#united kingdom matrimony | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daemour · 7 months

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Pairing: royalty!Mingi x royalty gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, light angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Warnings: none

WC: 1898

Summary: You and Mingi aren't friends, not even after marriage. But you're not enemies either. In fact, you don't know where you stand but after an incident maybe it could be something more?

after being complained at for "never writing Mingi" (ahem @mingsolo) here we are! to tide us over while i struggle through nanowrimo i have a handful of prewritten fics so y'all aren't dehydrated

“With the power vested in me by the Gods, I unite Princess (Y/N) (L/N) and Crown Prince Mingi Song in holy matrimony, thus joining their kingdoms.”

The priest leads the two of you to join hands, and as you do light shines from within your clasped hands. The ceremony is over and you are now married to the…well, former nemesis of your people. The funniest thing was when you were just toddlers, your parents had even talked about marrying the two of you together. But then something changed. And it wasn’t long before both countries were locked in a war before you even had the chance to talk to the prince for more than your greetings.

It was devastating. Both countries were large and powerful, and the smaller kingdoms around them suffered for it. It was only when his father died that the high empire intervened and, as a result, decided to use your marriage to make peace. Mingi would not be crowned until he was married to you, and the wedding took place much sooner than you had hoped.

Which brings you to now. Neither you nor Mingi talked or even looked at each other the entire carriage ride home. It was not a joyous occasion, not for the two of you. No shared beds, or rooms, just barely acknowledging each others' presence.

In fact, you’re pretty sure he hates you. He rarely acknowledges your presence. You don’t know what to do with yourself in this hellhole. All you do is show your face in the throne room when needed and then retreat to either your private gardens or room until next called for.

“Yuri, could you do me a favour?” you call for your handmaiden, who might just be one of your only friends in this dreadful castle. The servants like you well enough but there’s only some much kindness they can offer before the nobles’ words get to you.

“Yes, milady?” Like a ghost, she moves to stand beside you, her hair glowing in the sun. Sometimes you look at her and feel she would be a so much better fit for the role of queen here. You can barely hold the attention of the court ladies while Yuri can shut them up with a single polite sentence. “How may I assist you today?”

“Could you do me a favour and fetch me some tea? You know my favourite. I’ll take it in my room, and you can take the day off.”

Yuri bows her head. “Thank you, milady.” You can hear the smile in her voice, excited at the prospect of a day off. You wave her off and as she enters the side door, you lean back on your hands and enjoy the rays of sunshine on your face for just a moment alone. You take moments like this with gratefulness, as it’s only when you’re truly alone that you feel almost at home.

With another sigh and a crack of your back, you brush off your full skirts and make your way to your room. It’s when you almost reach your quarters that you run into Lady Miyoung, a lady of high social standing that you heard was rumoured to be marrying Mingi before the war had started.

“Lady Miyoung, what a surprise,” you greet her quietly, tilting your head into a bow. “I did not expect to see you near this wing.” You did not expect her because this area is regulated strictly as only you, your personal servants, and your husband are allowed entrance.

“Oh, yes, a pleasant surprise, I’m sure,” Miyoung sniffs haughtily and your eye twitches. As much as she despises you, she’s popular among the court and if you dare raise a word against her the social exile you would face would be irreparable. “I heard the most interesting conversation the other day, you know.”

“Ah,” you are not quite that interested in court gossip, but if Miyoung found her way into your wing without being stopped, it must be something important.

“I heard,” Miyoung leans in as if you’re sharing secrets about childhood crushes, “that King Mingi has been looking for a second wife to bear him a son. A woman of his court, with high social standing, of course. In fact, I heard that he’s quite sick of his war trophy.”

And her words cut you deep. You know she’s referring to herself as the lady of the court with a high social standing, and that you are his war trophy. She’s not subtle, but she’s subtle enough that you cannot sentence her to anything without the wrath of the court against you. You feel your throat tightening but you force an almost painful smile on your face. “I see. Well, the rumours of the court have no bearing on how I will go about my day, so I thank you for your wisdom. You may leave.”

Miyoung raises a perfectly shaped brow, no doubt pleased at your obvious hurt but also craving more of a reaction. “Now, now, there’s no haste. A court doll like you must have nothing else of interest as her husband, His Royal Majesty, has much more important matters to attend to.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Never before had a court lady been so openly disdainful of you. Behind your back, easily, but to your face and in your quarters? You open your mouth to rebuke her but before a single word leaves your mouth, you hear wind rushing past your ears as a person stands before you. As your eyes move up his broad back your hand flies to your mouth as you recognise the back of Mingi’s head.

“My King,” Miyoung stutters out, just as surprised at his sudden appearance.

“Why are you here?” Mingi’s booming voice echoes in the narrow hallway. “I do not recall you being given permission to be in this area of the castle.”

“Why, Queen (Y/N) invited me herself,” she lies straight out of her teeth.

Mingi looks back at you, his eyebrow raised as he awaits your confirmation. And on any other occasion, maybe you would have folded in your eagerness to please the court, but your heart still stings from Miyoung’s words. You shake your head ever so imperceptibly.

Mingi nods. “I see. Now, Lady Miyoung,” his head snaps back to her and she has the audacity to flutter her eyelashes at him. “Lying to the King and putting words in the Queen Consort’s mouth is a punishment worthy of being stripped of your title.”

“Your Majesty!” Miyoung squawks and Mingi holds up a hand to silence her in the middle of her sentence.

“Not to mention the other offences I heard when walking by,” Mingi continues and Miyoung swallows as she realises the trouble she put herself into. “Spreading harmful rumours about the King and the Queen Consort?”

“You’re majesty, I wasn’t–” Miyoung tries to save herself but Mingi is not having it.

“Keep your snake mouth shut” he snaps “lest I cut your tongue off for disrespecting my wife. You have, by extent, insulted me as well. Second wife? Don’t make me laugh. Queen (Y/N) is a hundred times more the queen you would ever be.”

Before Miyoung could protest anymore, Mingi snaps his fingers and guards you didn’t even expect to be there come out of the shadows to take Miyoung by the arms.

“My King!”

“Mingi!”

Both you and Miyoung gasp in surprise, although yours is more confused and hers is plain offence, but Mingi ignores you both as he addresses his guards. “Take Lady Miyoung to the dungeons while I decide what to do with her.”

And without hesitation, the soldiers drag an offended and whining Miyoung away. It’s only when her hollers finally cease that you snap to attention, quickly bowing at your husband. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Mingi,” you state as he bows back. “I thank you for your help in dealing with Lady Miyoung, though.”

Mingi sighs. “I should’ve done more before, (Y/N), and I’m sorry. I should’ve known how hard it would be for you, moving so soon after the war.”

You shake your head as your hands clutch at your full skirts. “You have no obligation towards me. Lady Miyoung was, in a way, correct about one thing. I am a war trophy.”

“No obligation?” Mingi’s voice raises in volume but he pauses to calm himself down after he notices you flinch at the volume of it. “(Y/N), you are my wife. The furthest possible thing from a trophy. I should have nipped the gossip in the bud—neither of us wanted a war and we could not control our circumstances.” Mingi reaches forward, almost as if to hold your hands, but decides against it, his hands just hovering awkwardly in the air.”

“But you don’t care,” you contradict him, your voice small. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I rarely ever see you, and the court thinks I’m a joke. I can’t show my face without hearing the whispers behind my back. I do my best to listen to the commoner’s struggles and offer solutions but there’s only so much I can do when the officials and their wives are against me.”

Your words stun Mingi to his core. “You think I’m indifferent?” At your careful nod, he overcomes his hesitation and takes your shaking hands, bringing them to his chest as you are pulled forward at the motion. “My wife, I adore you. I would be lying to call it love, but I hold you in such high regard, and given time, I would come to love you if you’d let me. I am so sorry that you came to that conclusion.”

You hesitate before reaching forward and squeezing his warm, large hands. “It’s okay,” you whisper. When Mingi raises an eyebrow you laugh breathily at his suspicion. “It truly is. Yes, I felt alone and out of place, but your words and kindness have comforted me. We can try again. I’ll attend more councils with you as is my duty, and we can have lunch together afterwards. I’ll do my best to appeal more to the nobles and we can get to know each other. I don’t hold it against you, Mingi.”

Mingi nods slowly as he processes your words. “We shall,” he smiles and you can’t help but smile back. He brings your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against them. “We will, and that’s a promise. I will defend your reputation with all I can, and you will blossom in this court, I’m sure of it.”

You giggle a little at his phrasing and you give his hands another gentle squeeze. “I will hold you to that promise.” A pause as you stare into each others’ eyes and an idea hits you. “Mingi, are you busy right now?”

Mingi shakes his head. “No?” he cocks his head, his eyes warm.

Your eyes shine as your smile grows even more on your face. “Then please do me the honour of accompanying me to my garden, my King.” You punctuate your question with a short laugh and Mingi’s eyes shine as he nods.

“Please, let’s.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you gently pull him down the hall back from where you came.

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euphiea · 11 months

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[NEW FILE UPLOADED]: STATUS: LEAKED//CORRUPTED ↳ Black Panther ↳ Shuri Udaku ↳ Alternate Universe ↳ Synopsis: Absurdity colors the wind, the true song of Aquarius. White doves and weeded lawns bring abundance, and though tradition condemns the latter, it took an absurd eye to deem a dandelion a wishing flower. It took an angel condemned by God to grant it so.

Euphoria’s Annotations: ##Based in 1800s || ##Tribbing || ##Arranged Marriage || #Inspired by: This Fic by Wiinters on AO3 & Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton) || ##Shuri Has A Dirty Mouth

[ATTACHED MESSAGE]:

↳ EUPHORIA: I feel like domspace shuri is more of a dirty, slutty talker than a sadist. Expect heavy edits over time. You are not british here.

Love conquers hate. The elders of the living generation have tried to pass this down, but to no avail, for they leave the context out of it—leave it up to the youth to interpret on their own, without any clue on where to start, what to think. The repetition of the saying with no further explanation rendered it tasteless, wisdom that’s carried nations is now a graying chatterbox that no one pays mind to.

The planet is run by two powerful, opposing kingdoms by the names of Wakanda and Vymont. The war has stretched on for centuries, legend has it the land of Jormil was once rich, nutrient soil—until bloodshed soaked the grounds in great volume, far surpassing the limits of its thirst, and therefore turning it into a vacant, hilled land of wild clay.

As the elders passed and the world modernized as to not be left behind by expansion, the war over resources grew to be a nuisance. The people despised the other side, while the ones who wore the crown could not figure a vital reason to continue fighting. In typical history, when nations quarrel it’s ended by two means: total conquering, or union. This case was different, what could be done when the kingdoms simply grow tired?

The story needed to be good, believable. Enough to throw salt on any fires before they emerge. A fairytale with a valuable lesson, love conquers hate.

Thus, the papers sealing your marriage were drawn.

Princess of Vymont and Princess of Wakanda, two young women who met and fell madly in love, despite being rivals. Desire bewitched you as your knights fought, carelessness revealed your schemings much to the rulers’ horror. Efforts that could move mountains and change the weather, the seasons at will, what it took for either to come around. Now, you join Princess Shuri Udaku hand in hand, allowing love to light the way.

Good, believable.

It’s your duty as Princess to endure for the sake of your people. Your marriage with Shuri was sealed in ink weeks before the matrimonial kiss, and even by that time, you hadn’t spoken much. Complete strangers too skilled at lying for your own good.

You assumed that once you married, once your nations united, you wouldn’t have to see her. Sure, all eyes were on you, closely watching your faces and mannerisms for any chances of fraud, but Shuri is a busy woman, the innovative leader of sciences and technology, she had no real time for you.

“Have you consummated the marriage?”

Unfortunately, your mothers were much keener than the public. Queen Ramonda’s question was met with stiff side-eyes and silent nods, and if that didn’t give it away, it was the five foot distance standing between you.

It’s been five months since your marriage, and three weeks since your holy matrimony was sealed in stone. The months leading up to that night, Shuri made astounding efforts to be a wife to you, despite you claiming she did not need to. You were fine with lying, maybe even a quickie in the case that the Gods and Ancestors happen to be vindictive. Shuri denied, saying she didn’t want to touch you as a stranger when you’re her wife, for you didn’t deserve that, and it wouldn’t feel right.

She moved into your gifted estate and slept in a room three halls over. Three months of dining together, painting, gardening, attending balls and picking out fabrics for elaborate complimenting gowns—newlywed activities, a real honeymoon. Your time spent had ignited a spark, a spark that morphed into an unrecognizable blaze of red heat that charred your skin that night of your first time.

Your first time may be your only time, and it irks you.

The fact that you’re irked, irks you.

You woke up in an empty bed, rung the bell, and as your servants tended to you, you asked them where your wife went.

“She’s at the lab for today. She wanted me to tell you she’ll be home by dinner!”

Shuri kept her promise, she returned about an hour from supper while you were in the garden, reading. The next day, the same servant repeated the same thing, except Shuri will be home a little after dinner, and the next day, she’s going to be staying late at the lab, don’t wait up.

Secretly, you were hurt. Shuri never stopped being a busy woman, but you feel as though she merely prioritized you for one thing, and now that you’ve given it to her, she’s lowered your name on the list.

You could confront her, but for what? You married to end a three hundred year war between nations, not from being in love with one another, like Prince T’Challa and Nakia. You told yourself that you’d get over it, but you overheard your servants gossiping:

“What of Rineea, now that the Princess is married?”

“Riri? She has been spending her time at the lab… I halfway expected it to be a call off situation when they married, but that’s unrealistic, huh?”

“I did too. But they were together for a minute, when I heard of the Princess’ engagement, I assumed it was to her. Now imagine my shock when I found out it was a Vymont.”

“Thee Vymont. I am just the cook, but… Put a Princess and a coworker in front of me, and tell me to choose a spouse. But I’m just the cook.”

“Right.”

Right, you’re a Vymont. A crucial detail so easily forgotten. You’re staying on Wakandan soil, holding a piece of Wakanda’s crown, but in no way are you Wakandan. You’re still an outsider, trapped in a marriage with someone who will never see you as anything but. Although, Shuri is a generous sweetheart with you. She told you once how stupid she thinks the war is, how she’s overcome with glee now that it’s over.

“The war has ceased, and I get a beautiful wife as a token,” She had said to you, standing irritatingly close, “And the prettiest Vymont has to offer, at that.”

You told yourself you just aren’t home at the same time, but the possibility she’s been skipping out on you for a girl she has real feelings for, real history with, sharing real similarities with as a Wakandan scientist—meanwhile, you paint, study music, and teach horse riding to children. Shuri said you were the prettiest Vymont, not the prettiest in general. The Wakandan must be show-stoppingly gorgeous, how silly is it to think one night with a Vymont could amount to many with a Wakandan?

It’s three hours until midnight, the warm bodies of your servants is what’s stopping the estate from growing cold. Ethereal are the full moons in November, traces of clouds brush the stars’ cheeks, the wind blows away October’s remnants, and strips crooked branches naked. The daytime servants are tucked away in their own, the nighttime servants are dutifully buzzing; you know the estate well enough to avoid being seen by them.

“Have you changed—“

You abruptly pause your journey mid-step at the sound of a servant’s voice. You’re at a four way stop, of sorts, near the ballroom. Tongue bitten, fingers digging into the black silk of your nightgown, you take a peek around the corner.

Two brown skinned women in uniform, one holding a lantern, the other a stack of aprons resembling the ones they have situated atop their ragged, black dresses. You didn’t hear the door close, but they’ve just come out of a room, tension releases your shoulders as they walk in the opposite direction of you.

Still, you tiptoe across the way. If they catch you, they’ll gaslight you to death about cold-driven sicknesses and royalty needing their beauty rest until you agree to return to your chambers.

The estate’s grand halls are a gothic black with bleached carpet. The moon’s essence gleams through high windows, illuminating your path in a way you’re thankful for, the hall you just journeyed from had no windows and it’s not wise to carry a candle when sneaking around. Yes, it can be blown out and re-lit, but you’re not in the mood for extra activities. At least, not those sorts, of extra activities.

The name of the game is distraction, you’re looking to blow off some steam by walking around. Being alone in your room, underneath your sheets with your thoughts, is poisonous. You’re meeting with congress tomorrow to discuss plans regarding a new terrorist group that’s been attacking countries under Wakanda, to which the Princess herself will be riding with you. At close proximity in a three hour carriage ride with the curtains drawn.

It’s record breaking how fast your sheets became sweltering, each scenario you pushed away was followed by a new one, filthier than the last. They were all painfully unrealistic, you know this, the only reason you shared that night was to affirm your marriage. The weighed rock on your finger is for your people, for the greater good, your wife’s inventions center just that.

Shuri is resilient, hot-headed. She performs her duties well, a brilliant leader for the intellectual world, and her jokes are funny. Prince T’Challa, her brother, is charming and even-tempered compared to Shuri. He doesn’t raise his voice, his bearded face hosts a permanent smirk, T’Challa is the definition of a dashing prince. Shuri is nothing like him. Humbleness is the only trait they share, really.

She has a smart remark reserved for any situation, she’s attentive to everything, listens even when it’s assumed no one is. One thing you admire in her is her polite streak, she’s genuinely respectful. Shuri treats her staff as coworkers and her coworkers as friends. She’s a friendly, warm hearted woman that gives without a second thought.

She’s a giver indeed, in more ways than one.

You stop at a grand wooden door. You don’t need to look around to know it’s Shuri’s room. No guards crowding the hall, she still hasn’t returned.

Teeth pulling the skin at your lip, you allow your knuckles to brush the smooth wood. Three weeks ago, you were pinned against this door. Days prior she revealed to you her taste for dominance, it was brief and fleeting, like the hint of a character death in a book, you didn’t take it to heart.

“Come on, talk to me. Nothing to say now, my love?”

“Is this what gets you off, baby? I can make you cum like this?”

“Everytime you close your legs, I’ll stop.”

Arousal throbs at your core. You’re bad at following your own directions, then again, this is your fifth walk this week.

You were back from a ball that night. Your corset was fitted to accentuate your tits, neatly placed was a silver cross pendant necklace—Shuri’s favorite on you, silver. She smelled heavenly that night, when she pulled you taut to her body as you danced, you felt how tense she was and smiled. You knew you did that.

Courtesy as the new Princess of Wakanda, you mingled with the guests that night, danced with civilians and giggled as they held you close, akin to how she did. They spun and dipped you, kissed your hand, sprayed you with compliments, by the end of the night you were glowing, and Shuri’s grinning face called you ravishing.

You didn’t think your sly little tactic worked until you got in the carriage. You were met with a silence so sudden, so solemn and heavy, it shocked you. Shuri’s gaze locked you in place, her expression unreadable, uncharacteristically so. She didn’t speak the entire fifteen minute ride to the estate.

A frown tugs at your lips. She claimed you as her wife, no one else’s. Perhaps she only meant it then, as a one-night medium for blowing off steam.

Perhaps your connection is meant to be this way, her in one corner, you in the other. Your marriage is one of obligation, a peace treaty, it’s meant to be shallow. After all, she’s Wakandan, and you’re of Vymont, your bloods don’t mix, they never have. It’s stupid to believe they ever could, your alliance was for the people, not you.

Indeed. It’s high time to get her out of your head. It’s silly to crave someone with every bone in your body when they’ll never see you in that way.

“Princess?”

You jump out of your skin, braids knocking against the wood as you whip around.

Behind you is your wife and her royal adviser, Okoye, wearing long, extravagant black fur capes with mini hills of melted snow collected on the hoods and shoulders. Okoye’s lantern allows you to see the way Shuri’s eyes are soft, adoring. Your heart lurches, her fatigue is blatantly obvious, and, still, she’s so gentle.

You suck at following your own directions. You train your attention on Okoye, whose expression is a stark difference from Shuri’s.

“What are you doing out here, and wearing that? It’s freezing,” She presses, scrunching her eyebrows. Your outfit isn’t as skimpy as she makes it seem: a black, thigh-length, silk nightgown with slippery straps, a matching silk robe that trails your footsteps, and black slippers. You cross your robe over your torso and tie it with a loose knot.

“I was only taking a walk-“

“—And where is Aneka?!”

“Enough, Okoye.”

The royal adviser slowly kisses her teeth, but quiets at the royal’s command nonetheless.

“Princess, is everything alright? Do you need anything?” Shuri says, and frowns when you shake your head. “It is almost midnight. You should be asleep.”

You hate this, you would have rather been caught by your servants than your wife.

“I’m fine. As I stated, I was merely just walking around,” You reaffirm, tucking a braid behind your ear before twirling its end. “I was not expecting you, how were your travels?”

“Cold,” Okoye answers, you squint at her.

“We caught wind of a blizzard approaching, so we left earlier than scheduled. I’m so glad I caught you, let’s talk more inside.”

“Ah, I think I should return to my room. We present to congress in the morning.” You tangle your fingers behind your back, feigning a look of disappointment. Shuri tilts her head.

“It’s funny you bring that up,” She says, “That’s what I need to talk to you about. I’m sorry to keep you up, Princess, but I would let it go if I could debrief you on the way.”

Any word of protest dies on your tongue when she ghosts her hand on your hip, brushing past you to open the door. As she guides you inside her room, she bids Okoye a good night.

Shuri doesn’t give you a second to breathe, when the doors close she pulls you into a kiss, sliding her hands along the silk of your waist. She holds you taut against her, a whimper sounds at the back of your throat and she sighs, immediately deepening the kiss. The musk of outside clings to her, it’s not an unpleasant scent, it’s subtle and bearable.

You confusedly try to wrack your brain for conclusions, explanations on how this can be if there’s crucial information to be shared, but the haze that clouds your judgment slaps you away.

You’re chocolate to her burning hands, melting almost too easily into her. The cold, damp fur tickles your palms as you slide up her arms before pulling the hood off. Her hair isn’t detangled enough for you to play in, too dry for a comfortable attempt, so your nosy fingers fall to her neck instead. Arousal is the fire that melts your organs, steadily burns you from the inside out, all you can do is pant and weakly push at her, sweat beading your forehead.

“You’ve been hiding from me, my love,” She mutters against your lips as she very subtly ruts into you, her declaration sends a surge of desire straight through you. She squeezes various areas of your torso as if to leave handprints on your body, she’s asking—pleading for permission to touch you and it’s so hard to think, her and her fucking mouth make it so hard.

Your tongue is too heavy for words, when you buck your hips she furthers her point by sliding a hand between your legs to rub your pussy over the silks.

“I never imagined you to be so cruel.” Shuri guides you back by your waist, and you let her, relishing in the feel of her kissing down your neck; as far as you’re concerned, she can do whatever she wants to you. “How much longer were you planning to deprive me of this? Of you?”

Your back hits a wall, Shuri moans and reconnects your lips—before the smoke can thicken, you break away.

“Have you been sleeping with other people?”

“No.”

Shuri has a special ability, she can move space, manipulate the particles that make up your reality, as she pleases. It’s the only explanation for how heavy the room is now that she has you caged, her amorous breaths lightly fan your eyelashes, her expression is difficult to make out in the dark, but her presence is telling enough. It’s her special ability at play.

Her response is incredibly quick, but she’s not lying. Your lips are chapped, you haven’t done much, is a simple kiss this titillating, to this degree? She’s not lying, but you don’t believe she’s telling the entire truth.

You hum, looking off to the side. Shuri notices, you believe that she’s lying to you, though she swore at the podium she never would; she pays it little regard, there’s other, more pressing matters on her mind, it’s been three weeks since she’s had you, and she prayed to Bast that she got to see you before your trip.

“..You are captivating, my love,” Shuri breathes, “Take off your clothes and lie on the floor.”

It’s her special ability that wills you to pull the knot of your robe a-loose, the garment cascades to the floor and Shuri never takes her eyes off of you, even when she unclasps her cape and tosses it across the room. She’s wearing black trousers and a beautiful white blouse with frills adorning the chest, which suffers the same fate as her coat when she tugs it off.

—

Your legs are stretched to the hint of exertion, halfway numb due to how your wife is situated on top of you, but it’s welcomed, for it gives her access to you, access to your cunt that throbs with each rock of her hips.

Shuri’s wetness trails down your lips to join the puddle dirtying your silks, her breaths fan your ear, accompanied by deep, throated moans that slip without her permission. It’s not as obscene as the slick sounds of your cunts, but it heats your face, blood roars underneath your cheeks.

“You’re enjoying this. Look at you.”

Shuri’s taunting contributes to your lightheadedness. Pleasure is a sea of waves far too rowdy for you to handle, a soft mewl pulls you further in its depths, the only answer you can muster is a nod, eyes struggling to stay open, weakly clawing at her back.

If her people heard any of the things she’s saying, any of the things she’s whispered in your ears when no one is looking, shock would turn their bodies to stone. The months leading up to your first time were torture. Your image matters, it’s imperative you have a good reputation or you risk being overthrown, a lesson your father sat you down and talked to you about when you were 5, and you’d thrown a hissy fit during a festival.

“There’s a mask attached to the crown.” — A quote you once read in a fantasy book, written by a civilian. You internally squealed, they had no clue how correct they were, and they never will, for your mask wouldn’t allow it. It’s partially why you like Shuri, she’s a princess herself, and you’ve seen firsthand the stark difference between Princess Shuri of Wakanda, and Shuri Udaku.

“Can I make you cum like this, beloved? Hm? Make my pretty wife cum all over herself, from a little humping,” Shuri slurs through pants, her clit twitching as it glides along your folds. Her and her fucking mouth is going to be the death of you, she’s so incredibly raunchy when lust impassions her, as if arousal is a poison, a sickness.

Shuri stills her hips at your lack of response, and you whine, jerking into her.

“Yes, Shuri, ‘m gonna cum like this,” You plea, nipples brushing her own as your back arches, “Keep going, please please.”

She shudders, the way you say her name is criminal. Her hips resume their pace, your eyes loll to the back of your head.

“Good girl,” Shuri practically purrs in your ear, “Good girl.”

She sits up to pin you by your shoulders, holding you in place as if you were ever going anywhere. Her pace grows harsher, her grip comes with a resounding ache that fans the flames licking your belly, you’re convinced Shuri can do anything, say anything, and it’ll dampen your arousal the very same.

“I want to fuck you with a toy, just like this. I’ll make you ride me ‘til it hurts, ‘til you can’t think. You won’t know what to do with yourself.”

Shuri’s eyes are trained on your face, you feel moreso than see it, for it’s her special ability. She’s an obvious woman, says what she means and means what she says, even blunt to her own detriment, at times. Her words stir something in you, force their way through your ribs to caress the heart that’s forgotten it’s meant to beat. The knot in your belly is steadily tightening, if she stops you truly might cry.

The approach of her own release is telling from the way her pussy throbs and pulses along your lips. She lowers her hips, dropping more of her weight to increase the pressure where your desires conjoin, knowing she has you locked in your position. You wonder if she’s holding anything back at the moment, how far her limits are from this point.

“And you’ll take it for me, won’t you? Like the obedient girl you are.” And you shudder, nodding incessantly to the jerky rhythm of your tits.

“Shuri, ’m so close,” You whimper, legs twitching. “Please don’t stop.”

She would be a fool to do so, knowing this she nods anyway, whispering under her breath curses not fitted for a woman of her stature. Pleasure is a sea of waves too rowdy for you to handle, it creeps on you, bringing with it an insurmountable pressure you’d squirm to flee if Shuri weren’t holding you still.

If you asked, she’d say she’s holding you in place to keep the angle right, and it’d be a half truth. She’d leave out the sick satisfaction that surges through her when doing so, the hint, or inkling, that you’re trapped with no other choices. You’re water through her fingers in everyday life. Shuri gulped down her desires when pursuing you, she wanted to go at your pace, do things to your accord, otherwise she’d risk being seen as clingy and eager.

You didn’t believe her earlier when she told you she hadn’t slept with anyone, but she was telling the truth. The entire carriage ride home, Shuri was squirming in her seat, resorting to palming her pussy over her pants to satiate the teenage urge to get off right then and there, for she couldn’t stop thinking of you, in various positions, various settings, far more scandalous than the privacy of her room, far less lady like for a woman of your stature.

Your wife’s eyes roll to the back of her head. “(Y/N), cum for me, Princess, let me see it.”

The air is punched from your gut, your mouth drops open in a silent scream as you release, your stomach twitching at each wave that passes. It’s the feeling of your pussy’s incessant pulsing coupled with the dashing sight of you that drives Shuri to follow, she cums with a broken whimper, her head lolled over her shoulders.

“Yes, like that, just like that,” She breathlessly encourages, hips slown to drawn out thrusts, “Doing so well for me, my love, so so well.”

Shuri’s name is but an anchor, you repeat it under your breath over and over to keep yourself grounded. Her arms jelly, you catch her before she can completely collapse on you—not that you’d mind.

Weeks, she’s had to smile in people’s faces, feign interest in their lives, and come back to an empty home. Weeks, she’s had to camp in her lab to ensure her coworkers’ tasks were done to perfection, and it’s imperative they are—they were not. Weeks, she’s had to live off simple interactions with you, long hug, light conversation, and then she’s pulled away.

Weeks, she’s had to tell herself the lives of others are important too, civilians are people too, if not she’d be under you—or on top of you—all the time, enjoying the serenity your aura provides.

It’s scary how quick it’s come to this. Five months, you met on a chilly day, bedded on a windy night, and now her windows are blanketed in frost. Five months, and the signature of her human coding is tattooed on your finger, the skin where your wedding ring rests.

“Have you been sleeping with other people?”

Shuri makes a mental note to address it tomorrow, at an appropriate time.

#shuri x reader #shuri x reader smut #shuri udaku x reader #shuri udaku x reader smut #black panther

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ricardian-werewolf · 3 months

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Fanfic Masterlist: Finished Fics:

Rating: Mature Status: FINISHED 5/9/24. Cw/Tws: heavy discussions of mental health, prices of religious trauma and sainthood. Lots of mentions of attempted assassinations by Vasily. Sexual assault mentions, smut in later chapters, graphic depictions of violence, but canon. merzost being used anti-canonically.

Ao3 Link: Masterlist

Stars 'round his wrists.

When I am King, you will be first against the wall.

Take My hand, I'll drown you with me.

But your profile could not hide the fact you knew I was approaching your throne.

The world is lying fallow and you are apart from me.

Holy Water cannot help you now.

Still, I follow the Heartlines on your hand.

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.

The Cost of the Crown.

I am a world's forgotten boy.

Once More unto the Breach.

The Sun's turning Red.

Everytime I see you falling, I get down on my knees and pray.

True Faith

Just our hands clasped so tight.

****

Non-Grishaverse FINISHED FIC.

Synopsis:

Atlantic City, 1921. Prohibition has come in with a bang, and the bootleggers long to profit off of people’s desire for spirits. But some of their intentions and creations come with nasty consequences. Sometimes, liquor really can kill. And for Nucky Thompson, that’s a gamble he’s willing to take. Even if federal agents are snapping at his heels, and people are dying in the streets, Atlantic City, is after all, the world’s playground.

Chapter list:

Blood stained sheets

The ivory tower

The tin soldier

A Wolf, a man, and a plan

Every little thing she does is madness.

Leave before the sun comes up

Burning for you

Death Race

The darkest hour is before the dawn

Don’t turn your back

Series: Profunda Venae - Deep veins.

Chronicling a split off of English history during the weeks after Victoria’s coronation, this series explores the What-Ifs of the English Industrial revolution and the idea of vampires being representative of the ruling class. It also dives into the ideas of class revolution, Nuclear Winter, the usage of productive power to control the narrative, and more. It is also mainly a narrative of just how dangerous controlling the reins of who tells history can truly be.

Written during the hardest years of my life, this series was created to be a distraction from the mires and misery of Neurodivergency in a common-education experience.

Book 1 is set in a world much like our own with certain shifts. Book 2 is a world that starts out similar and quickly becomes quite different. Book 3 is a world that is far in the past and far in the future all at once.

Book 1: The Lineaments of Malefaction: [Finished 2022]

Synopsis:

1838 - the house of Hanover and the United Kingdom are at last stable. Queen Victoria has taken to the throne with Lord M at her shoulder as her beloved Prime Minister. However, as always, those left in the shadows squabble and plot.

For what more of a travesty can there be than a sweet queen of 18, and a human one at that?

Wrongs must always be righted, regardless of who is in the way. Sometimes those means are more dastardly than anyone could imagine. As someone once said, family is not stronger than the blood that is spilt on the battlefield of power.

Chapter List, with dates of publication:

Pills and plans (2022-03-11)

Blood in the water (2022-03-12)

A murder of politicians (2022-03-13)

Ballrooms and bites (2022-03-13)

The Revenants of Pemberley (2022-03-17)

Lifting the veil (2022-03-17)

Burning down the castle (2022-03-28)

Shadows, the stars, and you. (2022-03-28)

Oh Noel (2022-04-02)

For the Queen (2022-04-02)

If we burn, you burn with us (2022-04-07)

recovery and revolution (2022-04-07)

Paint it black (2022-04-07)

A wedding and a honeymoon. (2022-04-07)

All that ends well (2022-04-07)

Book 2: The Evils of Darkness: [Finished 2022]

Synopsis:

1848 - the house of Kingsbridge and England have enjoyed 8 years of relative peace and quiet. Victoria and Lord M are at last united in matrimony and state, and those who opposed their rule are defeated or interred. Yet, plans always abound to take down those some see as unpopular.

For vampires aren’t fit to rule humans. Even in a place like Great Britain, wrongs must be righted, and balance must be restored.

No matter the personal cost.

Chapter List:

A bad beginning

Hold tight London

The Threads of eternity.

The War Game

When the wind blows

The Day After

Protect and survive

Operation square leg

Do no harm

Nuclear winter

Babylon

Unfinished FICS:

Book 3: Dum Pugnatur, Bellum Amittitur [ongoing - stagnant updates based on fixation]

Synopsis:

1865 - the thrones of Queen Victoria and King William are lost to the wastelands. The House of Kingsbridge is no more, and in its place, factions plot and squabble to rule the destroyed land once called England.

But that is easier said then done, for England herself is a place of ruin and starvation. For the nuclear winter that ripped the royal family apart has rolled its citizens back to the Middle Ages. But for those who have survived the hell of 1858, there is a new threat on the horizon that may blot out even 1848 - America has been at war with itself for going on 4 years, and there is whispers abounding that the Royal Family may be amongst the evacuees who fled on the steamship, the Kerberos.

All of these whispers and plans within plans make for a perfect firestorm to be set upon England's starving lower classes, for as someone once said: fealty is not stronger than the blood that is spilled on the battlefield of power.

Chapter list:

1. Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent

2. Ravens feathers and Mozart

3. Paternoster Row

4. The Evil Genius of the Republican Party.

5. A Plea To Fate

6. Marian

Fear and Delight, or how I learned to stop worrying and wear gloves to hide my trauma. {ongoing - abandoned until new season comes out and interior worldbuilding kinks are solved}

Synopsis:

* Set During Season 2 of the Gilded Age - does not follow central plot by the beats*. Title taken from Dr Strangelove. ***** The Russell's Newport mansion could be called many things. The New York Times called it “Grandiose - a paragon of modern architecture.” The Post deemed it: “The newly-built mansion is a sign of the shifting tides of New Money upon our cities elite,”. More attention was paid to the ongoing Opera War waged by Bertha Russell and her arch nemesis, Caroline Astor. Astor had the boxes at the Academy of Music and dealt them out like generals awarding medals to soldiers who’d survived a conflict: rarely given and precious to only a few. Bertha Russell had set up the enemy camp with her Metropolitan Opera house (still undergoing building and desperately needing funds), and sought to gain some of the broken backs of the Academy’s patrons. The more soldiers - patrons - Mrs Russell could win over in advance of the Met’s opening, the better. ***** Robber Barons, The Crows, a Princess who is in America to settle an old Score, all for one very mediocre production of Faust.

Chapter list:

Washington Square

Old Money

Abstract: Set in an alternate timeline of the Grishaverse where the country of Ravka very closely resembles the Western Front of the Great War, this is a fic that sets out to explore an idea: What if First Army developed their own order of Saints, and how this affects the war effort. Part reflection on Religion, War, femininity, and social propaganda movements, part war-story Straight from the early 20th century a la the writings of Will R Bird. All angst. Characters: Nikolai Lantsov, Dominik Vertov, Olga Kylov (oc), Will R Bird, Alina Starkov, and others! Pairings: Nikolai x OC. Rating: Mature CW/TWs: War, mentions of extreme violence, universe typical prejudices, heavy discussions of religion. Later chapters go into period typical sexism of the late Victorian period, and share cases similar to that of the Red Army's female soldiers of ww2.

Chapter List. 1. Over There

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incorrect-koh-posts · 6 months

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In your research, have you ever run across any reliable descriptions of Agnes de Courtenay, her brother Joscelin, or Sybilla?

I am sorry to disappoint you, dear anon, but - quite frankly: no. To my knowledge, no first-hand accounts of what they looked or behaved like survive. The problem is that neither William of Tyre nor Ernoul describe women in their texts; the only woman whose appearance William briefly comments on is Theodora Komnena, the Byzantine betrothed of Baldwin III.

As far as I've read, William only mentions Agnes of Courtenay in the context of the annulment of her marriage to Amalric; as one of Amalric's chief character flaws the chronicler mentions that the king was a philanderer who "is said to have abandoned himself without restraint to the sins of the flesh and to have seduced married women" (A History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, Book XIX), which, by extension, implies Agnes to be the 'betrayed wife' in the way she is so often depicted in modern fiction. William actually goes on to throw quite a bit of shade on her in his recounting of these events, emphasising her two incestous marriages:

"After the death of his brother, however, when Amaury claimed the kingdom devolving upon him by hereditary right, he was forced to put away his wife [...], for it was claimed that they were within the fourth degree of blood relationship, a fact which was later solemnly attested in the face of the church by relatives common to both. An annulment [...] was pronounced, therefore, and the marriage dissolved [...]. Amaury remained unmarried for a time, but Agnes at once united herself in the bonds of matrimony with the noble and illustrious man, Hugh d'Ibelin, son of the older Balian. [...] After Hugh's death and while Amaury was still living, Agnes entered into the same bonds of affection with Renaud of Sidon, son of Gerard. This alliance is said to have been not less illegal than her former relation to King Amaury. For Gerard, the father of Renaud, a blood relation of both as he certainly was, established by his sworn statement the consanguinity of these two [...]. A second annulment consequently followed [...]." (Book XIX)

Ernoul, too, goes on to slander Agnes in his Chronique, accusing her of being an "immoral woman" - which, as Helen J. Nicholson writes, was very likely a result of later political rivalries and "complaints about Agnes's influence over her son" (35).

Of Joscelin III of Courtenay, Agnes' brother and Sibylla's uncle, likewise no description survives. William of Tyre spent quite some ink detailing the deeds of Joscelin's grandfather and father, praising the character of the former but noting about the latter that he "was far inferior to his father in character [...]: a lazy, idle man, given over to low and dissolute pleasures, one who spurned good ways and followed base pursuits" (Book XVII). This Joscelin II (who died in captivity in Aleppo in the late 1150s) was the man who lost the County of Edessa first to the Muslim forces of Zengi 1144, then again to Zengi's son Nur ad-Din in 1146. Thus, Joscelin III, being Count of Edessa only by title, had effectively no lands to rule over and from which to gain income. But he came south to the Kingdom of Jerusalem after Agnes had married Amalric, and the king granted him some land and income around Acre (Nicholson 34). Like Raymond III of Tripoli, Joscelin was captured by Nur ad-Din during the Battle of Harim in 1164, and only released in 1176, and went on to marry a sister of Stephanie of Milly (who was the wife of Reynald of Châtillon). He also became the guardian of Baldwin V in 1185 while Raymond served as the boy's regent.

As for Sibylla, I shall give you Helen J. Nicholson's two cents on the situation because she writes about her far more succintly than I could:

"Unlike her father King Amaury of Jerusalem, her younger brother King Baldwin IV, or her cousin King Henry II of England, no contemporary who saw her described Sybil's physical appearance, so we do not know whether she was (like her father) tall, overweight, with an attractive face, bright eyes, an aquiline nose and yellow hair, or (like her little brother) simply attractive for her age, or (like her cousin) of above medium height, strongly built, with freckles and blue-grey eyes. We also do not know whether she shared any of her father's or brother's personality traits: whether (like her father) she spoke with a slight speech impediment, had a sharp mind and was able to accurately recall what she had heard, enjoyed hearing about history and was always ready to argue a point, or (like her brother) was good at riding, with a tenacious memory and a sharp mind, loving conversation, thrifty, but with a stammer. Sybil's contemporaries scarcely ever ascribed any emotion to her: only her tears of submission when she was humbling herself before Saladin to request the release of her husband Guy after the surrender of Jerusalem early in October 1187, and her tears of joy when she met Guy after Saladin released him in early summer 1188. Such tears were an appropriate emotion for a loving wife. [...]

The difficulty of establishing women's actual deeds and authority from contemporary narrative accounts, which insisted that respectable women should not hold authority of take an active role in society except in certain limited roles (typically as devoted wife or mother), is familiar to all historians who have attempted to study the history of women. The narrative commentaries on Sybil's career present modern readers with the additional problem that their gendered expectations were further filtered through the distorting lens of the complex political situation in the kingdom of Jerusalem. Those commentators who wrote after Saladin's victory at Hattin on 4 July 1187 and his capture of Jerusalem on 2 October 1187 also sought to assign blame or credit for these events and adjusted their accounts accordingly." (8ff.)

Works Cited:

Helen J. Nicholson: Sybil, Queen of Jerusalem, 1186-1190. Routledge, 2022.

Emily Atwater Babcock & A.C. Krey (translators): A History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea by William, Archbishop of Tyre. Colombia University Press, 1943.

#asks #kingdom of heaven 2005 #sibylla of jerusalem #agnes of courtenay #joscelin of courtenay #baldwin iv #amalric i #raymond iii of tripoli #snippets of actual history

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westeroslive · 2 months

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as per her decree in the early days of her reign, when she’d granted her own hatchlings dragon eggs of their own but failed to allow her cousins the same courtesy - upon the twenty-fifth name day of a targaryen child, the chance is given by her grace when petitioned for to the liege to enter into the dragonpit in hopes of claiming a dragon for their own

one such name day has arrived. as she reaches twenty-five name days, the final targaryen child of her generation, the lady margaery, will take her place among the ancients in attempting to claim a dragon for her own - her petition approved by the queen herself.

a great celebration has been planned to celebrate the occasion - a show of the strength of house targaryen for their foreign visitors before the two kingdoms were tied together in matrimony - for though the essosi forces are great and their cities far more united under their emperor’s rule than the queen’s own - they compare little to the sheer vigor of dragons.

while the queen and her noble guests revel, the lady of castamere must go deep within the dragon pits ... will she succeed and bring pride upon her ancestors - or fail and prophecize ruin?

" your kingdom wishes you luck as you enter and seek your fate. if you do not survive, what might you wish to say before you begin ? '

❝ a well manicured smile , soft and practiced . it was easy to fool , margaery thought . a pretty fool . " i appreciate your concern for my life , but you need not worry . i do not plan on dying today . " ❞

[ ... ] the torches of the dragonpit are nearly burnt out, the flickering of light upon the walls making the shadow figures all the more monstrous as entrance is granted. a whispering carries through the air, whether real or imagined, unsettling in their warnings as the sounds grow closer to chittering and hissing than voices.

the farther the lady of castamere enters, the louder the roars become - haunting in how they stand in unison and echoing across the vast catacombs.

the path splits ahead, forming less a fork in a road than the beginning of a labyrinth - a series of twisting turns - each one sharper than the last. for dragons may soar from the pit, but human entrance requires more. three paths lie ahead.

the first path is brighter than the others, the shadows on the walls barely flickering and the heat akin to the warmth of a great hearth.

the second is darker, but louder. for though the first path holds a warmth - it is silent, all chittering gone from the air. but the second is loud - and carries a violence in the air that threatens to pull the dragonborn down with it.

the third climbs higher - unless the others, there is no exceptional brightness - nor violent sounds. instead there is a breeze flowing from within - yet no light dares flicker in. this third path with it's gusts of air would blow out any torches brought within.

a girl must make her choice.

❝ lavenders scrutinize choices , the heart of a dragon beating like a war drum in the small cavity of her chest ⸻ one pulled , tightly at the strings of fate that the youngest unwound . a cease fire , and it reeled it all in like the snap of a whale on the ocean's surface . with a clack . the air reverberated with the curse of a lady : they would want her to choose , a safety net , choose something fitting of a young girl . and though the first path intrigued her , the sound of nothing having her walk forward to inspect , it is not it she chooses . the labyrinth asks for a choice , and it is violence that she chooses : the second . loud , it begs to take up space , and if that does not speak loudly of who the castamere is , nothing will. ❞

the chosen path, the second path, winds and grows narrow the further one goes down it until one must squeeze through the two walls. the question rings in the air - is it worth continuing ? the other paths could, perhaps, prove more triumphant .

❝ the walls catch on to the fabric of her skirts , and margaery lets out a frustrated cry . no . there is no going back on one's decision , not with the stubborn mind of an all consuming inferno residing in petite body . the bottom of the dress is ripped away ⸻ perhaps she'd been smart in fetching trousers for this moment , hidden underneath . nothing worst than getting caught up in unnecessary fabric should she need to run . she pushed and pulled , until the lady is free from between the walls . ❞

how the sharpness of stone walls tears and cuts at valyrian flesh, red blooming upon maiden's skin. here is the world of the gods, and the gods desire sacrifice. the scent of blood draws a quiet in the once deafening tunnel - thunderous roars vanishing as if they'd never begun. through the darkness the targaryen continues - reaching a pause when a movement reveals in the shadows. heat warms upon her, hot air blowing upon her face.

❝ there , around margaery , time seems to still . it's undeniable , the way her soul both hums and still once faced with the beast - the stinging of wounds do not hurt , body now numbing , buzzing , singing . a dragon . it's instinctual , a deep rooted familiarity that pulled the words from her mouth . ancient words , and the dragoness smiled at her kin . " rytsas , mandia . " ❞

a great shriek carries through the pits, before all goes silent.

#reminder; event begins tomorrow #this just sets it up !! leave you in suspense for a bit #westeros.event #special thanks to love for their replies <3 #westeros.claiming

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lawanphere · 9 days

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Discovering the Everlasting Allure of UK Matrimony: A Fusion of Tradition and Modernity

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#marriage matrimony uk #marriage sites #uk matrimony #matrimonial services in uk #hindu matrimony uk #united kingdom matrimony #free Punjabi marriage sites uk

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gofordesimatrimony · 2 months

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GoForDesi: Your Premier Destination for NRI Matrimonial Connections - Discover endless possibilities for love and companionship with GoForDesi, the leading platform for NRI matrimonial services. Whether you're a Non-Resident Indian (NRI) seeking a partner from your homeland or someone interested in connecting with NRIs worldwide, our platform offers a diverse and inclusive space for matchmaking.

#nri #nri matrimony #indian nri #gofordesi #online dating #matrimonial #relationship #indian matrimony #usa #canada #uk #united kingdom #united states

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docgold13 · 1 year

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365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

Supporting Character Supplemental - Lila Cheney

Born in England, Lila’s Mutant abilities manifested in her middle childhood. She discovered that she was able to generate a tachyon field about herself with which she can transport herself and other people/objects across interstellar distances, even between galaxies. The tachyon field converts matter into faster-than-light particles that Lila can direct with a type of cosmic awareness that allows her traverse the stars, essentially teleporting from one inhabitable space to another in the blink of an eye. Young Lila would regale her parents with all sorts of inventive tales and they assumed she merely had a vibrant imagination; unaware that these stories were of her actual adventures across galaxies.

An early foray into different worlds saw Lila visit the planet Aladna. On this planet, young Lila was heralded as a special guest and was betrothed to the crown prince of the realm, Prince Yan. Yan was a sweet young man, but Lila was not interested in marriage so she teleported away with no intention of ever returning.

Lila’s continued exploration led to her being captured and enslaved by a villainous alien empire. She escaped and went on to become a celebrated thief and singer throughout many star systems. She made her home base deep within the Dyson Sphere Colony where she hoarded the treasures, goods, art and technology that she pilfered across the stars.

Returning to earth in her late teens, Lila honed her passion for music and formed a rock and roll band called Cats Laughing. The band earned great acclaim in the United Kingdom and abroad and they often performed alongside The Dazzler (another Mutant musical performer).

Lila’s activities as an interstellar thief led her to encountering The New Mutants and she shared adventures alongside the young Mutants. Herein Lila entered into a sporadic and frequently tumultuous romance with the New Mutant and future X-Man, Cannonball (Sam Guthrie).

Following further exploits, Lila again returned to earth to get back to her musical career. As a solo act, Lila employed the Mutant powerhouse, Guido Carosella, to act as her personal bodyguard. Lila was open about her being a Mutant and one of her concerts was targeted by an anti-Mutant terrorist who sought to bomb the venue where Lila was performing. The terrorist’s scheme was thwarted by the X-Men Rogue and Cannonball.

Some time thereafter, Lila became embroiled in an adventure alongside Captain Marvel (Danvers) where she returned to the planet Aladna to settle a conflict caused by her refusal to marry Prince Yan. Fortunately, the issues were resolved when Danvers’ alley, Tic, fell in love with Prince Yan and the two married (releasing Lila from her matrimonial obligation).

More recently, Lila accepted citizenship to the Mutant nation of Krakoa where she has loaned her abilities to the Krakoa-based SWORD division. Lila Chaney first appeared in the pages of The New Mutants Vol. 1 Annual #1 (1984).

#365 Marvel Comics heroes #Lila Chaney #New Mutants #SWORD #Captain Marvel #Cannonball #cut-out #paper art

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longliveblackness · 2 years

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At its height in the 1840s, the West African kingdom of Dahomey boasted an army so fierce that its enemies spoke of its “prodigious bravery.” This strong force, known as the Agojie, raided villages under cover of darkness, took captives and slashed off resisters’ heads to return to their king as trophies of war. Through these actions, the Agojie established Dahomey’s preeminence over neighboring kingdoms and became known by European visitors as “Amazons” due to their similarities to the warrior women of Greek myth. They were also called Mino, or Minon, "our mothers".

During their membership, they were not allowed to have children or be part of married life (though they were legally married to the king). Many of them were virgins.

The Mino trained with intense physical exercise. They learned survival skills and indifference to pain and death, storming acacia-thorn defenses in military exercises and executing prisoners. Discipline was emphasized. Serving in the Mino offered women the opportunity to "rise to positions of command and influence" in an environment structured for individual empowerment. The Mino were also wealthy and held high status.

The women's army consisted of many regiments: huntresses, riflewomen, reapers, archers, and gunners. Each regiment had different uniforms, weapons, and commanders. In a later period, the Dahomean female warriors were armed with Winchester rifles, clubs, and knives. Units were under female command.

In 1890 King Béhanzin started fighting French forces during the First Franco-Dahomean War. European observers noted that the women "handled admirably" in hand-to-hand combat. The Amazons participated in one major battle: Cotonou, where thousands of Dahomey (including many Amazons) charged the French lines and engaged the defenders in hand-to-hand combat. Despite the compliments given to them by the Europeans, the Amazons were decisively crushed, with several hundred Dahomey troops being gunned down.

By the end of the Second Franco-Dahomean War, special units of the Amazons were being assigned specifically to target French officers. After several battles, the French prevailed and ended the independent Dahomean kingdom. French soldiers, particularly of the French Foreign Legion, were impressed by the boldness of the Amazons and later wrote about their "incredible courage and audacity" in combat.

The troops were disbanded when the kingdom became a French protectorate. Oral tradition states that some surviving amazons secretly remained in Abomey afterward, where they quietly assassinated some French officers. Other stories say the women pledged their services to protect Agoli-Agbo, the brother of Béhanzin, disguising themselves as his wives to guard him. Some of the women married and had children, while others remained single.

The last survivor of the Dahomey Amazons is thought to have been a woman named Nawi. In a 1978 interview in the village of Kinta, a Beninese historian met Nawi, who claimed to have fought the French in 1892. Nawi died in November 1979, aged well over 100.

•••

Estando en su mejor momento en los 1840, el reino Dahomey ubicado en África occidental, presumía de un ejército tan feroz que hasta sus enemigos hablaban acerca de su “prodigiosa valentía”. Estas fuerzas poderosas eran conocidas como las Agojie, atacaban pueblos mientras que iban cubiertas por la oscuridad de la noche, tomaban cautivos y cortaban cabezas para llevárselas como trofeo de guerra a su rey. A través de estas acciones, las Agojie establecieron preeminencia sobre los reinos vecinos y fueron conocidas por los visitantes europeos como "Las Amazonas" debido a sus similitudes con las mujeres guerreras del mito griego. También fueron llamadas Mino, o Minon, "nuestras madres".

Mientras que fueran miembros de las fuerzas, no se les permitía tener hijos o ser parte de la vida matrimonial (aunque estaban legalmente casadas con el rey). Muchos de ellas eran vírgenes.

Las Mino se entraban con ejercicios físicos intensos. Aprendieron habilidades de supervivencia e indiferencia al dolor y la muerte, asaltaban defensas en ejercicios militares y ejecutaban prisioneros. Se enfocaron en la disciplina. Servir como Minons, le ofreció a las mujeres la oportunidad de "ascender a puestos de mando e influencia" en un entorno estructurado para el empoderamiento individual. Las Mino también eran ricas y tenían un alto estatus.

Este ejército de mujeres consistían de varios regimientos: cazadoras, fusileras, segadoras, arqueras y artilleras. Cada regimiento tenía diferentes uniformes, armas y comandantes. En un período posterior, las guerreras de Dahomey estuvieron armadas con rifles Winchester, garrotes y cuchillos. Las unidades estaban bajo mando femenino.

En el año 1890, el rey Béhanzin comenzó a luchar contra las fuerzas francesas durante la Primera Guerra Franco-Dahomeana. Los observadores europeos notaron que las mujeres "se manejaron admirablemente" en el combate mano a mano. Las amazonas participaron en una gran batalla: Cotonou, donde miles de Dahomey (incluidas muchas de las amazonas) atacaron las líneas francesas y se enfrentaron a los defensores en un combate mano a mano. A pesar de los cumplidos que les dieron los europeos, las amazonas fueron aplastadas de manera decisiva, y cientos de soldados Dahomey fueron asesinados a tiros.

Al final de la Segunda Guerra Franco-Dahomeana, se asignaron unidades especiales de las Amazonas específicamente para atacar a los oficiales franceses. Después de varias batallas, los franceses prevalecieron y terminaron con el reino independiente de Dahomey. Los soldados franceses, específicamente los de la Legión Extranjera Francesa, quedaron impresionados por la audacia de las amazonas y luego escribieron acerca del "increíble coraje y audacia" que mostraron en combate.

Las tropas se disolvieron cuando el reino se convirtió en un protectorado francés. La tradición oral dice que algunas amazonas sobrevivientes permanecieron en secreto en Abomey, donde asesinaron en silencio a algunos oficiales franceses. Otras historias dicen que las mujeres prometieron servir y proteger a Agoli-Agbo, el hermano de Béhanzin, muchas disfrazándose como esposas para protegerlo. Algunas de las mujeres se casaron y tuvieron hijos, mientras que otras permanecieron solteras.

Se cree que la última sobreviviente de las amazonas de Dahomey fue una mujer llamada Nawi. En una entrevista de 1978 en el pueblo de Kinta, un historiador beninés conoció a Nawi, quien afirmó haber luchado contra los franceses en 1892. Nawi murió en noviembre de 1979, con más de 100 años.

Source | Fuente: African American Registry

Spanish translation by Long Live Blackness

Traducción al español por Long Live Blackness

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cthulhu-calling · 2 years

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kill the lights and kiss my eyes : deform me to your likeness

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary : You never knew what love was, not until Natasha. But now that the King has his eye on you, will your perfect little world come crumbling down?

Warnings : medieval AU, smut, fluff, public smut, MISCARRIAGE, Bucky is a creep (18+)

Author's Note : This chapter is a little short and truly, not my best work (I might rewrite it someday) but I wanted to get this out. I hope you enjoy reading this. I appreciate all the lovely comments I've received. Feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. This work isn't beta'd so any and all mistakes are mine. Please consider the tags before you continue reading.

Word Count : 4005

series masterlsit

“In accordance with Article 17, Act V, In the event that a consort is unable to provide a male heir following five years after the couple has been bound in holy matrimony, the King shall be free to choose another, a second wife, with the aim of providing the kingdom with a legitimate heir.” the announcer finished, leaving the whole court in silence. All eyes were either on Natasha or Lady Morwenna, the king’s current paramour. When the king declared he had an important announcement to make, this was the last thing you or anyone had expected. Your eyes found Natasha’s, her face was a calm veneer of indifference but you could see the struggle inside. He hadn’t even thought of discussing this with her. She couldn’t say anything though. No matter what, they had to depict themselves as the perfect couple, happily married and deeply in love, a perfect unit. She had to act as if this was her choice too, nay, her suggestion for the good of the kingdom.

“I know some of you might find this unacceptable but following the tragic events that took place a year ago, I cannot put my dear queen under such stress. Hence, with your blessings, I will seek a maiden who can provide our kingdom it’s future. I urge you to understand, consider everything without the shroud of social norm and expectations. Think of it from the point of a desperate ruler,” he pleaded with the court, his speech full of passion, pausing at just the right moments to emphasise his point, the change of the air in the court proof enough of what a great orator the King truly was . The court erupted into whispers when Lady Morwenna fainted, being barely held upright by Lady Ella and Lady Sybil, her two lackeys.

When the court was dismissed for the day and everybody was back to business as usual, the ladies were in a state of unrest, waiting for the Queen in the gardens. She had disappeared before you could even think of following her. The ladies were all abuzz with the King’s declaration. The married ones were scandalised at his decision, not wanting to even imagine themselves in their Queen’s shoes. The unmarried ones, though sympathetic towards the Queen, could not let go of such an opportunity. There would never be a chance of a more advantageous marriage, and that was everyone’s goal, wasn’t it? To secure a betrothal, that’s what they were at court for.

“How could the King do this? Disrespect the Queen as such in front of everyone?” Lady Violet asked.

“Oh, he had every right to. It’s not like the Queen has been able to provide him an heir. No wonder he strays,” Lady Sybil said. Lady Morwenna had been taken to her chambers, the one she shared with Sybil, Ella, Morganna and you. She had yet to wake according to Sybil who had come back, leaving Ella there.

“Keep your voices down! Your words are seditious,” Lady Virginia, Lord Stark’s wife, hissed.

“It is the truth. It is what has landed us here, with the King seeking another wife. What’s the point of speaking in whispers now when soon, the whole kingdom shall know?” She shrugs, leaving everyone in a stunned silence.

Lady Virginia stalks off, followed by Lady Violet as the rest of you are just sitting and waiting, watching the chaos unfold all around you.

When James enters his receiving chambers, followed by his retinue of Lords, Natasha is already waiting for him. Seeing her there, he’s quick to dismiss the Lords as he takes a seat at his desk, making himself comfortable.

“What is it?” He asks dismissively, angering her even more.

“Really? How do you explain yourself at court today? You have completely humiliated me!” She rages and he just leans back, fixing her with an icy stare.

“I did what I had to do, what was best for this kingdom and it’s future,” he shrugged.

Natasha snorts, laughing humorlessly, “We all know for exactly whom this is the best for.”

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you,” he warns and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Who is it? That whore, Lady Morwenna? But knowing you, it could be anyone. God, James, you’re pathetic. You disg—” before she knows it, the King is on his feet, grabbing her by the throat and forcing her against the wall, effectively cutting off whatever she had to say.

“Do not forget that I am still your husband and your king. Don’t you dare forget, it is by my desire and my hand that you still have that crown on your head. So now run back out and join you ladies in the garden, like a good queen would,” he says with a light slap against her cheek before stepping away from her and sitting at his desk again like he hadn’t just choked Natasha.

She’s breathing heavily and clutching at her throat, her eyes blown wide. He’d never been like this. He was unfaithful but never had he ever raised a hand on her, hurt her physically. She walks out of the King’s receiving chambers in a sort of daze. She didn’t bother with meeting her ladies, asking one of the maids to let them know they’ve been dismissed. She’s beyond the point of caring, she doesn’t care what the people think of her. First the announcement and now this? She really does not know him, this man that she has called husband for so long.

She sends one more maid to call for you, in secret. When you come to her door, she’s quick to let you in, pulling you in and shutting the door. She has a vice-like grip on your hand but she won’t meet your eye. You gently lift her chin up, forcing her to look at you and that’s all that it takes, the catalyst she needed as she breaks down crying, dragging you to the floor with her. You hold her close as she cries into the crook of your neck, rubbing her back and urging her to let it all out. You know she’s been strong for so long, longer than anyone should have to be.

Once she’s reeled her emotions in a bit, she declares that she should probably talk to June, she is sure to have heard the declaration by now, though Natasha doesn’t know how much the little princess actually understood.

You fix her hair as she reapplies her makeup, something that’s a routine of sorts for the two of you that brings a sense of normalcy, and the two of you make your way towards the nursery, the Queen’s foot soldiers following closely behind. No one could tell that Natasha had been crying, her cold and uncaring facade perfectly back in place.

She dismisses Lady McCarthy, the pity clearly visible on her face. Her personal guard waits outside and you swiftly close the door, making sure they can’t hear what’s going on inside. Natasha and June walk hand in hand to the small cushioned bench near the massive dollhouse. You just stand behind Natasha, your hands on her shoulders to offer her some comfort, some much needed support.

“June, my love, I am sure you have heard of your father’s decision today?” She asked and the princess nodded.

“I’m going to have one more mama, isn’t that right?” She asked and Natasha couldn’t help but smile at her innocence.

“Yes my love,” she says, feelings relieved that this was going much better than she thought it would. But her relief is short lived when June furrows her brows, a question at the tip of her tongue as she weighs whether she should ask it or not.

“What is it?”

“Is Lady Morwenna going to be my new mama? I don’t want her to be,” June says, crossing her arms and pouting a little.

“Honey, that’s for your father to decide,” Natasha says, trying to keep a tantrum at bay. June just nods her head solemnly, not knowing what to say. “But you can come talk to me whenever you feel like it, I’ll always listen,” Natasha promises.

“Okay,” she sniffs before getting up on her feet, “will you play with me now?” she asks and you and Natasha can’t help but laugh, nodding as you all sit on the ground, surrounded by a wide array of toys, playing until the princess is sleepy and her maid takes her to bed.

You and Natasha part ways as you walk towards the chamber you share with some of the other unwed ladies. Just a few feet away from the doors, in a tiny alcove, you hear a hushed but heated conversation. A fight.

“And what? I am just supposed to sit by and watch as you marry someone else? Who is not me?” You could hear Lady Morwenna hiss, trying to keep quiet but failing spectacularly.

“I am King, I can do as I wish. What you do or do not do bears little importance to me,” he seethes.

“Then I will tell everyone of how you’ve defiled me, how no one would have me anymore. You’ll have no choice but to be wedded to me,” she declares and you can almost imagine the confusion on her face when the King starts to chuckle.

“You truly seem to believe that you have the upper hand here. Well, let me tell you right now, no one’s going to believe the word of a disgraced whore over the word of the King. So I suggest you turn around and walk back to your chambers, lest you’d prefer to spend the night in the dungeons,” he says. You can hear a strangled cry as Morwenna runs off, the door slamming shut behind her.

You’re too stunned to move. You wait around the turning, staying hidden until you’re sure the King has left. You quickly run to your chambers, closing the doors. Inside, Lady Morwenna is bawling her eyes out, Sybil and Ella trying to comfort her. You fall against your own bed, staring up at the ceiling and willing for sleep to take you.

You’re groggy during your morning prayers with the ladies and throughout breakfast. You were already trailing behind as the ladies made their way towards the gardens, not watching where you were going, bumping into a hard chest. You scowl but it’s swiftly wiped off your face when you see the King, followed by Lord Rogers and Lord Wilson.

“Are you alright my Lady?” the King asked and you nodded, apologising.

“A Lady not with her Queen? Are you lost, my Lady?” Lord Samuel joked and you offered a fake smile, trying to excuse yourself when the King grabs your wrist, letting your wrist go at the scandalised look in your eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said as he let your wrist go.

“I must leave, my Queen does bid me. If you’ll excuse me,” you say and curtsy and leave once he nods his assent.

“She’s something isn’t she?” Wilson wondered out loud, receiving a scowl from Steve. Bucky just nodded with a hum, watching you go.

In the gardens the ladies are all seated and your place lies empty next to Natasha. It seems like the same scene from a few weeks ago when you were tardy, the ladies deriving their laughs at your expense. But today, the ladies are quiet. No one thinks to say much, not even the ever chatty Lady Violet who just sits and whispers with Lady Virginia. Lady Morwenna is absent still though everyone can more or less guess the reason for it.

“I apologise, Your Majesty, I did find myself accosted by His Majesty and his Lords,” you whisper to Natasha who just nods. You haven’t told Natasha about the scene you happened to witness last night but that’s only because you haven’t yet the chance to do so. You didn’t plan on hiding anything from her. The ladies all spent the morning in an uncharacteristic silence. Not a word was spoken during the afternoon meal either. The ladies were left to their own devices post that as you and Natasha escaped to her chambers.

You recount every detail of the scene you happened to stumble upon. Natasha listened with a blank expression. If she found the situation puzzling, she didn’t let it show. When you finish and she’s still quiet, you wonder if she just tuned you out completely. You softly call her name, prompting her to look at you.

“I thought I knew the King. Not anymore,” she shrugged.

The feast is in full swing, the band playing a lively tune as couples move around the dance floor. You are sitting alone at the table where the Queen’s ladies sit, already having declined an offer from Lord Rogers for a dance. He accepted glumly when you gave the poor excuse that you’d imbibed far too much and couldn’t be trusted on your feet. The King though, would not be so easily deterred. He ordered one of the servants to bring you a glass of water and promised to be back just in time for the next dance. Your eyes found Natasha’s nervously, wondering if you still had time to slip out without getting noticed.

He might dress it up as much as he liked but everyone knows the true purpose of the feast. All the maidens dressed to the nines were proof enough. You wore a nice enough gown, a gentle shade of pink with your hair left down. Your eyes drift from one end of the large room to another, checking if the King is anywhere close. You push your chair back, standing up slowly when the clearing of a throat from behind you draws your attention.

“I was just coming to find you, My Lady. It seems you were doing the same,” he says with a sly smile. You hold back a sigh, plastering on a smile as you let him take your hand and lead you onto the dance floor, surrounded by dozens of other couples who suddenly seem to be more interested in you and His Majesty over their own partners. You can feel all eyes on you, your back burning with the heat of their gaze, but the King only has eyes for you.

“How are you enjoying yourself this evening, My Lady?” he asks.

“It is a fine event, it truly is. The cooks have really outdone themselves,” you answer as diplomatically as you can.

“And what about the company? Do they leave anything to desire,” he asks, his hand that was firmly maintained at your waist up until this point, slowly drifting downwards, further than was considered appropriate.

“I’m in the finest company in the whole kingdom,” you choke out.

“I spoke to Lord Y/l/n only recently. He is joining me for the evening meal tomorrow. I would be greatly honoured if you’d accompany him,” he asks but you know it’s not an invitation you can deny.

“It would be untoward for an unwedded Lady to dine with the King. I should be serving my Queen,” you say but stop when he scoffs. “The Queen has enough ladies, your absence for an evening would hardly make a difference. Your father shall be present so you have no reason to worry.I do not plan on taking no for an answer.” he declares bowing slowly as your dance comes to an end, walking away as you’re left standing in the middle of the floor.

The next evening comes too soon as you meet your father in his receiving chambers as the two of you proceed towards His Majesty’s chambers in relative silence. Your father seems to know what this is about though he won’t say it outright. He had always been one to count his chickens before they hatch so it’s surprising, when he’s this quiet. You were not naive, well aware of the purpose of this meeting though you weren’t too happy at the prospect of it. Surely, you’d prefer Lord Rogers to His Majesty in a heartbeat. Natasha was aware though you’d made it clear to her, you would not accept any offer the King would place in front of you.

In the King’s receiving chambers, the table is laid out with all types of preparations that one can imagine, a roast turkey, seasoned vegetables, breads, a platter of cheese and meats, an endless flow of wine, this is truly a meal fit for a King. It feels wrong, seeing so much food laid out for only three people, it felt wrong.

“Your Majesty,” you and your further bow as the King smiles, welcoming you in. You’re all seated at the table, the King at the head of it as you and your father are sat facing each other on either side of him. You’re mostly quiet, observing the conversation as they both danced around the true purpose of this meal, the food on your plate forgotten long before. After a while of polite conversation, the King gathers your attention with a loud clearing of his throat.

“I must admit, my invitation to sup was not without cause and I believe it’s time I laid it out before you,” your father looks on with a frown, feigning confusion expertly.

“My Lord and My Lady, you and all of my subjects are aware of my plight, of the decree announced in court as of recent too,” he says with a show of vulnerability, a farce. Your father nods sympathetically.

“Keeping so in mind, I would be honoured if you would give me Lady Y/n’s hand in marriage, I would want to proceed with your blessings,” he says.

Your father acts like he’s deep in contemplation, as if he hadn’t already planned everything out. You make a noise of protest that’s quickly silenced by his one look, your heart beating wildly at the thought that your own father would gladly sell you.

“I was approached by Lord Rogers for my lovely daughter’s hand in marriage too. I’d say, the wife of a Duke is much preferable to the second wife of a King, isn’t it?” He wondered out loud and you looked on, scandalised.

“Father!”

“Hush, girl. You do not interrupt when two men, both well above your standing are speaking,” he says.

“I would make her the reigning Queen, not a secondary. You will have more land and holdings than any other Lord. I solemnly swear on that,” he says, almost desperately.

“It is a becoming offer, Your Majesty but you must give me the time to contemplate, let me sleep on it,” your father says and His Majesty nods his head, “Take as much time as you need, My Lord.”

“What about me? Do I not get a say in this?” You finally scream, your blood boiling.

“You would refuse your King?” He asks incredulously.

“I cannot betray Her Majesty, I serve her,” you declare.

“Oh enough with this already! That queen of yours is nothing but an imposter. Tell me, with what pride does she proclaim herself Queen when she cannot even bear me an heir? She should be thankful that I have found a solution, or I could have just as easily have her banished,” he declares and that stops you in your tracks.

Banished?

“Banished? On what grounds? She’s your Queen, Your Majesty, do you not love her?” You ask, tears threatening to spill. If he truly was to banish Natasha, what would you ever do?

“I loved her but all she has done is scorn me. Tell me, do I not deserve true love?”

You swallow harshly, your heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of your chest.

“Would you truly banish Her Majesty?” You ask, tears free falling as you come to accept your fate.

“I would if you give me no other choice, I’ll have you by hook or by crook,” he promises and you nod your head.

“Then I accept,” you say, sobbing openly now. You cannot hold it in as the King is smiling from ear to ear, no longer able to contain his joy. He had well and truly won.

The King grabs you by your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as he shushes you, rubbing a large palm across your back. “Hush my dear, this is a joyous occasion. You are finally going to be mine, only mine,” he declares with a chilling finality to his tone.

You could hardly sleep that night, tossing and turning. Your bed no longer felt comfortable. Half asleep and bone tired, you made your way towards the chapel for your morning prayers when you were suddenly pulled into a corner by strong hands, one immediately moving to your mouth, muffling your screams. You looked up as icy blue eyes met yours.

“Now I finally know why you never did consider my feelings, let alone reciprocate. You had your eyes set on another prize altogether, didn’t you?” He spat venomously.

“I should’ve known. I always thought what could a Lady want more than a Duke? Especially a Lady with such a low standing in the peerage, the daughter of an Earl,” Lord Rogers had almost choked you now, only letting you go as somebody came looking for him. He stepped out of the alcove, straightening his doublet, acting as if he hadn’t spewed such vitriol at you, his lips adopting a saccharine sweetness as he spoke to Lord Wilson, blocking you from his view.

You were shaken, close to tears at his words. You finally found the courage to walk out of the alcove once both the Lords were far enough that you could no longer hear them. You found yourself contemplating if you made the right choice. Should you have just accepted Lord Rogers when you had the choice? But how could you have known of your current predicament that puts bars between the owners and their rights.

Your mind is restless, elsewhere altogether. You don’t even realise when Natasha approaches you, a gentle hand on your shoulder startling you out of your reverie. Natasha can see you’re close to crumbling so she guides you to her chambers in a bit of a daze, telling the other ladies to proceed with their breakfast without her. She closes the door gently behind her as she leads you to her bed, pulling you close as you break down.

The familiar scent of her perfume and something that is just entirely her, brings you comfort as you’re able to reign in your tears, telling her all about the meal you shared with His Majesty the previous night.

Natasha has noticed a pattern, she’s found herself in this position so often in the past few months and she can identify the root cause. Her husband. She doesn’t doubt that if it truly came to it, James would find a way to get rid of her. She knew what she had to do then. She knew she couldn’t escape, not truly and not without repercussions

“I will marry him, if it means that you’re safe. I’ll do anything,” you swear to her and she shakes her head ‘no’.

“You will do no such thing. You will run away, you will escape. I will make sure that he shall never find you,” she tells you and you’re pleading no.

“I cannot live without you, I will die,” you cry as you realise, you were just as naive as you prided yourself for not being. You couldn’t live without Natasha, no matter how much you thought you could. “I will marry him, if it means that you are safe, and then we can be together. We won’t have to worry about June. It’s our best bet,” you say and though Natasha wants to disagree she has to admit, her husband had well and truly got all of you in a corner with only one way out : through him.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #angst #fluff #tw miscarriage #period typical sexism #bucky barnes #female reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #medieval au #cheating #wlw #polygamy

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unitedsimsdom · 1 year

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The United Simsdom is a fictional kingdom of The Sims 4.

The United Simsdom includes worlds of The Great Sims Land. There are modern cities with different cultures, activities and festivals. A part of the kingdom are romantic sites with seaside regions - perfect setting for love and matrimonial pursuits. There are regions of lush bayous and rolling plantation land that is home to aristocratic farmers, southern gentry and swamp-dwellers. Island chain welcomes all to a life of blue oceans and friendly neighbours.

The United Simsdom has beautiful nature of ocean, mountains, rivers and a desert.

Official language - English. Nacional language - Simlish.

New Capital - San Myshuno.

Old Capital - Windenburg.

Queen Helena is the monarch and head of state of The United Simsdom.

#about

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fiadorable · 2 years

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46 Great Things in Strange New Worlds (S1E01)

I decided to write down all the things I loved from each episode of Strange New World's first season.

Pilot episode things to love include:

Seeing first contact with the Federation from the POV of an alien species with Una's log overlaying the opening

Star Trek tradition of character being in love with really old American television/movies continues, this time with The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

Pike's pancakes look divine - and the gentle way he spatulas them onto the plate! This is a person who is skilled and takes great care with delicate things.

I oddly love Pike referring to Batel as "Captain Batel" during breakfast and have this headcanon that he does so while she's in uniform to kind of draw the line between the personal and professional relationship they have

But also like shame on her for saying the pancakes were good BUT STILL LEAVING MOST OF IT ON HER PLATE

Calling the communicator a phone is weird - but I appreciate the effort they are making to bridge the way life imitated art and gave us cell phones before warp drives

Loving the way they are showing the relationship between Batel and Pike here, the friend/coworkers with benefits, call me when you get back in town but with no expectations thing - it feels realistic given their careers

Good god I love the music in this series please give me a soundtrack

What an absolutely gorgeous theme song and title sequence. It feels very Lower Decks visually, but definitely pays homage to the TOS sequence.

Say what you want, but I love seeing playful Vulcans. Tuvok had some excellent lines on Voyager, but seeing T'Pring and Spock dance around the engagement question is delightful.

"I'm going to have to ask you two to do that somewhere else." 😂😂😂

"Matrimony and duty. The two will complement each other." "I remain skeptical." As you should, girl, as you should

Oo, I do like the communicator plugging into a video display though. Nice blend of the 60s tech with modern tech.

Pike reviewing La'an's file and the Gorn report on the way to the Enterprise. Weird thing to like, I know, but this comes up later in my list.

I love that Enterprise is a learning ship and the cadets rotate through the departments

Pike has a goddamn fireplace in his quarters. He has a kitchen.

I love Pike's conversation with Spock on the way to Kiley 279, questioning how the knowledge of his accident will live in him and direct his actions in the years leading up to it - and the season finale answers that question which makes for a nice narrative circle shaped thing

Bridge troubleshooting sessions are the best

I love Nurse Chapel - she is the manic pixie dream girl of the show while still being extremely competent - and I love her introductory exchange with La'an and how Pike is just sitting back and watching them circle each other

"Well there's surviving and then there's living." I like that he left the decision to take the sedative up to La'an (and now knowing her backstory it makes sense but the first time I saw this episode I was like goddamn girl)

Obligatory "history of the United States" reference

Also loving the rivalry between Spock and La'an down on the planet… new coworkers are hard

Delta Scorpii Seven

"Always when I'm in the captain's chair" - This whole exchange is when I knew Ortegas was gonna be one of my favs

I love that Uhura is the one who is able to settle the rabbit - bonding through sports is the fastest way to get your alien captive to relax

The flirtatious lady in the elevator who sees Spock morphing while Pike pretends he has no idea what she's freaking out about - this man is a complete awkward dork around women how the hell did he get Batel into bed 😂(

"Somehow I figured you might" 😍 I don't ship them I don't ship them

"Can you not jinx it?" More of Una and Spock, please, I beg of you

Also the way Pike is holding her 😍 GODDAMMIT I DO NOT SHIP THEM

Spock screaming as his genome reverted was intense and I like it because it means my girl La'an is a fucking BEAST because she went through all of that without a sound on the ship which is horrifying

Shades of Janeway and the Caretaker's array in Pike's decision to interfere despite General Order 1 because without their original unintended interference there would be no secondary interference necessary - it's a parallel I am comfortable with

La'an calling Spock "the science officer" 😂

What a power move bringing Enterprise into lower orbit and I love the air raid sirens on Kiley that go off as it descends

"The true cost of a civil war is abstract"

"Right up until the very end life is to be worn gloriously"

Ok, ok, we get it, this is the bad place 🙃

The Kiley montage is weird like what is even happening in it are they worshiping the Enterprise at the end there with their paper doll cutout of it?? Aliens.

Renaming General Order One the Prime Directive

I like Admiral April - he is a solid dude

Pike knowing exactly what La'an is about at the end of the episode is the best. He's read her file, he knows all of this already, but he's letting her come to him and tell him in her own words and that's great.

"Other people are challenging for me." me too girl me too

Ugh this musiiiiiic 🥰

I just like watching this crew doing their jobs. The set is pretty, the people are pretty, the dialogue is crisp.

We are all Uhura saying "Cool!" on the bridge

Pike's almost knee-high boots

Ending credit music!

#st:snw #star trek strange new worlds #why is the pilot the name of the series #there's a lot that could have been done better this season #but there were also some really good things too #i want to focus on good things right now #ignore me #snw great things

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