maybe they’ll even splurge on a feast to celebrate!

Now that does sound good right now.

Think about something else, you urge yourself. You need to force yourself to stop, lest your mouth start watering. Anything else… The grumbling of your stomach is distracting enough already.

But it’s no use, you’ve fallen down the mental rabbit hole, and now only thinking of all the things you’d like to eat when you get back. You’re swept up in thoughts of whole roasted suckling pig and honeyed chestnut sweetbread… braised venison with cherry glaze and grilled root vegetables… seeded crackers with soft cheese and over-slathered with homemade berry jam…

Hell, you’ll even take marinated eggs right now…

You wipe your mouth on your sleeve. It takes you a moment for it to sink in, but those are all things that you’ve been eating at the stronghold that you’re craving, not things you miss from home. All of your memories of food you miss from the past are so fuzzy. It’s hard to remember anything of note, past vague, smeared memories of nostalgic meals you ate when you were very young.

And when you get back… you probably won’t eat Orcish food again. At least not for a while.

It’s… fine.

You’ll be home, soon. And you won’t have to think about any of this ever again.

LAST SPRING

“Surely there’s something I can help you with.” Your tail swishes in agitation behind you, a clearly visible indicator of your emotional state. “You’re just being difficult.”

“Urgh- Don’t you have something better to do than bug me?” Torg rumbles, running his good hand down his face in annoyance. "Work to finish? Anything?"

His arm is still in a sling from the hunting incident. And true to his nature, he's being an absolute ass about accepting any help.

"I've already filled my quota today." You say smugly, hands planted on your hips. It's one of the rare days you've finished early and without incident, and you're quite pleased with yourself about it.

"Good, you should be off enjoying the nice weather while it’s here, rather than nagging me in this stuffy office."

"Just let me help you, you stubborn oaf!" You lean over the desk, slapping your hands down on the papers in front of him. Your loosely laced shirt hangs off you a bit with the movement. The new clothes you had made for the warm weather don’t quite fit you as close as you typically wear your shirts- the tailors here still aren’t quite used to your non-orc proportions.

Torg simply stares down at you in perturbed silence. You’ve gotten much more comfortable with the way you communicate with Torg since the hunting trip, but he is your superior. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far..

"...Torg?"

"...Fine." He grumbles, now looking at anything but you.

He really must be prideful if accepting your help makes him this uncomfortable…

"Shop taxes are due, but I don't think I'll have time to visit each one today." He makes a list of names on a sheet of paper. "You can knock out some of the collections for me."

"You're trusting me with handling funds?" You scoff.

"When you put it like that you're really making me second guess it." He chuckles, but slides the paper across to you nonetheless. "But I do trust you, if you can believe it. They'll already have the gold ready in pouches. You just have to collect them and bring them back here."

"Alright. Leave it to me." You take the paper with a grin, filled with a sense of victory at having convinced him to let you help.

He grunts and goes back to what he was doing.

You can barely refrain from rubbing your hands together in glee on your way out. If the big man of the settlement trusts you with funds of all things, it looks like you're making progress towards your goal. Maybe having a reason to poke around more shops will give you more of an idea of where the item you're looking for is…

The first stop is close enough: a short walk to the tailor's shop, nearby in the middle of the settlement.

"Good afternoon ladies!" You say cheerily as you enter the colorful shop. Granny Ghorza is taking a break from her loom, sweeping the floor instead. She's become one of your favorite orcs here; she’s a funny old bat and makes the best sweets in the whole settlement, to boot. "The good looks must really run in the family."

Her young adult granddaughter manning the counter balks a little at the blatant flirting, but gives you a courteous smile. She's a nice enough woman, though shy and a bit forgettable. Her name eludes you at the moment…

"Mmhm, and how are your new spring shirts fitting dearie? I might have to add some modesty stitches if you're going to wear it unlaced like that, ohohoh!" She cackles, using the broom handle to pull at the front of your partially open, billowy shirt. "Looks a little breezy, you might catch a cold- or worse, someone’s attention, eheheh!”

"Ahah- They fit perfectly fine, thank you!" You act scandalized, pinching the gaping collar closed and pressing the broom handle away, before you turn to approach the counter.

"Um, what brings you here today? I don't think you have any orders waiting to be picked up..." Ghorza's granddaughter says meekly with a polite smile, looking through the ledger book at the counter. "Your items are… hard to forget, since they don't use up much fabric…"

"Ah, I'm here to collect your tax dues." You explain. "Since Boss is still healing."

"Oh. So… He isn't coming today, then…?" The young woman asks, in a curiously forlorn tone.

"Afraid not. Though, I assure you I am perfectly capable of safely transporting a gold pouch." You say and let out a friendly laugh.

"I see, I see. About time the man let someone give him a hand once in a while." Ghorza gives you a toothless smile. "Would you be a dear get him the dues, Murgol? The pouch is ready in the top drawer."

Murgol twists the hem of her shirt in her hands in displeasure, looking like she's about to break into tears at any moment. Then her lip quivers, and she unceremoniously flees the room, sniffling.

There’s an awkward moment of silence that seems to stretch out far too long for your liking before Ghorza speaks again.

"Mmgh, that girl…" Ghorza shakes her head in reproach.

"Is she… going to be alright?" Clearly something upset her quite badly, but you don't think you said anything that egregious… "I hope I didn't offend her…?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. She's sensitive when things don't go her way, but she'll live." She shuffles behind the counter, hobbling into her granddaughter's previous spot. "Let me get you the gold, dearie."

You leave the tailor shop, eating a slice of candied apricot-studded sweetbread that Ghorza definitely forced on you and you only took because you were guilted into taking. You scratch the tailor’s family name off your list as you reflect on the strange interaction with the seamstresses.

You like to think you're quite astute when it comes to social intelligence, but you just can't put your finger on what may have been the trigger of her outburst.

Oh well. Perhaps she's just going through something personal?

You put the interaction out of your mind and head to the next place on your list.

You walk into the blacksmith's next. Luckily she doesn't seem to be too busy as the shop is currently devoid of customers, with her hammering out something at the anvil.

You’ve been friendly with her ever since prepping for the hunting trip. Apparently Lurog and her are good friends, and she was kind enough to let you use her shop to create the arrowheads you needed for your trial. You buy them directly from her now, chatting a while every time you come to replenish your supply.

"Hello Burzgob," You speak up so she can hear above the metal clanking. "Amazing job you're doing there."

“Thanks, little guy. I'm guessing you're not here to buy? Don’t think you used up all those arrowheads from the other day already. …At least I hope."

"Nope, I'm here to collect tax dues. I'm helping Boss out since he's still injured. Two hands better than one, or so they say."

She guffaws, setting the hammer down and pulling her gloves off before wiping her hands on her apron.

"Oh, damn. I was expecting him to be the one to drop by." She rubs her cheek with the back of her hand, still managing to smear soot there as well. “Bummer.”

"Spirits, you're not the first to feel that way today!" You say in exasperation. "I'm starting to think no one wants to see me…"

"Hahah! Nothing personal, trust me!" She grins and pats your shoulder, getting soot on your shirt as well. "Had something I needed to ask him."

"Oh, I see." You nod, and without missing a beat, nonchalantly add; "About what?"

"Hah! So nosy! Sorry, little guy. I like you, but it's a secret."

"Drat. Well, I tried…" You let out a performative sigh and shrug.

"Hey, uh… you're pretty close with Boss though, right?"

…Are you…?

You hadn't really considered it before, but over the course of training and especially after the hunting trip, you've definitely gotten used to his presence. You have something akin to a friendship now; or at least, what must look like one from a spectator's point of view. He’s quick to help you with anything, but he seems to be that way with all of the people in his charge. Though, at the very least, he trusts you enough to let you help him with this task, when asking for help with his own tasks seems to be something he does very seldomly..

"I suppose you could say that." You conclude.

"Can you deliver something to him for me, since you're going back there anyway?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"Great! I owe you one, bud." Burzgob's face lights up as she grins, the silver caps on her tusks glinting. She returns and hands you a tied bundle with a letter tucked under the string. It smells like perfume. "Uh, promise you won’t read it, okay?"

You fervently promise you won’t, then bid her goodbye and leave the blacksmith's.

You have a similar experience at the tanner's, then the baker’s… and then the chandler’s…

Somehow, this seemingly easy task has left you feeling like a withered corpse. Luckily for you, however, seeing which family runs the last business on the list fills you with a sense of ease.

The shop bell jingles as you enter, and you’re immediately awash with the pleasant scent of soap, as well as a heady mix of any sort of cosmetic salve, wax or powder you can think up.

Your self care routine took a little adjustment, being out in the wilds, now. So many of their products were completely foreign to you at first. But despite the slight learning curve, you’ve honestly never felt better. You weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself while hopping from flophouse to flophouse that belonged to your guild; you barely had the resources to keep yourself fed, let alone buying overpriced soaps and perfumes. But here, things aren’t too expensive, despite being handmade and about as locally sourced as something can be.

Lurog is sitting behind the counter of her family's salon, seemingly counting out the till while the shop is closing down for the evening around her.

"Hey." If she's surprised to see you, she doesn't show it. "We're closed. But if you want your hair done I can do it for you when I'm done here."

"Oh, is that Boss?" You hear one of Lurog's several younger sisters call out from farther inside the shop.

"Is he finally here?!" Another one chimes in and peeks her head around the divider.

"No! False alarm." A third one sweeping her station sighs. "Just the little kitty cat."

You quirk an eyebrow at the reception, but everyone but Lurog has gone back to chatting over their tasks.

"I might just take you up on that offer, I'm getting a little scraggly… Not what I'm here for, though. Boss sent me to collect your dues."

Lurog nods in understanding, but your attention is on the loud, spirited gossiping in the shop behind her as the women discuss their displeasure at this development amongst themselves.

"Don't mind them." Lurog shakes her head in admonishment. "They're just mad because they wanted the chance to flirt with Boss."

“Flirt?” You scoff. “Taxes really get their motors running, huh?”

“Hah.” Lurog rolls her eyes. “No, they’re just all desperate to find men to torment.”

"Oh." You say, wheels starting to turn in your head. "Do you think that's what's going on with everywhere else I've stopped today too…?"

"Wouldn't doubt it. Boss would be a catch for a lot of the women in the stronghold." Lurog says simply, retrieving the gold pouch and sliding it to you over the counter. "Midsummer festival's coming up. Big time for romance. But Boss is either real picky or just not into it. Hasn’t taken any of them up on the offer yet… But he also hasn’t explicitly turned anyone down.”

“Ah, but then… Why are they all still asking? Wouldn’t he just ask who he’d like to and be done with it, if he wanted to court anyone?”

“Because with orcs it’s up to the one that’s gonna be taking it-“ She smirks and makes an incredibly crude gesture with her hands. “To ask to start the courtship, or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Really now?” You feel your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Why is that?”

“Unh-uh.” Lurog shrugs. ”Just how we do it, I guess."

Well, that certainly explains why you haven’t been getting invitations to share anyone’s bed, despite being as gorgeous and alluring as you are. What would a full-fledged orc want from you, with so many massive, hunky orc men around to choose from?

But that means you have the power to try to lure a man in.

Hmm… if you were to ask out one of the right orcs, you might have better access to off limits areas for your search…

Lurog must notice the spark of an idea in your eye of how to use your newfound power, because she quickly adds; "You should wait until the festival to harass any men. Better success rate."

“You know, you’re actually very helpful when you want to be.” You grin at her. “It’s a shame you don’t often want to be.”

“Thanks.” She snorts in a deadpan tone. “I wish I could say the same.”

You finish your friendly ribbing with Lurog, more than ready to haul back the large rucksack of gold and the almost nearly as large, cumbersome pile of offerings for Torg, and be done with this task.

You can't help but get into your own head about what's happened during this excursion while you make your way back. You can feel the irritation growing the more you dwell on it, your tail twitching behind you.

All of the shop owners on your list were women. Specifically, women that seem to be interested in Torg. It seems far too unlikely to be a coincidence- you doubt that many of the shops in the settlement are run by eligible women fawning over Torg.

More importantly, why does it upset you so much?

Jealousy…? Because you’re lonely?

It must be that- because he apparently has a queue of women asking to court him when none of the male orcs in the settlement even look at you twice.

…Right. That must be all it is.

You're still a bit grumpy about it as you return to Torg's office.

"Here you are." You set down the pack with the gold pouches inside and the bundle of gifts on his desk with a heavy sigh.

"Thanks for the help." He says, then noticing your clearly negative mood, he looks up from his task. "I hope it wasn't too much of a pain."

"No, it was easy enough.” You grumble, and go on to quip as you nonchalantly examine your cuticles; “Though… if you wanted me to host a meeting of your fanclub, you could've just asked."

"That bad?" He looks genuinely sheepish, scratching the edge of his beard.

"It was pretty bad." You put your hands on your hips, deciding that you'll give him a bit more of a hard time. "A lot of disappointed ladies giving me shit for not being you."

"I'm sorry. If I knew it would bother you, I wouldn't have given you that task."

"Apology accepted, but it seems…” You make a noise in disgust. “A tad unkind to lead so many people on like this, doesn’t it? It's not like you at all."

"I'm- Ugh. I'm not leading anyone on. At least I'm not trying to-" He runs a hand through his hair in discomfort. "I am Chieftain, I can't have so many of my people holding a grudge against me for rejecting them romantically. It would be disruptive, so I thought it would be best for me to just ignore any of these crushes some of the younger women have on me."

"It must be difficult being so popular with the ladies…" You say dryly.

"Hey, poke fun all you want, but it can be. Someone will be hurt regardless of what choice I make."

"Why not… Oh, I don’t know… pick one, then, and get it over with? Then the ones you don't pick can accept it and move on, rather than holding onto false hope."

"It's not that simple…"

"It sure seems like it is!" You chuckle. "How is it not the simplest thing?"

"Because I am not interested in any of them."

"You're telling me you have your pick of half of the young, gorgeous Orcish women in this stronghold throwing themselves at your feet," You lean over the desk and gesture to the bag of offerings on his desk. "And not one of them meets your standards?"

"No." He says heavily, clearly weary from the ongoing nature of this conversation. “Are you satisfied? Can you end this interrogation now?”

"...Okay." You relent, incredulous, but still accept his words. You've grilled him enough, you suppose.

A small smile has taken up residence on your face. Did you really enjoy hassling him that much…?

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x reader #orc x reader #orc #monster x monster #male reader #mlm #mxm #male x male #queer romance #series: out in the cold #oc: torg #oc: reyr #nine of words

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lafcadiosadventures · 1 month

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Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XXXIV

Francesco Hayez. Two versions of La Meditazione, 1851

(ALSO pls check out this 1877 edition of Mme P, including an illus of Deborah smashing the pornography!! couldn't post that bc of ownership, but I would have!!)

(reading mates: @counterwiddershins + @sainteverge )

Asorted thoughts on this very extense and well written chapter:

(this is a very long post you guys. it happens)

-Deborah should know by now not to visit her regular places

-on a symbolic plane, Catholic rites endanger her, literally put her in a vulnerable physical position (we have seen how catholicism can be a crutch for Patrick, pushing him to pasivity)(Deborah is always more active, but this time she is literally led by her faith to a place her captors know she frequents, and she herself is lying flat against the ground, which gives her captors physical dominace over her)

-Once again, the intelligence of the character is not entirely consistent, the scene tho, is very effective and evocative (deborah has watered the stones of the church floor with her tears. Her captors don't respect anything, it's the whole idea of profanation, not only of a temple but of a sacred moment)

-they blindfold her, cover her with one of her capes and shove her into a carriage. Reminds me a lot of accounts of people who were illegally detained, it all rings true. Once agin this is the (monarchic) state employing tactics of criminals.

-Deborah never gives up mentally, refuses to walk and has to be pushed, uses her eloquence to persuade the guards to let her live for the sake of her child (a smart rhetoric tactic, since her captors don't care about her, maybe they will doubt helping kill her if they know she is pregnant)

-Borel's narrator acts as if we don't know what we learnt last chapter (she is not going to be killed, she is sent to the king's brothel) giving the reader the upper hand over Debbie.

-However we don't know if her persuasivve speech has worked, we are as blind as her. She shakes and cries out in disgust as she recieves a succession of kisses on her cheeks and mouth. The person who just did that is a woman, who tells her she is safe and surrounded by people who love her. We guess this is the Madame. Her current tactic after kissing her against her will is being verbally soft and respectful, minding protocol and her title.

-Deborah is still blindfolded, not allowed to learn the structure of the place she is imprisioned in, yet the narrator shows us she is paying attention to what she can percieve as she follows the madame through the building (stairs, counting the sounds of locks, etc)

-Once inside her well furnished bedchamber-cum-cell, her blindfold is removed. Her two servants are incredibly ugly old men, very polite as well, dressed in Green, a color that has been highlighted in the narrative in relation to the clothes of Villepastour and the Knight of Youth. Beauty, mundanity and sexuality connects Villepastour and the perhaps more positive (and less pusilanimous) but also deadly Knight, so it's valid to connect the servants with them. They all serve the same credo. (it would be clever, even if nothing points to this, if in a Der Blaue Engel twist, the servants were past Villepastours, former discarded lovers of Pompadour, reduced to serfdom and watchdog status)

-A feast is brought to her room (the idea is to make her lower her guard) she is famished and parched but doesn't touch even a glass of water (the theme of the pure heroine resisting worldy temptations, seen in many fairytales) She suspects the food is poisoned but I imagine also a kind of repugnance from anything that came from her captors, accepting the food is in a way, playing by their rules. A dueña (duègne in french, a chaperone) undresses her and introduces her into her bed. (We are now in a bifurcation, Deborah enters one of the types of prisons for women -> the royal Brothel, we will perhaps see a prison for men, if Patrick has survived his illegal arrestation)

-Deborah tries to guess where she is, relying on what she heard and smelt on the carriage, and what she has seen and how she was treated in the mansion. (this once again, reads absolutely verosimile if one compares it with accounts of people who have been kidnapped or illegally imprisoned, Borel is well documented and it shows. Once again, it is interesting that he chooses to give us this insight with Deborah and not with Patrick. Borel wants us to stay with Deborah and like her, believe that Patrick is dead and she is all alone)

-She concludes she has been kidnapped and taken to one of Villepastour's retirement houses (nobles used to have smallish mansions to keep mistresses/sexual servants, sometimes literally trapped with no chance to leave... not really different from forced sexual labor) Her guess is as we know, partially wrong but very close to the truth. and if Villepastour hadn't spoken would Pompadour had remembered to take revenge on her?

-{i think it's fair to say that the king in this novel is like the king in chess. He is not at all the most powerful piece in the board. He does evil and has no qualms about it -as we will see- but everything has to be arranged for him, he must be served in all orders. He doesn't even know who Deborah is, so people around him can definitely use him for their petty revenges. It's not that he's a dupe (even if Pompadour is the mastermind of the novel) it's just that he is lazy, even the hard work behind his "fun" must be arranged by others}

-Deborah regrets not having stolen a knife from the table. She is far from defeated mentally, she'd rather die fighting.

-She avoids sleeping to be alert, opens the window. The fresh air revives her (nature comes to her aid against the evils of men) she sticks her head against the door to try and hear anything to avoid being surprised, but also, to learn anything that might be informative.

-once again the dueñas enter her room and manipulate her body while she still sleeps, putting her some pretty slippers on. She is now a doll, with little to no bodily autonomy. She is taken to a bathroom (the narrator still takes Debbie's pov, she is trying to ammass as much details of the place she is in as she can) She is put inside the bathtub (Borel cleverly uses passive voice to show us how she is being treated, gently but forcefully, and sorpresively. She cannot anticipate her servant/gaoler's movements and they are strong enough to lift her and move her like furniture)

-Enter a woman in a robe who deborah recognizes by the sound of her voice as the woman who has kissed her the night before.

-Enter the portrayal of queer persons -lesbians were a privileged subject- in french Romanticism to this particular book. How does Borel does it, in contrast to his peers? Physically there is nothing ordinary about her, Borel barely spends a line on how she looks like, it's how she acts that interests him. Borel is to be commended for this, there is nothing constitutive, physically essentialist about her queerness. What's important is that she is a mature woman of “vulgar”figure, with very refined manners. We conclude, probably a working class woman, nothing remarkable in her apereance, who has learnt the refined manners of her bosses. (I would love to compare her with Passereau, the beautiful and hispanic looking little sparrow who is confused with a male prostitute by the men gathering under the gay cruising spot aka the Boar in the Tuilleries, but I need to reread Passereau, all I can think of rn is, although Passereau isn't foreign he -like Borel- is thought to be, and remember how many of Vautrin's boyfriends are italian or corsican, even if vautrin himself is extremely ??? north of france looking with his flaming red hair, it is not unfrequent to “foreignize” homosexuality, even by authors who were queer themselves, like balzac, and very possibly Borel as well)

-I need at this point to bring up the Mother Superior in the Sainte-Eutrope Convent from Diderot's La Réligièuse. She and the Madame have some things in common. The Superior basically does the rounds undressing and bathing and forcing herself -sometimes, she is desired by some- on her novices and nuns. Her physical portrayal is similar to Borel's she is basically unremamrkable looking, of extreme sensitivity, a little fat but there's no Phrenology going on here, from either author. Although the Superior abuses her power she is not a rapist of the violent kind, I think the Mother Superior actually believes Suzanne loves her back, and she is incredibly surprised when Suzanne, right after making her orgasm, cries out for help because she thinks the Superior is sick)(this is fine erotic writing by old Denis, the prologuist of my penguin edition complains Suzanne is too inocent to be believeble, I personally buy it)(this book needs rereading though)

-Borel highlights her mouth (something that Balzac does in Théodore Calvi's -one of his corsican homosexual bandits, and a personal favorite of mine- introduction, and Hugo does with the very likely male prostitute Montparnasse. Borel does a close up shot of her lips, her honeyed mouth, she is savouring every word she says, to make Deborah trust her but also alludes to an excess of sensuality same as Diderot's Mother Superior)

-what follow is a long and interesting dialogue with Deborah and her. Both women are written as intelligent and trascend their stock roles of pure heroine and perverse gay madame.

I'll make use of cam's translation here:

“The interest that is being taken in me is too violent, madame; it is an indiscreet and insulting zeal which I fault and reject. But may I at least know who professes such an exorbitant benevolence towards me? In whose name was I led to this shelter? what is this shelter and what fate is awaiting me here?”

“(...)Answer me, am I here in a state prison?” “Does this residence, mylady, resemble a dungeon? and me, do I look like a gaoler?” “Could I be in a convent?” “Maybe.”

(that maybe...Even if couvent in french doesn't connote brothel like in elizabethan english, Borel invites us to find the similarities between both institutions)

-Deborah is correct in her intuitive association between the royal whorehouse and a prison.

-Borel's narrator illustrates the madame's thought process when Deborah begs for more concrete answers. Characterizing her as a bohemian, (une fine bohême, with an ^ instead of an `) a romani woman (we are perhaps getting exotification of homosexuality as foreign here?) and “fine” she is indeed, she is very sharp and makes the lies she tells appear like confidences the “élèves” have forced her to make. So she invents a story about a suposed benefactor (the Count of Gonesse) who heard about Deborah's enemies and vulnerable position and has taken her so that she can enjoy a confortable and safe life in seclusion, and throw herself freely into “the voluptuosness of pain and melancholy”. Deborah doesn't even believe the Count to exist. If he does, she demands to be told what does he want from her, what are his plans concerning her...(the "why me" moment) The idea behind the Madame's answer is to make Deborah believe her benefactor wants to win her heart and marry her later on, so that she accepts the king's “visits” meekly and with a false sense of hope.

-Deborah ofc doesn't want to marry again (least of all, marry an unknown man who is forcing her into a sense of indebtedness and gratitutde) this setback makes the madame think of starting Deborah's education aka having sex with her, (the king, Borel tells us, is fooled, he only gets the crumbs the Madame leaves for him) She tries to get Deborah naked, but she holds her clothes back. She gets chided for her modesty (only ugly women should be modest, the madame claims, while groping her body and describing it through metaphors, marble like breasts, her silouette, as curvaceous as a vase, something @sainteverge has noticed is a reccurring theme in her descriptions) Borel is in fact very explicit, breaking the boundaries that usually constrain fellow “serious” novelists who avoid explicit sex scenes even when the plot would require them. Borel lets us know the madame was kissing deborah's breasts and was in fact about to give her oral, when Deborah stops her by holding her forehead away from her crotch.

-the madame appologizes but asks Deborah to understand she wants to earn her love, while she laments not being a man, in order to please her. (mentioning this bc wanting to change genders is another favorite theme for the Fr Romantics... homosexuality seems linked in this period to a kind of transexuality)

-Deborah is said to not be able to understand sex between women. Although she finds the Madame's stares sexually charged, can only link them with how Patrick touches her/looks at her, she is still in the dark. Reminiscent of Diderot's Suzanne Simonin whose body the Superior uses to reach orgasm, and she never understands what is happening to the other woman. (it must be said that Borel calls lesbianism a depravation*. Diderot links it to an illness-no comments- he however, thinks he is being sympathetic)

* there are many instances in this book where Borel asumes a moralistic writing style, such as when he describes Pompadour’s sex apron,,,

-An interesting point is that art is what allows Deborah to understand homosexuality. Pornography in a wold where gayness isn't talked about openly is the only point of reference she can have. This is very interesting (consider vautrin, speaking of his sexuality constantly in terms of references from the books he has read, only once porn in his case)

-another interesting detail, re the dynamics of this prison: Deborah has the keys to her own room (cell) so she locks herself in. She proceeds to break everything in it, especially the porn on the walls and shelves of her library (if you haven't watched the Handmaiden (2016) yet, watch The Handmaiden, it's the closest thing to a madame putiphar adaptation we have without it being one) She makes a huge ruckus, throws boooks, porcelain figurines the whole shebang in a cathartic explosion, out of the window. The madame begs to be let in, begs for Deborah not to break anything else. Deborah confronts her, she is in a brothel and she is a madame. The Madame still tries to deny it all, insists with the story of Gonesse, but Debbie still doesn't open her door, so the madame summons brute force (once again as in many moments of this book, people are persuaded first by kindness then by brute force to submit to the hegemony) a soldier is summoned to break the door down, Debbie stands her ground. after calling her a madwoman, a thankless madwooman who pays back with insanity the kind treatment she was given, the men start pounding on the door, they break it down but face a barricade of furniture, Deborah yells she will jump out of the window if they even cross it. The Madame begs the soldiers to stop bc Debbie is in fact capable of keeping her word and the blame would fall on her. The battle is won by Deborah who is sieged inside her room with enough food to last a few days...

#madame putiphar #long post

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gutsybitsies · 1 year

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because of this post

OP: u/cerealisbadactually

Context, me (27M) and my roommate (29M) have been splitting rent on a bachelor's pad since he graduated college (I'm homeschooled and run one of my dad's business branches).

For the past five years, we've gone to my family's place for Thanksgiving dinner. This is because we have some friends who only live where my family lives, and also because I have a better relationship with my father and stepmother than he does with his father and stepmother.

Last year, our friends who live there moved on and so we won't be able to see them at my family's place anymore. My roommate said that we should take this chance to have Thanksgiving dinner somewhere else. I thought this meant that we are either hosting our own Friendsgiving at our place, or that we're joining a Friendsgiving with our mutual friends.

No. He's invited to Thanksgiving with his side of the family. I hate his father and stepmother. He frankly doesn't like his dad and has a complicated relationship with his stepmother (she both babies him too much and also puts undue pressure on him because "he's her favorite son", despite having sons of her own). She has messed with every one of our friends and we all hate her, including my roommate's exgirlfriend.

His parents are essentially very high status and are "big wigs" and no one can visit their place on a whim. This year, they decided they want to hold a feast and have "deigned to invite" my roommate and also another one of our friends.

I don't think we should go, I'm thinking of telling my roommate that we should say fuck you (politely) to his parents and do our own thing.

He thinks that things have changed (it hasn't) and it would be a good show of diplomacy for us to go. I think it's unnecessary and that his parents would just have to deal with not having a closer relationship with him. If we refuse, then we can't go to my family's Thanksgiving either or else it'd turn into a whole Thing, but we can do something else. WBTA if I convince him that we should just do Thanksgiving on our own?

Replies:

u/terminator367: YWBTA, your roommate can decide whether or not he wants to have a close relationship with his family. You're really overstepping as a roommate.

u/biglongdiiiiiinner: OP why are you so insistent on having Thanksgiving with your roommate?

u/cerealisbadactually replied: Because it's our thing, we do holidays together since we live together.

u/applejackpony replied: soft YBTA, sounds like OP's family kind of adopted his roommate and he's also like a brother. i also wouldn't want someone i'm close to and care about dealing with toxic family members. however this is your friend's choice and all you can do is be supportive of him.

u/cerealisbadactually replied: but i really, really don't want to go.

u/applejackpony replied: you don't have to go????? just don't stop your friend from going?

u/cereialsibadactually replied: like doing our separate things for thanksgiving?

u/applejackpony replied: Yes, that sounds like the only option.

u/whatthefxxxxxxkkkk replied: are you the one that posted in r/rants about having to sign a thank you card your boyfriend wrote to your stepmother because she ignored everything on your housewarming registry and bought you guys a cereal subscription? you sound like an ungrateful asshole and your roommate is too good for you.

u/cerealisbadactually replied: that was my roommate not my boyfriend, and my stepmother knows i hate cereal. we had simple and cheap items on our registry like blankets, table covers, and chair protectors, and she went and spent $2000 on five years' worth of cereal subscription. forgive me for being annoyed at having to sign a thankyou note for that.

u/helloitsmeadele replied: OP why did you and your roommate have a housewarming registry.

u/cerealisbadactually replied: UPDATE. I spoke with my roommate. He's given me more information on why he thinks we should go, namely because his parents wants to do an acknowledgement of the people who have worked for them (our friends and I have all done a lot of jobs for them over the years). They "forgot" to invite me and some other people, and only invited their favorites. But there was more communication and now a lot more people are going together. I'm still not happy about going but it'd be a bit more bearable if my sister and her fiance are also going to be there.

u/helloitsmeadele replied: OP you didn't answer, why do you and your roommate have a housewarming registry together?

#jasico #nico di angelo #my fic #jason grace

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deusexmachinawitch · 10 months

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3DOLC + ROE + 12 hr Movement Challenge (Birthday Edition!) - Results!!

Yesterday I finished my challenge because it was actually my birthday. So here are the results!

❥ Purple things of my favorite purple characters! (Kuromi, Gengar...)

I haven't receive anything yet, the problem of my birthday being on a Tuesday is that most of my friends couldn't hang out. Still, my Mom told me she was getting me a Kuromi silk pajama and I'm getting several Gengar things soon apparently. My best friend is really bad at hiding secrets.

❥ A Kinder Bueno birthday cake! and pizza, especially fancy true Italian one, heck I want a feast for my birthday!

I didn't get a Kinder Bueno birthday cake, but I got a HUGE black forest birthday cake decorated with the acrylic stand of one of my favorite Vtubers. Didn't get pizza yesterday but I did get fancy sushi. Still, I'm getting FOUR other birthday celebrations besides the one yesterday and one of them include pizza. I did get a feast though, I will explain down below.

❥ Any gift from any of my favorite fandoms (which is difficult)

Same as above, because most of my friends couldn't hang out, I won't receive most of my birthday gifts til the weekend or even further since apparently some of my gifts are imported.

❥ New Joy-cons

I will have them next week but one of my friends actually did gift me Gengar joycons, but I won't receive them until I see them. They told me that they got them for me just in case I was getting them.

❥ Spending my birthday with my favorite friends

This was the most unexpected parts. One, like I mentioned above, my friends organized several birthday celebrations for me according to their schedules. Two, actually I had a surprise birthday party at one of the branches of my job where they closed up a whole arcade just to celebrate my birthday. There was a huge black forest gateau cake, lots of food and people could play games while also chat. It was a really nice birthday but it was really unexpected and I admit I was really tired to enjoy it as the party progressed lol.

❥ Free beauty treatments

Got a haircut and a beauty treatment for free. I also got a masterclass for skincare with rice and wow, my skin is glowing!

❥ SP (lol, come on baby, be my gift)

This has to be the one of the things that didn't happen for some reason, didn't even get a greeting. It is a bit discouraging and I admit I got a bit upset for a moment, but it's fine. At least this makes me not focus on him but at the same time, it opened a huge can of worms among the people that know him and I have to clear the air a little. Not giving up, a bit heartbroken tho. I guess I can use this as the thing I choose for @starbursts777's challenge tho!

Still, like I mentioned before, I manifested my brother apologizing to me after 3 years of "no contact" on my part. Which this should show me that I am powerful.

❥ Improvement on my desired appearance (Birthday glow up!)

My reverse aging and weight loss is doing well! Plus, my skin is so snow white, I barely have any blemishes and my dark circles are fading! In fact, my eyes look so big and amazing, I look like a doll!

❥ Money, why not?

Just got a little money, but hey, didn't specify an amount!

❥ A trip somewhere???

Most shocking result as well but I got invited to go to Paris with all costs covered. I just don't know IF I CAN ACCEPT YET because it's in a fixed date so I have to discuss this with work for days off.

BUT HEY! I got the trip!

I got everything I wanted except the SP part, I think that I will give it a try and use this as the topic for the "7 Days Miracle Maker Challenge" that my friend @starbursts777 is hosting.

I'll rest a little from yesterday's party and then do my post for the challenge plus write down everything.

Thank you so much for looking forward to the results!

#law of assumption #loa tumblr #manifestation #loablr #loa blog #affirm and persist #loassumption #neville goddard #loa success #loassblog #3dolc x roe

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reilliane · 2 years

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reilliane- RELI- alternate universe where Kazuha actually buries his wanderlust under the dirt and enjoys life with v!mc(who obv knows what kazuha’s doing and subtly makes him wander out abit more by sending him on errands.) for a few years, but every kazuha must submit to their desire to wander.

or, or — now this one is albedo—, rhinedottir actually made 2 prototypes. the first being a female one she created as a test and pretty much made on a whim(this one was co-created by alice. rhine did all the alchemic-sciency-frankenstien things while alice created the look and gave them a name[rhine wanted to just name her ‘prototype #1 ; test’ and alice went “NOPE :D!” slams a sheet of paper with names listed on it onto the table, “Pick a name, any name! All are lovely!”[i imagine she says it like those circus ppl who are like, advertising their show or smth].). the second (primodial) being a male and being, basically the ground layout for her most prized possession, albedo.

Both of them ([name] <- bc w/ this i dont read ‘yen’ & primodial guy) being thrown away and fed to durin</3. They both aid each other in leaving the (now dead) dragon’s stomach. Primodial goes on a path of inferiority complex and revenge or smth, while [name] just lives life🤷‍♀️. She bumps into Albedo — he legitimately froze when he saw her, he had seen his master’s notes and drawings of her previous two ‘failed’ homunculi. he thought that they were.. well, dead though. but then again he had gone through the whole ‘who’s who?’ fiasco with his bitter imposter. — and just smiles, tilting her head to the side and her eyes, though dull and emotionless, carry a familiar sparkle from his new family. “albedo” she says his name with an unsure voice, eyes never leaving his almost as if she was inspecting him. “was it? sorry, i wasnt exactly around when master planned you.”

Albedo flinches and immediately covers her mouth with his hands. To outsiders, an uncharacteristic move. To her and whomever may know of their origins, a panicked and fearful move desperate to keep it under the rug. “Sorry.” She removes his hands, “Let’s talk in that freezer-lab, yeah?”

-🦧i just love that albedo brainrot and i tried writing a fic outta it in my own blog but just ended up posting a wip😔 anyway, [Name] is alice’s ‘first’ daughter. So big sister![Name] and little brother!Albedo(+primodial) and little sister!Klee :DD (also, also, maybe [name] has a bit of alice’s personality). Mm, bed time for real now.

Kazuha sacrificing his desire to wander (albeit for a short while) in order to just live life with MC :((( my hart, my hART

Ofc MC's still aware that Kazuha probably wants to wander n all, I like to think she hints that her bro can do as he wishes. She'll be fiiiiiine~

When the time comes that Kazu prolly does want to go, he'll invite nee-san the same way he did in Resolve. Cause cmon, MC may not have a vision but she has a superpower and that's called being a nee-san-/SLAPPED

aw, kazu hungry? no worries, she can whip up a feast even out in the wild.

is that a hilichurl about to smack him?? pUNCH ‾͟͟͞(((ꎤˋ⁻̫ˊ)—̳͟͞͞o

the prICE For THiS ProDUcT Is maDLy HIgh? She didnt learn all those lessons for nothing, she about to talk business with a 🤗🤗 face

—

(i felt that reading y/n as 'yen' LMAO though in my case i read it yin JSDHAJKDHAS)

that idea is cool! just albedo gaping like "omygo i heard about you sis"

imagine primordial just showing up to enact revenge and instead finds his twin with albedo lmao 😭💀

he's like, unleashing this elsa snowstorm then sees MC along with the group and then trying to take it bacK LIKE:

"YAW WHAT THE SHUCK ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE??? GET BACK HERE WOMAN THIS INSTANT"

#moonlitchat #🦧 anon #queued #m-vigil

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hamliet · 1 year

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Rereading A Feast for Crows

Oh boy AFFC! Which includes George's spin-off pirate novel crammed into ASOIAF because you WILL read it you have NO choice.

I jest. I actually quite like A Feast for Crows, because it has some of my favorite chapters and introduces one of my favorite characters: Arianne Martell. As for favorite chapters, pretty much anytime Cersei's the narrator, she's schooling everyone in what it means to write an unreliable narrator and proving herself the best-written character in the entire series. I said what I said.

I do think so chapters are padded with verbose fluff that could have most likely been cut, but the overall book is good.

In case you missed it, in light of my recent Fire & Blood reread, I decided to reread the whole ASOIAF series because, well, why not. Below are some general observations/musings on the themes, character arcs, alchemy, and foreshadowing. I’ll do this for the others as well. It’s not really a meta proper, so much as observations and thoughts.

Thoughts on A Game of Thrones here, A Clash of Kings here, and A Storm of Swords here.

Themes

Duty vs Love

I'm not going to expound on this theme because I've covered it in previous "rereading" posts, but I do want to note the fact that it appears in AFFC too, with Arys debating between duty and Arianne, Sam and Gilly, Daeron, and more. One thing I will say is that I think Martin suggests I think the framing of duty and love as opposites is exactly the flaw here. As Sam is told my the Summer Islanders, love is not a sin.

That said, Martin broaches the idea that people in power may not have the freedom that others do to love.

“Jon has duties,” Sam said in his defense. “The Wall is his, and all that goes with it.” “A man has duties to his friends as well."

Sam also notes that Jon's heart has turned to stone as a commander because of the hard choices he has to make.

Who Matters?

AFFC focuses on the smallfolk more so than any other book, in that it shows us the immense toll the war has taken. With that, it opens the question all of the characters explore to an extent: what makes a person matter? Is it a name? Is it wealth? Is it religion? (Why do so many people turn to religion in this book? Because of this.) Is it a vow? Is it a duty? Is it love?

When Sam realizes Jon switched the babies, he notes:

He wanted to scream... He switched the babes to protect the little prince, to keep him away from Lady Melisandre’s fires, away from her red god. If she burns Gilly’s boy, who will care? No one but Gilly. He was only Craster’s whelp, an abomination born of incest, not the son of the King-beyond-the-Wall. He’s no good for a hostage, no good for a sacrifice, no good for anything, he doesn’t even have a name.

Yet we know the baby matters, especially when we see how devastated Gilly is. One child is "everything," as Davos said in ASOS.

Jaime also notes:

“Most deserve to be forgotten. The heroes will always be remembered. The best.” “The best and the worst.” So one of us is like to live in song. “And a few who were a bit of both..."

Still, songs simplify what people are actually like, making them their best or worst traits and forgetting the actual humanity. There's a melancholy air to this, because it is reality.

People, Not Ideas

Along with the idea of what makes a person matter, Martin continues to explore the idea of people vs. ideas. Tywin treated his kids like chess pieces, and Cersei does the same to her kids. It's not out of a lack of love on Cersei's part either, but that doesn't mean she sees her kids as people. She sees them as offshoots of herself.

Doran Martell isn't much better. He's as consumed with revenge as Lady Stoneheart and Oberyn, perhaps more so than the latter. He just couches it in duty. But he's making the same mistake in that he sees Quentyn and Arianne as tokens, chess pieces in the game, rather than people.

His own wife called him on it:

“...but there is a blood debt, and Quentyn is the only coin Lord Ormond will accept.” “Coin?” her mother had screamed. “He is your son. What sort of father uses his own flesh and blood to pay his debts?” “The princely sort,” Doran Martell had answered.

This ties into Jon's choice to switch the babies. He didn't do it out of sadism, but out of duty and having no good options at all. It might be the better choice, but tell that to Gilly if her son should die (and frankly, he probably will). Tell that to Mellario, who has lost her son. It doesn't matter if they were doing the best they could for people who bear the burden of leadership. They still hurt loved ones, took them from people, and that matters.

Ironically, the person who understands this best besides Sam is Littlefinger. He tells Sansa:

In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you’ve planned for them. Mark that well, Alayne. It’s a lesson that Cersei Lannister still has yet to learn.

The problem is that Littlefinger may have a ton of wisdom but he has exactly none of the empathy that Sam does. He views people as people, but does not care that they are such. That's rather chilling, much colder than Cersei's view of others.

Misogyny

The story also delves into the idea of "what's expected" of women and the toll misogyny takes on women. Four women are explicitly told that they are morally wrong for behaving more like men: Cersei, Brienne, Asha, and Arianne. Of course, this is also part of Daenerys's arc, as we see when Maester Aemon notes that everyone overlooked the princess for a "prince who was promised." Still, the future is female. (I joke, but I also don't.)

Cersei, of course, was constantly treated like she didn't matter as much by Tywin. As much as she proclaims to love him and to hate him, she spends most of the book trying to earn a dead man's approval and digging her own grave. Cersei wants power for power's sake, to have control over her destiny. She associates manliness with violence and abuse, as evidenced most directly in the moment she deliberately reenacts Robert's rapes of her out on Taena Merryweather. She even uses Robert's words: "I mean to claim my rights."

Asha is told that she "forgets herself... Balon let her believe she was a man" in the lead-up to the Kingsmoot. She sleeps around and her father doesn't care. However, Asha has a trait none of her uncles possess (nor her father): compassion. I very much think Asha's arc is clearly heading towards her ruling the Iron Islands by the end of the series, but by changing the Iron way to a way that doesn't rely on pillaging and plundering and raping people. What it means to be a ruler involves a transformative vision, which Asha is on her way to learn.

Then we have Arianne, who also makes a remarkably similar comment to Asha about how she lost her virginity at fourteen and her father didn't care. She fears her father wants to replace her. Like Cersei, she doesn't really have a transformative vision of ruling; she just wants to rule. However, much like Asha, and like Daenerys, and very unlike Cersei, Arianne is highly compassionate and caring. She's genuinely devastated when Arys dies for her. Still, her goal is external, and I do think she's tragic!Daenerys.

Lastly, Brienne. Brienne's arc is both my favorite and least favorite in the book. Least favorite, because of every chapter in the book, I think hers could have used an editor's pen the most. And yet, I also feel like that's rather the point--that her journey is internal, not external. Brienne's arc is about her as a knight: brave, compassionate, and strong. She's good with a sword, but she doesn't relish violence, unlike Cersei.

Do It Anyways

Brienne's arc encapsulates the main theme of not the book, but the entire series:

Do it anyways.

Let's look at two quotes. Brienne laments at one point that "I swore I would protect [Renly], and I failed. Then I swore I would avenge him, and I failed at that as well. I ran of with Lady Catelyn instead, and failed her too."

Then there's this story told to Brienne:

"As she lay dying, her worst curses were not for the men who had raped her, nor the monster who devoured her living flesh, but for Ser Quincy Cox, who barred his gates when the outlaws entered the town and sat safe behind stone walls as his people screamed and died.” “Ser Quincy is an old man,” said Septon Meribald gently. “His sons and good-sons are far away or dead, his grandsons are still boys, and he has two daughters. What could he have done, one man against so many?” He could have tried, Brienne thought. He could have died. Old or young, a true knight is sworn to protect those who are weaker than himself, or die in the attempt.

But Brienne is wrong. She hasn't failed, and her journey this book, which seems on the offset fruitless, is precisely to show this. Much like Ned may have died, but his children live because of him, Brienne trying to do the right thing does matter. We even see it this book.

Her decency, her compassion, her bravery and defiance of the rules people set for her as a woman--well, she spends the entire book inspiring people. She may not have "succeeded" in her quest, but she's dragged so many others into decency with her. Jaime Lannister. Podrick Payne. Ser Hyle, who clearly actually develops feelings for her but is too much of a dumb man to crouch his proposal in those girly feelings and his own shame for his past cruelty, and instead clogs it with practicality to his own detriment. She resurrects true knighthood.

Her story is anything but pointless.

Faith

Brienne also gets inspired herself by people like Septon Meribald. I do appreciate this, because Martin examines faith and religion with the same multifaceted eye he does everything else.

The Seven seems very couched in spectacle and falsehood, and prone to extremists like the Sparrow and Lancel, but we also see their sincerity. We also see genuine followers of the Seven who use their faith to do good things: Brienne, and Davos Seaworth (although he's not in this book).

We contrast that with more self-involved faith, like Aeron Damphair's. And even then we can see that the reason he's so devout is because of the trauma Euron and then Urri's death inflicted upon him. And then there's the Sparrow, who uses his faith to harm others and mixes up justice with revenge and petty affairs with the spiritual.

Foreshadowing

Sweetsleep

Martin did well introducing us to sweetsleep as a poison through Arya, and then introducing it to us as a medicine through Sansa. Sweetrobin is doomed.

Tommen the Knight

While Myrcella's maiming is sad, I'm not sure how her demise will come about. Tommen's seems much, much clearer. He directly tells Cersei that he will not let anyone hurt Margaery. He also idolizes Loras Tyrell, and longs to be a knight, but Cersei won't even let him ride.

Cersei's absolutely sending the Mountain after Margaery, and Tommen's absolutely going to be a knight and die trying to stop him, but he'll be utterly unprepared for any kind of combat (not that it would matter even if he was as skilled as Loras).

Cersei and Wildfire

Cersei's obsession with wildfire even disturbs Jaime, who sees her burn the Tower of the Hand and thinks of Aerys. I don't doubt she'll have some part in setting wildfire across the city.

Maester Aemon

Master Aemon is not meant to be seen as a pathetic, deceived fool. The framing is always that he can see perhaps deeper than anyone else despite his blindness. He remarks:

Daenerys is our hope. Tell them that, at the Citadel. Make them listen. They must send her a maester...

Not that Dany doesn't need a wise maester, because she does, and without it she's going to royally mess up in TWOW. But she's hope in the series, not a villain, you fools.

Arianne and Recklessness

Doran kind of spells the truth out for us. Arianne doesn't know how to win the game of thrones.

“How well do you know the game, Arianne?” “Well enough to play.” “But not to win."

Of note, they're speaking about the game cyvasse, a game that Myrcella previously mentions that she always wins by using dragons. :'') I very much think Arianne is going to die because of dragons.

Alchemy

While characters are often marked as either mercury (Jon) or sulfur (Daenerys), there's a third potential substance: salt. I've not really seen this in literature, though, but I do think it is notable that Arya goes by the name Salty.

Jaime and Brienne

After their chemical weddings in ASOS, they continue to take on more of each other's characteristics. Jaime, who has always been associated with alchemical red, is no longer at home in gold and crimson, but instead becomes more white and silver (Brienne's associations).

“Robert’s beard was black. Mine is gold.”

“Gold? Or silver?” Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. “All the color is draining out of you, brother. You’ve become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white.” She flicked the hair away. “I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold."

Sansa and Harry the Heir

As I've said in ASOS, Sansa is also heavily marked as white, silver, and water/earth. An alchemical match for her should be red, gold, and fire/air. Harry never appears this book, but it does seem like he might be a decent match for her alchemically speaking. He's got golden hair and is coded as air (Harry the Heir "air"; Martin's already made air puns to mark other characters like Daenerys. Plus, Harry's called the "Young Falcon").

An Ouroboros

“Have you ever seen the arms of House Toland of Ghost Hill?”He had to think a moment. “A dragon eating its own tail?” “The dragon is time. It has no beginning and no ending, so all things come round again."

The dragon is also an ouroboros, which symbolizes the alchemical process. It consumes itself to die and be reborn.

Other Notes

Victarion

Victarion has classic "small man" syndrome. If you get what I mean. It's funny that it's never mentioned directly, even alluded to in dialogue, and yet it's clear as day in the text. Not just from his anger over being cuckolded but his own discomfort with Euron's nakedness.

Oldtown's Maesters

Alleras is clearly Sarella Sand. I do wonder if, should Sam befriend her, she and Sam might indeed have an issue with Daenerys at first--but less because she burned Sam's father and brother and more because probably 90% of Sarella's family is going to go up when King's Landing does.

Jaqan Hagar, like the original dude, is clearly the person posing as Pate. I'm very curious what the Faceless Men want at Oldtown.

Sandor Clegane

Sandor Clegane is obviously the Gravedigger, not only because of the dog association, but because the Elder Brother literally tells Brienne that when he himself once died and was reborn. When he then says the Hound died, he's speaking figuratively. The Hound is dead. Sandor Clegane is at peace.

“It is true, then,” she said dully. “Sandor Clegane is dead.” “He is at rest.” The Elder Brother paused... "When I was not fighting, I was drunk. My life was writ in red, in blood and wine.” “When did it change?” asked Brienne. “When I died in the Battle of the Trident. I fought for Prince Rhaegar, though he never knew my name.

Loras Tyrell

Loras... I'm not so sure the story on Dragonstone is entirely true. Something strange is up, for sure. He's such a good foil for Jaime that I don't think he can die offscreen.

Arianne

Arianne, for all her machinations, is a very loving and kind person, and I love her. Doran, despite his long game? He literally has Arianne tortured with the silent treatment and solitary confinement. You are a Bad Dad TM, Ser.

Euron

While I do think Euron will tempt Daenerys with an offer of marriage, he's either going to have to completely hide part of himself or he's going to become dragon food, fast. He's like all of her villains rolled into one: not only abused his siblings (Viserys), drinks nightshade (Pyat Pree and the Undying), claims to want the Iron Throne (too many), but most of all, he enslaves people. He's everything Daenerys despises. If they get together it will be very, very brief, and Daenerys will ultimately reject his temptation.

#affc #asoiaf #a feast for crows #arianne martell #daenerys targaryen #samwell tarly #gilly #cersei lannister #brienne of tarth #asha greyjoy #victarion greyjoy #euron greyjoy #tommen baratheon #jaime lannister #braime

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