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rayne-showers · 3 months ago

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Collecting some tags:

#yes this#I do think it was Jayce who was convinced Heimerdinger would support their new projects#he said that after building the hexgates it was their turn to decide what to do before he'd even considered getting outside funding#so I'd argue he's the naive one more than Viktor#Viktor just doesn't want to deal with the financial side of things or think about money which I find relatable#he wants to help people in need not argue about money and it kind of sucks that the latter is also necessary#and Viktor did seem more skeptical if Heimerdinger would approve#overall I would expect Heimerdinger to be willing to fund broader hextech applications than solely what makes the council the most money#since scientific innovation is kind of what his whole character is about#but he has some reasonable safety concerns that he presents in a not as reasonable way (via @melanielocke)

#and there's still plenty of opportunities for jayce to act as the face even without schmoozing investors#public engagement events to give information and answer questions about hextech#while it's government funded if enough people are uneasy about magic there would be potential for protesting#parties and galas with the heads of trade unions to persuade them to join the venture#engaging with artisans and architects to develop plans for the hexgates#and more i'm probably not even aware of (via @4amarcanethoughts)

#also makes sense in terms of Jayce being so frustrated with Heimerdinger#and so ready to toss him off the council#because that means Jayce and Viktor NEAR EXCLUSIVELY (as far as we can tell)#worked to get the hexgates done which was 100% a council project#for 6 years#and then something that was specifically what him and Viktor wanted to do#(and was specific to Viktor’s background)#and is frankly a whole lot more practical and less dangerous that freakin’ MASS ACCELLERATION GATES#was outright dismissed for 10 years of testing!#THE HEXGATES TOOK 6 TO BUILD#and I’m sorry but I absolutely would trust gloves that punch things tech wise vs a giant acceleration gate that zoomed a whole ship and#everything and everyone on it#but also I’m sure Heimerdinger saw it as individual vs collective#since these were tools an individual would use#vs what Piltover would have direct control over#ugh I both love and hate Heimerdinger so much this dude had so many control issues when it came to the cities &dropped the ball on so much (via @dizzyrobinsims)

(Arcane Meta) Jayce probably did NOT canonically need to fundraise for Hextech pre-time skip / before 1.04 "Progress Day"

I posted this originally on Twitter but I find the format there quite limiting so I thought I'd expand on my thoughts here. (For those unfamiliar with Jayce/Viktor-centric Arcane fic, a lot of fics have as a plot point that Jayce needs to be constantly out fundraising to make their Hextech dream a reality before the events of Arcane.)

Not to debunk some widely held fanon that my own fics have indulged in, but we actually have evidence that Jayce and Viktor did not have investors before 1.04 "Progress Day" (ie, during the time-skip) because Jayce was surprised by the notion when Mel brought it up.

Now, I’ve seen and WRITTEN plenty of fics where Jayce spends much of the time skip promoting Hextech to investors, so I know this fanon is very widespread, but actually Jayce seems surprised by the very notion when Mel brings up that she has found investors for Hextech. The idea is foreign to Jayce, implying Hextech to that point was a state-run effort, ie, Piltover-funded and they only ever needed to convince Heimerdinger/the Council.

(*Puts on my tech startup-founder hat*) What changes in 1.04 is that Mel is offering to bring in OUTSIDE interests who want to add their funds to Hextech’s development in exchange for a “piece of Hextech” that has until that point been 100% limited to government funding, ie Piltover, which makes sense. The Hexgates were a government effort and therefore only ever had one customer.

(Indeed, I actually don't think there are Hexgates anywhere but in Piltover, despite what some fics have posited. First of all, why woul you give that economic advantage to potential competitors? With there being only one Hexgate in Piltover, all trade is forced to divert there, bringing their goods and their money, if they wish to reach their target destination in record time. Piltover then gets a piece of every trade vessel that goes through there in Hexgate fees and profits enormously. You leave it up to the merchants to make their own, slow way back and only ever grant them one-way instantaneous travel away from Piltover as the sweetener to pass through and give you a percentage of that tasty, tasty trade.)

Anyway, back to to the topic. So actually Jayce probably WASN’T doing the dog-and-pony show, dressing up and performing for investors during the time skip as those fics (and my own) posit. We know this because the notion was new to him. Jayce was still the public face of Hextech, the Man of Progress, but from what we actually see, between Mel, the Kirammans, and Heimerdinger/the Council, he never needed to fundraise.

Indeed, we actually see Jayce fundraise for the first time, after he becomes a Councilor, with Mel as his coach, at the opera when he comes up with the idea of "Hextech partners" on the spot. In fact, Mel compliments him on the NEW idea of offering Hextech partnerships to outside investors in exchange for early access to their innovations. If Jayce had been fundraising before that, such a mechanism would already exist and he wouldn't need to invent it then and there.

Now, I still think there's plenty of reasons for fics to have Jayce fundraising during the time skip. Arcane S1 is a very efficient show and a lot of stuff happens post time-skip that probably would have actually happened during it, realistically speaking, but they want to show it on screen so it gets moved later, even if it logically makes less sense. After all, Jayce's half of the show timeline is very weird, since it technically runs parallel to Caitlyn's time in the undercity, but she only spends a couple days there while Jayce talks about being a Councilor "talking about talking for weeks now." So I think any fic would be justified in telescoping and moving around some of the logistical timeline in their story in a way that makes more sense in a longer-form story than the show had time for.

If anything, it would make more sense if Jayce's discussion with Mel about investors happened not long after Hextech was first launched and it's just moved later so it can be shown on screen after the time skip.

But, it is also worth noting, that it is also realistic that Jayce never had to think about investors, because the Hexgates have been government funded since the start as the sole invention of Hextech. So in a way, it does make sense that only now would he and Viktor need to start thinking about outside investors if, say, they wanted to pursue innovations that wouldn't be wholly supported and funded by the Council. Say, mining equipment for Zaunite workers?

Viktor was sure Heimerdinger would see the potential, but once again I think that just shows his naïveté and scientific tunnel-vision. Viktor has never shown a mind for the financial side of science, he's an academic through-and-through. Jayce was always handling the business side and indeed, only barely handling the actual practicalities, as we see Mel and the Kirammans were as far as we can tell actually doing the behind-the-scenes heavy lifting so his "business" handling was just smiling for the cameras, not negotiating with trade guilds, up until he became a Councilor.

What this really tells us, as a final thought to leave you with that makes my logistical brain go brrrr, is that the Hexgates were much less a traditional "tech startup", reliant on the goodwill of a whole board of investors that need to be shmoozed, and much more a governmental program akin to the US moon launch, or the Suez Canal.

Jayce and Viktor probably never needed to worry about funding, because they had the entire treasury of Piltover backing their effort, an investment that Piltover almost certainly made back many times over with what the Hexgates would represent for hyper-accelerating trade through the area.

But, such automatic, assured funding has strings attached, strings we saw when Heimerdinger's swift dismissal meant they couldn't simply embark on their own vision for Hextech once the Hexgates were complete. They only ever had a customer of one (Heimerdinger, aka, the government of Piltover) and clearly couldn't even conceive of a way around their one customer telling them to delay the product for more testing, again, because they'd never even considered outside funding before. They'd never had to worry about it, or think about it!

If anything, Mel was probably setting them up in a kinder universe to go independent in a less dramatic way if need be with that initial idea of investors, before events spiraled such considerations out of control and suddenly Jayce was a Councilor who didn't need Hextech partners anymore. He was now, as de facto head of the Council, his own #1 customer and could have, in theory had he not stepped down, double-dealed with himself as Hextech founder (ie, corruption) to green light any Hextech project he wanted, had he truly recognized the potential, and had unfolding events allowed.

#arcane #league of legends #writing prompt #this is why i need a show rewatch #to remind myself of canon versus fanon #and get context for when jayce mentioned it being weeks when caitlyn's storyline is in days #i think it is a valid point that some stuff post time-skip might make more logical sense to happen during #and seeing it as a government project is a neat angle to explore too #with council updates and presentations to engage the public and paperwork #for trade i do now wonder how much of it was getting extra off existing trade through piltover versus drawing new trade in #because this might not affect more local or regional networks that are not going by piltover anyways?#depends on how the benefits of the hexgates are advertised for expanding said networks i guess #i need a map #i also now have many questions about how the hexgates were tested #with heimerdinger involved i imagine there had to be some to ensure an airship didn't crash into a trade partner's infrastructure #or end up embedded inside a mountain or something #but if he wanted ten years to test the gauntlets and hexclaw #how many years would he have really wanted for hexgate testing and how did we end up with not that #unless the hexgates are newer than i remember and are basically still being tested while in use #but that doesn't sound quite right #another reason i need a rewatch

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maniculum · 2 years ago

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Medieval Scorpions Effortpost

So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:

The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".

Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.

As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".

Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.

See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:

That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?

So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.

And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.

*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.

Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.

And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.

11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)

12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)

12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)

12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)

13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)

13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)

13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)

13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)

13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)

13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)

13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)

13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)

14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)

14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)

14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)

15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)

I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.

#medieval #medieval creatures #medieval art #scorpions #medieval scorpions #manuscript #medieval manuscripts #illuminated manuscript

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bludhavents · 4 months ago

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Professor Tavis

pairing: boyfriend!garrick tavis x reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: When hear about Garrick's new job from Xaden, you start to question why Garrick didn't tell you himself. He makes it up to you in the best way possible.

warnings: 18+ ONLY. smut. porn with plot. brief description of panic attack. professor kink tehe. unprotected p in v. fem!reader. ridoc being a protective best friend. super minor onyx storm spoiler.

Xaden looks past his cousin to Garrick. “I just need Professor Tavis.”

I can’t help but gape at the title given to my boyfriend. The title I am just now hearing for the first time. My head snaps up to gawk at him along with the rest of my squad. He winces, but slides by me on the steps and follows after Xaden without looking back.

All of my friend’s eyes turn away from the men as they disappear and focus on me instead.

“Professor?” Bodhi frowns. “Since when?”

I meet his round brown eyes and shrug my shoulders, turning back to face the map on the table. Apparently, I’m the only one who remembers that we’re trying to plan out our flight path. The rest of the group is murmuring around me now, gossiping about Professor Tavis. I try my best not to feel scuffed at the fact that I’m learning about my boyfriend’s new job along with the rest of my squad. Except, apparently, not all of them were so oblivious.

“He told me about it over breakfast. They just asked him to accept this morning,” Imogen says, and I straighten in my seat. She’s always been interested in my boyfriend, which is enough to make me jealous as is. Him confiding in her about his new status before telling me feels like a punch in the gut. Then, she piles on top of that feeling. “He didn’t tell you? That’s weird.”

The hair on my skin raises uncomfortably under my leathers. I swallow hard.

“Shut up, Imogen.” Ridoc slaps her on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Let’s refocus,” Rhiannon supplies, drawing her finger from Basgiath to one of the isles on the map. I can’t make out which one it is through the unshed tears that are stinging in my eyes. “This route could work.”

The group argues again, all speaking over one another as they shove their fingers onto the paper and suggest their own ideas. My mind races as I sit amongst them, drifting through my recent memories with Garrick in an attempt to recall any reason why he’d have withheld this from me, but I come up with nothing. A small sigh leaves my mouth as I continue to stir over the pit in my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Bodhi asks, looking up from the map.

“Nothing! I’m just tired.” I rub my eyes and blink hard, trying to force myself back into the moment to help my squadmates formulate the plan. Ridoc nods from next to me, leaning his head onto my shoulder with a dramatic yawn.

“Me too. Can we break for nap time?” He smiles cheekily at our friends. Every single one of them rolls their eyes at his antics, but Rhiannon relents.

“Yeah. We can come back after dinner and look at it with fresh eyes,” she says, folding the map up on the table and tucking it into her bag. We’d been here over an hour already. “I’m gonna head to the training room if anyone wants to spar.”

Violet, Sawyer, Aaric, and Sloane all break off with her. The rest of the group goes their own ways, and Ridoc stays with me as we head toward the dorm wing of the castle. His footsteps are wider than mine, his long legs guiding him easily down the corridor.

“Never took you for a teacher’s pet,” he teases, looking down at me with a wide grin that shows all his teeth. I laugh, shaking my head.

“Didn’t know I was one. Gods, I can’t believe he would tell Imogen before me. I mean Xaden, I get, but Cardulo? What in Malek’s name did I do to deserve that blow?” I let myself rant to him. Nobody else is in the hallway around us. There’s no reason to hide my disdain for my situation when I already know that he’s tuned into my agitation anyway.

“I wanted to punch her in the mouth!” He shouts, throwing his hands up. “I mean if you’re going to be a homewrecker, at least have some tact about it.”

My heart twists and pounds in my chest. Homewrecker. The humor of the situation is abruptly drained from my body. My pulse quickens quickly, and my jacket suddenly fits too snugly. I grab his wrist and stop walking, turning to face him with hot cheeks.

“You don’t really think…” My voice trails off, not wanting to think about the possibility of Garrick and Imogen having any sort of secret relationship.

“No, no, gods, no,” he hurries out, quickly taking a step toward me and wrapping me into a tight hug. He speaks softly into my hair. “I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. You know that Garrick loves you more than anything. It’s pathetic and weird and I’m so jealous of it. He’d never do that to you. Gods know Imogen has tried, though.”

I relax a little at that, but I can’t help the sob that rips through my chest. The past hour has been utterly overwhelming, and it feels like I can’t breathe through the stress. Ridoc holds me tight, running a hand up and down my arm as I wet his leathers with my tears.

It’s suddenly too hot. I fumble with the zipper of my jacket, trying desperately to get it off of my body as anxiety surges. Ridoc replaces my hands with his on the zipper, then quickly unbuttons the collar and slides my jacket off of my shoulders. He tucks it under his arm and takes a step back. My chest aches with the force of my sobs. After a minute passes and I show no signs of stopping, he sweeps my legs off of the ground and carries me bridal style toward the dorm hall.

My face stays buried in his shoulder the entire way, uncontrollably wailing. I try wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my undershirt, but it’s no use. The floodgates have opened and the tears just keep coming. It’s a panic attack.

“It’s okay, we’re almost to your room,” he says sweetly, pushing open a set of double doors with his hip. He keeps walking. “Deep breaths. Almost there.”

“What the hell happened?” A familiar voice echoes through the hallway, and a new set of tears rises behind my eyes, spilling over quickly as I choke out a sob. Ridoc stiffens beneath me as I dig my fingers into him, holding myself close to him.

The anxiety that’s running through my blood isn’t just about the thought of being cheated on, because I know deep down that Garrick would never do that to me. It’s just overwhelming to have Imogen’s snarky comment on top of the stress of planning our trip to the isles, and keeping Xaden’s secret safe from the others. It’s too much, and it’s all weighing on me now.

Ridoc’s steps slow, and he bends over at the waist, setting me back on my feet gently. I release my grip on him only after he places a hand on my upper back. Through my tears, I first see the wetness running down his leather jacket, racing from the collar down to his stomach. Then, I look away from him and see Garrick towering over us, right next to my door.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” Ridoc moves a gentle hand to the back of my head before turning and shoving my jacket into Garrick’s chest, matching his mean scowl with one of his own. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m the one who brought her here, Professor.”

“Don’t start, Gamlyn,” he bites back. His knuckles are white where he’s holding my jacket.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you. It seems to be getting you in trouble a lot recently.” He crosses the hallway and steps into his room, slamming the door shut loudly behind him. Garrick’s lips are pressed together tightly, chest heaving with angry breaths. His eyes trail away from our friend and land back on me, softening as he rests a calloused palm on my wet cheek and tilts my chin up to face him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His tone is pleading, and hot tears keep falling down my face as I stare into his hazel eyes and search for my answers. If he was cheating on me, would I see it in his revealing eyes? I don’t notice anything different. When I look into him, I still see only my Garrick. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He opens my door with one hand, using the other to urge me in front of him. He guides me all the way to the edge of my bed and sets my leathers next to me as I take a seat there. His tall form shrinks to my height as he kneels in front of me, placing his hands on my hips.

“Sweetheart, please talk to me,” he begs, squeezing my skin.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed.” I drag my cold palms over my face to wipe away the drying tears and take a deep breath, willing them to stop falling. “Everyone was asking me questions about you becoming a professor, and I didn’t know anything about it, you never told me. Then Imogen starts answering all of them, and I just-- I don’t know. It really upset me, I think, to have her know more about what’s going on with you than I do. Then when we were walking back here, I started thinking that maybe there’s a reason you would tell her before telling me, and I just…”

Garrick flinches in front of me and moves his hands to cup my jaw. His hazel eyes burn into my skin and force me to meet his gaze. I see his lips parted in shock and a deep furrow between his thick brows. He opens his mouth as if to start talking, but hesitates, swallowing hard.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admits, running a thumb to catch a stray tear in the corner of my eye. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I never ever meant to make you think that I was going behind your back. I promise you, with all of my heart, that you are the only person I’ve wanted to tell all day.”

“Why didn’t you?” My voice breaks, and I gnaw on the skin of my bottom lip.

“I didn’t tell Imogen, first of all-- Xaden did. While we were eating breakfast, which was right after I’d gotten back from the meeting where they told me about the job offer.” He grasps my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to my skin. I sigh, letting my free hand brush the hair above his ear.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. That’s just what she told everyone,” I apologize, and he shakes his head quickly.

“Don’t apologize, I don’t blame you at all,” he says sincerely. “I’m sorry that you heard it from someone else. I’ve been wanting to tell you all day, but you weren’t at breakfast, and then I got pulled into another meeting to discuss lesson plans, and then by the time I got out, everyone was working on the flight paths with you. I wanted to be able to sit down and have a discussion with you about it in private without everyone listening, and then fucking Riorson ruined that. I should’ve just asked you to come talk with me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize that until it was too late.”

I stare at the man in front of me, watching his chest rise and fall with slow breaths. A sweet smile graces his full lips as I hiccup, finally taking in my first full breath all day. His shaggy hair falls into his face as he bends over. I watch as his strong hands delicately untie my boots before sliding them off of my feet one at a time. It feels like I’ve been bathed in a pool of relief and his words are the water that cradles me.

“Come here,” I swing my legs onto the bed and pat the spot next to me. He removes his own shoes and lays in the empty spot, wrapping an arm around my body and tugging me into his side. Our eyes meet where we lay, and I press a kiss to his lips. My body melts into the taste of him, but I relent, pulling away. He groans in disapproval.

“Why?” He whines. I giggle, feeling at ease here in his arms. He smirks down at me and leans in for another kiss, but I put my finger to his lips instead.

“I want to hear about this job!” I prop myself up on my elbows, laying on my stomach as he narrows his eyes at me in disdain. Looking at the man in front of me, I wonder how I ever got myself so worked up. There’s nothing but concentrated love in his eyes right now, and it’s all for me.

“Later. Come kiss me right now, I’ve missed you.” He sits up, grasping my cheek and bringing his mouth to mine. I sigh into the kiss and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue through my parted lips. My hand on his chest pushes him back against the mattress, not breaking the kiss as I follow him down.

We’re thinking the same thing, his fingers grabbing my hips to lift me onto his lap, but I’m already lifting my leg to straddle him. He pulls away from the kiss and attaches his lips to my jaw. I can feel his smile against my skin.

“Good, sweetheart,” he praises, “you know just what I need.”

I settle onto him, my thighs clenching either side of his hips. He uses his hold on my waist to push my body down harder onto him, a groan rising in the back of his throat as he rubs me over his clothed dick. Gripping me roughly, he drags me back and forth over and over. I press sloppy kisses up his neck and along his jaw, leaving one just below his ear before lightly grazing my teeth over his earlobe.

Every part of him is solid beneath me. Solid arms, solid chest, solid stomach, and a solid dick working me just right. Garrick Tavis drives me crazy.

“I need you,” he says, stopping his movements and turning to stare into my eyes. His pupils are blown, revealing only the faintest sliver of hazel around them. I kiss him softly. Garrick has always been a tease. I appreciate getting to return the favor sometimes, and the perfect idea has presented itself. I kiss him again and he groans, bucking his hips up. “I need you now, sweetheart.”

“What do you need from me, Professor Tavis?” I fiend innocence, voice soft and low, looking at him with wide eyes that I’m certain are just as lust-blown as his. Garrick’s lips part and the next kiss he drags from my lips is feverish. His hands are gripping at my shirt, tearing it off of my body with no regard and discarding it to the floor carelessly.

He grips my ass roughly, and I squeal as I’m suddenly lifted off of his lap and flipped onto my back, staring up at my boyfriend as he unzips his jacket and slides out of it easily. I sit up to help him with his shirt, but he pushes me back down.

“I’m a professor and you’re a cadet, our relationship is strictly off limits.” He slides his shirt over his head, and my pulse stutters. I reach a hand out to feel his packed muscle, trailing my fingers down the patch of hair that starts at his navel and dips below his waistband. He inhales sharply.

“Off limits?” I don’t look at him, instead I work on unfastening the belt around his waist. My gaze drifts below my hands, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth at the sight of the bulge straining against his pants.

“Strictly. So I need you to be really quiet for me, sweetheart.” He rakes his hand through my hair, fisting it gently at the base of my neck and pulling so that I meet his eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Professor Tavis.” I nod quickly. He removes my hands from his crotch and steps off the bed. I frown, rolling to protest, but he’s quick to shut me up.

“Take your pants off.” He’s already stepping out of his. “I can’t wait any longer.”

I don’t question him, the angry red tip of his stiff cock saying enough to prove that he’s being honest. My bottoms slide off quickly. I shove my panties off with them, baring myself to the desperate man in front of me.

“Bra.” Garrick’s voice is tight. He’s fisting himself, but not pumping at all. He’s waiting for me to follow his instructions. I unhook my bra and shrug it off. He hums in appraisal, bringing his eyes to my bare chest. I revel in the way his eyebrows knit together, like he’s physically pained by my beauty. This is what it felt like to be loved.

“Professor Tavis?” I stand up from the bed, walking toward him slowly. He inhales sharply as I pause in front of him, nearly pressing my skin to his. “What should I do next?”

“Get on your knees, sweetheart.” He smoothes the hair at the top of my head as he commands me so sweetly. Seeing him like this, so affected by me, is driving me crazy.

I lower myself to my knees in front of him, wetting my lips as I become eye level with his dick. Pre-cum is already leaking from the tip, and I open my mouth to lap it up, but he cradles my face and stops me gently. My eyes meet his as he towers above me, shaking his head softly.

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want you to put your hand between your legs.” My breath catches in my throat in surprise. We’re both so desperate, and he’s dragging this out for so long, but I can’t find it in myself to argue with him as his cock twitches when I lower my hand down my stomach and dip it between my legs. The moan that tumbles from my lips is immediate. Garrick’s foreplay made my clit swell, and it’s the most sensitive that I’ve felt as I begin to stroke myself with my fingers. Letting the noises of pleasure escape as I start grinding with my hips is uncontrollable.

“Professor Tavis,” I moan loudly as my head falls back. “Please fuck me. Please make me cum.”

I’m shocked when one strong arm wraps around my waist and hoists me up, but I don’t hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist. All plans of sucking him off are abandoned. He holds me tightly to him, molding his mouth to mine so fiercely that our teeth bump. The head of his cock teases my entrance and I gasp at the sensation. It takes him only two steps to reach the bed, where he pulls his mouth away from mine and lays me out on my stomach. The loss of contact makes me whimper.

“You’ve gotta be quiet for me,” he coos. His rough hands are a sharp contrast to his saccharine voice as he lifts my ass into the air and kneads it. I groan, jutting my hips back, and he tsks. “What’d I say? Quiet for me baby. Don’t make me tell you again. Can you do that for me? Can you shut that pretty mouth while I fuck you?”

The moan that leaves my lips is unstoppable, and he laughs darkly behind me before pulling my hips back. My cheeks flush at his laugh.

“I want to be good for you, Professor. Please let me try.” He inhales sharply and then aligns his tip at my entrance. I push my hips back slowly, and he’s the one who can’t keep to himself this time.

“Oh, fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, grabbing my ass and pushing himself further into me. I gasp as he bottoms out inside of me, feeling overwhelmingly full.

He leans down over me, leaving a trail of kisses up my spine. His lips pause at my neck, and he bites me softly.

“You’re such a good girl for me. So fucking good. Thank you, sweetheart.” He straightens his spine and pulls his hips back so far that the tip of his dick is barely inside of me, before he slams into me. I whine, my walls stretched out by his thick cock, but he only pulls out again, leaving me to wait before he rams into me another time, cursing as he finds a steady pace. His cock is moving at the perfect speed. I moan as he hits a sweet spot, and I feel him focus as he hits it again, and again, and again.

I cry out. “Oh gods. Just like that. Right there.”

He keeps his thrusts perfect and steady, pushing me closer to my edge. Once his fingers wrap around my front and find my swollen clit, I let out a shaky breath. He continues his punishing pace as his finger circles my clit once, then twice, and it’s the perfect combination. I’m shattering around him immediately, my legs shaking.

“Professor Tavis!” Waves of pleasure ripple through me, my orgasm prolonged by him chasing his own now, his dick pushing into me roughly. I’m still squeezing him, wetness dripping down my legs as he hits the perfect spot. “Fuck!”

“Fuck, I love you so much, sweetheart,” he moans, pace quickening before he stills. I tighten at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of me, filling me up with his release. He exhales deeply, fanning my spine with hot air. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking dream.”

He places a firm hand on my ass as he starts to pull his dick out, but hisses with the motion, and then pushes himself back inside. I turn my head to look back at him, watching as he does it again, backing himself out almost all of the way and then sliding back in. His eyes are fixed on the point where he’s entering, watching with deep breaths as he repeats it one more time.

“Sweetheart, you feel so fucking good. I don’t want to leave.” His voice is strained with pleasure, gaze trailing from where I’m wrapped around him up to my ass, then my back, and then he meets my face. The fire in his eyes is enough to melt me.

“So don’t. Stay inside and come lay with me,” I suggest, hoping that he does just that. He smirks and lowers himself onto the bed with me, holding me close to keep himself inside as he adjusts us so that we’re spooning now. I lay my head on his arm and sigh contentedly.

“I love you, sweetheart. That was fucking hot.” He laughs breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. I giggle, finding that I could really get used to this new job of his.

#garrick tavis x reader #the empyrean #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x you #garrick tavis x y/n #fourth wing x reader #onyx storm #spoilers #garrick tavis x fem!reader #garrick tavis smut #garrick x reader #garrick x you #garrick x y/n #garrick smut #fourth wing boys #fourth wing imgine #rebecca yarros

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icantbelieveitsnotbutler · 1 month ago

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Phantomhive Manor Layout

I'm the type of person who loves a good fictional map or floor plan and, unable to find one of the Phantomhive manor house on the internet, I naturally tried to make one myself. I figured that I would be able to to follow the routes the characters take to get to certain rooms and compare the interior and exterior window positions and designs to map the rooms.

I've been trying off and on for around a week now and, besides the entrance hall, I couldn't confidently tell you the location of a single room. Windows seen from the inside don't exist on the outside and windows on the exterior aren't present within the rooms. Certain windows and external doors exist in one chapter and are gone the next. Characters go up 3 full flights of stairs only to end up on the second floor. Entire stories appear where they weren't in previous in arcs.

This is obviously due to human error and things being changed to make them more historically accurate or to serve the story. It also doesn't matter where the rooms are, only the purpose they serve and what happens in them. The location of the dining room isn't important; we just need to know that's where people eat and have birthday parties, and one time Sebastian did a cool flip there.

That being said, I always want a Watsonian explanation even when there's a Doylist one. I could only come up with one in-universe explanation for the logical inconsistencies of the house: when Sebastian restored the manor house, he didn't just fix it. Whatever he did to it, the house is no longer a static, spatially-consistent structure.

If anyone is interested, more details about how confusing this building is are below the cut (with some out of context manga spoilers).

The Manor House

The first image is the front of the house, the side which carriages approach. The second image is the back where the garden is. Both are from Meyrin's backstory.

Here are more aerial views:

Note the appearance of extra windows along the side of the central section in the first one, which is from the same arc as the previous two images. The second is from the Blue Revenge Arc.

Here are details of the back view of the building:

Note the disappearing windows in some.

Ciel's bedroom.

Before the Green Witch Arc, Ciel's bedroom windows look like this on the interior and exterior:

Note that they open outwards (casement). Also note that they interrupt the hip-height decorative design inside. The three exterior shots are from Sebastian's record in the Luxury Liner Arc and don't match any corner on the more zoomed-out views of the building.

At the end of the Green Witch Arc, the windows are now hung (the bottom half slides upward to open) rather than casement style, but are otherwise the same:

In the Blue Revenge Arc (including the servants' flashbacks and r!Ciel's time there after he reclaims his identity from o!Ciel), the windows change:

The curtains are now a solid color and the decorative design is below the windows, rather than being interrupted by them. Those are insignificant details, but the panels showing the exterior directly contradict the interior and information from previous arcs:

The room is now on the middle floor while before it was on the top floor (not including the attic level), in addition to having a different architectural design around it.

The bedchamber together with the front room have 4 windows altogether, but the exterior only shows 3. The dressing room and bathroom each have a bay window, but the area where they would be seems to be up half a level. There's also a window on the exterior on the wall behind Ciel's bed, but no sign of it inside.

Interestingly, the layout of his quarters would be closer to the floor above, which has the four windows on the back and the two bay windows on the side. It's missing the dormer windows above, and the architectural details below, but it makes me think that there was some error in planning/drawing and the bedroom was actually supposed to be on the top floor.

It seems that the whole manor is actually two main floors for the family and guests, with a basement level and an attic level for the servants, and that one additional floor in the corner block got added at some point. In the earlier arcs, the roof of that section was the same height as the section to the left of it. It was only in the Blue Revenge Arc that they became different heights:

I thought things might be cleared up by following the routes of the characters to reach the room, but it's hard to understand where they're going.

In the Murder Arc, they go up one flight of stairs from the dining room (usually on the first floor in these types of houses) to reach Ciel's bedroom, and the second time they go up at least two floors from a bedroom (usually on the second floor) to reach the same room.

In Bard's backstory, Finny tells him Ciel's room is on the second floor, and then Bard goes up three flights of stairs from the first floor to reach it.

Something to note is that the three middle panels of Bard's route are identical to the first route of the Murder Arc, and then he goes up an entire extra staircase to reach what is supposed to be the same room.

In the Blue Memory Arc, Ciel has to come down from a higher floor to reach his parents' room (which became his room).

If the bedroom is on the second floor, he must have come down from the third floor, but I can't find the window in the stairwell anywhere on the outside of the building.

The Dining Room

The dining room is a long room with two entrances on one of the short walls, three large windows on the left, a fireplace on the right, and a huge bow window at the end. I initially thought there could be two of them, because I noticed that the height and design of the bottom of the bow window seemed to change depending on what meal was being eaten. However, I now think it's just inconsistent drawing.

As usual, there's no way to tell where this room is located. There are no bow windows on the outside of the building, or even a corner of the building which would allow for this configuration of windows.

The Drawing Room

This room has two enormous windows and conveniently has a panel of Ciel looking out of one them so we can determine its general location. However, I'm not sure which of the following sets of windows is correct:

The blue and orange are very big, but the yellow has the same window pane pattern as the most recent iteration of the room, which is the most accurate. However, the yellow is a set of three windows while the room has two. One of the windows could be in the next room, but it feels unlikely. The interior distance from the top of the windows to the ceiling is lacking from the the blue on the outside, so if the drawing is accurate, it would probably be the orange. The orange also feels most accurate to the panel of Ciel looking out the window, but the earlier volumes were less consistent in perspectives and proportions, so it's impossible to tell.

Ciel's Office

Ciel's office has a bay window overlooking the drive up to the house. There are two locations that fit this criteria.

In volume one (so take this with a grain of salt), there's a second window consistent with the teal option, but it doesn't seem to show up again. The side where the second window would in the orange option is never shown (to my knowledge).

Whichever option it is, the other side might be the room where Sebastian tutored Ciel.

The wall shown with bookshelves doesn't seem to have a window consistent with the teal side, so assuming the window is on the opposite wall and this room is the orange, Ciel's office would be the teal.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis

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sundew199 · 18 days ago

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dickhead reiner??? hate sex??? i dunnoo!! just a quick little idea😈

as much as I love my soft, sweet, passionate, tender Reiner I will never turn down an opportunity to whore myself out and write some hate sex 🫦

hehehe enjoy!! and thank you for the delicious ask!

(also sorry about taking a hot minute on this, you sent the ask right as I was leaving work and then irl things kept distracting me lmaooo)

tags: reiner x f!reader, canon complaint timeline, oral!receiving, semi-public sex, hate sex, kinda rough sex, choking, both parties are assholes hehe, smut

Vice Chief Braun was the one person who could make your blood boil just about instantly. The way he walked around like he was the most important person on base and spoke in such a condescending tone, like he was a know it all. He ground your gears so badly, the two of you couldn't be in a room together longer than five minutes before the arguing started. You knew he felt the exact same way about you, caught the whispers between him and Zeke passing by one of their offices. God you fucking hated him.

As a tactician for the warrior unit, you were responsible for drawing up battle plans and strategies for the war in the Mid-East. Everyone valued your opinion, except one. Reiner had some sort of superiority complex returning from Paradis and always had a counterargument or just something to fucking say about whatever you had presented and it was demeaning. Zeke brought up your "attitude" several times in meetings with just him and you, and you always hit him back with "Well make sure you have a conversation with you Vice Chief too." because it wasn't just you.

Entitled fucking motherfucker who didn't even deserve the armored to begin with.

The days when Zeke wasn't available to go over strategies were the days you dreaded, because that meant you'd be going over them with Reiner. And today was one of those days.

Rapping your knuckled beneath the nameplate nailed to the door, you exhaled the long breath through your nose and tried to unscrew your face just as he opened the door. He looked you up and down, moving to the side and letting you in with no words exchanged.

"Good to see you're extra cheery today." Quipping behind you, letting the door slam.

"Don't start with me Braun, I'm not in the mood."

"What's new."

Steadying your breathing, clutching the large file against your chest, you slammed it down on top of the papers already there. Was it that hard for him to file stuff away properly?

"I've got to meet with Magath later, so let's make this quick." Announcing your urgency to him as he came to stand on the other side of the desk, plopping down in the desk chair.

"All depends on you." Pressing two fingers to his temple and letting out an annoyed sigh. Maybe one good punch to the jaw would set him straight, knock around that brain of his.

Taking another deep breath, you moved the scattered papers away from where your file was set, ignoring the way he snapped, until he eventually gave up and just let you do as you pleased. Taking out the maps that have been marked a dozen or more times, you unfolded it over everything.

"In a month, all the warriors will be shipped out to Fort Slava to take the base. Zeke has proposed using pure titans for the attack, airdropping them down to lessen the amount of fighters they'll have stationed there. You'll drop down before him and take out their artillery, leaving Zeke the opening to cripple their Navy."

"What's the point of pure titans then? I'm going to pulling all the weight for the beginning of this operation."

Was he not listening? You just explained it to him, what more detail and clarification did he need?

Sighing and pinching your brows with your thumb and index, you plopped down onto the seat behind you and glared at him, only to receive the blankest expression he's ever given you.

"The purpose of the pure titans is to keep them occupied while you drop down, they only have so many men to divide their focus, so you'll need to work quickly."

Reiner scoffed then, rolling his eyes and sitting up, hunching over the map and tracing his fingers over the lines and dots that had been placed by you and Zeke. His veiny hand was hard to pull away from, hard to not imagine the strength behind it. As much as you hated Reiner, he was attractive, conventionally attractive, too bad he was duller than a rock and the most difficult man to work with. In another universe maybe you'd be fluttering your lashes and wooing him into your bedroom, surely the man knew how to use the thing between his legs.

Fingers snapped to grab your attention, destroying the mild fantasy in your head and sending your blood pressure to skyrocketing new levels.

"I asked you a question."

"Repeat it. Obviously I didn't hear you." Snapping back, tapping your pen harshly against the map, seeing the way the fire behind his eyes burned just as brightly as yours, the mutual distaste you shared for one another.

"Have you considered the advantage of creating a blockade, scrap the pure titans and just sending in the warriors?"

"If I had, do you think I would be going over this plan with you now?" Clenching your pen and roughly circling where Fort Slava was and digging the end into the paper. "Creating a blockade requires supplies and patience, Marley is out of patience and wants this done the quickest way possible."

Reiner rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, fishing for the box of cigarettes in his coat pocket, lighting one and taking a long drag before holding it between his fingers. "It's a waste of pure titans when we could be sending them to Paradis."

"Marley isn't going to waste pure titans on Paradis, not when we're about to have the Mid-east in a chokehold they can't get out of, use your fucking head Braun."

The end of his cigarette was pinched between his fingers as he brought it up for another drag, maintaining eye contact with you and that hateful look was shining brighter. Swallowing the smoke, being considerate for once, Reiner mulled over his own thoughts for a moment.

"And Zeke has approved all of this?"

"Obviously yes, there's still a few minor tweaks to be made, but I'm running it by you since you are second in the chain of command."

"Let me guess, minor tweaks as in bending to Zeke's will and letting him have his way?" Laughing in a way that made your blood boil from the condescension. The fucking ego on him.

"This is exactly why I don't like going over shit with you."

"Oh? Is it because someone actually challenges you, makes you think?" Sitting up in his chair and inhaling the cigarette until it was nearly finished, not bothering to swallow the smoke, letting it pour from his mouth as he spoke. "You've got a big head and even bigger ego for being a tactician."

The unbridled rage that turned into a fire in your veins was reaching a boiling point, standing up and walking to his side of the desk, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You're one to talk."

"Oh am I?" Standing up as he grabbed another cigarette from his pocket, swatting your finger away and forcing you to backtrack away from him. You forgot how big the man actually was, dwarfing you easily and suddenly the thought of that was arousing. Sure you hated Braun with every fiber in you, but shit, you'd been so busy lately it was a struggle to find time to give yourself relief.

"That's what I said."

He laughed again and kept walking toward you, knowing sooner or later you were going to back into a wall. "Your ego is bigger than the fucking titan you wield, maybe even bigger than Zeke's and yet you have nothing to show for, all talk."

Now he was beginning to actually look angry and something in you was satisfied with that, curling into a smirk as you realized that you were getting under his skin, just right. His face morphed into a sick satisfied look as he leaned in close once you hit the back on the wall he walked you into, purposely blowing smoke over your face.

"At least I'm doing the actual fighting, you just sit there at a desk on your high horse for drawing up strategies that somehow work out, after of course we change a thing or two to make them work that is."

Impulsively you slapped him across the face and shoved him away, breathing hard and shaking with anger. He said all those things on purpose to get to you, but you didn't fucking care, he deserved it. Reiner looked at you appalled, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth dangling and he took another drag.

"Fuck you."

"Oh I'm sure you want too."

What? Why was heat rushing throughout your body when he said that? Why was your anger simmering as he gave that smug look, one corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as he dangles a cigarette off his lips.

"I don't." Firmly stating, though you weren't even confident in that answer at all. Reiner chuckles and steps towards you again, slowly. You screw and pinch your face as much as you could but it didn't feel real even to you.

"You're a bad liar."

"Even if I was, why would I waste my time with someone who barely knows how to use the thing between his legs."

"You wouldn't be wasting your time sweetheart."

And that was all it took for you to be sprawled out on his desk, papers and files scattered all over the floor from him clearing it off to throw you on top. Hands frantically tore at the other's body, lips biting and sucking the skin that was revealed. All inhibitions were thrown out the door once he sat in his desk chair, leaving you on that desk after ravenging you with his lips, fisting and stroking his thick cock. Whatever came over you was unknown, because you were sliding off the desk and dropping to your knees to suck the tip into your mouth.

His head flew back and a hand fisted your hair instantly, as you started to bob up and down despite the instant ache in your jaw from his size. He was more vocal than you expected, groans and moans of your name slipping so easily from his lips that it made you bit prideful you were quickly able to reduce him to this state.

The greedy fucker shoved his cock down your throat without warning and you choked, digging your nails into his thighs and yet that only turned him on more it seemed, laughing in satisfaction.

"So eager to swallow a cock huh?"

A small pinch to his thigh and he was letting you breathe again, coming up quickly and furrowing your brows. It was funny how he thought he had all the control, and you weren't going to let him think he did.

Standing up on your feet, undoing the belt that held your trousers up, leaving the white coat he ripped open on, your tits bouncing as you finished undressing.

"All you know how to do his talk." Grabbing his face, squeezing his mouth between your hand as you swung your legs over to plant your knee into the leather of the chair, hovering over his leaky cock. "Bet that was the first time someone's deepthroated you huh?"

The warmth of your cunt radiating down on his cock, sent a shiver up his spine, teasing him so deliciously in thinking you were seconds away from spearing yourself on him.

"Not the first and certainly won't be the last." Growling back through his puckered lips, eventually shaking his head out of your hand and pinning it to you back. "Bet you've never taken someone that size before, I could hear the way you fuckin' choked."

There was a satisfaction in his voice, one that angered you so easily. Without giving it much thought, you slammed yourself down on his dick, gasping out and clawing at the nape of his neck, feeling a tiny bit of blood seep under your nails. Stupid bastard may have actually been right about something, you don't think you've taken someone as thick as he is and you were struggling to adjust.

Reiner shared a similar reaction to yours, throwing his head back and cursing out as loudly as he could, the warmth of your cunt suffocating around him in an instant. Despite hating you with everything, he did give you a moment to adjust, he wasn't an animal. But once you were, he was digging his nails into the meat of you ass and fucking up into you, biting down your neck and sucking noticeable marks along the way. And you wouldn't have that.

"The fuck are you doing?" Choking out in a whiny voice, yanking him back by his hair and trying to suppress the moans from the way his cockhead was pressing against your cervix with every thrust.

His eyes shone with the asshole mischief and he harshly bit down on the side of your neck again, pulling himself free from your grip. God, if he weren't somewhat important to Marley, you would've fucking killed him. But you couldn't deny how good you felt right now, so maybe you wouldn't, maybe keep him around to scratch that certain itch that came from time to time.

His pace remained relentless, fast and unforgiving as his feet planted into the wood floors and the squeak of the chair gave way to the rhythm he fucked you too. It was all blurring, your vision nothing but as haze at the fat thick cock of Reiner Braun brought you nearer and nearer to an orgasm.

"You offer yourself this freely to everyone or am I just lucky?" Sneering in such a way the fiery lust boiling in your gut was mixing with anger. Where does he get his fucking audacity from?

"Fuck you." Spitting back, gyrating your hips against his pelvis, stimulating your clit on the sliver of skin revealed by his white button-up riding up on his stomach. And shit, he was built, seeing the ends of his adonis belt and starting to salivate over the man you hated.

"What do you think I'm doing baby?" Lifting you suddenly after breathing out his smart ass remark and carrying you the short distance to lay you back on his desk. The khaki coat and button-up came off, and to your disappointment he wore an undershirt.

Locking your legs around his waist lasted about half a second, his hands coming down to pin your legs to the desk, another cocky and arrogant looking coming from him. You tried to kick him in retaliation, but his lips landed on yours and it was impossible to try and act disgusted, because they were soft and plush, tasting the remnants of his last cigarette on his tongue as it delved into your mouth.

When he broke the kiss, he sent a sharp thrust into you, and you wailed from pleasure, subsequently coming around him and the satisfaction on his face was enough to make you regret allowing yourself to do so in the first place.

Reiner held on of your hip as his vigorous pace renewed, slamming into you and grunting, holding his shirt out of the way with his teeth, giving you a clear view of his sculpted body. Every part of you wanted to bite and suck at the muscle, mark him like he did you, but he was too out of reach.

Time felt like a blur as he stretched and split you open on his cock, so much so you barely registered when his thrusts turned erratic and his groans turned into whines, the telling sign that he was close. Your mind was screaming to tell him to cum in you and you didn't have any explanation as to why you wanted that.

"Getting close? C'mon big boy whine for me." Taunting him and seeing the irritation flash across those golden eyes, a new determination written in them and your cunt fluttered in happiness because you knew he was about to do something out of spite.

A meaty hand came to wrap around your throat, the one on your hip as he still held his undershirt out of the way with his teeth. Arching and moaning like an absolute whore, you threw your legs around him at the last second and held him flush to your hips as his cum filled you immediately.

Reiner released his shirt and panted, still keeping his hand tight around your throat and you merely mouth the words 'do it' to see if he actually would. You had no healing powers and knew the guilt that clung to him and you wondered if he was the actual killer him and others made him out to be. He hated you right?

"Fucking psycho." Was all he said as he released his hand from around your throat, cock still buried inside you. He hovered above you, giving you a disgusted look and you returned the same, kicking him at the hip and allowing his softening cock to slip out.

Nothing but uncomfortable silence filled the air as the two of you dressed, a bit of shame lingering and starting to build. You don't regret it, maybe a little for the fact that it was him, but you don't entirely.

Fastening your belt and fidgeting with your buttons on the white coat, you heard the click of a lighter and saw Braun lighting a cigarette, with his pants still undone but his dick put away. God did he really have no decency?

Noticing your staring, puffing out a plum of smoke, he smirks. "I've got someone coming by in a few minutes, no point in dressing all the way."

What a fucking whore.

"Gross." Gathering the papers you brought in from off the floor, with no help from the man still in his chair. Once it was all put back, you glared at him, snatching the cigarette from his lips and inhaling sharply, swallowing the smoke. He didn't say anything, simply took out another.

"I hope what we went over sticks, because if you fuck this up, it won't be Magath dishing out the punishment, so try not to drain yourself completely." Slamming his office door and marching down the hall, ashing the cigarette you stole while heading to your meeting with Magath.

#reiner x you #reiner x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun #reiner #reiner braun smut #reiner smut #aot reiner #snk reiner #aot smut #snk smut #snk #attack on titan

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transingthoseformers · 24 days ago

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There's no specific designs for them, but there's actually a little bit of information in the Allspark Almanacs on their empire and how it conflicts with the autobot empire in TFA!! Swindle also mentions working with them in one of his episodes

There's a possible mention of their involvement early on in cybertronian history, a war to defend against "invaders from the sky" that sound a mighty lot like what happened in aligned, but it seems like they didn't interact again until another set of smaller conflicts over territory (I'll get the map because the TFA star map from the second Allspark Almanac is INSANE I love maps in worldbuilding) (the autobot empire and the Quintessons' are like right up against each other, and there's no way Sentinel Magnus doesn't push that border more, especially since we don't know if the Quintessons in TFA are mechanical, technoorganic, or organic, but if this is based on aligned then they're probably technoorganic)

I'd say we don't know a whole lot about the TFA Quintessons themselves, but we know about them as a possible regular enemy for the autobots outside of the decepticons

Though considering canon there's definitely an argument for Swindle or Lockdown working with the Quintessons in TFA

#the billion still trips me up #tf worldbuilding?#Quintessons #maccadam #transformers #who I think should be an ex-decepticon current mercenary given how he functions #you will not believe how 100% predictable the usual Great Cybertronian Wat was in TFA #it literally had hundreds of millions of years of lead up #though then again Megatron's rise to power WAS a big igniting factor in it...#but. you know. HUNDREDS of *millions* of years of tension between the protectobots/autobots and destrons/decepticons...#that's a lot #you do not know how much I restrain myself when it comes to drawing up maps and charts #school didn't tell you that charts and scales are fun but only when it's your obsession #there's also very fun Quintesson history we can theorize on here #because there's no goddamn way they have no wars of their own besides the transformers #especially with how the Quintesson Pan Galactic Co-prosperity Sphere is described on tfwiki #and how every empire falls eventually #frothing at the mouth over this btw #so you know

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orionremastered · 1 year ago

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hi! I was wondering how the bats would be with a reader who is disabled or has prosthetics? they're all just very protective of people they care about since...everything, and how maybe that could start to feel sufacating at some point? Or something, idk dude

(also-the way you write is realy cute and sweet for all of them, makes them feel a lot less heavy when they have someone to hold them <33)

Masterlist

Batboys with a Disabled S/O

Dick Grayson [Fully Deaf]

A gentle touch on your shoulder prompts you to slowly turn around, a smile stretching across your face when you realise your boyfriend's back from work.

You pull him into your arms, threading your fingers through his hair. Pulling away reluctantly, you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he's not smiling; only a sad smile that makes you tilt your head in a silent question.

Don't worry about it, he signs. Have a good day?

You nod, though your frown remains when he moves to the kitchen, always adamant that he cooks whenever he's home. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, frowning at the caller ID and puts the phone on speaker as he begins cooking.

Dick gets more and more angry as the conversation goes on, his hands waving wildly around the small kitchen, only stopping to return to the cooking.

Finally, he hangs up. You tap him on the shoulder and he turns, watching as you sign;

Who was that?

Dick's shoulders raise and drop. A case I'm working on. I'll figure it out.

You nod slowly, satisfied with his response.

Jason Todd [Fully Blind]

Mornings with Jason always start like this. They always start with you gently running your fingers across his face, mapping it out and imagining it in your head. Over his nose, his lips, his stubble.

"Did you clean the apartment?" you ask, lying on top of him as your guide dog sits next to you on the mattress. "I almost knocked one of your guns off the counter yesterday."

"I did," he murmurs. You rest your fingers on his lips and feel that they're stretched into a smile. "I'm sorry for letting it get messy."

"That's okay," you reply quietly, "Ollie picked it up before it hit the floor."

Ollie, your guide dog, makes a huffing sound beside you, causing you both to chuckle.

"Good boy," Jason says proudly, feeling him shift underneath you, mostly likely to pat Ollie.

"You're both good. Too good, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asks.

"Hmm."

Tim Drake [Classical Ehlers-Danlos syndrome]

"Love? Can we go for a camping trip on the weekend with my friends?"

Tim turns his head slowly as he sits in his study chair. He taps the pen he's holding against his lips. "What happens if you get exhausted?"

"We can go back to the tent and rest."

"You can get bruises. A lot of bruises," he frowns, gesturing for you to walk to him. You comply.

"That's fine, they're just bruises," you respond, sitting on his lap. He begins gently drawing shapes on the bare skin of your thighs.

"You could dislocate something," he says to you, quieter now.

"You know how to put it back. You do it for me all the time."

Tim's brow furrows at the reminder of having to put back in dislocated joints more often than he'd like. "Fine. But if you even start to get a little tired, you tell me. Okay?"

You rest your forehead against his and murmur, "Okay."

Damian Wayne [Prosthetic Arm]

"I'll take those—"

"Damian, I love you, but I can put shopping bags into the car just fine." This and many similar conversations have been going on practically since the start of your relationship. And while you do find it endearing that he cares, sometimes you just want him to treat you like you didn't lose your right arm in an accident.

The man scowls. "But—"

"I'm not going to hurt myself, really."

He watches you warily, weighing the outcomes of the situation. "Fine. Only the lighter ones."

You suppose it's better than not being able to do any of them. Still, he watches you like a hawk as you put the lighter ones in the back of the car he bought you (you protested but that man has the most selective hearing).

He closes the trunk/boot after the bags are inside.

"Can I drive?" you ask, hoping you'll get luck there too.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

#batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader

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sankttealeaf · 2 years ago

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Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x gender neutral reader #; tealeaf's writing

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writer-logbook · 11 months ago

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How to get back into writing: a 5-steps guide

As someone who hasn't written anything in a decade, this is what I did to get back into writing seriously.

Identify which archetype of writer fits me better. You may have heard George R.R. Martin saying there are two types of writers: gardeners and architects. Whether you believe in that statement or not isn't relevant per se, but the actual meaning behind that point is that you need to get to know yourself as a writer, how you work, what you need, etc., so you can adapt your environment to achieve your goals. Speaking of which…Gentle reminder : you're a person not a robot. You are allowed to work the way you want to, and not to follow whatever pieces of advice that are linked to these archetypes.

Set a realistic word count/session I can stick to over the long term. When you're a 9-6 office employee, it's not always easy to find time to write and sometime our day at work got the very best of us. Having that in mind, I set my word count up to 200-500 words per session or 1 chapter per week (they're rather small in my case). Gentle reminder : babysteps are better than no-step at all.

If I'm not writing, fine, I'll do some research or anything else. Your story will always require something from you. When I'm not in the mood for writing, there are two options : forcing myself or doing what I call para-writing. For instance it's : reading articles or books about improving my writing style, improving my worldbuilding, drawing a map of my city etc. This are not things that would appear in the novel but it would guide me throughout the process the way a walking-stick would do for an injured man. Gentle reminder : you always find something useful to do but at the end of the day, you still have to write.

Have a general idea of what I want to tell. I won't lie, I've plotted my entire novel from the very beginning to the very end, which means I know exactly what to write and when. If you're against having a defined plot, I'm no one to judge, but having at least the key events or the major points will definitely help you. Like a lighthouse, it will help you navigate through the mists of confusion or hesitation. Gentle reminder : It's better to know where to go even if you end up losing yourself along the journey. Having the map doesn't mean you have to follow it, but rather when you can allow yourself to take a step to the side.

Write something I enjoy. A bit cliché I admit, but it's the best advice I could give. You'll spend hours, days, weeks - even years !- on that story so better buckle up to something you really want to write. Otherwise the risk is to abandon that hard-work you've done halfway through the process. No one needs that frustration and that self-doubting questionnings. No one. Not you. Not even me. Gentle reminder : it's okay to want readers and reviews but I promise you, your writing will be really different on something you trully want to share...Remember how pissful it was to write an essay for class you didn't want to ?

#writing #writing advice #writing a book #writeblr #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing help #creative writing #writing process #writer problems #writer blog #writing journey #novel writing #writing challenge #about books and writing #newcomer

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idkyetxoxo · 6 months ago

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Aegon Targaryen - Poisoned Love

Summary - In a match born of duty, Aegon swore he'd never love—but fate had other plans. Passion ignites, turning to a love so fierce it defies their world, only to be shattered by a cruel betrayal that tests the very soul.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2711

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Love was never part of the plan.

From the very first moment, Aegon had railed against the idea of the match his parents arranged—a calculated alliance, devoid of romance and brimming with obligation. He had sworn not to be a pawn in their schemes.

But fate, with its penchant for irony, was relentless.

Against the tide of his own resistance, Aegon found himself falling—slowly at first, then all at once—into a love so profound that it threatened to consume him entirely.

Hopelessly. Tragically. Unstoppably in love.

"So, my love, why exactly must we attend this feast when I have you in such a serene position?" His voice was a rich, teasing purr, the words sending sparks of heat skittering across my skin.

The flickering light of the candles cast shadows on the walls, softening the sharp angles of his face, yet it couldn't dim the intensity of his gaze.

His fingertips traced idle circles along my hips, their warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. With a gentle tug, he pulled me closer, his breath mingling with mine.

I tilted my head back to look at him, a playful smirk on my lips.

"Serene, is it?" I countered, raising a brow. "I didn't realize being at your mercy was so... calming." My words were light, but my pulse quickened as his eyes darkened with desire.

"Oh, it is," he whispered, a smile curving his lips as if I had unknowingly handed him a victory.

"Serene, because it gives me the perfect vantage to appreciate you." He leaned down, his mouth brushing the hollow of my throat, lingering long enough to draw out a soft gasp. His lips moved lower, each kiss deliberate, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"And," he continued, voice huskier now, "it allows me to do this." His hands slid slowly, reverently, beneath my skirts, fingertips grazing bare skin.

The anticipation alone sent a shiver coursing down my spine.

For a moment, I tried to hold on to a shred of propriety. "Aegon, we have to—" The rest of my sentence disintegrated into a breathless sigh as he pressed his body against mine.

The world beyond these four walls faded, leaving only the heat between us. His name became a prayer on my lips, a whisper that carried all the longing and need I had been trying to suppress.

"We have time," he murmured, his lips ghosting over mine. "Just enough to make this moment ours." His words, laced with promise, made my resolve crumble.

He kissed me slowly, with an intensity that made my toes curl. Time stretched out as I melted into him, savouring each caress, each breath, each shared heartbeat.

When he drew back, it was only to study my face—his eyes tracing every curve as though trying to commit it to memory.

He brushed a thumb over my cheek, then lower, tracing my jaw and down the column of my neck. His touch was light, reverent.

He leaned in once more, this time catching my lips in a kiss that was deep and unhurried as if he had all the time in the world to taste and explore.

He lifted me gently, laying me back onto the softness of the bed, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Our movements were slow, languid as if savouring every second.

His hands roamed, mapping familiar territory but treating it like uncharted ground, and I arched into his touch, needing more of him, more of this.

He smiled against my lips, sensing my impatience.

"Patience, my love," he teased, trailing kisses down my collarbone, taking his time.

Each touch, each press of his lips and whisper of his breath against my skin left me trembling. I ran my fingers through his hair, desperate to ground myself as desire built within me.

At last, he met my gaze again, and the look in his eyes made me feel as if nothing else in the world mattered.

"You are everything," he said softly, a confession that left me breathless. He moved then, slowly, achingly so, guiding our bodies together.

The sensation was overwhelming; a slow burn that built intensified with every motion.

"Aegon," I breathed, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he set a rhythm that was both torturously slow and deeply satisfying.

He shifted slightly, finding that perfect angle, and I bit down on my lip to stifle a cry.

Every thrust sent pleasure radiating through me, a tide that rose higher with every touch, every whispered endearment.

"Let me hear you," he urged, his voice low and rough. His thumb traced the edge of my bottom lip, a gentle pressure that sent sparks skittering down my spine.

I gave in, letting him hear every sigh, every soft moan that escaped. The intimacy of it—the closeness, the vulnerability—was almost too much to bear.

He held me as we moved together, his touch firm but tender.

My senses were overwhelmed: the press of his body, the weight of his gaze, the way his breath hitched when I responded to his touch.

I felt myself spiralling higher, pulled inexorably toward release.

When it finally came, it was like shattering into a thousand pieces. I clung to him, calling out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over me.

His own climax followed, and he held me tighter, as if afraid to let go. For a moment, we were both suspended in that perfect, breathless stillness.

Slowly, he withdrew, his touch still gentle, almost reverent.

"My pretty wife," he murmured, the words a soft caress against my skin. He reached for a cloth to clean us, his movements tender and unhurried.

He rearranged my skirts, his fingers lingering as he smoothed the fabric.

"I cannot wait for the day you carry my child," he whispered, a hopeful smile curving his lips. The thought made my heart ache with both joy and trepidation.

I felt my cheeks warm, the secret I held threatening to spill forth. But instead, I met his gaze and smiled.

"Soon," I said softly, kissing his cheek.

With a deep breath, I slipped from the bed and took his hand, leading him toward the feast in the great hall, the promise of our future shimmering between us.

We moved together through the grand feast, weaving our way past the gathered lords and ladies, exchanging greetings and nods.

The hall buzzed with life—laughter mingling with clinking goblets and the melodies of minstrels perched on the dais. Black and crimson banners hung from the high stone walls, flickering in the torchlight, casting shifting patterns over the revelry.

Yet, despite the opulence around me, I felt a growing heaviness in my limbs.

My feet throbbed with each step, a dull ache creeping up my calves. The hours dragged on, and an unsettling churn took root in my stomach, as though the venison I had forced down earlier was a beast clawing to escape.

I pressed a hand to my midsection, hoping to calm the storm.

"Aegon, I don't feel well," I murmured, barely able to keep my voice steady. Within moments, he was at my side, guiding me away from the throng with a gentleness that belied his imposing presence.

He led me to a cushioned chair, his touch firm but tender.

"What troubles you?" he asked, his voice low and laced with concern. He brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his fingers lingering at my temple.

His gaze pierced mine, searching for answers I was not ready to give.

I swallowed hard, struggling to mask the truth that threatened to spill from me.

How could I tell him? How could I reveal that every ache in my body, every wave of nausea, was more than fatigue from the night?

That I carried a secret, nestled deep within, stirring with every heartbeat?

Before I could summon an answer, a shadow fell over us. I turned, and Aegon shifted, his hand instinctively resting on my arm.

A man stood before us, his presence both familiar and foreboding.

"Lord Darry," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. He regarded me with a smile that never touched his eyes—a smile I remembered all too well.

It was the same expression he had worn in my father's halls, where harsh words and sharper glances had been exchanged between our houses.

The rivalry between House Darry and my kin was a bitter one, more entrenched than even the long-standing feud of Blackwood and Bracken.

Marrying into the Targaryen family had done little to soften those wounds.

"My lady," Lord Darry intoned, his words slow and deliberate as if testing their weight. "Or should I address you as 'Princess' now?"

His laugh was light, a mocking echo that resonated beneath the surface pleasantries.

I clenched my jaw, forcing a polite smile. "Whatever pleases you, my lord," I replied evenly, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Aegon's posture stiffened beside me, his protective instincts flaring. I placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea for restraint. This was not the time or place for old grievances to be rekindled.

"Is there something you require, Lord Darry?" I asked, keeping my voice calm.

Beneath the mask of civility, I could feel the pulse of history—a history filled with blood and betrayal—stretching taut between us.

Lord Darry's smile widened, his eyes narrowing as he took a small step closer.

"No," he said softly, the false warmth in his voice barely concealing something darker. "I merely wished to ensure you are well. You appear... pale."

His smile, a blade hidden beneath velvet, never reached his eyes. "Pale, indeed," he murmured, as though tasting the words. "The Targaryen court must be... exhausting."

I forced myself to hold his gaze, my stomach twisting tighter. "I am just a little unwell," I replied, striving for a lightness I did not feel.

My words came out brittle, a thin veneer of composure over the turmoil within.

"Ah," Lord Darry said, his expression one of exaggerated concern.

He reached for a nearby goblet and filled it from a nearby pitcher. The water gleamed in the torchlight, a deceptive mirror to the innocence he feigned.

"Please, take this. It will help," he insisted, pressing the cool metal into my trembling hands.

I hesitated. There was something in his gaze that set my nerves alight, some unspoken malice that I couldn't shake.

But the eyes of those around us were upon me, and refusing his offer would be seen as a slight—a provocation.

Reluctantly, I raised the goblet to my lips and drank. The water was cold, the taste clean, but an icy dread settled deep within my chest.

"Thank you, my lord," I managed, my voice thin. Lord Darry bowed with a flourish, his smile never wavering.

"Rest well, Princess," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd, leaving only the faintest scent of his oils and the weight of a promise unspoken.

Moments stretched into a cruel eternity. Aegon's voice reached me through a haze, his words distorted, as if carried from some distant shore.

His hands were warm against my shoulders, anchoring me to the here and now, but the world had begun to tilt, a spinning blur of noise and light.

I tried to focus, to hold on to something solid, but my breath caught in my throat, and an overwhelming wave of dizziness sent me reeling.

I clung to him, desperate, as the edges of my vision darkened, shadows closing in.

"Something's wrong," I gasped, my fingers digging into his arms as though he could pull me back from the abyss.

Panic flared in his eyes—an intensity I had rarely seen, raw and unguarded. My mouth flooded with warmth, metallic and bitter. I tasted blood before I saw it, crimson spilling down my chin.

"Poison," I whispered, barely audible. The word hung in the air like a death knell.

"No," Aegon breathed, a plea more than a denial. He gripped me tighter as if he could hold back the inevitable by sheer will.

"Stay with me," he begged, voice cracking, his desperation slicing through the haze. He guided me down, his movements careful, his touch reverent, lowering me onto the cold stone floor as chaos erupted around us.

The sounds of the feast faded—distant shouts, the pounding of footsteps—but all that mattered was him.

I saw his face above mine, his features carved in anguish, his eyes searching mine for answers, for hope.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, blurring his face. I had so little time. My heart thundered in my chest, every beat a cruel reminder of what was slipping away.

I needed him to know—I needed him to understand.

"Aegon," I managed, each breath a struggle. "There's something... I have to tell you." Pain rippled through me, but I forced the words out. "I'm... I'm with child."

The realization struck him like a blow. His breath caught, his face crumpling with grief that cut deeper than any blade.

He drew me closer, his eyes wide with shock, disbelief, and a helpless sorrow that broke my heart all over again. For a moment, he was silent, his lips moving soundlessly as if struggling to comprehend.

When he spoke, his voice was low, trembling. "You'll be alright," he insisted as if saying it would make it true. "You have to be."

I felt the sting of tears on my cheeks, mingling with blood. "I don't... want to die," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of fear. "I'm scared, Aegon. I'm so scared."

He pressed his forehead to mine, his tears falling onto my skin.

"I'm here," he swore, his words fierce, desperate. "I won't leave you. I love you." The confession hung between us, raw and unvarnished.

His grip tightened, his hand trembling around mine as if he could hold me here by force alone. I felt the warmth of his touch begin to fade, and with it, my strength.

The pain surged, twisting in my chest, a reminder of every breath I was losing. Around us, the world blurred, but I focused on his face—the desperate lines of his jaw, the tears streaking down his cheeks.

The sight of his anguish was a dagger to my heart.

"I'm with child," I repeated, my voice weaker now, barely a breath. The words, once a promise of life, became a cruel taunt—a cruel joke played by fate.

I watched the hope that flickered in his eyes shatter, leaving behind nothing but raw, unbridled grief.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head as if he could deny reality itself. "You can't—" His voice cracked, a jagged sound that tore through me. "You can't leave me. Not now. Not like this."

"I don't want to," I managed, my chest tightening with every word. I tried to reach for him, but my strength was gone. "I wanted... I wanted to see them. Our child. I wanted—"

The rest was swallowed by a sob, my body trembling in his arms.

"Please," he begged, the mighty prince reduced to nothing more than a man pleading with the gods. "Don't go. Fight. For me. For us."

The pain sharpened, and I knew there was no fighting this. Death had its claws in me, dragging me down.

His forehead pressed against mine, his tears mixing with my blood. "I love you," he said, his voice fierce but laced with despair. "I love you. I should have told you every day. I should have—"

His hands cupped my face, his touch both a comfort and a cruel reminder of everything slipping away. "No," he said, his voice a broken echo. "We still have time."

But time was a lie, slipping like sand through his fingers. I drew in one last ragged breath, each heartbeat a hammering drum of finality.

My vision dimmed, the world receding, and in those last moments, I saw him—just him.

Grief-stricken, helpless. And I hated it. I hated that he had to bear this weight. That he would have to live with this cruelty, to carry our love as a scar.

Darkness took me, cold and unrelenting, and the last thing I heard was his scream—raw, animalistic, echoing in a world that no longer had room for the life we had dreamed of.

The gods had been cruel. Fate had been cruel. And love... love was the cruellest of all.

A/n - I feel cruel xx

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #team green #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #king aegon #hotd aegon

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thelightsgoout · 2 months ago

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to substitute for being cowboy, i watch someone else be cowboy. however, this someone else has NO compassion for horses (best part of cowboy game) and is galloping them to death. also no idea how to look at the minimap.

i am very close to getting over my fear of finishing cowboy game just so i can see cowboy game without this infuriating gameplay.

i wanna play my cowboy game but unfortunately i am terrified of finishing it

#like omg please let go of your shift key #especially when you're just wheeling your horses in circles #what is the point of going at a full gallop in a circle tight enough to break ankles #and it's really not that hard to look at the minimap #or press m to open the larger map #or press space after pressing m to see the index #and it's REALLY not that hard to not pull your gun out and shoot someone for no reason #it even gave you like ten whole seconds to not draw your gun #ughhhhhhhh #maybe i'm the problem #i am incredibly particular about “the right way” to play videogames sometimes #ok actually i do get to be mad about her shooting that guy #because of the immediate remorse and “i didn't mean to shoot him”#the game gave her plenty of time to not shoot him #but i guess she can kill horses if she wants to #ughhhhh #she's not even trying to #she's just not paying attention to the stamina bars #i should just play rd myself but my pc is already heating my room too much #and that game makes its fans audible #also the punching horses #stop punching the horses #e is the get on/off button #f is the melee attack button. please. stop punching horses

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thyfleshc0nsumed · 7 months ago

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I think a big reason that certain trans men are just kinda doing 2010s Meninism But Gay is cuz they view being a man (or a woman, for that matter) as, like, simply an identity. It's a set of pronouns, it's a thing you inject once a week, it's self-contained and exists only within the context of the self, they seem to think.

But like, on a solely internal scale, gender is next to meaningless. Gender is about how the world interacts with us, and how we are able to interact with the world and those around us. And like, in our society, men are the beneficiaries of so many systems, both codified and informal! Being a man, being a woman, in my opinion, is so much less about any internal sense of feeling, and so much more about, like, material positioning in our world.

And like where you're positioned for shit you don't get to choose is not an individual indictment either way, it's just a neutral statement of fact. Even if you don't want to be positioned above or below others based on your status or non status within a group, you still are positioned that way! I could like, stop identifying as a woman or 'queer', and I would still be subject to the marginalizations that i currently face (source: I literally tried for a year, didn't fucking work). I could choose not to identify as a settler, but I would still have the privileges that come along with that.

I mean it basically comes down to whether or not we want to look at the world materially or not: do we believe that existence precedes essence? I don't consider myself a woman because I consider myself a woman. I consider myself a woman because social forces act upon me and position me as such.

If I want to create a map of an area, should I first draw the map or survey the land? If I choose to not draw a lake on spot on the map where a lake truly is, will that lake cease to exist outside of the map? Of course not! If I choose to ignore the existence of the lake, I am only doing so out of stubbornness or personal convenience.

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instant-delusions · 1 year ago

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I am so glad you’re taking reqs!! Beach sex with rafayel on my mind 24/7 😔😳

not u reading my mind...💓💓

☆

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐮𝐩! ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐰: 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

'it's 30°C in linkon right now, people! that means swimming, beach parties, sex on the beach, and beaches."

you groaned at the weather reporter's distasteful pun and reached out to turn the volume of your mini radio down. huffing, you kneeled on your beach towel, re-knotting the strings of your bikini top. your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when you felt stares on you, clenching your fist, you turned around to give whatever man thinks he has the audacity to-

"rafayel." you exclaimed in a relieved tone, letting your fist sink. said man cocked his head to the side with his signature smile - he was wearing dark blue swimming trunks and a creamy shirt, which he left unbuttoned. sunglasses sat on his purple hair, and the sun shined so brightly on him, it almost made his strands look lavender. "is an excuse of a man giving you trouble?" he asked, his voice laced with a tilt of threat. you shook your head, stretching out your legs and supporting your upper body with your arms to look at him. "i'd take care of that myself." you started, pursing your lips, "what're you doing here? i didn't think you'd be the type to enjoy public beaches."

the artist crouched down to be on eye level with you and began to draw random shapes into the sand. "you'd be right. i'm just passing through to the private beach i rented." he pointed his finger westways, signaling to a lonely patch of sand surrounded by trees. you gawked at him after the words 'rented' and 'private beach' left his throat and shook your head in disbelief. "rich people have weird hobbies."

rafayel let out a fake 'ha, ha.' but the grin on his face was genuine. letting his magenta eyes travel around the beach, he took in the empty beer bottles and weird people hanging around. "come, join me. this place sucks."

so you did. even though your crocs were filling up with hot sand, it was thrilling to have a beach just for the two of you. after placing your (definitely not spongebob printed) bath towel, rafayel immediately lifted you over his shoulder and dropped you into the icy, salty seawater. resurfacing, you gasped - pulling your wet hair back from your face.

"you."

just hearing the pure, hot anger in your tone, rafayel booked it into the other direction. "you motherfucker!" you sprinted after him, hunter senses kicking in until you tackled him onto the ground. "you're under arrest, rafayel." a cheshire cat-like grin formed on his face, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "what're you gonna do to me, miss hunter?" he began, leaning closer to your face. "what's my sentence?" he whispered, slowly turning both of you around. feeling the energy switch abruptly, you broke eye contact. "i'll...keep you in a small fishbowl, like cosmo and wanda."

letting out a chuckle, he kissed your bare shoulder. "doesn't seem that bad." nuzzling deeper into your neck, he pressed hot mouthed kisses to your throat and collarbone, making you whine out needily. "please, rafa. not here, they'll see." locking eyes with him, you knew this was a useless battle. his eyes were glazed over, a hunger you knew all too well reflecting in them. "I don't care." he said, voice muffled by your skin. spreading your legs, you gave him space to settle, which he took with delight. "seems like you don't care, either." you reacted with a pout, not wanting to admit you were down bad this immensely for him. "I'm still dripping from your attack. it must taste bad. or maybe it'll make a fish like you nostalgic."

rafayel laughed at your attempts to cover your shyness, finding it weirdly endearing. it is very unlike him to choose to stay quiet, but he did - drawing a map from your collarbone, between your chest and down to your waist with his lips, wetting them with seawater and the taste of you. he tightened the grip on your thighs once you started squirming, letting his other hand travel just a bit higher to undo the strings of your bikini and let it fall down your legs.

"fuck, I can't wait to taste you." rafayel rasped, guiding your legs onto his shoulders. a bright blush erupted on your cheeks, and you covered your face with your hands, panicking slightly. it's not like this is the first time you've slept with him, though somehow the same feeling pooled in your tummy - a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. rafayel's passionate and upfront personality makes sex feel so much more like an adventure. kissing your inner thighs, he teased what was about to happen, making you cage him in as if it were a reflex. "tsk." he tutted, tapping his finger on the plump of your upper legs to warn you. "behave."

it's very unlike you to submit, but for him, you do. you arch your back, whine and moan as he parts your wet folds with his fingers and licks long stripes between them, stopping everytime once he reaches your clit - kissing, biting and sucking it. thinking about having the most sought-after man in linkon between your legs makes this even more intense, and you feel yourself getting wetter. rafayel notices this as well, pumping a finger into your hole to make more of your juices seep out. he just liked the taste of you too much, he can't help it.

"get on your stomach." he said, watching you turn over. luckily, you caught a short glimpse of his reddened ears and his wet chin. once you were positioned to his liking, he gave your ass a spank, watching it jiggle with delight. a yelp escaped you as he did it again, grabbing it forcefully and pulling you flush against his hardened cock. feeling him pulse through the fabric of his trunks had you mewling, grinding your backside against him feverishly. "impatient, huh?" he commented hotly, clumsily pulling his drooling cock out, "me too."

all this waiting had you dizzy. grunting, you reached back and took his cock in you hand, to which he let out a surprised gasp. you felt it oozing out pre and almost moaned at how turned on your lover was too. not-so gently, you guided him between your folds and pressed your ass to his pelvis, taking it all at once. feeling him fill you up so nicely, his tip prodding at your cervix and every twitch of his pale dick mingling into your walls made you moan deliciously.

"fuck, (y/n), you're driving me insane." he whined, pushing his hand to your upper back to press you down, rafayel started to languidly drag his cock along your walls. everyone knows this artist isn't known for his patience or for being monotone, so the rhythm faltered quickly, ending in him thrusting into you so hardly, your ass clapping against his thighs echoed through the beach. you feared the water god he talked about might feel the ripples on the sea, cursing you for being so naughty in front of his domain. you screamed out, helplessly scratching at the sand underneath you as some sort of anchor for your sanity, but you lost yourself to the pleasure the moment he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his chest against your back, freely moaning and cursing into your ear.

"princess, you feel so good. fuck, your pussy is creaming on my cock, it's gonna suck me dry this time, I swear." he babbles. rafayel talks a lot normally, but once he loses himself inside you, the words just flow out. "r-ra-af", you choke out between thrusts, "it feels so good, oh my god." your pussy flutters once he hits a certain spot, and he immediately notices - abusing it with no hold-backs. if there's anything he wants, it's for you to go above and beyond the lines of pleasure, so he starts circling your clit with three fingers quickly, drawing circle and infinity shapes just how you like it. with no warning, no build up, you fall apart quickly, screaming his name to the heavens while you feel your soul escaping your body with a mind shattering orgasm. after a few seconds, your body is drained off all strength, and you become a doll in his hands to fuck his cum into.

"(y/n), you should've seen your face right now, never saw something more beautiful. it was so hot, fuck-" he buries his head into your neck while he lazily thrusts into you a few times more, stuffing his cock so deep into your pussy you fear he might target your womb. he doesn't move, keeping his pelvis flush against your back while filling you up -

"fuck, it's yours. I'm yours. take it."

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