#heir presumptive

[lifes-commotion]

Happy heavenly Birthday Elizabeth II (21 April 1926 – 8 September 2022)! She became Queen 6 February 1952 and reigned of 70 years and 214 days, which was the longest of any British monarch and the longest verified reign of any female head of state in history.

#Elizabeth II #birthday #Queen of the United Kingdom #queen regent #head of state #Philip Mountbatten #marriage #children #Lilibet #monarch #Operation London Bridge #Operation Unicorn #Balmoral Castle #old age #heir presumptive #Children's Hour #Auxiliary Territorial Service #Westminster Abbey #coronation #2 June 1953

[funkyllama]

Her Royal Highness, the Princess Eloise, Countess Celle

#ts4 #simblr #royal simblr #ts4 royalty #sims story #ts4 storytelling #render #s4 render #ts4 render #rodchester-extras #ch-eloise #Title change... Eloise is now officially an HRH as she is the Heir Presumptive. Meaning she outranks literally everyone in Iona minus #her mom aunt and grandma.

[initiala]

Story where the new monarch isn’t crowned by a religious figure or by themselves (either because no religion ranks higher than them or that no one takes up their god’s particular priesthood), but they are instead crowned by the person who hates them most.

Maybe it’s their worst enemy. Maybe it’s some kid in the slums. There’s a ceremony to discover the person who hates the heir presumptive most, magic that tells the realm’s protectors who it is and where to find them. When it comes time for the coronation, the heir has 72 hours to convince their biggest hater why they deserve to be crowned the realm’s next monarch. If they can, then their enemy places the crown on their head, as a sign that while they may dislike the monarch they trust their ability to rule.

If they can’t, the heir presumptive is removed from the line of succession. Maybe it goes next to a sibling, or to another branch of the Royal tree. But if you can’t convince the person who hates you more than anything else in the world that you’re the best person for the job of ruling the realm—not a good person or a kind person, but the best person capable of making the sort of hard decisions that come with rulership—then this person isn’t going to make excuses for why you should be the next monarch anyway. It doesn’t matter you were firstborn of a firstborn going back several generations. You suck and you’re cruel and you’re not going to do the realm any good, so the crown passes to your uncle.

#story ideas #I think this pulls from a couple different fantasies I’ve read #but I really thought about it more when I finished another series where the monarch crowns themselves #I think there would have to be some real hardass magic binding as well #like you can’t just say no to the heir presumptive because you hate them and refuse to see any good #you have to give them an honest chance #if they fuck up then they fuck up and you can say no #but you can’t be like ‘I don’t care that they’ve shown me what their plans for reforms and infrastructure are I still hate their guts’ #you have to look at the whole picture not just one part of it #Amanda writes

[emeraldgreaves]

🖊 for that fanfic ask game (I can’t tell if that’s the right pen emoji my eyes are so bad fkrkrje) please! 👀

gljgdgdlhg hi lena 💕 💕 💕 thank you for the ask!

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

The Antiqua family was considered odd among the London set for three primary reasons: their uniformly red hair, their preference for books and riding over the elegant parties of the ton, and the unusual distinction of four unwed daughters of marriageable age. Idalia, Isodel, Lydda, and Gwynyth had all been ‘on the marriage market’ for several years, each debuting at court when they turned twenty-one--yet all four of them remained noticeably unattached, preferring the company of each other to any of the young socialites roving the balls in search of a wife. The viscount and his wife had regularly commented that each of their daughters was a blessing, and hoped they would wed happily, blandly daring any of the gossipping mamas to argue with the notion that any child, boy or girl, deserved anything less than to be loved.

Of course, the ease with which the Antiquas brushed aside convention owed a great deal to the existence of their youngest and only son. By the time Liefred was born, Navar and Theria had the household well under control, save perhaps for explosions of temper--he had been almost completely free to explore whatever interests caught his eye. Much like the rest of his family, he inherited a passion for reading, a penchant for history, and a love of country rides at their sunlit estate at Stroud. Unlike his sisters, however, he had the ability to pursue his studies through university and travel abroad, save for the somewhat unfortunate necessity of returning to Albion every spring for the court season.

in case it wasn’t clear i have been Thinking about the @shepherds-of-haven bridgerton au LMAO the antiqua sisters are my favorite characters even though we never meet them ingame

ask meme: send me an emoji and i’ll talk about fic stuff!

#emerald speaks #ask meme #emerald writes #shepherds of haven #shoh #red you're neat but your older sisters are my blorbos #having four daughters is kind of a Big Deal so i’m taking it as an excuse to put them in #i just can't get away from austenifying bridgerton! i can't ignore things! so it becomes less fluffy the more invested i get #i play fast and loose with a lot of things in this fic so far. it's still very drafty so we'll see how it looks after i've cleaned it more #mostly regency stuff wrt women’s rights it might become less ro #mancelandia soon #definitely laughed the first time i had to introduce blade bronwyn heir presumptive to the title marquis of shepherdton

[nudityandnerdery]

"Another devastating loss of an influential figure for Mordor. The nation has already been reeling from the death of the former King of Angmar, who had found safety in the land after his own home was attacked by forces led by a presumptive heir of Gondor looking to make a name for himself."

#lord of the rings

[malleleothreesome]

Femdom!Reader x Sub!Malleus Draconia

💚 summary: Malleus grovels before you as you sit upon his throne in the Diasomnia dorm lounge ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: afab fem reader, no pronouns (use of you/your) but Malleus does refer to you as his Queen. Malleus has two cocks, consensual bdsm scene, all actions taken agreed upon offscreen prior to starting and are within Malleus' boundaries, collar & leash, you use him as a footrest, use of good/bad boy, you slap him (it doesn't hurt), punishment: you masturbate in front of him, edging (him), orgasm denial (him), face sitting cunnilingus, vagina stretching spell, breeding, creampie, aftercare ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 4.5k words ripped from my tortured soul

Oh, how easy it was to turn the powerful, brooding future King of Briar Valley into a needy, desperately loyal little puppy. Completely dependent on your attention—and your touch. Who could have known he would fall so deeply—and wretchedly—in love with the first girl who didn’t run away? After centuries of Malleus walking alone under the dark void of night, you came and filled the sky with bright, twinkling stars. From the very second he was met with your crinkled, smiling eyes—a far cry from the usual look of dread—he was yours, and yours alone. Without a second thought, you’ve folded him into your sweet embrace, promising eternity. You’ve taken it upon yourself to fill his days with love, companionship, happiness—things he has indeed always deserved, but all of which, until now, were missing entirely.

You were inseparable. When he wasn’t tending to Kingly duties, he could be found close behind you, clinging to your comfort and familiarity. Malleus always admired your confidence, strength, and what seemed to be sheer fearlessness. You packed a lot of spunk in that tiny, mortal body of yours. You were determined to get the other students to accept him—you would have done it by force if you’d had to. (You didn’t have to. You were far too clever for that.) 

He was your plus one, always. You introduced him with such adoration, that any preconceived ideas of him were pushed aside without much thought. If someone dared question his presence, you’d make an example of their rude presumptions. All the while, Malleus towered sheepishly behind you, blushing, and elated. You were the only one in his life who truly saw him.

Dominance was Malleus’ birthright. His ability to command inferiority and trepidation from every single person in a room was an unwanted side effect that had been passed down for generations. Dominance is a role he was forced into by his Kingdom—it’s all he’d ever known. But then, there was you. The way you stand up to and for him with no fear or hesitation. The way you simultaneously treat him like he’s Just Some Guy, and also the most precious treasure in the world. Watching you take the lead makes his heart race—and loins ache—faster and deeper than anything before. He was absolutely desperate for you to take advantage.

So there you were, sitting on Malleus’ throne in the Diasomnia lounge, in the depths of the night. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms. The Prince of Thorns was kneeling before you, his alabaster face enveloped in the faint purple and green glow that danced around the throne—the only source of light in an otherwise pitch black room. Your feet—costumed in 6-inch, dagger-like heels that might be lethal to both body and soul—rest heavy on his shoulders. If only Malleus’ ancestors could see their tyrannizing heir being used as a footrest by a common human…

Your lingerie is devoid in the places it matters most—a corset that leaves your breasts propped up and completely exposed, panties with a slit that perfectly frames your exposed, wet cunt. So close, yet so far away. A flick of his forked, serpent-like tongue slips out of his mouth. His eyes get lost in the view. For you, he would reduce himself down to just a tongue—how he yearns to be useful. His twin cocks create a prominent bulge against his tight, leather pants. You keep a short, firm grip on the leash that connects to the patent black collar around his neck. 

“What are you looking at?” You ask rhetorically, taking your right foot off his shoulder and placing the toe of your stiletto against his forehead, forcing his gaze to meet yours. You let it linger there, making a point: The feared crown Prince of Briar Valley is beneath you.

His heart stammers and he gulps, lips parted but unable to form an answer. A low moan escapes his throat, eyelids fluttering closed—this is pure ecstacy. Unfiltered submission. Total loss of control. Absolute surrender. It was intoxicating. He had no control of his body, and he could hardly form a coherent thought. His cock muscles begin to flex against his pants, as his desperation to create friction shows face.

But it’s not time for relief or release. You yank his collar, forcing his face toward you. “Bad boy!” you purr, through gritted teeth, slapping him hard across the cheek. “Did I give you permission for pleasure?” 

His eyes roll back, hand instinctively rushing to his cheek. Not to tend to the wound—to relish in the feeling of your touch. The slap didn’t hurt, but the sheer audacity of the move was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. In his long life, no one had ever dared challenge him in such a way. You loved how your precious Malleus showed his emotions so plainly on his face. A strong wave of arousal flooded your nervous system as you admired his flushed face. His eyes had gone hazy, drool glistened on the corners of his mouth, which had curled into the lewdest smile you’d ever seen. There was no doubt—he was getting off to this.

You yank the leash again, forcing him out of sexual gratification. “What a shame.” You look down at him with so much contempt that he winces. You almost wanted to break the scene and comfort him, but these were the rules. This was what he wanted. 

You continue to follow through with your punishment, reminding him of his place and purpose in the bedroom: service and obedience. You take a deep breath and sigh. "I was really looking forward to using that pretty face of yours to make myself cum. Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

You remove your feet from his body, bracing them on the seat of the throne and spreading your legs in one smooth motion. His pout transitions into a dropped jaw as your free hand crawls down your stomach to spread your labia apart. You hold his eye contact and you see his slitted pupils dilate. You begin to draw slow, sensual circles around your clit.

Every neuron fires off in delicious agony, screaming that he should be the one pleasuring you. His heart aches—he vowed to himself that his Queen shouldn’t have to lift a finger as long as he was around. Malleus was holistically devoted; your pleasure has become his entire purpose. 

He dedicated his days to chasing the high of your smiles and his nights to getting drunk off of your moans. He didn’t deserve to revel in your precious light, but you let him in without a second thought. That was just the type of person his beloved human was, and for that, he would serve you until his last breath. 

But now he had to sit idly and watch as you enjoyed yourself without him. What a beautiful torture. A fitting punishment. Perfect for stripping away his ego, forcing him out of everything he knew, all while reminding him of his subservient status. As much as it hurt him… he craved moments like these.

Malleus studies your movements carefully, internalizing every detail of how you pleasure yourself. The way you slid your middle finger up through your delicate folds, gathering the slick of your own arousal for lubrication. How you alternate between light flicks on your clit and flat, rapid rubbing with two fingers. The way you allow yourself to become absorbed in your lechery. 

You’re sure to drag out Malleus’ punishment, taking time to honor every part of yourself. You explore every surface of your body, through your hair, teasing your hardened nipples on the way back down to your cunt. What a naughty tease. How beautiful it was to watch your vulva swell as you got closer and closer to orgasm. His heart raced, breath running ragged as he became consumed by theories of what you could be thinking of to bring yourself closer to the edge. Were you thinking about him? What dirty fantasy about him would transform your pleasure, forcing you to the point of no return?

Whatever it was, you couldn’t fight it. Your eyes widened, and Malleus watched as you wrapped his leash around your wrist to grip the armrest of his throne, holding on for dear life as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Malleus made a tight fist with his right hand, digging his nails into his palm to prevent himself from cumming too, just from the sight of you. There was no bigger turn-on than seeing you receive the pleasure you deserve. It had been weeks since his Queen had allowed him to cum. His balls were desperate to release—even a nipple poking through your t-shirt was enough to feel like he was edging. 

Currently, it was taking every fiber of his being not to slip up. He was ever careful not to take any action that his Queen would consider stepping out of line, lest his orgasm be denied further. But that look on your face… every sound of pleasure from your sweet lips… every involuntary twitch of your legs and each curl of your toes—safely filed away in his mind to replay when his Queen finally gives him permission to cum.

“What a good boy you were. I know that was hard for you.” 

You sit back up on the throne, leaning towards Malleus’ face, smiling sweetly as you let your smug, cunning eyes tell a different story. You know you’re driving him mad—and you’re goddamn proud of it. You lean even closer, lifting his chin with your blood-red, manicured fingertips. You can’t help but giggle as you poke and prod, rubbing his pale, soft cheeks with your thumb, dragging your fingernail along his pointed ear. His blush deepens. You lift his upper lip up with one teasing finger, admiring his cute little fangs. 

“How adorable you are. My perfect little obedient pet. My perfect lover. I love everything about you.” 

You settle back into the chair, cheek resting on your fist, face arranged in a coy little smile. 

“You may speak.”

A faint, “T-thank you, m-my Queen” is all he can muster before dropping eye contact and falling silent again, cheeks sizzling. He doesn’t know how to process your earnest adoration.

“Aw, is that the best you can do? I can only hope you have more to say when giving a royal address, or appearing before the faerie courts. Let’s hope the domestication of a future King isn’t grounds for dethronement. By a human, no less.” 

You both know Malleus remains ever-so-diligently authoritative when it comes to his duties to his Kingdom—it’s one of the reasons you felt so honored how eager Malleus was to lower himself for both of your pleasure.

“You know, I don’t like punishing you when you’re a bad boy. I want to take care of you, too.” You yank his leash in a final act of correction, watching his upper body stumble forwards once again. “Don’t make me do it again, or I swear on the Seven you will not like what follows. Now lay on your back. I’m not even close to being satisfied.”

Without hesitation, Malleus falls to the floor. Another place you shouldn’t find a powerful crown Prince: laying on the cold, hard, dirty ground. He wears a stupid smile on his face—he knows what’s coming. Rolling your eyes, you get in position; feet framing his eager face, offering a direct bird’s-eye view of your plump, glistening cunt. Slowly lowering yourself into a squat above his face, you purr, “beg for it.”

He can smell the musk of your pussy and his cocks throb painfully against his pants. His heart races, eyes once again hazy with arousal, mouth completely agape. His body twitches—he’s already edging. I guess a month of being denied orgasm will do that.

He looks up at you, eyes watering, lip quivering, hands in tight fists as he fights the urge to touch himself. He closes his eyes, savoring the warmth radiating from your cunt, and deeply inhales your scent. A deep, warm exhale swirls around your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm—which sends a surge of electricity through your entire nervous system. You can’t help but shudder.

The corners of his lips curve upward, his ego is beginning to show itself again. You yank his leash upwards, meeting his eyes with a narrowed stare. Malleus knows the drill. He doesn't want his Queen's kindness to turn cold, after all. He gulps, all arrogance vanishing in an instant. You relax your grip.

A pathetic whine accompanies his plea: deep, smooth, and dripping with arousal. "Please," he begins. His eyes are wide and his lip trembles, desperate to satisfy his Queen. "I will worship your beautiful body. I will show you my love, my loyalty, my devotion, with the entirety of my being. My tongue will show you my adoration and gratitude. Please..." he begs and whimpers, more pathetic with each word.

"You're drooling." You wipe his mouth with your thumb, smearing it across his lips and forcing them apart. You stick your thumb into his mouth, on which he sucks hungrily. You can't help but smile—he really is greedy for your love. "Such a filthy, desperate, pitiful, whiny boy."

His eyelids flutter and he moans, loving how your words make him feel. His cocky, confident demeanor completely dissipates as you degrade him. He's a complete mess, completely dependent on your words and your touch. The second your finger is out of his mouth, he begins begging again, more frantically. "Please. Sit on my face. I want to be useful. I want to make you feel good. Please, please, use my mouth, I want to make you cum. I want to be covered in your essence. I want to taste the sweetness of your arousal. I want to drink it up, and breathe you in. I want to be completely engulfed in the warmth of your cunt. Please, my Queen. Use me for your pleasure. Let me worship your pussy.”

"You may."

Those two words felt electric. Malleus' heart raced and his cocks leaked and his eyes rolled back, lost in the euphoria of this moment. His arms reach around to squeeze the sides of your thighs, pulling your dripping cunt to his face before you could change your mind. A demanding action like that normally wouldn’t have been allowed, but you were already losing yourself to pleasure. 

He pressed his nose into your pubic bone, licking at every inch of skin he could reach. Malleus wastes no time giving his Queen exactly what she wants. His tongue strokes up and down your pulsing pussy, lapping up your wetness and savoring every taste. His eyelids flutter in carnal ecstasy and his mind floats away, primal instincts taking over. Breathing deeply through his nose, practically drowning in your scent, a moan escapes his lips. He licks faster, swirling his tongue around your clit. He looks up, moaning again as he takes in the view: the plump undersides of your breasts bouncing lightly with every lick, fire-red fingernails squeezing your right nipple, your head thrown back in unmistakable pleasure. His moan pulsates against your soaking wet pussy, intensifying your pleasure to something even more carnal. Your pelvis—suddenly with a mind of its own—thrusts and grinds against his tongue.

He's hungry and messy, but he knows exactly how to please you. You run your fingers through his dark, sweaty bangs, pushing his hair back to expose the gorgeous scales hidden on his forehead. You hold onto his horns like a saddle, taking back some control.

"You're such a good boy, Malleus. Keep going." His long, forked tongue is immediately thrust inside of you, desperate to gather up every bit of slick from your last orgasm. You can feel his thick tongue prod against your sensitive, contracting walls as he eagerly laps up your sweet, musky juices. His tongue could do things a mortal man couldn’t dream of. You grind down harder, pushing his face further into you.

Arching your back, his tongue continues to devour you, licking and sucking with primal desperation. He licks the entire length of your vulva and then sucks his way up your labia, finishing his trail with a wet “pop,” leaving your clit swollen and throbbing. He revisits your labia with his entire mouth, sucking it taut and letting it go. The sensation of the blood rushing back is divine, and your whole body shivers. You’re so close. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your plush thighs, holding on for dear life as his adrenaline pulses through every blood vessel.

Your moans are music to his ears, and he wants more. He sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue, flicking and licking up and down, positioning it safely between the fork of his tongue. It's too much, but you want more. He vibrates his tongue, sending shockwaves up and down your spine. Your leg muscles twitch and your breath catches. He can tell that you're almost there, and his cocks throb harder than ever. He’s desperate to cum when you do.

"Don't cum." You read his mind. "If you obey me, I'll let you cum in my womb."

He moans loudly, and his hips involuntarily jerk upward, trying to find friction in the air. His cocks are dripping, his pants soaked with clear, sticky precum. He feels so hot and needy, it's almost painful. But he loves it. The idea of finally releasing into you—his Queen. His love. His entire universe. If he could cum right now, he'd fill you to the brim, and then some. He'd give you the family you've always wanted. He'd make sure you'd never want for anything else. He'd give you everything in his universe, just like he promised.

Malleus can't help but whimper as you pull his hair, forcing his mouth back against your pussy. "Focus," you remind him. You can feel him nod, and then his tongue is back to work, licking, sucking, and flicking your clit, vibrating his tongue and moaning against your folds, the sound muffled by your flesh.

"You're such a good boy," you praise him. His eyes roll back and he moans even louder, sending vibrations up through your pussy. "Mmm... that's a good boy, Malleus. Such a good boy." He's getting sloppy, moaning and whimpering and bucking his hips uncontrollably. "You're so needy. Just a little more... a little longer. I'm close. Don't stop. Make me cum."

You feel his fingers digging into your flesh, his whole body is trembling. His face is red, and tears stream down his cheeks. His cocks ache—he won’t be able to hold on much longer. 

For his finishing move, he pulls your clit between his lips and begins to suck, swirling his tongue around, and then flicking the tip. He vibrates his tongue as hard and as fast as he can, sending shockwave after shockwave straight through you until you’re completely uninhibited. You shudder and convulse, completely lost in orgasmic ecstasy. “MALLEUS,” you scream, cumming so hard that your juices squirt into his mouth and run down his chin. He shoves his tongue deep within your pussy, feeling your walls contract around him, lapping up the sweet, sticky liquid as it releases. He's in Heaven. His eyes are closed, breathing ragged, his chest heaves. He's panting, covered in sweat. His cocks twitch, and his balls ache, but he wouldn't dare let himself go over the edge. His prize awaits. 

You crawl away from this face, legs wobbling and mind scrambling to catch up. Looking back at him, you see smudged eyeliner, swollen lips, and a face glistening in your juices. His chest heaves, cocks leaking with desperate arousal. He looks so pitiful, completely lost in the throes of carnal desire. He meets your gaze, his eyes out of focus. Small, desperate whimpers escape his lips. He's desperate for your touch—and you love seeing him this way.

You slowly undo the buttons on his shirt, one by one, taking the time to appreciate each reveal of toned muscle. He's so beautiful. Pure. Innocent. Perfect. You run your fingers down his chest, feeling the smooth, firm skin, and the rise and fall of his chest. His nipples are hard, and you can't resist. You tease them with your red, stiletto fingertips, feeling him shudder under your touch. He's so cute when he's aroused.

"M-my Queen..." he mumbles, and you know exactly what he wants. You kiss his chest, he moans. Arching his back, his hips buck forward, and a frustrated groan exits his airway. You kiss his nipples, playfully sucking, then a quick nibble. He cries out, body trembling, cocks twitching with excitement.

"Patience, my love," you coo. "You’ll get your reward."

You trail kisses down his torso as he squirms beneath you. His cocks are painfully hard. By the time you reach the waistband of his pants, his entire being is begging for you to take them off. In the same moment you’ve tugged the zipper down, his cocks spring free, bouncing against his abdomen. They're hard as rocks, covered in precum, and twitching with need. He's whimpering, and you know he can’t hold on much longer. 

Slipping his pants down, you free his legs of their final constraint. You look up to find him gazing at you through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. He's so beyond ready for release. You climb back up him, straddling his hips, careful not to make contact with either cock—you don't want him to cum just yet. Not before he fills you up, and makes you his.

"I want to take both of them. I don't want to waste a single drop." This is new. Usually it’s one cock inside of you while you jerk the other off or rub it against your clit. Two at once require a bit of fae magic. He nods, shuddering. Reaching up, his fingers brush against your pussy. His gasp is voracious—he felt how soaking wet you are. His hand glows green and he pushes two fingers into your tight little pussy, his magic spreading inside of you. It tingles in the best way. You feel like you're being filled up with warmth and love and ecstacy. Your body buzzes, pussy throbbing. As his magic begins to take effect, he adds two more fingers, your pussy eagerly and willingly stretching to accommodate his entire fist. Euphoria courses through your veins.

“Give yourself to me. Fill me up with every last bit of you. Make me see stars.”

Finally, permission. 

In one swift motion, Malleus removes his fist and plunges both pulsing, throbbing, needing cocks inside of your enchanted pussy. Within an instant, Malleus can't hold back any longer. He erupts, and a guttural moan escapes his lungs as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His whole body convulses, hips jerking violently, pumping his hot, sticky, viscous essence deep within your womb. Your eyes roll back, feeling his thick, warm cum paint your insides. The sheer force of his orgasm pushes you over the edge, and you cum for the third time that night, your walls clenching around his cock, milking him for every last drop. The feeling is almost indescribable—both of your aching bodies become one, pleasure and cum filling you to the absolute brim. He pummels you again and again, your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, holding on for dear life.

He's continues to cum—it's been a month, after all. His moans are desperate, his breathing ragged. His hips buck, and his body trembles. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass cheeks, pulling you flush against him. He can't get enough. His head spins thinking about how badly he wants to impregnate you. To breed with you. To have you bear his children. To make you a mommy. He imagines your beautiful, swollen belly; a physical manifestation of the love you share.

After what may have been eons, his orgasm finally subsides. His vision clears, and he's met with a glorious sight: you, above him, blissed out and dripping with cum. His heart swells, his love for you now deeper than ever. You allow him to kiss you, after seeing him yearn for it. You taste his love, his desperation, and his complete submission to you. It's divine.

You collapse, falling on top of his chest. Lay there together, breathing hard, you both come down from the most intense orgasm of your lives. His cocks soften, and slip out of your overflowing cunt. Your body shudders. It feels strange to be empty again.

“Bathe me," you command him.

"Anything for my beloved."

You both stand, legs wobbly. With a flick of his wrist, Malleus uses his magic to clean up, restoring the room to a pristine state. Before you can protest, Malleus scoops you up, and in a flash, you're back in his dorm room. The green teleportation fireflies fade as he carries you to the bath. You relax into his arms. With one, strong hand, he turns the water on, making sure it's just the right temperature, cuddling you until the water fills. Sleepily, you disconnect the leash from his collar, leaving his collar fastened around his neck as a sign of ownership.

Malleus carefully slides the straps of your corset off your shoulders, unlacing the back and letting it fall to the ground. He kisses along your clavicle, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kneels before you, slowly pulling your panties down. Watching them fall, he can't help but blush, remembering the way he'd seen them just moments before. Your nudity is absolutely mesmerizing.

You step into the soothing water in the tub, and Malleus steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap. He's so good at caring for you. He washes and scrubs every inch of your skin, finishing with a scalp massage. His movements are soft and intentional—full of love and adoration. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. You let your eyes close, listening to his heart beat, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Thank you for tonight. It was perfect," he coos into your ear.

"I'm so happy you trust me so much with your fantasies." You feel him smile as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. "Do you feel more comfortable in your submission?"

"Every time, it gets easier. I've never felt this safe or this loved. I am forever indebted to you. I love you, now and always."

"I love you too, Malleus. Now and always."

His hands rest on your lower belly. One day, it will swell with change, and you'll bear his heirs. You'll live your life together, and you'll rule his kingdom by his side. He can hardly wait—he’s already vowed to serve and protect you and your future children with every bone in his body. But for now, he takes pride in knowing you choose to be with him. To show him that his submission is not weakness, it’s power. It's a privilege. And more than anything, it's love.

You fall asleep like this, in his arms, dreaming of your future together. He holds you close, cherishing the moment. You're his everything—now, and always.

This was my first ever fic! If you enjoyed it, it would mean the absolute world to me if you told me either in the replies, in my ask box, or in the tags! Please know you have my endless gratitude for reading my fanfic — thank you for supporting my passion. I have been a long time lover of fanfic and I am absolutely honored to finally contribute to the community I care so deeply about! I hope you had a great time! 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia smut #twisted wonderland malleus x reader smut #malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia #malleus draconia smut #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #my writing

[lordadmiralfarsight]

Revolution fetishism is a horrible political view, especially in this context

Okay, rant incoming, partially related to recent events, but also to earlier thinking on my part.

There are, on the Left, a fair few people that romanticize or outright fetishize the concept of Revolution, of violent popular uprising to wrest power out of the hands of a corrupt elite and give it to the people. Very romantic, very righteous (self-righteous pretty often), very good and nice and sexy. And by the grace of revolutionary fervor and ideological purity, everything will be better after.

Except no.

See, a lot of this romanticization of Revolution comes, to my knowledge, from my own country of France. We have romanticized our Revolution a fair bit, and honestly, looking at the first part, fair. A serious go at giving women rights, a no-cause divorce, abolition of slavery, privileges thrown out, equality between people proclaimed loud, enfranchisement given to minorities ... in 1789. A LOT of good and progress, especially for the time.

But then it got fucky, VERY fucky. The Reign of Terror, under the caring leadership of Maximilien Robespierre, was a fucking nightmare on Earth, caracterized by mass executions on political basis, and by this I mean anyone that opposed Robespierre got beheaded. Political plurality? You mean anti-revolutionary sentiment ! Unacceptable, kill everyone.

A rumor of the time said the Place de Grève was covered in a layer of blood that was ankle deep. Is that an exageration ? Yes, certainly. But the fact it got to that point should tell you something about how intense the murdering was. And that was just one square in Paris, there was the rest of the country to consider too.

But surely, after Robespierre fell victim to his own system and was executed, something better emerged, right?

No. Sweet mother of fuck, NO.

What followed was roughly 70 years of political instability and violence, warfare and civil war, several dictatorships, including attempts to restore absolute monarchy, that undid most of the good brought by the first part of the Revolution. And finally, France stumbled onto political stability in 1870 when the temporary 3rd Republic, that was supposed to wait until the presumptive heir to the throne (who wanted an absolute monarchy) croacked did what temporary things do best and became the permanent system (until its fall).

This was not thanks to the Revolution. It was pure randomness.

Did the French Revolution bring good things? Yes, it did. In its first part. The second part brought chaos and misery for multiple decades. And it took a lot of work and efforts to bring back what the Revolution, the peaceful part, had brought in.

And far too many people on the Left fetishize and romanticize the whole thing, as if we couldn't have had the first part without the second, as if the progress and hope and betterment somehow needed the chaos and murder that came after.

Yes, there would have been a period of conflict, European monarchies would not have accepted quietly a realm the size of France doing away with monarchs. But did we REALLY need the political purges ? Did we REALLY need the paranoia ? Did we REALLY need the massacres ?

But you will find people that answer yes, and say the spilled blood somehow made it pure, or good. And those same people are looking at what Hamas is doing and are cheering. These people don't celebrate the first part, the progress and hope. They claim to be, but they aren't. They celebrate the Terror. They yearn for the unjust "popular tribunal" AKA mob "justice". They dream of executing political opponents or anyone they think is "bad" on light or even absent charges.

And That's why they cheer for Hamas rockets and massacres. That's why they sing when Israeli children are murdered. That's why they attack Jews that don't live in Israel. Because they hope to vicariously live this period of unchecked violence.

Know who was celebrating the RIGHT part of the Revolution ? The Israeli working with Gazan to build understanding. The Gazan protesting against Hamas. The Israeli Arabs risking their lives to save the lives of fellow Israeli and of foreigners, regardless of skin or creed. The Gazan trying to improve things in their homes against the wishes and efforts of Hamas.

Know who IS celebrating the RIGHY part of the Revolution ? The Israeli protesting the way the IDF is bombing Gaza. The people decrying the hypocrisy of blood-thirsty leftists. The people calling for Peace and working to make the political change to allow it.

But the Robespierres of the time, drunk on their own self-assurance, condemn and insult them, claiming that blood must be spilt. But it doesn't have to be. The French Revolution started relatively bloodlessly. It didn't need some great orgy of violence. Oh it wasn't clean, but it was far cleaner than the armchair Robespierres would like it to be. Because it didn't need to be.

And that's my point, really. The people fantasizing about and fetishizing the Revolution always dream of torrents of blood washing away the injustices, of seas of corpses forming a fertile ground upon which progress can grow. But that horseshit. All you get with that is, like the Place de Grève, a sinister place that stinks of rot and death, and flocks of scavengers gorging on your crimes.

All you get is a chance for a Napoleon to arrive. Or Stalin's USSR that so casually carried on with the crimes of the Tsars. Or Polpot who murdered 25% of his population.

If you look at the French Revolution, the right lesson to learn is that you need to know when to stop, and that's before you get to indiscriminate killing. Because once you get to that point ... people that thrive in those settings get in power and perpetuate them.

And to apply that to the situation in I/P ... knowing when to stop means realizing that Israeli are still humans, that Gazan are still humans, that their lives have worth and should be protected, that supporting child killings when it's done by "brown people" is not anymore alright than supporting child killings when done by the IDF. And you people should very well consider the possibility that people inside the IDF are doing all they can to reduce Bibi's ability to order war crimes.

And you should recognize that there are efforts on the part of the IDF, sometimes token efforts, sometimes more than just that, to limit the number of dead civilians. Point me to a case where Hamas did the same. Point me to a case where they tried to get Israeli civilians out of the way instead of targeting them.

Hamas is not a Revolution you want to succeed. It's not about being free. It's about killing. This isn't a "glorious revolutionary action", it's a prelude to the wholesale slaughter and ethnic massacre they dream of. It's a tiny window into their ideal, blood soaked world.

Violent revolution should be a last resort, when there is no other option available, when the system is so utterly broken and shattered that nothing can move, and it should be stopped as soon as the system is unfucked enough to negociate. The I/P situation is not at that stage. Look at how much efforts the fascists of both sides have to invest in maintaining this. Look at how much time and money and efforts they have to invest to keep each other in place. And despite this, people of both sides reach for peace, argue and protest for it, even at the risk of their very lives (especially true in Gaza).

And if you refuse to consider all this, if you insist on following Robespierre, remember this : La Veuve came for him too, in the end.

#palestine #israel #hamas attack #revolution fetishists don't care for human lives #empathy #human lives have value #yes even if they're Jewish #Jews are humans too you fucks #and yes #Palestinian lives also have value #because they're humans too #Hamas are terrorist fucks #same ideology that shot up the bataclan #If you wonder why France supports Israel #that's why #Wonder how many Charlie are cheering for their murderers friends #because Charlie was also victim of that ideology #as for the people who weren't Charlie and cheered for that murder too #what's the limit #where does it stops being OK to kill people for living differently #for having different values #free gaza #Free Gaza from Hamas #Free Palestine from Hamas #Free Israel from Netanyahu #Free peace

[atopvisenyashill]

catelyn and edmure constantly at odds…catelyn being unable to let go of the fact that SHE was the heir presumptive for half her childhood, edmure unable to understand why cat resents his status over her bc she’s a woman of course she didn’t inherit…catelyn is outwardly disrespectful and even hostile to him at several points and knows it but can’t help herself, can’t help her anger & helplessness at the war and her losses lashing out at her baby brother, and edmure lets it happen bc he’s head of the family and even tho he’s the baby he can take the anger and the pain from his sister that’s his job….catelyn reaches for his hand at their father’s funeral, desperate for someone who loved hoster in the same way but edmure is far away, drowning his grief alone because that’s how a man must act, he can be emotionally in front of his wife but never a sister…and when he asks her if hoster mentioned him as he died, cat can’t bare to tell him that hoster and edmure were much the same, spending their days drowning in grief and guilt after a lifetime of being the Lord and staying emotionally distant from the people who need them most, so she lies to spare her baby brother’s feelings and says yes, he thought of his son, when all along hoster’s thoughts were on the daughter he failed….always this distance of a boy meaning more between catelyn and edmure

#i am SCRRAMING I AM DECEASED #valyrianscrolls #catelyn stark #edmure tully #rani liveblogs asoiaf #brothers and sisters #gender politics in asoiaf

[uncleclaudius]

Bust of Germanicus, son of Drusus the Elder and Antonia Minor. Germanicus was adopted by his paternal uncle Tiberius around 4 AD, making him heir presumptive to the empire. Germanicus was vastly popular with the army and the populace at large and when he died in 19 AD, the rumors of poison abounded.

He and his memory remained cherished by the Romans long after his death and all subsequent emperors, Caligula (Germanicus's son), Claudius (Germanicus's brother), and Nero (Germanicus's grandson) benefitted from Germanicus's enduring popularity.

In late antiquity, the bust was vandalized by Christians, probably during their attack against the imperial cult.

#germanicus #germanicus julius caesar #bust #roman empire #ancient rome

[esther-dot]

oh and I hope you don't mind (we can share my mood) 11k by @thkingslayer

“You make presumptions, your highness.” “I do not. I know how unwanted I am by you, Lady Sansa.” Her mouth opens as she struggles to find the words to tell him it isn’t true. She’s a lady. She would be nice if he would. She just wants— She just wants— -- When the king travels north, Sansa takes an immediate liking to Prince Aegon. She does not, however, want anything to do with her cousin Prince Jon—the brooding, dark haired, younger brother. She's quite sure he does not want anything to do with her also. And by the Old Gods and the New, she will not let him ruin her mood.

Dawn 19k

Like her mother before her, Sansa will do her duty. She will marry a man who is practically a stranger, mere days before he sets off for war.

All That Glitters 3k by @rumaan

Sansa is annoyed she has to give up a day with Prince Aegon to show his boring younger brother around Winterfell. Some alone time with Prince Jon makes her re-evaluate her opinion.

Sapphires and Salt 9k by @wendynerdwrites

The Princess to be is jilted, the unwanted prince rises

Salty Teens one, two, three by @blackholeofprocrastination

Sansa bursts into his solar in a swirl of skirts, her precious courtesies forgotten. Jon remains seated behind his desk, earning a scowl from his lady wife.  “What did you say to Jeyne?” she demands. “Nothing.”  It’s not entirely true, but he is still too furious to be cowed in his own damn solar.

Learning to fight, learning to Dance 1k by @myrish-lace-love

Lyanna Stark survives, and Jon and Aegon are half-brothers. Jon is in a hastily arranged marriage with Sansa Stark. They get on each other's nerves constantly during the day, but their nights are a different matter.

What a Disappointment 7k by @justadram

Sansa Stark and Jon Targaryen are married and neither of them is pleased about it. Set in a world where Rhaegar lives and Jon was raised in King's Landing as a legitimized bastard.

lights still shining in the room, you left me here 11k

Perhaps at one point, her marriage to Jon had become less of a sham. But with a history of three dead children between them, even the strongest of unions would break, let alone one as fragile as theirs. When Sansa tries to save herself, her actions lead to some interesting revelations.

Made New 3k

Sansa does not get the wedding night that she longed for and has to fix it

Tell the Ones That Need to know (We Are Headed North) 10k by @vixleonard

After years of confinement in the Red Keep with Ned prisoner in the black cells, the Dragon Queen comes. With the knowledge that Jon Snow is actually a Targaryen, she agrees to let the Starks return to Winterfell only if Jon marries one of the Stark daughters. Sansa volunteers so they can all go home. Soon she figures out being married to Jon isn't bad but it is complicated.

half a kingdom and a princess 2k by @misshoneywheeler

“Guess you’re stuck with me, old girl.” Old girl. He’s never called her that before. He’s never called her anything but Sansa and my lady, or sometimes Lady Stark, a title that gives them both discomfort as Lady Stark is still Sansa’s mother to each of them. Something in Sansa thrills at the strange endearment, though she should – and may – protest at being called such a thing. There’s just something so familiar in the words, in Jon’s soft affection as he says them. Something intimate and real.

A Convenient Inconvenience 4k

Once Daenerys takes the Iron Throne she knows the battle is only half over. Now that she has the throne she must keep it. Since she cannot have heirs of her own she names her new half-brother, the former Jon Snow, now Jon Targaryen, the Crown Prince. And a prince needs a princess which is where Sansa Stark comes in. The pair marry yet it takes months for Jon to realize that Sansa thinks of their relationship as more than just a duty.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - POST CANON

#jonsa #jonsa fic #dot fic list #salty teens au #arranged marriage au #political marriage au #some of these are jon is a targ but they're primarily salty teens so stuck them here and will do more jon is a targ fics later

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

It's gonna be fascinating seeing Miorine work through her cognitive dissonance. Because, like, the girl's been studying at a military school and is the heir presumptive to a military tech company, nevermind that she very much considered using her own company to make walking war crimes. In the abstract, she's very desensitized to violence and brutality. But now suddenly it's not just words and statistics and investment reports, now it's a man turned to pulp in front of her in a heartbeat and sprayed across her face, and the person she cares about most being surprised that this bothers her.

I wonder who she's gonna be once she sorts all that out.

#g witch #miorine rembran #gundam the witch from mercury #the witch from mercury

[zvaigzdelasas]

Radio Free Anglosphere - Britons & Occupied Irish forced to mourn publicly on day of leader's death

Citizens must refrain from shopping, recreation, even laughing as country remembers life of Elizabeth Windsor.

Britain and the Ireland Occupation Authorities are forcing residents to observe an 11-day period of mourning in the wake of former leader Elizabeth Windsor’s death on Sep 8, sources in the country told RFA.

Windsor succeeded her father, who acceded to the throne in 1936 upon the abdication of his brother, King Edward VIII, making Elizabeth the heir presumptive.

Elizabeth Windsor’s rule coincided with one of the darkest periods in Britain & Northern Ireland's history

[bigfan-fanfic]

Why Don't You Take a Seat? (Batdad Fanfic)

a one shot where batdad meets ra's al ghul for the first time and they have tea together, talk while waiting for bruce to arrive

"Please, Mr. Wayne. Have a seat." the strange man says.

It's bad enough that all your camera feeds have gone dark, the last you heard over comms from your family being the sounds of combat with mysterious assassins.

"It's not generally customary for the guest to offer a seat to his host." you respond, causing the man to chuckle.

"That is certainly true. And in the same vein, not customary for the host to not know whom his guest may be. I am Ra's al Ghul."

You freeze, the name making your blood run cold.

He... looks far too young to be the same man that taught your husband back when he was training, but it wasn't like people would be scrambling to use the name of the Demon's Head.

"And you know my name, it seems."

"Of course. We have been watching you with great interest."

"That's news to me." you say, thanking your lucky stars that Alfred isn't here tonight - so that if you do end up dying, at least your boys will have a caretaker.

A few more assassins in dark clothing emerge from the shadows, setting up a tea service before vanishing. Seeing no other recourse, you sit across from him, watching as he pours your tea.

"You of course know I am well-acquainted with your husband?"

"Of course." you say, sipping at the delightful porcelain cup. "Though it would seem your daughter would prefer to better acquainted with him."

"I do apologize for Talia. She seems to think I would favor her more were she to produce a fitting heir."

"A fitting heir?

"Archaic terminology, to be sure. Successor would be the better word. For many a year now, I have entreated your husband to be my successor, though his unwillingness to kill makes him... ill-suited."

"And so Talia..."

"Believes that should she and Bruce form a union, they may together bear a child that inherits both of their-"

"That's... not how having kids works."

"Indeed. I personally prefer that my successor show their worth through deed rather than breeding."

"So...may I ask why you've been watching me?"

"Of course. You see, the League of Shadows often examines civilization - which parts of it are worth sparing, and which parts have become too corrupted, too fallen, and must be purged. Gotham is one such city."

You balk at the idea of the League having so much power - more than Bruce had estimated when he told you about them.

"It was Thomas and Martha Wayne who, nigh-singlehandedly, kept this city afloat among the iniquity and vice of its underbelly. When they were murdered, we assumed the hope of the city had been slaughtered with them."

"But who should arrive on the scene but a young upstart with no other connection to Gotham high society but his bosom friendship and young romance with its de facto prince? You, my dear Mr. Wayne, took charge of this city and became its champion. Even among the cesspool of calumny and disdain, you have lit a beacon of truth. The last bastion of such things."

"That can't be true. I'm not the only one doing things to help." you protest. Ra's smirks indulgently, like an uncle tutting at the presumptive modesty of a favorite nephew.

"You refer to your husband?"

"Not solely. There are others trying to make a difference. Like Dr. Thompkins or Commissioner Gordon."

"And yet you are the most notable, and not only does your wealth make you the most powerful, your intellect and tactical mind makes you the one most charged to affect change. I say your wealth, and not your husband's wealth, because as I know it, you have your own standing as CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well as the Wayne fortune."

"You have been doing your research."

"Indeed. The League is no simple assassins' guild, my dear. We guide the direction of the world, in what we hope to be a favorable direction. I have been remiss in the past century, allowing the world to languor this way, what with its global warming and its wars of convenience and profit. I have intended to change it through drastic action, but... you have intrigued me. Perhaps there are... other ways. No great man truly wishes to end the life of another, and should it be rendered unnecessary, our sword can be stayed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... your way. Gotham has seen a marked turn under your direction and manipulation. Perhaps not an instant one, but a noticeable one. To us, a favorable one."

"So you're saying that Gotham's survival is... totally dependent on me?"

"For now, yes. But that may change. The reason I sent Talia to distract your husband is because I wished to get the measure of you for myself. I admit, I once considered you nothing more than an emotional chain tethering Bruce to foolish sentimentality, but I came to appreciate your tactic. Far less brutal, and one I will also admit I dismissed. I have held a sword for so long, I forgot the utility of other tools."

"So... you want to work with me?" you frown, tilting your head.

"Indeed. We have much to learn from each other, and with the combination of our approaches, we may find a greater progress than we would in conflict."

"Combination of our approaches? You mean killing people?"

"You cannot deny it would be expedient."

"Even if I accepted that, it'd be the wrong approach, even practically! Just killing the people that stand in our way would create chaos, AND it wouldn't guarantee change the way systemic reform would!"

"See why you would be invaluable?" Ra's grins, unperturbed. "However, one could argue that your systemic reform could be hastened by removing those that would prove obstacles to it."

"Or it could jeopardize the movement by giving the opposition martyrs."

"Ha!" Ra's barks out a laugh of genuine delight. "You remind me of someone I once knew. She would never let my mind rest for a moment when she disagreed with me, nor would she let me hide behind pretty words or turns of phrase."

"Sounds like you need someone like that around you." You chuckle, and Ra's smirks in agreement.

"Indeed I do. Will you join the League of Shadows?"

"I hope this isn't the kind of offer that's only got one answer."

"For once, I will accept either answer. A 'no' now may become a 'yes' in the future."

"Then I shall take some time to consider."

"Indeed. I believe your husband is about to join us anyway..."

Ra's seemed a sensible, charming man when you first met him, but it was impossible to ignore how menacing he could be - how many atrocities he had already committed and planned to commit.

Indeed, though he allowed Talia to continue pursuing Bruce, it seemed he tried just as hard to woo you to his side.

In any case, it was never going to be the last time the al Ghul family became a part of your life...

#batdad x bruce #batdad reader #batman headcanons #headcanons #dc headcanons

[bestworstcase]

tangential to last rb (<- heroically resisting the impulse to ramble all over @sailorb00’s art post mrgdhej) ive always thought “maidens choose themselves” was an interesting turn of phrase for ozpin to use given 1. the inheritance rules as he and his proxies describe them and 2. the context of asking pyrrha to become the next fall maiden

specifically, can the presumptive heir say no?

i think “maidens choose themselves” does imply bidirectional agency: that is, a dying maiden may have an eligible candidate in mind, but that candidate too has a choice to accept the magic or not. will the magic cleave to an heir who rejects it?

in V3 team oz hypothesize that the partial magic of the fall maiden still attached to amber will seek its other half when it dies—unless they transfer amber’s aura into pyrrha. but then what happens is ozpin initiates the transfer and the aura+magic is actively combining with pyrrha’s aura when cinder kills amber, whereupon the magic reverses direction to reach cinder.

so we have this scenario where the dying maiden’s aura is being transferred into a new host and the magic, apparently, resists that artificial process. why? three possibilities:

it’s following the technical rule that it must go to whoever amber thought of last at the moment she died,

amber’s half broke away from her aura to rejoin cinder’s half, or

both cinder (the last person amber saw) and pyrrha (receiving amber’s aura) were available to inherit the magic, or at least amber’s piece of it, and the magic went to cinder because she actually wanted it whereas pyrrha felt duty-bound to accept it

and i think there is textual support for at least the possibility of number three, because in V7 what happens is: fria dies (marked by her eyes closing) but the transfer doesn’t begin until penny chooses to receive the magic and clasps fria’s hand. the aura that flows down fria’s arm doesn’t appear until penny is holding her hand! (and the scene gives quite a lot of attention to penny’s hesitance beforehand, underscoring that she makes a choice in this moment.)

and winter also makes a choice in that moment—there is a moment when she sees fria dying in penny’s arms and registers what’s about to happen, and rather than rush to trade places with penny (who is in fighting condition still, unlike winter!) winter instead focuses on cinder, which amounts to stepping back to leave the choice in fria’s hands.

then of course when the magic flows from penny to winter there’s a lot of emotional weight put on winter’s choice to accept it (“thank you for trusting me with this”/“you chose nothing; this was a gift”).

raven is a possible spanner in the works given how little we know of the circumstances and the open question of whether she wanted the spring maiden’s magic, but at a minimum raven must have mercy-killed her with the knowledge that doing so carried a significant possibility of probably gretchen bequeathing the magic to her, and certainly raven doesn’t hesitate to use it.

more importantly, every failed transfer we’ve seen thus far (grimm beetle, grimm arm, aura transfer) have one thing in common and that is an attempt to circumscribe the agency of the maidens themselves; and the situation with the grimm beetle is interesting because the grimm beetle does work. the magic doesn’t resist being split in half and cinder retains the half that she stole—whereas the magic does resist transfer into pyrrha.

in both scenarios amber was in distress and both the grimm siphoning and machine transfer seem to operate on the same principle of capturing the magic via aura, so… the difference between cinder (who wants this power badly) and pyrrha (who doesn’t want it but feels obligated to take it) is perhaps the key variable to explain the different behavior of the magic.

as always i wonder if those “convoluted and stupid rules” and the “random” heir if the dying maiden doesn’t have an eligible candidate in mind are maybe a lot less convoluted, stupid, or random than team oz believes. maidens don’t “choose their heirs,” maidens “choose themselves.”

(see also: cinder siphoned aura out of raven and penny without ripping away parts of the spring/winter maiden magic; cinder also spent all of V8 obsessively fixated on the winter maiden UNTIL salem gave her permission to go for it, whereupon she promptly snagged the relics and left the winter maiden on the table because her ongoing power struggle with salem is more important to her. cinder very badly wanted magic and now that she has it, her desire for more is merely a move in the deranged game she’s playing with salem and what she really wants is to WIN. this is why she’s not getting the summer maiden either.)

[charlotte-of-wales]

Happy 84th birthday to Queen Margrethe Il of Denmark!

Born on April 16th 1940, Margrethe Alexandrine Pórhildur Ingrid, reigned as Queen of Denmark from 14 January 1972 until her abdication on 14 January 2024. Having reigned for exactly 52 years, she was the second-longest reigning Danish monarch after Christian IV.

Margrethe is the eldest child of Frederick IX of Denmark and Ingrid of Sweden and became heir presumptive to her father in 1953, when a constitutional amendment allowed women to inherit the throne. On her accession, she became the first female monarch of Denmark since Margrethe I, ruler of the Scandinavian kingdoms in 1376-1412.

In 1967, she married Henri de Laborde de Monpezat, with whom she had two sons: Crown Prince Frederik and Prince Joachim. She also has 8 grandchildren.

In her annual live broadcast New Year's Eve address on 31 December 2023, Margrethe announced her abdication, which took place on 14 January 2024, the 52nd anniversary of her accession to the throne. She was succeeded by her elder son, Frederik, as King Frederik X.

#queen margrethe #drf #royal birthdays

[coochiequeens]

These ladies are Queens

‘Second only to men’ is my name: more Chinese women ditch sexist names from boy-seeking parents amid feminist awakening

Women in China are legally changing their names amid a wider awareness of gender issues and loosened restrictionsThey had names which reflect a parental desire for boys — Zhaodi: ‘beckon to younger brother’, Yingdi: ‘welcome younger brother’

“After an entire week, I finally succeeded in changing my name with the authorities. Let the stars shine in the coming years — It’s never too late!” wrote 20-year-old Chen Xingwan in celebration on her social media account.

For the past two decades, the young Chinese woman has been officially called Chen Yanan instead — ya meaning “only second to” and nan meaning “men”.

According to her father, who gave her the name, it means “a boy is coming after this baby”, while her mother, who had no say in the matter, interpreted it as “you are no worse than a boy”.

Sharing her new identity document on Xiaohongshu, China’s equivalent of Instagram, the university student from eastern China’s Anhui province said she hoped it would end a long period of self-doubt and start a new chapter in her life.

Chen is just one of many Chinese women who want to change the sexist names their parents gave them to reflect a preference for sons.

The trend has gained momentum over the past year amid a wider feminist awakening and loosened restrictions on legal name-changing for adults in mainland China.

At the start of last year, China enforced its first Civil Code allowing adults to choose their own names, as long as the words used are, “not against fundamental social values”.

Due to the traditional preference for a male heir in Chinese society, girls names which convey a family’s wishes for a boy were popular both before and during the one-child policy.

The policy, which wasn’t completely abandoned until 2015, limited all urban couples to one child, while those in the countryside were allowed a second chance if their first child was a girl.

This resulted in many parents giving their newborn daughters names such as Yanan: “second only to men”, Zhaodi: “beckon to younger brother”, Yingdi: “welcome younger brother” and Aidi: “love younger brother”.

Another is Sheng-nan which means “better than men”. This is usually interpreted as “despite the fact that you are a girl, you are better than a boy”, which is based on the sexist presumption that men are normally superior to women.

According to the Ministry of Public Security, of female citizens bearing the three most common family names in mainland China — Wang, Li, and Zhang — almost 32,000 are named “second only to men”.

More than 13,000 women with these family names are called “beckon to younger brother”.

“Since childhood, all my teachers would ask me the same questions when seeing my name for the first time; ‘Did your father want a boy? Do you have a younger brother?’,” said Chen .

Her younger brother came three years after her and was given the name Yongkuan, “It is a very normal name that won’t bring any trouble to him,” she said.

Chen, however, said she suffered significant social stigma because of her name.

Her classmates gave her nasty nicknames associated with the word men, such as “men’s room”, she said.

“I’ve hated my name since I was young. When I was asked to introduce myself, I was always unwilling to say my name,” she said.

“For some people, their names are just a symbol and may not play an important role in their daily life. But for many others, they may have been hurt because of their names. There could be some bad outcomes psychologically,” Chen said.

Many women in mainland China share Chen’s sentiments and have posted about their name-changing experiences with photos of their new ID cards attached online.

They include 22-year-old Zhang Yingdi from Tianjin who became Zhang Yuge, and a 24-year-old Lin Aidi from Guangdong province in southern China, who herself Lin Lisha.

Huang Chunyu, a retired professor in Chinese culture and history, said a person’s given name often conveys the giver’s expectations and understanding of what constitutes a good life.

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After the era of the one-child policy, women became more independent and confident. They refuse to be subordinate to men and believe they are as good as, or even better than men,” he said, adding, “so this trend is a true reflection of social development.”

University student Chen said she was happy that her parents’ attitude had changed over time.

They were supportive when she told them she wanted to have a new name, she said.

“As they grow older, they are not as rigid as before. They not only agreed with my decision, but even helped me pick my new name,” she said.

#China #Son preference #Xiaohongshu #Name change