#Fantasy Guide to interiors

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Interiors

As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.

Interior Design Terms

Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.

Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.

Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.

Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.

Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.

Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.

Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.

Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.

Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.

Niche: A sunken area within a wall.

Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.

Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.

Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.

Façade: front portion of a building

Lintel: Top of a door or window.

Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns

Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building

Skirting: border around lower length of a wall

Ancient Greece

Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Ancient Rome

Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.

Ancient Egypt

Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.

Ancient Africa

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Japanese Interiors

Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.

Common features of Japanese Interior Design:

Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Islamic World Interior

The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.

Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)

The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.

Indian Interiors

India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.

The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.

Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.

Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.

Chinese Interiors

Common features of Chinese Interiors

Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.

Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.

Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).

Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.

Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.

Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.

Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.

Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.

Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.

Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.

Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)

Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.

Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)

The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.

Tudor Interior (1485-1603)

The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.

Baroque (1600 to 1750)

The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.

Victorian (1837-1901)

We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.

Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)

This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.

Art Deco (1920s-1930s)

The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.

Modernism (1930 - 1965)

Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.

#This took forever #I'm very tired #But enjoy #I covered as much as I could find #Fantasy Guide to interiors #interior design #Architecture #writings #writing resources #Writing reference #Writing advice #Writer's research #writing research #Writer's rescources #Writing help #Mediaeval #Renaissance #Chinese Interiors #Japanese Interiors #Indian interiors #writing #writeblr #writing reference #writing advice #writer #spilled words #writers

[lil-tachyon]

What all roleplaying games have you worked on?

I'll try to name them all here but there are a lot and some of them are pretty small so I may miss a few by accident.

Epochrypha (2018) by Skerples was both the first piece of paid work I did and also the first game supplement I worked on. This is so old I was still inking digitally.

I also provided illustrations for Magical Industrial Revolution and The Monster Overhaul by the same author.

Monster Overhaul was neat because I did interior illustrations in early 2020 but didn't do the cover until 2022 so you can see quite a stylistic evolution.

From 2018 to 2020 things were pretty quiet for me until I worked on The Shifting City by Dank Dungeons. People really liked the cover for some reason and that basically created a career for me. I still get people asking me to basically recreate this cover a few times a year:

I did a handful of illustrations from 2020 to 2022ish for Ukuwa Station that ended up in The Field Guide to Mfecane, a third party afrofuturist Lancer expansion.

Our Vale of Discontent was a small game I worked on in 2020:

Mycosis is a Mork Borg dungeon I worked on around this time, which notably marked my first attempt at doing some goofy black metal title font.

I did most of my illustration work for Desert Moon of Karth by Joel Hines in late 2020 and early 2021:

The sequel, Tide World of Mani is still being worked on. I just finished my last interior illustrations for it a month or two ago.

AZAG by Dank Dungeons was a game I worked on throughout 2021 that was a blast and I think more people should know about.

At some point in 2021 I did a bunch of pieces for Lore & Legacy although I don't remember exactly when. These never got posted but the book's been out for a while now so maybe I'll show them off later.

Late in 2021 was when I started doing illustrations for The Electrum Archive by Emiel Boven (I think issue 2 is out soon).

Early 2022 I did a bunch of character illustrations for some Victorian horror fantasy game that I don't think ever actually came out (commissioner never responded to me when I asked about it at least) which is a shame because I'm proud of these. At least I got paid!

This was another one for a game that I don't think ever came out:

I did character designs for Nebula Chaos by Polyhedra Games in 2022:

Then Neon Saber by Olivia Miller

Then some pieces for If Worlds Collide:

Then Critters & Companions by Pearse Anderson:

Ran out of space for images, I'll finish this in part 2...

#artists on tumblr #ttrpg art #rpg art #fantasy #scifi #ligne claire #long post #send me an ask!

[handful0fteeth]

sexy when you scream

kinktober day 2: roleplaying

summary: you told eddie you wanted him to stalk you. he obliges, and makes your wildest fantasy come true.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: slight 90s!au, smut, minors DNI, explicit language, lots of dirty talk, A LOT of cnc, stalking kink, kidnapping kink, bondage, fearplay, (slight) knifeplay, rough sex

words: 9.7k

Oh, you are so fucked.

The cold, hard metal of your keys bite into your palm as you clench your hands together, pressing them against your chest as you slowly take inventory of your porch. 

You wouldn't believe it if you weren’t standing here and seeing this with your own eyes. But here it is, in all its terrifying, thrilling glory. You worry your bottom lip with your teeth and take a step back.

Hundreds of daisies have been sprinkled on your front stoop; some rest in clumps atop the seats of your wicker chairs and a dusty metal table, while others are threaded through the thin whorls of metal within your iron porch columns. A path of daises led you to this discovery in the first place, smatterings of pink, white, and red petals and long green stems guiding you to your home from the driveway. In front of your door, pink clusters have been arranged to form the first initial of your name inside of a crude heart.

 A cold wind blusters a few flowers across the tops of your tennis shoes, and you retreat down the concrete steps leading up the porch a little further. This egregious display was most certainly not here when you left for the gym an hour ago. You adjust your duffel bag on your shoulder and swallow hard despite your suddenly bone-dry mouth.

You know who did this. You spin on your heel, scanning the sparse forest encasing your home for anything - or anyone - who shouldn’t be there. 

“Hello?” Your voice is small, scared, fluttering away on the autumnal breeze with all the conviction of a mewling kitten. The forest remains defiantly silent. 

You see it when you’ve stepped onto your driveway, back turned to the floral explosion blocking your door. Nestled about one hundred yards away from your house, mostly camouflaged beneath a tapestry of oak leaves that have gone red and orange with the October chill, is the white-brown front bumper of a car. 

No, not a car - a van. 

Your stomach flips as you ascend your porch steps. The trees are blocking the windshield, so you can’t see if anyone occupies the van’s interior, but it feels like eyes are on you. Trying to find your house key proves difficult as your hands shake, and you keep glancing over your shoulder to ensure the van doesn’t move. Losing sight of it somehow feels scarier than knowing it’s there.

You finally slip the correct key into the lock, but when you turn it, there’s resistance. You try again - no luck. You hold the knob and lift, shimmying the key inside the door to dislodge whatever lay inside, but nothing gives. Sweat beads at your hairline and pools in your palms, and just as you’re about to throw the keys down in defeat, you notice your silhouette is pasted against the door. The world is suddenly much brighter than it was moments ago, and when you chance a look behind you, you realize why.

The van’s headlights have flared on. You blink against their harsh yellow light as your stomach drops into your shoes.

Shit. You bend, trying to peer inside your lock's narrow channel to figure out what’s jamming it. The dying evening light doesn’t give you much clarity, and you curse yourself for forgetting to switch on the porch light before you left. 

A loud rumble pierces the air, disturbing a few nesting birds nearby into flight; he’s revving the engine. 

Yep, definitely fucked.

You scrape the tip of your key along the rim of the lock, hoping you can dislodge whatever’s inside to unlock your door. White and pink petals crumble out, and it dawns on you as the glow of the headlights abruptly shuts off, and the engine cuts out. 

He’s stuffed daisies in the door.

“Motherfucker!” you growl, slapping your hand uselessly against the doorjamb. 

The sound of a car door slamming shut makes you whip around. The oak trees still obstruct your view, so all you can make out of the figure now slowly stalking toward you are a pair of dingy white sneakers crunching over the carpet of rotting leaves. 

You don’t think - you just act. You swing your duffel back off your shoulder, offloading the unnecessary weight, and hear it crash into one of your wicker chairs as you dash down your porch steps. You fly around the side of the house, mud squelching and slipping beneath your tennis shoes, and just before you reach your backdoor, you trip.

All the air in your lungs whooshes out as you collide with the cold, wet ground, and mud squishes up between your fingers as you skid forward on your stomach. Pain zaps through the knee you landed on like lightning, and you gasp, but you don’t have time to sit here. He’s gaining on you. You can feel his presence at your back, if you can just get inside before he reaches you…

You scrabble forward, clawing at the mud and flinging clumps behind you as you struggle back up to your feet. Footsteps squish behind you, measured, slow.

The screen door crashes against the wall as you fling it open, but you hardly hear it over the blood rushing through your ears. Luckily, or stupidly, you never lock your back door, and though you have a hard time grasping the knob with your mud-slick palms, it gives way quickly as you barrel your entire body through it. When you slam it shut, your whole house rattles. A silence settles over you, thick like smoke and just as suffocating. Over the roar of blood in your ears, all you can hear is your own ragged breathing. 

Then, you laugh.

You bend over, hands gripping your knees, lungs still burning, heart still pounding, and you start laughing. Mud is drying on your skin and clothes, and as your body quakes from the force of your laughter, flakes drift to the floor in front of you. Adrenaline throbs through your body, and something stirs in your stomach, intermingling with the fear that’s still got your teeth on edge and your hands shaking. Before you can name it, the doorknob in front of you jiggles.

He’s trying to open it.

You slap both hands over your mouth to stifle the giggles still pouring out. You wonder if he can hear you, if your girlish sounds of mirth are amusing or irritating to him. The knob wiggles harder, more insistently, forcing the door to tremble on its hinges, and just when you think it’s going to shake itself loose - it stops. The quiet creeps back in as you lower your hands, giggles under control for now. Seconds bleed into minutes, and you’re just standing by the door, watching it expectantly, like at any moment, the lock will magically fail and allow your unexpected guest inside. 

Bangbangbang!

You can’t help the scream that bursts from your lips. The sound of a demanding fist pounding on your door rings out like a shot, and you aren’t even aware that your feet are whisking you away and into your kitchen until you’ve almost run straight into the counter. When you whip back around, ready to threaten the presence at the door and bluff your ass off, the banging stops as suddenly as it started.

Oh, he’s good.

You scurry to the living room and snap the curtains closed on all the windows, but not before peering outside. You eye the spot where the van is supposed to be parked and are met with nothing but empty forest.

Where did he go? He couldn’t have driven off that quickly, could he? Surely you would’ve heard the tires squeal over the forest floor, and surely he couldn’t have disappeared in a matter of seconds? You nibble your bottom lip again and back away from the windows.

You rub your bare arms, trying to soothe the gooseflesh that’s apparated over your entire body and take a deep, shuddering breath. Your heart still thunders against your ribcage, so much so that you’re sure it’d be audible from across the room. 

You only notice the envelope taped to your fridge when you turn to face the kitchen.

You almost scream again. The writing on the outside is a familiar scrawl, addressed in black ink to a “Sweetheart.” Your legs are like lead as they shuffle over to the fridge, and when you bring the letter to your face with trembling fingers, a blend of cigarettes, weed, and something earthy-sweet wafts into your nose. Your resolve melts a little when you peel open the envelope and read the note within:

Hope you liked the flowers. I picked ‘em special for you. I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart, even if you don’t see me. Behave yourself.

A shiver ripples down your spine. You run your fingers over the letter, feeling where he’s pressed the pen into paper so hard it’s left indentations. God, you’re so tempted to run outside and call for him now, to end this little game before it’s even truly begun - the heat in your cheeks and the throbbing between your legs demands it. But where’s the fun in that? 

You hug the note to your chest, chewing your lip, and slide down to the floor like a smitten schoolgirl instead of someone who should be terrified that their house was broken into and that whoever broke in left you a note promising constant observation. And on some level, you are scared. But the fear is the best part of all of this.

When Eddie asked you weeks ago if you ever had any fantasies you’d be interested in roleplaying, you’re sure he was expecting you to say you’d love to be the naughty student to his seductive professor or even something in a fantastical, magical vein that he could really sink his teeth into, but you didn’t. You hadn’t wanted to answer him at first, truthfully, because for all the dark, wicked things you’d already confessed made you embarrassingly wet, you didn’t think Eddie would be very on board with the idea of acting like some psycho stalker while you pretended to fear for your life.

Oh, how wonderfully wrong you were. 

You hardly had to elaborate on the finer details of your fantasy before he emphatically agreed to participate, and he didn’t allow you to leave anything out, either. When you tried, when you curled in on yourself or tucked your head out of shyness, Eddie was there, grabbing your chin and crowding into your space, encouraging you with his velvet-soft tenor to keep going. The words tumbled out of you so freely it was like you weren’t even thinking about them - you confessed to wanting to be desired so fiercely that nothing would stop Eddie in his pursuit, not even you running from him. You wanted him to obsess over you, to make it clear that he was always there, always watching and waiting for another opportunity to express his devotion, whether you liked it or not.

You admitted, with Eddie’s deft fingers rubbing tantalizing circles around your clit, that you wanted him to make you scared. True, bone-chilling fear isn’t what you were after; you just wanted that thrill, that dump of adrenaline that kicked your body into overdrive, like when you’d watch a scary movie. In the face of mundanity, the dreary day-to-day that was living in Hawkins, that jolt of fear let you know, doubtlessly, that you were alive. 

The shrill chime of the phone tears you from your thoughts, and you yelp. You back into the fridge reflexively, eyeing the phone on the adjacent wall like it’s a wild animal rearing to bite if you make a move toward it. Your heart batters so hard against your chest that you’re sure it’ll burst free at any moment and plop on the floor in a bloody, steaming heap. Gross.

You don’t move, and the phone rings out. The house isn’t silent for a full second before a second call jars the receiver, and you swallow thickly. You wonder how many calls you’d have to ignore before Eddie came banging around the house again, and for a moment, you consider doing just that. But that’s not part of the game. You’re supposed to be a poor, helpless victim who does just the wrong thing at just the wrong time. So you stand, your thighs quaking with the effort of keeping you upright, and pick up the phone.

“H-Hello?” 

“Why’d you run from me, sweet thing?” Eddie croons. His voice is dark and smooth, and even through the receiver, it rumbles right down into your core. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Who is this?” you ask, and though the tremble in your voice is real, it isn’t from fear. You’re so fucking excited. You have to chew on your thumbnail just to suppress the giggles building in your throat, and you’re glad, for once, that Eddie can’t see the smile on your face. 

“Aw, what, you don’t recognize me?” Eddie pouts, and you can practically hear him jutting out his bottom lip. “That hurts, sweetheart. Really stings.”

“Who…who the fuck are you?”

Eddie sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth. “Ouch, such foul language from such a pretty girl. I should wash your mouth out for that.”

The thought is, confusingly, very arousing. You decide you’ll table that and bring it up to Eddie at a later date.

“Anyway. D’you get my note?” he asks, as cool and casual as ever. 

“I…How the fuck did you get into my house?”

He laughs. “Let’s not pretend you live in Fort Knox here, sweetheart. All I needed was a few tools and five minutes, and boom - it opened up like it was waiting for me. Just like you will.”

Fuck. You choke on your tongue as you press your back to the wall, knees buckling and threatening to drop you to the floor. You wonder where he’s calling from, if he drove away from your house, or if he just retreated further into the woods. If he’s out there now, watching, waiting. 

“I’m not doing shit for you, you fucking weirdo,” you snarl, and Eddie laughs again. 

“I am definitely gonna have to teach you some manners, aren’t I? Rude little thing, you are. I wonder if you’d be so keen on mouthing off if I was standing right in front of you.”

“I’m not scared of you.” A lie; you’re most definitely scared, but you’re also so fucking horny you’re having a hard time thinking straight. By sheer force of will, you don’t beg down the phone for Eddie to just come and take you now. You want to wait and play this whole thing out just as you two had planned, but God, it is so hard to have patience when he condescends to you. 

“You should be,” Eddie purrs. “‘Cause you know what I like to do to mouthy little brats like you?” You hear him shift wherever he is, and the sigh that billows past his lips sends a shiver down your spine. You know that sound intimately, and how his breath hitches as he speaks confirms precisely what you’re thinking.

“I like to make them scream. Break ‘em ‘til they beg for mercy. And it’d be so easy to do, tiny little thing like you can’t even run two feet without tripping over herself.” 

Your mind goes blank. An embarrassed flush rises high on your cheeks, but you hardly notice; Eddie’s low, almost imperceptible groan is bouncing around the inside of your skull, and you know for a fact you heard the jingle of his belt coming undone. He’s touching himself, maybe pulling his cock out of his jeans as you speak, so aroused at what he has planned for when he gets his hands on you that he can’t help himself. You clench your thighs tightly, pretending your panties aren’t getting wetter by the second.

“I-I’m gonna call the cops,” you threaten weakly. “I’m gonna c-call them right now, and when they get here they’ll-”

“They’ll what, sweetheart? Hm? C’mon, don’t be silly, you know they won’t believe you. Not like they’d be faster than me anyway. By the time they busted in, I’d already have my cock down your throat.”

You have to bite down on the back of your hand so hard it hurts to stop the moan that wants to spill out. This side of Eddie, this arrogant, cold, mean side of him, is unexpected but dizzyingly sexy. You can’t help the image that trickles into your brain: you on your knees, your hair fisted in Eddie’s hand as he thrust himself so deep in your throat that you’d have no choice but to gag on him, blinking tears from your eyes as your supposed “rescuers” came face-to-face with the very man you called to report in the first place. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N,” Eddie promises, his voice gruff with arousal. “But I’ll make sure you don’t see me ‘til I want you to. Think you can be a good girl for me ‘til then?”

“Fuck you,” you spit, and he laughs.

“I thought so.” There’s a pause, and when Eddie speaks again, it’s softer, quieter, like he’s afraid someone is eavesdropping. “Are you okay, by the way? Like, really. That fall looked like it hurt.”

You smile, twisting the phone cord around your fingers. “I’m okay, baby. Just muddy. I don’t even think I scraped anything.”

“Good. Do you remember your safeword, angel?”

“Mmhm. Mercy.”

“And what happens if you call mercy?”

“Everything stops, right there and then,” you say, repeating what you’d gone over probably dozens of times before tonight. As excited as Eddie was, he refused to participate in anything risky like this without a safeguard, for both of your sakes. As he’d put it, “If the whole point is you sayin’ ‘no,’ how am I supposed to know when that really means ‘no?’” 

Eddie chuckles. “That’s my good girl. Alright, go get cleaned up. I’ll be watchin’ you.”

The line goes dead without another word.

You stare at the receiver for what feels like a long, long time. You’re half expecting him to call you back, maybe to taunt you some more, but he doesn’t.

You’re still so fucked. And you’re thrilled.

~~~

Days pass without much incident.

When you wake up the next morning, the daisies have all mysteriously disappeared from your porch, as if they were never there. Your duffel bag has been propped up in one of your wicker chairs, but when you unzip it, it’s empty, save for a single pink daisy at the bottom. You don’t know if Eddie’s around or watching, so you stealthily pluck the flower out of your bag and tuck it close to your chest. You suppose it sort of ruins the illusion if you keep your “stalker’s” creepy calling card, but beneath that, who are you to throw away the flowers your boyfriend gifts you?

You try to go about your life normally but catch yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, flinching at every twig that breaks in the woods, running to the window to fling the curtains open if you think you hear a voice on the breeze outside. There’s never anything there, but you always check. Nighttime is when Eddie’s decided he’s going to mess with you the most. He doesn’t need to break in, as you gave him a key ages ago, but you’d discussed that feeling more authentic for the fantasy, so he does it. 

He comes in at around three o’clock every night - you awake to footsteps creaking along your floorboards, shadows rippling over your wall, and dissipating in the blink of an eye, but when you gather the courage to storm down the hallway, he’s nowhere to be seen. You only know he was there because his scent lingers behind him, earth-sweet and smokey with cigarettes. The anticipation makes it harder to fall asleep every night, like a kid waiting to catch Santa Claus in the act.

After a week, he amps it up. You awake to daisies in front of your bedroom door, and when you return home from work that night, a white one is on your pillow. He’s edging closer and closer to you, circling like a vulture readying its descent toward its meal. You start waking up to calls in the middle of the night, but when you pick up, Eddie doesn’t speak. He only breathes, deep and slow, into your ear until you scream at him and hang up. You toothlessly attempt to brat at him, perhaps bait him into just doing whatever the fuck he’s planning already, but he remains cool-headed. When you swear at him, he merely chuckles, a knowing, expectant sound, and any insults you can conjure during your calls go unheeded. 

That’s possibly the scariest part about this - Eddie does not, and has never, taken your bratting lightly. He enjoys nothing more than putting you squarely back in your place should you decide to put even one toe out of line, so the fact that he’s permitting abject disrespect and taunting from you means he is biding his time. You know he’s running a mental tally in his head, and you will soon reap the consequences. 

That thought runs rampant in your head when you doze off one night, too exhausted to keep your eyes open. The book you’re reading lays askew on your lap, and the rain pattering against your window lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. You don’t know what time you drift off at, nor how long it is before you’re jostled awake, but when you regain consciousness, you’re immediately cognizant of three things.

First, you are upside down. Blood pools in your skull, making it very hard to concentrate on anything but the dull, persistent throb in your head.

Second, you can’t move. You thrash uselessly, but your arms burn in the position they’re forced into behind your back, and your legs have been bound at the ankles. 

Lastly, your mouth is full. You try to scream, but the sound comes out garbled behind a thick, round hunk of something that’s been shoved so far into your jaw that it aches. You can feel thin straps on either side of your face, digging into the tender flesh of your cheeks, and when you poke at the strange object with your tongue, all you feel is smooth, rubbery roundness.

The fog of sleep stubbornly refuses to clear quickly enough for you to orient yourself, so all you can gather for a moment is that you’re cold. When you shiver, a dark, gleeful sound slithers up your spine, one you’d recognize any day.

“Well, good morning, gorgeous,” Eddie hums, and when he shifts, you glean a better understanding of what’s going on. He’s thrown you over his shoulder as if you weigh less than nothing and brought you outside somewhere. You can’t tell if you’re just outside your house or if this is a different part of the woods - all you can see are the dark, spindly shadows of dying trees against the velvet black of the night. You thrash futilely, screaming obscenities at him as best you can as buzzing heat cracks through your veins like lightning.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Didn’t order a wake-up call, huh?” 

His voice sounds oddly muffed, though you can’t discern if that’s due to the blood roaring in your ears. Something clatters open ahead of him, and before you can blink, you’re being tossed through the air. You shriek and land on something warm and soft; when you flex your fingers against it, you realize it’s a pile of thick, fuzzy blankets laid atop what appears to be a mattress. You don’t need to look further to realize where Eddie’s dumped you - you’re inside his van.

He’d modified the back of it ages ago, when you first started dating, partially because having sex on the floor was murder on your back and hips, but mostly so you two could have somewhere private to sleep and hang out. Eddie didn’t have anything against going to your place, but he always seemed…stiffer, somehow, inside the four walls of your home. Like he was acutely aware that he didn’t belong there, or at least didn’t feel like he belonged. Your house's tidy, eclectic decor was so different than the cluttered, shabby interior of his trailer, and that had never bothered you, but it so clearly bothered him.

When your eyes fall on Eddie’s face, you realize why he’d sounded so strange. He’s wearing a mask, one he no doubt procured from a Halloween store - the long, white face appears perpetually frozen in a mournful scream, and its black eyes are narrowed at you in apparent anguish. A black shawl hides Eddie’s long hair, blending in with his all-black outfit tonight. He tilts his head at you slowly, crossing his arms and leaning against the van’s open door.

“Whatsa matter, pretty girl? You look so scared. You scared of me?” His voice is cloyingly sweet, deliciously patronizing. You whip your head from side to side, viciously denying it, even though your entire body is shaking and your heart is hammering against your chest. You’re coming to regret your choice of pajamas tonight, as the thin, silky nightgown you’d chosen before slipping into bed does nothing to protect you from the frigid air trickling into the van. 

You’d also forgone panties entirely, something you aren’t sure Eddie’s noticed yet.

How long had it taken him to tie you up? You wiggle your arms within their bonds and glance down at your legs, noting the white, plastic sliver encompassing your ankles. Zip ties? Where the fuck did Eddie get zip ties? And how did he manage to use them without you waking up? Surely, no one was that careful.

Drool oozes from the corners of your mouth, dribbling embarrassingly down your neck, heedless of your attempts to rub it away with your shoulder. 

“If you behave, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Eddie coos. He bends toward you, and a single, black-gloved finger crooks beneath your chin. He angles your face toward him, expression entirely indiscernible beneath his mask. His thumb brushes over your cheek so gently, mopping up some of your saliva, and you have to remind yourself of the part you’re playing so you don’t lean into his touch.

Then, Eddie’s hand is gone from your face, only resuming occupancy on your body when it closes around your throat. You squeak, a wet, pathetic sound from beneath your gag, and your eyes go wide as saucers.

“Although, you seem fucking incapable of behaving yourself lately,” he snarls, jostling you back and forth. “What’d you think was gonna happen, hm? Acting all fucking high and mighty, talking to me like I’m some scumbag? You need to learn some fucking respect, girl, some goddamn humility.”

You whimper, Eddie’s threats tingling pleasantly down to your pussy. Tears well up in your eyes, and you desperately try to communicate an apology, but it all comes out as broken nonsense. You knew this was coming; you knew he wouldn’t let you off scot-free for anything you’d said over the past week, but something about the white-hot indignation in his voice makes the fear smoldering beneath your arousal burn that much brighter. You try wrenching out of his grip, but all that earns you is a fist knotted in the hair at the back of your head. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Eddie mocks, pitching his voice higher. “Yeah, I bet you think you are. But you’re gonna learn what sorry looks like soon, what it really feels like. I told you, breaking little brats like you and making them scream for mercy is one of my favorite pastimes.”

Eddie shoves you onto your back, and the faint light from the yellowish bulb inside the van vanishes as he crawls on top of you. The chalk-white features of his mask hover just above your face, shiny and thick and reeking of powder. You wail in protest, hurling muddled insults at him while trying in vain to tug yourself free of the zip ties. The struggle feels good, cathartic, in a way. It helps to alleviate all the jittery, excited energy pent up inside your body, and it thrills you to know that Eddie won’t stop fighting you right back unless you call mercy. He’ll take what he wants from you as roughly as he pleases, and in turn, you’ll give him everything you have. You trust him implicitly, so when he grabs your throat again and squeezes until you’re gasping around your gag, you lay there with raw, feral arousal roiling in your belly instead of fear. 

“How’s my angel?” Eddie whispers into your ear, and you relax further into his hand. His fingers slacken just enough to allow you a small, shallow breath, and you nod vigorously. You hope your eyes can communicate what your mouth can’t right now. 

“Good girl, you’re doing great. If you need to tap out, I want you to kick your feet down three times, okay?” He raps his knuckles by your head to demonstrate his point. You nod again.

When he lifts his body off yours, cold air sweeps you up in its grasp, and you shudder. Wordlessly, Eddie hops out of the van and slams the door shut, leaving you alone in the back. He jumps in the front and revs the engine just as you’ve begun to scream and flail around again.

“Scream all you want, sweet thing,” he encourages. “No one’s gonna be able to hear you anyway. Nobody’s comin’ to save you from me.” The metallic squeal of a guitar suddenly bursts into your eardrums; Eddie’s turned on the radio and cranked it almost full blast, effectively drowning out all your cries for help. If anyone were outside the van, they wouldn’t even know you were there.

Eddie hits the gas, and the van thunders to life before speeding off into the night.

~~~

You must be more tired than you’d initially thought because somewhere between your initial “kidnapping” and the van finally skidding to a stop, you doze off again. 

It’s hard not to - Eddie blasts the heat, probably because he can see you shivering in his rearview mirror, and the blankets pressed beneath your nose smell just like him. How can you not bury your face in them? And you only intended to shut your eyes for a second, honestly.

A hand caressing your cheek pulls you from your sleepy haze, and you blink at Eddie’s still-masked face. Having briefly forgotten he was wearing it, he startles you, and you suck in a sharp breath as best you can through your gag. He chuckles.

“Just me, pretty girl. Look at you, drooling all over yourself already.”

You feel the slimy wetness of your saliva coating the side of your face as soon as he mentions it, and you self-consciously try to wipe some of it away by rubbing your face into the blanket. He lifts the corner and dabs it along your cheek and jaw.

“Do you need a minute, baby?” he asks. “You look so comfy.”

You shake your head. You can sleep back here whenever you want, but Eddie’s gone through all the trouble of dragging you out here (wherever here is) for a reason. You’re dying to see what it is. 

Satisfied with your answer, Eddie wraps his fist in the front of your nightgown and pulls so hard he forces you into a sitting position. Your arms tingle and your head spins with the sudden decrease in blood as he tugs on the loops holding your gag secure. As they fall away, the rubber ball in your mouth plops into your lap, but your mouth isn’t empty for more than a moment before Eddie’s gloved fingers slide across your tongue and press into the back of your throat. You gag and gasp in surprise, trying to flinch away, but Eddie holds your head in place with his free hand.

“If you scream, the next thing going in your mouth is gonna be my boxers,” he warns, and you wrinkle your nose. That’s a soft limit, something you’re not entirely willing to try but are open to having your boundaries pushed about, especially for a punishment. Admittedly, a dark, perverse thrill slinks through your gut at the thought. Having Eddie on your tongue like that, inescapable and unavoidably pungent, is equally humiliating and intriguing. But you don’t have time to try and weigh that thought out, so you just whimper and rock your head from side to side as much as possible.

“That’s what I thought. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

He drags you out of the van by your gown, swinging your body in front of his as you settle unsteadily on your feet. You squint into the surrounding darkness and realize with a cold squeeze of dread that you have no earthly idea where Eddie has driven you. The trees are thicker here, dying leaves black in the moonlight, and there are no stars when you look up at the sky, only bulbous clouds. The air is still and cold, dense with the threat of rain. 

The edge of something scintillatingly sharp drags itself down your spine, dangerous even through the fabric of your nightgown. You don’t dare turn around, but you can feel Eddie pressing himself closer as he allows that pointed edge to linger on your flesh. 

“Feel that?” he asks. He taps it against your thigh, and you gasp.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak.

“That’s my knife.” Fuck. You have to hold your breath to prevent the moan that wants to spill out.

When Eddie kneels by your legs, he takes a moment to drag both hands appreciatively down either side of you, fingers flexing and kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as his blade pokes menacingly through your skirt. Then, in one swift motion, he slices through the zip tie around your ankles.

As if sensing your inclination to bolt away immediately, Eddie stands and snatches the plastic loop still ensnaring your wrists and tugs you backward against his chest. He wraps his other arm around your neck and the steel of his blade glints from the corner of your eye. You refrain from inhaling his scent, leather, cigarettes, and sweet earth, but just barely. 

“Hold on, bunny, don’t hop away just yet,” he murmurs against your hair. “I haven’t explained the rules of our game yet.”

“Game?”

“Mmhm. And if I hear one bit of attitude from you, I’m gonna cut this pretty little dress off you and make you run around these woods stark-naked. Do you understand me?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you bite, not entirely understanding why you feel the need to do the exact opposite of what he’s just told you to do. He laughs, a downright sinister sound.

In one fluid movement, his knife cleaves through the front of your nightgown, splitting it open all the way down to your belly and allowing your breasts to spill out. Your nipples harden immediately from the frosty air, and you gasp, hands instinctively trying to cover yourself up. 

“What were you saying? I wouldn’t dare?” Eddie teases. He nudges the torn fabric aside purposefully, further exposing you and taking the opportunity to grope your soft, chilled flesh. Warm breath washes over your ear, and he grinds shamelessly into your ass from behind.

“Now, our game. I’m giving you the chance to run, run, run aaall the way home. If you can find the way back through the woods and make it there before I find you, you’re free, sweetheart. I’ll leave you be and won’t darken your doorstep anymore. But…” Eddie bends you over forcibly, ghosting his lips across your skin as he speaks. You want to beg for him; your body cries out for it, but you don’t. You’re so fucking wet from all of this, from his threats and the glaring danger of his blade, that your thighs stick together every time you adjust your stance to gain some semblance of balance.

“If I find you before you make it home,” Eddie purrs, “I will spend the rest of the night breaking you, bit by bit until you can’t remember why you ever wanted to run from me in the first place. You’ll be my perfect little victim. Sound fair?”

“I…I…” You’re certain your brain just split clear down the middle. Something inside of you, something ancient, urges you to flee, to make your way back to safety by any means possible. But something else, the very same need that demanded it be known all those weeks ago when you first told Eddie about it, desperately wants to be caught. You want to streak through these woods, possibly getting yourself hopelessly lost in the process, only to have Eddie successfully hunt you down and make you suffer so beautifully for him. It’s so overwhelming that you don’t notice Eddie’s cut through the zip ties on your wrists until both arms have fallen limply at your sides.

He steps back, leaving you uncomfortably cold all over again, and lands a hard swat on your ass. You yelp and twirl around to face him, glaring heatedly at that morose white mask. His arms are folded, his posture is relaxed - you haven’t even started running yet, and he’s already so confident, the bastard. You pinch the sides of your shredded nightgown together and step back from him.

He flaps the hand clutching his knife at you, waving you off. “Go on,” he says. “Run along. I’ll even give you a thirty-second headstart since I’m so nice.”

When you, stupidly, don’t move a muscle, he heaves a sigh and pulls the sleeve of his jacket up to look at his watch. “Twenty-eight, twenty-seven-twenty-six…”

Shit. You pick a random direction and sprint.

The sound of him counting fades as distance mounts between you, and once you’re alone, in the total silence of the forest, Eddie is not the only thing you’re afraid of. You’ve heard stories about these woods, the frightening disappearances, and general odd goings-on that happen within. As you leap over a dead, fallen log while determinedly holding your rapidly disintegrating nightgown together, you recall what happened a few years ago to the kid Hawkins deemed Zombie Boy. Supposedly found long dead in a reservoir, bloated and green with decay, his family even held a funeral for him - only for him to turn up, alive and well, weeks later. What could’ve caused such a terrible misunderstanding? What’s worse, who’s to say that whatever - or whoever - caused that misunderstanding isn’t still out here? Who’s to say that they aren’t listening to every branch that snaps below your bare feet, that they haven’t picked up on your scent by now and are tracking you with all the stealth and efficiency of a wolf?

You shake the thought from your head and persevere. 

You can’t remember, for the life of you, what direction home is in. You must start down half a dozen different paths before you think better of it and double back to the place you started, and none of your options seem correct. You curse yourself for dozing off in Eddie’s van instead of trying to count how many turns he took, what direction he was going in, anything that might help orient yourself now. 

Something rustles the bushes a few yards behind you.

You don’t think - you pick a path and fly down it, swatting low-hanging branches out of your way and ignoring the brambles that hook into the fraying hem of your nightgown. Maybe you should’ve let Eddie cut this cumbersome thing off you when you had the chance. All pretense of trying to be sneaky, of trying not to attract attention, is gone - you are running blind, panting, heaving, whimpering, slapping down tree limbs, and crunching over dead leaves in the hopes you manage to stay just out of Eddie’s reach.

You are terrified. You are exhilarated. You’ve never felt this free in your entire life, and you can’t believe it’s taken you so long to ask Eddie for this.

You weren’t sure before, as you’d tried to tell yourself it was just the sound of your own footfalls echoing in the woods, but you’re certain now that you can hear Eddie’s boots striking the ground as he gains on you. Your thighs burn with the effort of propelling you forward, and every pull of ice-cold air into your lungs is like swallowing needles, but you press on. You want him to catch you, but he needs to work for it, and as you swing a hard left over fallen logs, his hysterical laughter explodes into your ears.

You chance a look over your shoulder. Eddie’s lithe body weaves and slinks through the forest behind you, seemingly unaffected by the foliage that’s presently slicing open the bottoms of your feet and legs; his mask bobs mournfully above his black clothes, a bloodless beacon reflecting what little moonlight leaks through the thick stormclouds above. He’s so close that if he really wanted to, he could reach out and snatch you up by the nape of your neck like a kitten.

You scream. The sound reverberates through the trees, shrill and elated, and another round of laughter booms from Eddie like thunder.

You’ve just managed to leap over a gnarled root without tripping over it or slipping in the mud when you feel fingers at the back of your neck. You squeal and swat aimlessly, which is a stupid fucking idea - Eddie nabs your wrist and pulls, forcing you to come to a skidding halt.

“Let go of me, you fucking freak!” you wail, thrashing against him as he gathers your hands together and snickers into your ear. 

“Looks like I win, pretty girl,” he breathes. Something jingles just beyond your head, and before you can wonder what it is, Eddie shows you - steel handcuffs, silver and glittering, dangle in front of your eyes. You whimper and drive your elbows backward, fighting with everything you have to force Eddie off you. You succeed, albeit minimally, and can free one hand. You swing and claw at him, fingers scraping for something to grab hold of until they finally pinch one of his mask’s eye sockets. Lightning cracks across the sky overhead as you rip the mask off Eddie’s face.

The brief flash of light gives you a full look at his face. His brown eyes are wild and bright, crinkled at the edges from the maniacal grin splitting his cheeks apart. His skin is pink and glowing with sweat, and you can’t help how your heart swells as you stare at him. Perhaps if you ever do this again, you’ll set a shorter time limit - you don’t know if you can handle not seeing him for over a week again. 

“If you’d stop squirmin’, this’d all go so much faster, sweetheart,” Eddie huffs, trapping your hands together again as you uselessly pound them against his chest. Despite your best efforts, Eddie snaps one cuff around your wrist with a soft click and, as he works on the second one, pushes you both up against the broad trunk of a tree. The bark scrapes painfully along your shoulder blades as you shriek and try to kick him off of you, but it’s too late. He wrenches your arms above your head by the thin chain connecting the handcuffs, and browning leaves descend onto your face as he loops them over a branch. 

It’s so high up that you must stand on your tip-toes to avoid burdening your arms with all your weight. Because of that, you can’t gain enough momentum to swing them back down, and Eddie takes a leisurely step back to admire how well and truly stuck you are. He pants, leaning forward on his knees and staring at you through his dark lashes.

“Goddamn, you are a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, giggling breathlessly.

“Get me down from here, right now,” you growl. Admittedly, it’s very hard to be intimidating while your tits hang out of your shredded nightgown, but you still try.

“That’s not what we agreed on. I told you - I catch you, you’re mine. Good thing, too, my dick was just achin’ watching your cute little ass running from me.”

You whimper as Eddie straightens himself out, heaving one final, deep breath before passing a hand through his hair. You don’t realize he’s flicked his knife out again until he’s got the blade right beneath your nose.

“Now, let’s get this shit outta the way.”

You gasp and reflexively bend your body away as Eddie plunges the sharp edge down through what remains of your nightgown, hacking away at it as if it’s personally offended him until it’s reduced to nothing but a pile of silken scraps by your feet. You shudder, wholly unprotected from the cold now and utterly incapable of hiding the arousal smeared down your inner thighs from him.

His breath clouds in front of him as his eyes roam over your naked body with all the hunger of a predator eyeing its meal. The pink of his tongue darts across his bottom lip as he stalks up to you, already making quick work of his belt.

“D-Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking touch me!” you howl, even though the idea of his hands on you right now makes your stomach flutter. He ignores you, of course, and casts his gloves aside before resting both hands on the trembling flesh of your biceps. He’s so wonderfully warm, blood pumping right below the surface of his skin.

“I can’t wait to split this pretty pussy open,” he murmurs, mouth hovering just above your cheek as he drags his fingers down, down, down until they’re slipping between your hips and cupping you. You try to disguise the pathetically aroused sound that falls from your mouth by shrieking in faux disgust.

“Stop it! Get off, get off!”

“Dirty girl, you’re soaking wet for me already.” Without warning, Eddie plunges two fingers deep inside you, chuckling at how your eyes roll into the back of your head, and a scream tears itself from your throat. 

“S-Stop it,” you sob. You throb around him, unable to disguise your body’s physical reactions, and it only sweetens everything for you. The way your cunt betrays everything you’re saying, twitching and clenching and gushing around Eddie’s fingers in the face of your pleas for him to stop, your insistence that you don’t want him, pulls you deeper into this fantasy. 

“I don’t think you really want me to stop,” he muses, thrusting in and out of you so slow you’re confident you’ll go bat-shit insane soon. “If you did, you wouldn’t be dripping for me. What a nasty girl you are, all worked up for the big, scary man who chased you down in the woods like a scared little bunny rabbit.”

“Fuck…fuck you,” you say weakly, and stars explode behind your eyes as Eddie curls his fingers inside you. You screw your eyes shut and press your lips together to trap the noises threatening to burst out of you. 

“Oh, I will,” he promises. “I’m gonna fuck you stupid. And then, I think I’ll keep you all for myself. Take you home and keep you tied to my bed like a good little pet. I’m sure you’ll learn to love it.”

You could cum just from listening to Eddie talk. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it beneath your tongue, and if it weren’t for the steel around your wrists forcing you upright, you’d sink to the ground and beg for him to fuck you already. You don’t care if it’d break the illusion, if it doesn’t coincide with the game - you are desperate, dripping just as he said, and the lust fogging your brain makes it impossible to consider anything but your own arousal.

“P-Please,” you whimper, hoping all you need from him is conveyed in that one word.

Something hot and hard nudges between your legs, and you gasp - you didn’t see him do it, but Eddie’s removed his cock from his jeans. The hand not buried against your pussy is fisted around the base of it, pale against his red, wet shaft and thick head. You gulp hard. 

“Please? What a sweet word out of that filthy mouth.” He crushes you harder against the tree and lifts one leg over his hip, stroking himself slowly as you struggle to keep your eyes forward. His fingers leave your weeping cunt painfully empty for a brief moment, and then he slides his cock through the slick puddling just below your hole and teases his head around the rim. 

“Oh, darn, looks like I forgot a condom, too,” Eddie says, sucking his teeth and shaking his head at his apparent negligence. Your stomach clenches, and heat pools between your hips. “I’m sure you don’t mind, do you, dollface?”

When Eddie enters you, you tip your head back and moan. It’s been a criminally long time since you’ve felt him inside you like this, hot and raw and forcing your muscles to stretch around his thick cock. It burns just a little, but the lack of prep and the pain hueing your pleasure makes it better.

“God, God, oh God…”

“Nope, just you and me, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s teeth latch onto the flesh below your jaw, pinching and sucking it into his mouth as he bullies his cock deeper inside you. Usually, he’d take his time getting you ready for it, loosening you up around his fingers and drawing a few orgasms out of you until you were perfectly pliant for him. Right now, though, he doesn’t have it in him to bother with all that, and you are so grateful.

Fat drops of rain plop onto your hair and dribble down the sides of your face as Eddie starts fucking you in earnest. His hands come around to grasp greedy handfuls of your ass and pull you in tighter against him, and he quickly litters the side of your throat with hickeys as his hips snap forward. You can’t help how you squeal and groan as you’re jostled against the tree, and you realize with a shudder of humiliation that you’re getting close already.

“P-Please…please, Eddie, please…” You don’t particularly know what you’re begging for; you just hope he’ll take pity on you for it and give you more. You need impossibly more. You need him to ruin you properly. The way he throbs inside you reminds you of the lack of protection, and you beg for him again.

“What a fuckin’ whore. I knew you wanted it,” Eddie snarls, the edge of his teeth rasping against your jaw. 

“I…fuck, Eddie, please, it’s so much,” you whine, choking on air as he buries himself as deep as he can get. He shushes you, and another flash of lightning in the sky illuminates his handsome face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Do you need mercy, baby?” he asks, blinking rain from his big brown eyes. Your hair sticks wetly to either side of your face, and you can’t tell if you’re shivering more from cold or pleasure. You whip your head from side to side.

“N-No, no mercy,” you mewl, “I-I just…please, please just fuck me, break me, I need it so fucking badly, baby, please.”

He doesn’t respond, not verbally, anyway. He yanks your other leg around his hip, settling your weight entirely in his lap, and the slight change in angle pushes him just that little bit further inside your twitching cunt. Your mouth drops wide open as he quickens his pace, the denim of his jeans slapping against your bare ass so hard it burns, and the way he grunts from the effort makes your toes curl.

“I didn’t think you’d be such an easy fuck,” Eddie teases. “Guess you’re just a dirty slut after all, huh?”

“Fuck, oh God, fuck, I’m cumming, I can’t stop, E-Eddie!”

Your orgasm scorches through you like molten lava, burning you from the inside out and robbing you of enough air to scream. As Eddie continues pounding into you, you claw at the branch beneath your fingers, desperate for something to anchor you to reality. You don’t think you’ve ever cum this hard in your entire life, and the fact you did so without even once touching your clit fills you with an odd sort of pride.

“Fuckin’ squirting all over me, fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie growls, and you only realize he’s right when warmth starts trickling down your thighs. You blush, trying futilely to bury your face in his neck out of embarrassment. When he doesn’t stop fucking you, and your orgasm ebbs enough for pain to start lapping at the edges of your pleasure, you whimper.

“H-Hurts, hurts.”

Eddie shushes you. “I’m not done with you yet. Just shut up and take it, like my good little victim.”

He crushes you tightly against the tree, huffing and panting into your ear while he desperately chases his own pleasure inside you. You cry out openly, the chill of the rain intermingling with the heat of his body against you so deliciously that you think that if lightning struck the pair of you right now, you’d die a happy woman. 

“You’re gonna take every drop of my cum, understand?” Eddie snarls. “If even one drop leaks out of you, you’re gonna lick it up.”

“Yes, fuck, I understand.”

“Your pussy clenches so hard when I threaten you, baby, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Thunder claps overhead as Eddie presses stills inside you, cockhead pressed as deep as it’ll go inside your throbbing slit and starts cumming with a wanton howl into the night. Liquid heat floods into your core, and though you weren’t even aware of it building again, your second orgasm crashes into you as you realize the risk you’ve just partaken in by letting Eddie cum inside you. It feels so right, allowing him to claim you this way, bearing his mark on the deepest part of you, and you know for a fact that after tonight, you will beg him to never use another condom again. 

When he’s finished, Eddie sags against you, trembling hands digging into the globes of your ass as he shakily supports your weight. You pant, blinking rain out of your eyes, and kiss the wet curls beside your face.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

~~~

Turns out, Eddie didn’t take you far from home at all.

In fact, he drove only a mile away and spent about forty-five minutes doing circles in the woods because he didn’t want to disturb your nap. He tells you this as he leads you out of the forest and back to the van, holding his leather jacket above your head like a makeshift umbrella.

He retrieves a towel from inside and wraps it around your shivering, rain-soaked body before planting you in the driver’s seat. After he drapes a thick, flannel blanket around your shoulders and points all the vents toward you as the heat blasts, he cups your face in both hands and kisses your forehead.

“You did such a good job, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trailing his lips down over both eyes, your cheeks and finally landing on your trembling lips. His mouth, despite everything, is still so warm.

“I did?” you ask sleepily. He nods and rubs your arms to inspire blood flow back into your extremities. 

“You did. I’ll draw a bath for you once I get you home, okay?”

“Join me?” Eddie smiles and pinches the sides of the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“I would, but someone’s gotta feed us both.”

When he hops into the driver’s side, you note with a snort that he’s stripped down to his boxers. He laughs and revs the engine, throwing an arm over your seat as he reverses out of the forest.

Eddie doesn’t allow you to walk the few paces up the steps and across the porch to get inside your house. Instead, he cradles you against his chest, bridal-style, and struts through the door he purposefully left unlocked before setting you down on the toilet in the bathroom. You slump against the sink as he readies your bath, arms pillowing your head and eyelids drooping. Steam fills the room and carries the sweet, light scent of roses, and the flash of a pink bottle in Eddie’s hand clues you into the fact he’s dumped some soap into the faucet to create huge piles of white, frothy bubbles.

You’re nowhere near steady enough to lower yourself into the tub alone, so Eddie grips you by the elbows and slowly sinks down until your butt hits the water. It’s almost too hot at first, but after your body adjusts to the sudden change in temperature, you recline against the porcelain at your back and sigh. Eddie brushes a hand over your hair and kisses your forehead again. 

“Thank you,” you mutter, eyes closed.

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, you handled everything like a champ.”

You glow under his praise and nestle further into the hot water and bubbles. It’s going to be a challenge not to doze off here.

When you blink your eyes open, Eddie’s still hovering next to you, lips quirked in a small, soft smile as the early morning light falls in purplish shafts over his face. You reach for him, sliding your palm through the hair at the back of his head, and bring him close enough to kiss his lips. He tastes like rain and cigarettes.

“I’ll come get you when the food’s ready, alright?” he whispers, squeezing the hand you’ve rested on the rim of the tub before standing. You nod dreamily.

“I love you,” you call after him, and though his frame is bleary through the steam condensing in the room, you see him turn back and smile at you.

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

taglist: @silky-luxe, @celestialwaavelength, @bornslippys. if you'd like to be added to my taglist, i have a post on my page, or you can dm me!

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things smut #ao3 author #eddie munson x reader #f!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #ghostface #kinktober #kintober 2023 #stranger things fic #stranger things kinktober #stranger kinks #my writing

[elbiotipo]

Notes on a South Asian Tropical Cyrodiil (and more!)

So, many TES fans know that before Oblivion, Cyrodiil was supposed to be tropical. The most striking phrase to describe it, "most is endelss jungle", says it all. The quick and snarky explanation is that Todd Howard watched LOTR, was "inspired" by it, and that's why everything in Oblivion looks sort of like a Rennaisance Fair. In any case, I think it was a huge missed opportunity, especially in a world where most popular fantasy is European inspired, to have replaced what could have been very cool tropical enviroments with what is frankly a lame "Talos used his magic" lore retcon. You can read the 1st edition of the Pocket Guide to the Empire to see what we missed.

But it's not only Cyrodiil which we missed this way… Tamriel just makes more sense as a tropical continent. While the size and the exact location of the continent is discussed by nerdier nerds than me, I think it does make sense like this, and not only that, we have a very interesting world parallel to compare it to: India. From a tropical rainy south to the cold mountains of Skyrim, Tamriel is surprisingly similar to the Indian subcontinent, and many of its geographical quirks can be explained if, instead of assuming a temperate Cyrodiil, we go all out with that concept. This is going to be a long post, you have been warned.

So with that in mind, I'll try to make a not-so brief tour (with some evocative pictures along the way) of a rebuilt tropical Tamriel, following the rains of the moonson:

The position of Tamriel, in this case, would be roughly where the Indian subcontinent is located in real life, that is again, tropical, stretching the Tropic of Cancer (is there a name for the tropics of Nirn? Interesting to think about) Here, we see our numbers pan out well: Tamriel is mentioned to be between 4000 and 3000km across east to west and 2000 and 3000km south to north. VERY, VERY roughly, there is 4000km between Pakistan and Myanmar, and 3000km from Sri Lanka to the northern tip of Tibet. Plot that on a map, and you already can see some coincidences. Now, this is a rather average continent, not Pangea sized like some imagine Tamriel to be. This does help explain why, for example, the interior of Cyrodiil is rainy and good for agriculture instead of a desert. But it also means that it's very likely that Tamriel is ruled by monsoons. Monsoons are complex, but they basically form when there are plenty of warm places for water to evaporate (the South Indian ocean), and mountains that block cool winds from the opposite direction (the Himalayas). We have a very similar situation here, with a mountainous Skyrim on the north of a tropical Cyrodiil facing an equatorial southern ocean. So, what happens are monsoons, perhaps not as strong as IRL India, but carrying rains very deep into the continent. This would feed the rivers and the rich agricultural areas of Cyrodiil, and would have some other consequences.

So let's imagine our trip South to North. In the South, in Black Marsh, Blackwood and Lleyawiin, and Pellentine (southern Elsweyr) we would find, much like in the original lore, humid tropical climates, jungle, wetlands, and my favorite, mangrooves. I would expect mangrooves to stretch in this whole area, across rivers. In fact, one of the reasons why Black Marsh could be so hard to explore and control by the Empires at Cyrodiil would be the presence of thick mangrooves all over its coast. This is the region of Cyrodiil that would most resemble "endless jungle".

(Rice fields in India, what I imagine most of this Tropical Cyrodiil would look like)

However, as any lore person knows, Anequina, northern Elsweyr, is arid desert. Does this mean a contradiction? Far from it, we have a similar example in IRL India: the Deccan Plateau, which has a semi-arid to arid climate. This can be easily explained by higher elevations up to a small mountain chain separating it from Cyrodiil to the north, and the fact that little rain would reach behind this "Anequina Plateau" would make the region of Kvatch and Anvil more dry much like in canon, in this case, more scrublike. This highland desert would not be as harsh as Elsweyr is usually concieved, maybe, but its driest regions might justify places such as Dune. (On that matter, it always bothered me to read about the "cities" of southern Elsweyr and there being only two or three there. If I had to redesign it, I would move some from the north to the south).

(the Deccan Plateau in India, it gets greener or drier according to the monsoon)

Keeping on our tour of Tamriel, the Topal Bay and the very rainy Black Marsh funnels the rainy monsoon from the south towards central Cyrodiil. Here we find the endless jungle of the Nibenay Valley. But unlike the rainforests of Elsweyr and Black Marsh, these dense forests and rich river plains are mediated by the monsoon winds, with dry seasons alternating with copious rain. This has huge effects on agriculture and culture in general, as agriculture is defined by the rythms of the rain. Keeping with our South Asian theme and the 1st edition of the Guide to the Empire, Cyrodiil would have huge extensions of rice paddies, as well as terrace farming and much hardier crops in the highlands, instead of the… well, almost absent agriculture we saw in Oblivion. The food, clothing, architecture and overall culture of Cyrodiil would be very different with this. The original Pocket Guide said some of its main exports besides rice and fruit are moon sugar and silk. Moon sugar in Cyrodiil, can you believe it?

Another thing I imagine Cyrodiil would be famous for would be fish and seafood, well, river food. Rice plantations can host fishes and crustaceans to get some extra protein, and well, what about mudcrabs? Hell, as preparing muddy soil is vital for rice cultivation, no wonder mudcrabs are considered a nuisance. Imagining critters in gameplay in such an enviroment also makes my mind roam. Tigers, elephants, rhinoceros, and this is not even getting into the more mythical creatures you could find, instead of endless wolves… Rice cultivation is also more labor intensive than other crops, and it also has a deep impact on the terrain, "terraforming" so to say, huge expanses into paddies and terrace farms. This level of cultivation also requires an established infraestructure of irrigation. While this does not necessarily means a centralized goverment, as farmers can build it and maintain it by themselves, the rise of an empire, i.e., the Empire, will also increase the complexity of these systems, adding canals, dams, reservoirs and more ambitious projects, like we see in India and China. I am sure some people more knowledgeable about those cultures can comment more.

While this Cyrodiil is a tropical/subtropical region covered in "endless jungle", some parts might indeed resemble the rolling hills and grasslands you see in Oblivion. Deforesting jungle for pasture is something very common around the world (some have joked this mass deforestation was later in canon explained as a gift from Talos lol) and you can see the results, like in tropical Australia and my closer Mata Atlantica, do superficially resemble temperate pastures in say, Europe. Until you notice the palm trees, of course. But yes, I can see the Nords being a mostly herding people (more on that below) bringing their sheep and cows to the tropical lowlands and, well, deforesting to make space for them.

(ranches in Sao Paulo state, Brazil, notice the palm trees)

Imperial City just so happens to be built in an island in the middle of several river crossings, in what seems to be a swampland. The first thing that came to mind when I read that was Tenochtitlán. The districts of Imperial City would have been built over the centuries on artificial islands on a shallow lake, using plentiful mud and organic matter to make fertile chinampas. I believe this would make for a striking sight. Instead of just a city in the middle of a empty island, you would see the White-Gold tower and the rest of Imperial City rising from Lake Rumare, surrounded by rich farmland and its districts joined by walkways. (much like the old descriptions, actually, could you believe I wrote that without reading them?)

(Reconstruction of Tenochtitlán... and I just noticed, it's surrounded by (volcanic) mountains too, much like Imperial City)

Much like the Pantanal is one of the sources to the Paraguay River (which merges with the Paraná and then the Río de la Plata) IRL, here, the swamps of central Cyrodiil would be the source of the Niben. This does raise an interesting question, where is the source of the Niben? Is it Lake Rumare? No, I believe it would be several smaller rivers all the way from Bruma and even Skyrim. These small, violent mountain rivers eventually flow into the Rumare wetlands and only THEN in the placid great Niben. You DON'T want to be caught in one of the mountain valleys in rainy season. This does raise the question; won't the developments upriver, like Imperial City itself and the surrounding farmland, affect the course of the river downwards? There's plenty of water from the rain, but a more developed Cyrodiil might indeed have to grapple with this, supposing, for example, they manage to dam the river.

Looking west, we got the Colovian region, said to be composed of drier highlands and cliffs in the early Pocket Guide. Probably cut from the rain because of the Anequina Plateau, this is indeed more arid or "mediterranean", though I actually see it as more Australian. Maybe some of the drier parts near Hammerfell, resembling Argentine Cuyo and the northwest, would be a distant cry from the wetlands, having thorny dry forests and dry valleys, where yes, you could plant wine. The wetter cloud forests (much like the Yungas in South America, the place where the rain reaches last) could maybe be the home of the last pre-Imperial cultures of Cyrodiil. Fascinating places.

(Jujuy, Argentina. Just *near* are the Yungas cloud forests, where the last rains from the Atlantic meet the Andes, making for some AMAZING places)

Given that I mentioned enviroments near to/on the Andes IRL, let's talk about potatoes. Potatoes are unique crops, because they are the only ones who offer such calories and also be planted in cold enviroments like Europe. Or Skyrim. The discovery and spread of potatoes would cause demographic shifts on people living in cold areas. And they also originated in a unique enivorment IRL: the Andes, actually with possible hybridization from the Magallenic foresWHAT I MEAN, is that potatoes are very important and have been domesticated in very specific conditions. The Wroghtgarian Mountains would seem like a perfect equivalent of the Andes at the first glance, but they would be very different. The Andes, located between the Pacific Ocean and the greater Amazonian region, are very, very unique enviroments. These mountains, however, are in between inner seas. Something like the Atlas or the Alps? In any case, if there is some people who would appreciate hardy tubers that can grow in mountainous places, they are for sure the Orcs, or perhaps the Reachmen. Maybe an hybridization even between them?

This returns me back to Bruma and Skyrim. Some people (who make those excellent Oblivion mods) imagine Bruma with a Tibetan flavor. Personally, I imagine it more like Pakistan or Afghanistan, with lots of mesas and plateaus and valleys. It would look dry and rocky with some very fertile valleys by snowmelt, but it would look like a snowy wonderland on winter, indeed, Pakistan and Afghanistan are very snowy. Eventually, of course, ending up in the great barrier of the Jerall mountains and finally, Skyrim.

(the Alps? Skyrim? No, this is Kashmir on winter!)

In this scenario, Skyrim would be a quite dry place… or would it? There is no need for the Jeralls to be a straight line of peaks like the Himalayas. They could be a more "broken" series of mountains, like the southern Andes, but in any case, the rain from the south would clash into the higher mountains. Indeed, that is what actually happens in the Himalayas, the foothills of the Himalayas are some of the rainest places IN THE WORLD. These small valleys are something very unique and not very well known part of the world IRL. I can imagine the Skyrim equivalent would be as unique too, hard to navigate and live in. The forests of the Rift and Falkreath would be mazes of windy forests valleys, each with their own unique secrets under a perpetual fog and drizzle. This is a very interesting enviroment to imagine, where again, some of the older cultures of Tamriel could still live.

(forests of Bhutan, note how the humid valleys stretch into the distance before the cold Himalayas begin)

However, what does Skyrim look like once you cross the border with Ralof? I imagine some sort of more fertile Tibet, not as high as the Tibetan plateau, allowing for forest and alpine tundra. This is mostly because, while Skyrim is high up, I don't imagine as a plateau, but rather a series of broken mountains like the North American Rockies, which makes sense when you account for all the volcanic activity (there is another super-volcano down in Skyrim but nobody notices). I imagine that Skyrim would be a primarily herding pastoral land before the introduction of hardier crops such as potatoes, and even then. Nord culture would be very interesting reimagined like this; hillforts guarding herds of sheep and cows. It would also create a clash between the very, very agrarian south and the nomadic herding north, with High Rock and Hammerfell a gradient between the two.

I decide I will stop here, I haven't even touched Valenwood (though its subtropical forest seems rather coherent to me), High Rock (the most boring part of Tamriel IMO), Hammerfell, Summerset Islands (if you don't have tropical elves in your setting, you're a coward), or whatever the hell is going on Morrowind. But I hope you enjoyed this worldbuilding exercise and how to make sense of Tamriel's crazy geography. Next time, I'll try to play with tectonics and see if we can make it even more interesting.

But here we enter a problem; if we are operating on a level where Cyrodiil is roughly at the same latitude of India, wouldn't that make Skyrim too far from the poles to allow its tundra like climate, even with elevation? No doubt. Tibet is only as cold as it is because it's the roof of the world and far from any ocean. The northernmost tip Skyrim, like Tibet, would be at the latitude of Turkey, Korea or California, which can get quite cold, but not to the level of what we see on Winterhold or Dawnstar (Solitude sounds familiar, though). What's more, having an ocean up north would only moderate the temperature. Cool currents often don't bring cold per-se, just decrease rainfall. This would end with a very temperate and pleasant Skyrim instead of tundra. Which is on its own, interesting to explore.

Could Nirn be going through an ice age, like it's implied with the dissapearance of Atmora? Possibly, but it would imply revising everything I said before, as ice ages decrease rainfall and mess up with weather patterns all over the world. A colder Nirn would explain a lot, though.

If you liked what you read and would like more worldbuilding, consider tipping me on Ko-Fi and send me stuff to talk about, or just send an ask! I'm the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias and RPG manuals for fun, so I have plenty to talk about about everything from fantasy to science fiction to speculative evolution and alternate history!

#worldbuilding #tes #elder scrolls #skyrim #oblivion #the 'do more tropical worldbuilding you eurocentric cowards' agenda #fantasy #cosas mias

[christiansorrell]

RPG Read-through: .dungeon//remastered

For a while on Twitter, I've been doing read-through threads where I post my thoughts as I'm reading through a game for the first time. I recently did the same with Snow's .dungeon//remastered, a TTRPG where you are players logging in to a dead/dying MMO and exploring the digital fantasy world. I'm adapting those thoughts here for a proper Tumblr post! Enjoy!

First up, credits! Good folks who do good work in my experience. Also, we get the first of what seems to be a common through-line here that I enjoy: an online fandom bent to this all being a sort of GameFAQ style guide for an in-universe game.

My initial impression from most of the interior spreads I've seen just flipping through it is that I really love the style and layout. I think black and white layouts are underrated generally, but it really pops here with the pixelated text/symbols and the old school GUIs.

It's interesting to have these kind of "no bigotry" rules you see in many games couched within an in-universe framing. I think this more personal angle actually makes them land better for me than they typically do in games.

Of course, the author is still powerless to stop the players (just like with any instance of these rules, and all game rules in general tbh) BUT this is worldbuilding too, and it gives me a greater sense for the kind of in-universe fandom that's risen up around .dungeon.

Similarly, here's the game's unique version of safety tools - an in-game help menu that reworks things like lines/veils, x-card and more into the game world itself. I really like this.

Once again, the art in this is just great. I love the Fez-like runes/symbols. My ARG brain wants to know if there's a hidden message here.

I was surprised it was jumping right into the starter adventure, Tutorial Town, but I quickly found out that this is character creation AND a starting area/adventure all wrapped into one, video game-style, and that's so cool.

Each room of the starting area introduces a step of character creation. It's interesting that stats are based on real-world (not you the player at the table real-world but your PC at the "real-world" computer playing the game) ability. Your game knowledge, response time, etc.

As a long time Dota player, I also just really enjoy that the saving throw-like stat here is TILT. I have tilted many times and known many of my teammates to tilt regularly. Just fun to see that phrasing in a TTRPG.

There's more of the in-universe real-world player here than I expected coming in. Definitely has some really intriguing potential. I do wonder though if the intent is to be playing a "real-world" level character or if you are "playing" as yourself at that layer. Both would work.

Monster statblocks. Easy to parse and straightforward to run as the GM (tho at time the layout does have one two many things laid on top of one another that can make them hard to read at first glance - like where "GOBLIN" is here):

Health here is SYNC, and it's shared across the whole party - I'm interested to see how that full mechanic plays out and how it may affect play.

Reaction rolls. I'm surprised to see them given the video game setting, cus mobs in MMOs just always attack you. I've gone back and forth on it with my video game-inspired TTRPG. Don't think it's a bad choice, just one that means the game world is more than a usual video game.

So you have your real-world level Job (based on your characters' out of game job) and your in-game "Role" which follow the classic "holy trinity" of MMO design:

PCs and monsters can team up to attack and can forego damage for stunts - potentially fun/interesting moments happening from that. Monsters deal dmg to SYNC but only per type is interesting, means a crowd of one-enemy is more a long trickle of damage than an overwhelming burst.

Not knowing the ramifications of SYNC damage yet, I'm not sure what the Risk v Reward looks like for Respawns but it's intriguing. Letting your avatar die to keep the party in a stronger position overall (but being able to re-join after a fight) is definitely unique.

This is another fun room (and I like that other than saying late 90s/early 2000s it leaves appearance options open). I am not sure where to find the starting origins tho (they aren't on this spread and there's no page reference). Sadly, the PDF isn't bookmarked either, it seems.

This feels like a smart roadblock to place in player's paths early on. It's unlikely they'll have a lockpick at this point so really, it's about getting players into that creative mindset. What is in the room for you to exploit? What gear do you have you can use in a new way?

Might seem basic, especially to the OSR-experienced out there, but you'd be surprised how many players don't have experience with thinking more freeformly about the game in this way. No fault to them, most trad games condition you to use your PC's abilities/skills as a menu.

Another cool interaction between the layers of the game here (tho I do wish they all played more off of something more than just the tarot card being in the real-world layer). Still wondering if most folks play as themselves or as a real-world level PC.

This is interesting. I wonder if there is going to be a real-world layer to play or if this is meant to be the amount your party can heal between sessions of play (like when the actual real you stops playing in actual real life - this meta layer stuff is tricky to communicate).

I like this - a very short and sweet travel system.

I continue to love this art. Also, this tease here around dual-wielding requiring the discovery of new Roles out in the game world somewhere first is really enticing (I added the highlighter there btw).

This is fun - there are both in-game NPCs and PUGs which are other real-world players' in-game avatars. That extra layer to those types of NPCs is really fun and them running the gamut of fully out-of-character chatting to being hardcore RPers is fun to consider.

Whenever it leans into the digital world aspects, I'm super into it. Very much my kinda thing. I do wonder though how often players can swap their Roles. I don't believe I've seen that said yet - my inclination would be once on the fly (like Final Fantasy's Job systems).

And if these various layers weren't enough, .dungeon also features in-game collectible cards that are sort of enchantments and buffs. I wonder if my real-world level character can spend real money to buy Bytes to buy more packs from a merchant in town? lol

I won't spoil/detail too many more of these but these kind of fun (and common to video games but rarely seen when thinking of the world of a game or the intended way to play) moments are really appealing. Also, this game has Goons in it. Oh no.

Now I'm thinking the intention is the "real-world" level of play should be the real actual you, the person playing .dungeon the TTRPG (as opposed to a real-world level character still within the fiction of the game) since stuff like this would be tricky to track. Cool item!

Tutorial Island is cool, a good blend of char creation, intro to what the game is, and just a fun adventure with a session or more of play to it. I'd have to run/play this to really see but I find the Sync being tied to essentially your real-world session length interesting.

This stuff is cool and leans into that meta/fan-level play that only comes out of these big community-driven games, both MMOs but also things like Dark Souls.

A lot of these kind of possible secrets come as comments in the text, possibly just to inspire the GM and to get players interested in ways that the table can build out on their own over time. So far, I don't see some of the more esoteric secrets to be laid out (which I like).

The rest of the book, as far as I've seen, is lots of resources, gear tables, monsters, etc. to build out the game after player's leave Tutorial Island. The game world here has that anything goes Final Fantasy bent to it. There's swords & wagons, but laser guns & skateboards too.

The setting here is also explicitly queer (mostly seen so far in the "real-world" PUGs) and includes things like sex workers and other elements that it maybe could not have had but that would certainly lessen the richness of its world, the fandom presented throughout, etc.

The spellcasting uses the in-game money as mana points essentially. That's a cool way to limit spellcasting and motivate player's, especially spellcasters, to get out there and make some $$$.

Okay, here's the real-world explanation I was waiting for (after the in-game gear lists and such). This is cool - it's fun to have a real-life layer to this and to have the game's world support that sort of dropping in and out, doing things outside of a full party session, etc.

I know a lot of folks do this with ongoing campaigns anyway, but this is one of those fun things to include here to build that in as an expectation in play. You have your raid nights with friends and you have your little solo sessions after work where you sell your loot.

Now, the rest is a nice collection of random dungeon, NPC, settlement, hexfill tables and more. Everything you'd expect from an OSR-like ruleset but occasionally with some fun added meta-layers.

Players getting a quest from an in-game Moderator and then being able to become a Mod themselves is a really fun idea and something I could envision becoming a long-term goal for one or more players at a table. The threat of encountering an Admin is scary as well!

To finish it up, we've got a cool AASCII-style character sheet, complete with MingLiU-ExtB font (my beloved)!

And that's .dungeon//remastered! I really enjoyed reading this, and I think it has a strong core that's really enhanced by its real-world interaction layer. Gonna put this on "Play Soon" list. There are some smart rules in particular I'll likely steal for a future project.

.dungeon//remastered is available digitally NOW with, I believe, physical copies coming soon. I backed the Kickstarter to get this digital version. CHECK IT OUT HERE!

#ttrpgs #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #fantasy #mmorpg #rpg #dnd

[dawnagustd]

the naughty sheriff || kth

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.

➻ title: the naughty sheriff ➻ pairing: sheriff deputy!taehyung x f!reader  ➻ genre: fantasy | holiday | magic | smut  ➻ word count: 1.7k  ➻ rating: 18+    ➻ warnings: unprotected sex | creampie | breath play | taehyung has a massive cock | degradation | dom!taehyung | sub!reader | consensual gun play (graphic) | restraints(hand cuffs) | hair pulling | doggystyle | car sex | rough sex | intense orgasm | Sir kink | cervix touching | spanking | power play dynamics | oral sex with an object | abuse of power | spit play | manhandling | mentions infidelity | mentions theft and crime | more cameo from the boys | the ending is a cliff ➻ author’s note: Please read the warnings carefully for this one guys !! And y’all please don’t judge me. I haven’t opened this doc since 2021 lol. It’s unedited but I will edit it later. If you’re following the little bit of story hidden in this filth, you will need to read the epilogue to understand the ending and the point of all this.

“Get moving.”

“Yes, Sir,” you sing.

The two of you march to his car, and that’s when the sheriff turns your body towards him.

“I want you gone, understand?”

“I will leave,” you giggle. “Once I’m done.”

“Well,” Taehyung tsks. “You can’t leave without saying goodbye, can you?”

You shake your head in denial.

You assumed that you two had a nonverbal agreement. You’ll look the other way if he did the same. He’s been in every window you’ve bypassed, kissing some rich housewife under the mistletoe while their husband slept peacefully.

What they don’t know is that they're just a part of his twisted game. While his lovers are busy cutting him a slice of something sweet, he’s robbing them of anything that sparkles. The expensive jewelry their husbands have bought goes into his pocket and is never seen again.

On Christmas morning, he’ll smirk knowing they won’t be able to say a word about who may have taken it to their husbands. Those same men will pay him big money to arrest the thief, and he will arrest a thief. Just not the one responsible for the actual crime.

“I guess I can’t, but um… Weren’t you busy just now?” 

You recall his security patrol of the hospital earlier and wonder if he’s still on duty.

“I already snatched what I came here for,” he says with a wink. Taehyung guides you closer to his vehicle. He stops walking once your back hits the ice-covered glass. “Now, what should I do with you?”

Your smile grows. 

“Anything you’d like, Sir.”

“Damn. Any requests?” he asks.

You look over your shoulder at his car and nod your head.

“Throw me on your backseat and fuck me like you’ve had a bad day.”

And the sheriff does not decline. He opens his door and shoves you inside, still bound in his cuffs. Your back hits the cold interior with a thud. You try to spread your legs, but Taehyung has other plans. He flips you over on your stomach and raises your hips in the air.

“I’ve been watching this ass sway through my town all night, and you didn’t think I’d want a piece?” he growls, tearing your flimsy clothing off.

You hear him fidgeting with his belt until he’s able to pull his pants down to his thighs. Your wiggle to give him an eyeful while he aligns his dick with your opening, but he slaps your ass and tells you to stay still.

“I’m in charge,” he informs. As if that’ll do him any good.

Your wetness allows Taehyung to enter smoothly, and his deep voice moans once he’s buried inside. He grabs your waist and starts pulling you back on his dick. Each time he thrusts into your guts, the breath leaves your body. You don’t have to see him to know his cock is monstrous. 

Your hands want to reach above you to stop your head from banging into the door, but they’re secured behind your back. The pressure building inside of you distracts you from the discomfort, so the banging is forgotten about rather quickly.

“Sir, this feels so good.”

Your words are muffled as a result of being face down, but Taehyung understands clearly. His palm slaps your ass again and your pussy squeezes around him in response.

“Say thank you, whore,” he commands. “Tell me how much you appreciate my services.”

His laughter fills the vehicle and gives you a sea of goosebumps. Its volume penetrates the seating and sends vibrations through your body.

“Fuck! Thank you, Sir!”

But your response isn’t good enough for the sheriff. He grabs you by the hair and snatches you up before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he grunts. “You’re sounding like an ungrateful ass whore, right now.”

“Sheriff! Thank you for giving me your cock,” you sob. “I’m not worthy.”

“Goddamn right, you aren’t.” He pulls out his pistol, and the sound of it clicking only adds to your adrenaline. “Tell me where you think I should put this.”

He twists your head to look you in the eyes, but the only thing you can focus on is what’s in his right hand.

“In my mouth, Sir.” Taehyung hesitates, and you grow impatient. “Please.”

“Say less,” he answers. You open your mouth, and Taehyung doesn’t wait any longer. You don’t realize how heavy it is until it’s resting on your tongue. “It’s not loaded, okay.”

Not that it would matter in your case. You can swallow bullets and shit them out, but you appreciate the courtesy. You thank him the best you can with a mouth full of steel but it only results in you getting your saliva all over the muzzle.

“Fuck.”

Taehyung doesn’t miss it either. His cock twitches inside of you when he observes the way your lips wrap around his gun, just like…

“I bet you can suck the hell out of a cock,” he comments.

“Mhm.”

So you prove it. While Taehyung thrusts into your pussy, you treat his gun like it’s just another dick and proceed to give it some head as his owner watches in awe.

You’re careful with your teeth, and you make every noise you’re capable of making to mimic the sound of some sloppy cock sucking. You take in more and more until your chin touches the trigger guard. You then pull off of it, leaving a slick sheen behind from where your mouth coated the metal.

“Shit!” Taehyung’s mind could not handle an image so lewd while he’s balls deep in pussy. He sets his weapon on the floor and brings his hand around your throat instead. “...Gonna make us come so hard.”

And he doesn’t break his promise. He squeezes your neck until no air can slip through. He wraps his other arm around your body and uses his hand to give your throbbing clit some attention. 

The feeling hits you all at once. The pressure finally comes to a head and sends you soaring. You feel as high as the clouds, floating unsure of when you’re coming down. You want to scream, but it’s impossible to do so with the lack of air.

At some point, Taehyung spills his cum deep into your womb, but your body isn’t aware of it in its state. A minute goes by before Taehyung relaxes his grip and slowly grants you air. 

Your body falls forward, and then you feel the sheriff uncuffing your wrists one by one. You sigh once you’re able to move your limbs.

“Take a minute if you need to,” Taehyung says after you’ve both steadied your breathing. 

But you don’t have a minute, and neither does he.

“You should drive.” Your face is buried in your forearm, trying to hold your giggles.

“What?”

You reposition yourself to a sitting position so the sheriff can hear you clearly.

“I said you should start driving,” you repeat. “You said you’d take me home.”

“Not exactly,” he reiterates. 

You look at him with a brow raised. “I see.”

“I said I’d take you out of town. How you get home is none of my concern.”

You nod your head. You expected this, and you were anticipating it. 

“Well, I'll see you soon I guess.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Better not.”

“We’ll see,” you mutter.

You step out of the car dressed in attire a little bit more presentable for the occasion. It’s morning and the Heauxville residents gather around, waiting patiently for answers. And you shall provide.

“I know everyone is hurting right now. I could not imagine waking up on Christmas morning with nothing under the tree. But I’ve captured the culprit and interrogated him thoroughly. Unfortunately, the criminal is one you’ve all trusted.”

Just as you’re concluding your speech, Taehyung appears. He’s confused, but not for long.

“Wait a minute! Don’t listen to her,” he demands.

Unfortunately for him, no one wants to obey the orders of a crooked deputy.

“As I was saying… I know nothing will replace the joyous feeling of waking up to a home filled with goodies from the big guy, but I have sent a member of my staff to the residence of each and every one of you to replace everything you’ve lost. They’ll be waiting for you when you arrive,” you inform.

The crowd cheers, and two other deputies come to detain the ego-bruised sheriff. Once your job is done, they part ways and allow you to depart. The queen has saved the day yet again.

You never stay for the glory or the praise. The satisfaction comes from knowing that karma did its job. There’s no need to thank you.

“Hey!”

You hear a familiar voice call out to you once you’re nearly out of the thick crowd. Everyone grows silent, and your frantic baker appears, and he brought some friends.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

“So you’re just leaving?... We need to talk.”

You cackle. “No, love. We don’t.”

“But that’s bullshit. You can’t just fuck with people’s emotions like that,” Jungkook argues, stepping in front of him. 

The men surround you, but there’s nothing you can do. They made their own beds, now it’s time to lie in it.

“Jungkook, you’re absolutely right, and all of you should start taking that into consideration. Now, if you all will excuse me—”

“So it’s just fuck us, right?” the sheriff chimes in. “Regardless of how good we made you feel.”

“Or how we welcomed you,” Hoseok adds.

The next person to speak is the toymaker and he seems more disappointed than pissed.

“You shouldn’t have made promises you weren’t going to keep,” he tells you.

“Are you serious?” You can’t help but laugh at that. “Listen, I came here to give you a dose of your own medicine. Get over it.”

With that, you sashay away, but this group is persistent.

“What if we can’t?” Jimin shouts.

You turn around, clearly confused. As if on cue, the doctor breaks through the crowd.

“What if we can’t get over it?... Over you,” he explains. “What happens then?”

“What if I can’t get you out of my mind?” the sheriff speaks up.

You look at each of them and sigh. There is no room in your heart for anyone. Their emotions mean nothing to you. The sooner they realize that they’re the problem, the sooner they’ll realize you’re only here to cause pain. 

Until then…

#taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fanfics #taehyung fanfics #btsdreamcourt #bangtanbathhouse #bangtansorciere #kvanity #bts imagines #fic: unholy night #sugakookitty

[uhmprobablynot]

The Playlist: Track Two

hi im back :)

Track One > Track Two > Track Three

Drive All Night

The events of what happened in the kitchen replay in your mind. Did you really just do that? Schlatt pants slightly, looking down at you. He tucks himself back into his sweatpants and offers you a hand.

"We should get you home, yeah?” Schlatt beams, helping you off the floor. His hands rest on your waist and rests his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter closed at the proximity. “Come on, sweetheart.” He taps your hip lightly and guides you towards the door.

You both exit his house and walk to his car. He moves to your side of the car, opening your door before you have the chance to. You smile up at him and send him a light ‘thank you’ as he closes the door behind you.

He starts the car and backs out of his driveway with practiced ease, but everything he does seems ethereal in the moment. The light glow of blue from his car’s LED display and the smile that gets wider every time he looks over at you. You feel your heart flutter, and he puts a hand on your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumb. His car radio is playing a softly in the background. I wanna drive all night, I wanna be alone with you, Follow the moonlight

“Schlatt?” You whisper, he hums in response. “What if we kept driving for a bit? I don’t want to go home just yet.”

“Yeah?” He smirks. You smile at him and it turns into a full laugh as he makes a too sharp turn on to a random road.

“Where are we going?” You say between laughs.

“I dont know,” He says, joining in on your laughter. “I’m just driving.”

The two of you keep turning down random roads. Him asking you at each stop which direction to go in. “Straight, left, or right?” You hum in contemplation.

“Left!”

“Aye aye captain,” He says before moving the car left through the intersection.

Most of the streets are residential and dark. Yet, the lights in the car make it just bright enough that the two of you can see the wide smiles plastered on each other’s faces.

Time seemed frozen as Schlatt drove, the two of you two lost in each other’s company to fell the minutes ticking away. It seemed the further he drove, the more reality felt left behind, leaving only the car, Schlatt, and you in a bubble of fantasy. As if nothing but you two - and this moment - mattered.

The laughter died down and only the soft music from his radio remained. It was during this moment that you could feel the weight of Schlatt’s presence next to you - his warmth radiating through the car’s interior.

“Why YouTube?” You asked suddenly. He looked over at you and your heart skipped a beat. He simply shrugged.

“Easy money,” He joked, followed by a dry and hollow laugh. You stared at him, knowing there was more to it than that. Schlatt sighed. “I grew up watching those old Youtubers, the originals.” He ran the hand that was on your knee through his hair. “I wanted to recreate the magic they made me feel growing up for someone else, create videos that mattered to people.” You smiled gently at his confession and the rare vulnerability from him. That conversation seemed to be the catalyst for more questions to be passed between the two of you.

With every streetlight you passed, the conversation grew deeper, more intimate. You both shared random hopes, silly dreams, and fears, letting the darkness of the night become a haven.

Fatigue weighed heavy on your eyelids. You began losing the battle to sleep in the safety of his car. Schlatt drove through dimly lit neighborhoods, heading back to your place. He smiled to himself, finding new solace in you just being next to him. He thought, just for a moment, that it would be okay; just you and him against the world. His playlist repeated. The words weighing more than the first time the song played through the car and he found himself mumbling along. ’I wanna drive all night, Only me and you’

#jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #that's all folks - i have spoken

[cityof2morrow]

Bella Brand: Fantasy Storefront Set

Published: 11-6-2023 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY “Inspired by the wealth of Bella Goth lore from the Sims/SimCity franchises (aka the “simsverse”), the Bella Brand Series includes more than a dozen sets and 230+ new business-themed items. Lore suggests that the wealth/influence of the Gilman, Crumplebottom, Bachelor, and Goth families increases considerably under Mortimer and Bella Goth, especially the latter. So, this series imagines what a prestigious Bella-based brand might look like…” Bring the magic and prestige of the Bella Brand to your city with the Fantasy Storefront set (Simmons, 2023).  It contains tables, columns, planters, and other deco for creating grand entrances and stunning displays. See below for details.

DETAILS Requires ALL EPs/SPs. You need Mesh Set 001 (Simmons, 2023) and the Display Counter (BellasSecret_Counter_Somedaythesun)from the TS2 Maxis Match Lingerie Store Set (SomedayTheSun, 2023) – these items are required for all textures to display in-game. The counter uses recolors from the Bosenklavier Model B grand piano (Bon Voyage EP). Find recolors for the counter interior in the Bella Brand: Retail Floor Set (Simmons, 2023). Recolors may include swatches for items in other Bella Brand sets such as signs, packages, cosmetics, etc. Objects in Sims 2 are limited to two recolorable parts, so not all items are recolorable in the same way. Find additional recolors for Bella Brand sets on this site under #ts2recolors, #co2recolors, and #co2bellabrand.

ITEMS Bella Fantasy Table 001 (1244 poly) Bella Fantasy Table 002 (1052 poly) Bella Fantasy Table 003 (802 poly) Bella Fantasy Planters 001-005 (~725 poly) Uranium Lavender Plants - Small/Medium/Tall (396 poly) Bella Fantasy Wall Deco (36 poly) Bella Fantasy Hanging Deco (730 poly) Half-Sized Bella, The Angelic. (1817 poly, HIGH) Half-Sized Bella, The Angelic. (Mirrored) (1734 poly, HIGH) Bella, The Angelic. (1819 poly) Bella, The Angelic. (Mirrored) (1736 poly, HIGH) Bella Fantasy Dividers 001-003 (~675 poly) Bella Fantasy Column 001 (348 poly) Bella Fantasy Column 002 (36 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) MESHES from SFS | from MEGA CUBIC METAL RECOLORS from SFS | from MEGA CURIOUS B RECOLORS from SFS | from MEGA AL WOODS RECOLORS from SFS | from MEGA AL WOODS in CURIOUS B COLORS from SFS | from MEGA CREDITS No copyright infringement intended. All trademarks belong to their respective owners. CCA = Creative Commons Attribution. Thanks: @catherinetcjd, @gayars, @gummilutt, @haziewhims, @kashmiresims (Rach’), @somedaythesun, whoward, Easy Shine Removal Kit (PF Forest, 2023), Reducing GUIDs/OBJs Tutorial (HugeLunatic, 2022), Sketchfab and Blender Communities. Sources: SEE CREDITS (ALT).

#sims2cc #ts2cc #ts2downloads #co2bellabrand

[simpforfandom231]

stunned by the Blyth sister *PT 2*

Hunter, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in Rachel's demeanor as she observed Tom and his sister, Y/n. Sensing an opportunity to tease her co-star, Hunter leaned in with a mischievous grin.

"Rachel, what's got you looking all starry-eyed? Is it the leading man, or did you spot someone else on this crowded carpet?" Hunter teased, a playful twinkle in her eye.

Rachel, momentarily caught off guard, tried to brush it off with a light laugh. "Oh, you know, just enjoying the whole spectacle. It's a big night for all of us."

Hunter, not easily deterred, continued the playful banter. "Come on, spill the tea! Is there a secret crush on our leading man, or perhaps someone else has caught your fancy?"

Rachel, maintaining her composure, replied with a smirk, "You know me, Hunter, always a fan of great performances on and off the screen. But no, no secret crushes here."

Hunter, undeterred by Rachel's response, continued to playfully nudge her. "Well, something had you a bit stunned back there. Maybe you just need to let go and embrace the evening. It's all in good fun."

Rachel, though accustomed to navigating the spotlight, felt a twinge of confusion. She wasn't ready to share her personal life with the world, and the unexpected attention on Tom's sister added an element of unpredictability to the night.

As the banter continued, Rachel couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized. She glanced once more at Tom and Y/n, trying to understand the source of her co-star's amusement. Unbeknownst to Hunter, Rachel's thoughts lingered on her own journey and the complexities of self-discovery.

The cast of "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" made their way from the dazzling red carpet into the opulent hall, guided by ushers through grand double doors that opened into a space of sheer luxury. The grandeur of the venue was evident in the sparkling crystal chandeliers that hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the lavish decor.

As the stars entered, the ambient chatter of excited voices filled the hall. The atmosphere was one of anticipation, and the grandeur of the setting reflected the magnitude of the cinematic event about to unfold. Tables adorned with elegant floral arrangements and fine china were set for the pre-movie meeting.

The cast members mingled, sharing anecdotes and laughter, the energy of the evening flowing seamlessly from the red carpet to the opulent interior. The air was infused with the clinking of champagne glasses and the tantalizing aroma of luxury appetizers being circulated by impeccably dressed servers.

Rachel, Hunter, Tom, and the rest of the ensemble found themselves in the midst of a surreal blend of cinematic fantasy and real-world glamour. The camaraderie among the cast members grew stronger, their shared journey from the red carpet to the lavish hall creating a bond that transcended the roles they played on screen.

In a private corner, Rachel and Hunter continued their banter, now joined by Tom and other cast members. The teasing and laughter carried a genuine warmth, and any lingering tension from earlier moments on the red carpet melted away in the convivial atmosphere.

The pre-meeting, a moment of celebration and reflection, allowed the cast to relax and savor the culmination of their hard work. The clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation filled the hall as the stars prepared to witness the fruition of their collective efforts on the silver screen.

As the cast members engaged in animated conversations and laughter, Rachel found herself occasionally glancing in Y/n's direction. Y/n, engrossed in discussions with various people who had worked on the movie, seemed at ease in the midst of the bustling pre-meeting atmosphere.

During one such glance, Y/n caught Rachel's eyes. With a polite smile, Y/n raised her hand in a friendly wave, acknowledging the connection with someone from the cast. Unbeknownst to Y/n, her friendly gesture sparked a momentary flutter in Rachel's heart.

Hunter, ever observant, nudged Rachel with a playful smirk. "Caught someone's eye, huh?" she teased.

Rachel, blushing slightly, tried to play it off. "Oh, it's nothing. Just being friendly."

Hunter leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You know, friendly looks a lot like something else sometimes."

Rachel, still feeling the warmth of the unexpected exchange, chuckled nervously. "Well, let's focus on the movie. That's what we're all here for, right?"

As the pre-meeting continued, Y/n moved through the room, gracefully navigating conversations with those who had contributed to the film. Her infectious enthusiasm and genuine appreciation for the collaborative effort behind the scenes endeared her to the crew and fellow cast members alike.

Unaware of Rachel's occasional glances, Y/n's attention remained on the shared excitement for the premiere. When she encountered Rachel's gaze once more, she offered another friendly wave, a genuine smile gracing her features.

Rachel, now feeling a mix of curiosity and a touch of self-consciousness, couldn't help but wonder about the nature of her own feelings. The hall, filled with the hum of conversations and the anticipation of the upcoming screening, became a backdrop to the subtle dance of unspoken emotions.

As the movie's premiere drew near, the cast members continued their lively conversations, sharing excitement and anecdotes about the film. Amidst the chatter, Josh Rivera, Rachel's ex, approached her with a warm smile.

"Hey, Rachel," Josh greeted, his voice carrying a tone of friendly familiarity.

"Hey, Josh," Rachel responded, returning the smile. Despite their past, the two seemed amicable, maintaining a professional and respectful demeanor.

"I just wanted to say how great it is to be a part of this project with you. It's been a journey," Josh remarked, reflecting on the collaborative effort that had brought them together once again.

Rachel nodded, appreciating the sentiment. "Absolutely, Josh. It's been quite the experience, and I'm grateful to have such a talented cast and crew."

Josh, sensing the need for brevity in the bustling pre-meeting atmosphere, kept the conversation light. "Well, here's to an amazing premiere. May the odds be ever in our favor," he said with a playful glint in his eye, a nod to the iconic line from the Hunger Games series.

Rachel chuckled, toasting with her champagne glass. "May the odds indeed."

As Josh excused himself to join other cast members, Rachel couldn't help but reflect on the unique dynamics of working alongside someone from her past. The exchange was a reminder of the interconnected web of relationships within the entertainment industry, where personal and professional lives often intersect.

As the cast continued their conversations, Rachel found herself lost in her own thoughts, a glass of champagne in hand. The dazzling lights of the pre-meeting hall seemed to blur as she contemplated the complex emotions stirred by the evening's events.

Tom Blyth, perceptive as always, noticed Rachel's distant gaze. Sensing her need for a moment of privacy, he subtly signaled to her, raising an eyebrow and gesturing toward a quieter corner of the room. Rachel, recognizing the familiar expression, nodded in agreement.

They navigated the room, weaving through the lively conversations until they found a secluded spot away from the crowd. Tom, treating Rachel like a sister, couldn't help but notice the turmoil in her eyes.

"Hey, you seem a bit caught up in your thoughts there. Everything okay?" Tom inquired with genuine concern.

Rachel sighed, a mix of emotions playing across her face. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind tonight. It's such a big moment, you know?"

Tom nodded, understanding the weight of the premiere and the expectations that came with it. "We're all feeling it. But you can talk to me, you know that, right?"

Rachel, appreciating Tom's concern, hesitated for a moment before opening up. "It's just... I saw your sister, Y/n, and something about her caught me off guard. I can't quite put my finger on it."

Tom raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Y/n? What happened? Is everything okay?"

Rachel, choosing her words carefully, replied, "Oh, it's nothing bad. She's just... captivating, I guess. But not in the way you'd expect. It's like she has this aura, and I can't figure out why it's affecting me so much."

Tom chuckled, relieved that the issue seemed lighter than he initially thought. "Ah, the Blyth charm strikes again. Y/n does have a way of leaving an impression on people. But, Rachel, she's just my little sister. Is there something specific bothering you?"

Rachel, hesitant to reveal her feelings, decided to keep it vague. "No, no, it's nothing. Just caught me by surprise, that's all."

Tom, always the supportive friend, placed a reassuring hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Well, if you ever need to talk or figure things out, you know where to find me. Let's enjoy the night, and whatever happens, happens."

Rachel, grateful for Tom's understanding, managed a smile. "Thanks, Tom. You're a good friend."

As they returned to the bustling pre-meeting, the unspoken tension lingered in Rachel's mind.

Tom and Rachel rejoined the group, seamlessly blending back into the lively conversations. Hunter, with her keen sense of observation, sent a questioning glance toward Rachel, her eyes curious and probing. Rachel, catching Hunter's gaze, subtly mouthed, "It's okay," reassuring her friend that everything was fine.

As the group continued chatting, Y/n Blyth approached, her energy infectious and her smile genuine. Hunter, ever the playful tease, couldn't resist an opportunity to stir the pot. She shot Rachel a sly smirk before turning her attention to Y/n.

"Well, well, if it isn't the mysterious Y/n Blyth joining the party. What secrets do you hold, I wonder?" Hunter teased, her tone light but with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Y/n laughed, playing along with the banter. "Oh, you know, just here to add a dash of mystery to the evening. A Blyth tradition."

Hunter, exchanging a knowing look with Rachel, couldn't resist a follow-up. "And what about you, Rachel? Any secrets you're hiding tonight?"

Rachel chuckled, deciding to go along with the playful banter. "Just the usual. My love for cinema and a few million other insignificant details."

Hunter, not one to be easily deterred, continued her teasing, her gaze flickering between Rachel and Y/n. "Oh, I'm sure there's more beneath the surface. We'll have to unravel those mysteries one day."

Y/n, unaware of the subtle undercurrents, joined the banter with a smile. "Well, if anyone can uncover mysteries, it's you guys.

The announcement echoed through the pre-meeting hall, drawing the attention of the cast and guests. A wave of excitement swept through the room as the anticipation for the premiere reached its peak. The realization that the moment they had all been waiting for was imminent sent a ripple of energy through the crowd.

"Alright, everyone, take your seats! The show is about to begin," a voice over the intercom declared, prompting the cast and attendees to make their way to the adjacent hall where the screening would take place.

The group, still buzzing with conversation and laughter, moved gracefully towards their assigned tables. The hall, adorned with intricate decor and dimmed lights, set the stage for the cinematic journey that awaited them.

Rachel, Hunter, Tom, Y/n, and the rest of the cast found their places, each seat a front-row ticket to the spectacle about to unfold on the silver screen. The air was charged with a blend of excitement, nerves, and the shared anticipation of witnessing the fruits of their labor.

As they settled into their seats, the room hushed, and the lights dimmed further. The atmosphere transformed into one of collective focus, the hum of conversation giving way to a quiet expectation. The premiere of "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" was about to begin, and the stars, both on the screen and in the audience, were poised to embark on a journey that would captivate hearts and minds alike.

The next hall, now a sanctuary of cinematic enchantment, awaited the unveiling of a tale that had been crafted with passion, dedication, and the collective spirit of the talented individuals who had come together to bring Suzanne Collins' world to life. The red carpet, the pre-meeting, and the banter were but prologue to the grand spectacle that was about to unfold. The audience, eager and expectant, braced themselves for the immersive experience of "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes," ready to be transported into a world where intrigue, drama, and unexpected connections awaited.

#rachel zegler #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x you #lucy gray x fem!reader #fandom #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #tbosas #fanfic

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century)

(I know, I've been slacking but I'm still alive)

When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But what and who did it take to run a great house?

Meet the Staff

Large numbers of staff were always needed to run great houses. Every department had its own management and its own teams, all working together to ensure everything ran smooth. There was both an interior and exterior team.

Interior

You can split the interior of the household into three departments: Service, Upkeep and Food Preparation.

Service

Butler: The Butler was the Head of all the household staff. He acted essentially as the manager of a great house, directing the staff on a day to day basis or at events on the command of the lord/lady/employer. Make staff would report mostly yo him and he would be in charge of keeping an eye on them. The Butler had charge of the wine cellars, the dining room, sometimes the pantry as well. As the manager of the house, Butlers were afforded the title of Mr. X. Our favourite examples being of course Mr Carson and Mr Pennyworth.

Valet: The valet was the male servant who handled the dressing of the men of the family. He would be in charge of his master's clothes, ensuring he was always dressed in the right outfit for the right activity (there was a lot) and be in charge of helping him into the outfit in question. The valet would also be in charge of cleanliness, sometimes shaving his master or running his bath. Valets were referred to as Surname and ranked in how their employer's ranked, for example the Lord’s valet would outrank his son's.

Lady's Maid: The lady's maid was similar to the valet. She was in charge of keeping the ladies of the house looking their best and handling their needs. She would style hair, care for jewels, mend clothes, care for clothes and often act as a companion, accompanying her lady on visits or day's out. The lady's maid was referred to by their surname.

Footman: The footman was a male servant who served at table, fetched items, handled heavy lifting such as luggage, opened and closed doors. Most footmen were young men and en chosen for good looks. Footmen polished the silver services at great houses and when called upon would often take on the role of valet to guests without a servant to help. Footmen were referred to as their firstname. Footmen were denoted by rank, the highest being first footman who had charge over the others and would assist the butler in some tasks.

Upkeep

Housekeeper:The housekeeper was second in command but she ran her most of the interior staff, especially those who took care of the house itself. She supervised all female staff. She helped the lady of the house when it came to running events and caring for guests. The housekeeper is always Mrs. Surname even when she's unmarried.

Housemaid: Housemaids clean the house. They would dust, make and strip beds, straighten things up and keep the house looking it's best. The housemaid was a servant that was almost never seen, usually rising early, lighting the fires, cleaning the house as the family moves from room to room. She was called by her Firstname.

Scullery Maid: The scullery maid is the lower ranking maid. She would also have been younger and less experienced. She was in charge of the more unsightly work: laying the fires, scrubbing the floors, emptying chamberpots, cleaning servant's chambers. She may even do mending and washing for other servants. She was called by her first name.

Hall boy: The hall boy was also young and handled the worst jobs. He would polish boots belonging to the family and sometimes staff, cempty the servant's chamberpots and waited on on the higher ranking servants. He was called by his name.

Food Preparation

Cook: The cook or chef was the third highest ranking servant downstairs and they ran their own department. They were in charge of the kitchen staff. All cooks and chefs would meet almost daily with the lady of the house to discuss menus and ordering but would answer to both housekeeper and butler. As with the housekeeper, a female cook or chef is Mrs Surname despite martial status and make cooks/chef are Mr.

Kitchen maid: The kitchen maid helped the cook/chef in preparing the food. She would be one of the first servants up, in charge of lighting the ovens and starting the breakfast for the family and servants. She would clean the kitchen, boil water when needed and bring food up to the servery when needed. She would be called by her first name.

Exterior

The house would needed a team on the outside to handle the stables, the gardens and any outdoor activity.

Gardeners: They would be responsible for the upkeep of the grounds itself, caring for the gardens. There would be multiple at a great house led by a head gardener.

Stableboy/groom/kennelmaster: They would take care of the family's horses and dogs. They would take care of tack, help plan hunts and riding pursuits and handle carriages.

Chauffeur: As automobiles became popular in this period, a chauffeur was needed to drive the family and take car of their motor.

Lives of Servants

Servants were paid very little at this time, mainly because most staff got free room and board. Most of the interior staff would live in the house itself and be supplied meals. Chauffeurs, gardeners etc would live nearby on the estate either as locals or be supplied a house as a staff member. Staff uniforms were also supplied. Days off were rare but not withheld. Permission was needed to leave the house either to visit the shop or take a few days off.

Servants were expected to be obedient, modest and humble at all times. They were expected to stand in the presence of their master's, speak only when spoken to and never question an order. They had to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat. You've set for a dozen guests but now there's five more coming? Tough luck, change the table settings. You get seasick? Nevermind that, your gentleman is going across the sea and as his valet you're going with him, like it or not.

Servants from one house often travelled to with the family to their other residences: the butler, footmen, chef, kitchen maids, lady's maid, valet would all go with the family while everybody else would get left behind. Every house would have its own housekeeper if it could be afforded. Housemaids and other staff needed could be hired locally when needed.

The Daily Routine

The working day of a servant in a grand house was a long arduous one.

Morning: At 6am, the servants rise. The scullery maid gets up and begins lighting the fires, starting with the kitchen. Then she cleans the kitchen top to bottom before the staff get in to cook. The kitchen maid would rise at the same time, helping with the cleaning. She would set for the servant's breakfast and start cooking it. The footmen open the shutters upstairs, cleans whatever tools they will need such as glasses and silverware, tend the lamps and sets for breakfast upstairs. The housemaids go about the house cleaning up after the night before, starting in the rooms that aren't being used (any room that's not the bedrooms). At around 8, the cook rises and starts the day. The kitchen maid serves breakfast to the other servants before returning to the kitchen to eat her own breakfast with the other kitchen staff. After breakfast, the housemaid will change her apron and deliver hot water to each of the bedrooms for the family. At 9, the family rise. Married women have breakfast in bed with all other family members and visitors eating in the dining room. Valets and lady's maids would have dressed them prior, gathering up any clothes to be mended or washed. The footmen and butlers will serve while the housemaids go into each empty room and begin their chores.

Midday: Just before midday, the chef would speak with the lady of the house to discuss menus. At around 11, the staff were permitted their first break, just enough time for a drink usually a cup of tea before they started again. The chef would start preparing for the main dinner of the evening with the lady's approval. Footmen would take their places at entrances or attend the family where he may be needed. At noon, the servants would have their dinner. At 1, the family would sit for their lunch. Once lunch is over, a footman might be permitted to attend personal business (with permission from the butler first) or be sent on errands out of the house such as delivering messages. While the family sit for breakfast, the maids tidy up any room they have been using since getting up.

Afternoon: The family take tea around 4. The footmen clear the tea before heading down to take their tea - a light meal- with the other servants around 5. Afterwards, the footmen will start to light the lamps, close the shutters and draw the curtains. The butler would oversee the laying of the table for dinner with the footmen. The first footman carries the silver, the second the china, while the butler sets the silver and glasses. If a guest is coming, a footman will remain on the door to see them in.

Evening: At 8, the footman or butler signals the start of supper. This is done by the rinibg of the gong or bell which gives the family and any staying guests, 15mins or more to get ready. Valets and lady's maids would already be upstairs at this point, helping their master/mistress. When the family head downstairs, they linger in the drawing room to chat while a footmen keeps an eye on them. Any guests visiting for dinner would be let in by a footman and announced upon entry. The butler announces dinner and escorts the family in. The footman serve the food while the butler pours the wine (chosen by the Lord with the butler's help). The footman stay in the dining room all throughout dinner, excepting when they go to the servery to collect the food from the kitchen maid. They serve and clear the plates for every course. When dinner is over, a footman will stay with the men while they drink their port while another serves the ladies their coffee in the drawing room. While dinner is on, the housemaid would tidy the empty rooms, check the fires and turn down the beds. At 9, the servants eat their supper while the family chill. When supper is over and the family is done for the night, the valets and lady's maids would ready their masters for bed. A footman would wait in the hall with candlesticks for the family and show any departing guest out. The kitchen staff would start to clean up while the butler starts locking up the house. The staff would get to bed about 11:30 - 12.

#Fantasy Guide to A Great House #Guide to A Great House part 1 #Staff #Employment #Historical reference #Writing reference #writeblr #Writing help #Writers guide #Writing research #writers resources #writing resources writing advice #Writing advice #19th century #20th century #Edwardian #Gilded age #Victorian era

[lonelysucker7]

Strangers on a Train

⚠️ Chapter 2 ⚠️

Pairing: Kaine Parker x gn!Reader

Summary: You’re just an average person making their daily living, surviving adulthood as it is. You live in Houston, Texas where even the hero the Scarlet Spider lives. And then there’s a guy, who looks like he’s gone through hell, on a train you’re crushing on.

Word count: 3.9 k

Warnings: mentions of violence (but very brief), criticism towards art, parental issues (also brief), profanity once again!!

Not proofread!! But enjoy!!! ☺️

⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴

The doors didn’t open until 11.

It was a Wednesday, and lucky for you it was a promised short day. Your work didn’t require much as a tour guide. Walk, talk, and answer questions for the art enthusiasts or students from schools that booked their tickets for days like these. And people talked. Often, even with your short time, this went on for hours without a stop.

Every art was displayed for the eye with the likes of van Gogh and Matisse, but obviously van Gogh was for the win. You’ve lost count how much you explained the importance of his life work so you didn’t really need to rehearse any mental notes and directions you were going to use. With much ease, you walked through the halls of the museum, pointing and gesturing with your hands around his paintings, remarking about the paint strokes delicately put into the work and adding backstory to them.

Occasionally there were the usual interruptions with “experts” who bragged about their knowledge regarding the tragic painter. Patiently you kept hearing them go on and on, until letting them finish when they took the hint from the crowd they wanted to move on. You didn’t bat an eye, thanking them for their contribution but silently remarking in sarcasm

“Well fuck, have my job and live my life!”

As you passed by van Gogh's Self-Portrait, you heard the crowd behind you murmuring amongst themselves in admiration. You stopped with them in front of a dark room with the exception of the interior displaying hanging LED lights, falling down from the ceiling in the style of vines colored in violets and pinks. The background offered the effect of neon lights sprawling across the walls in a manner of adding that mystic effect. It was a small forest of wonder after all.

“This is ‘Pipilotti Rist’s: Pixel Forest and Worry Will Vanish’. The artist hailing from Switzerland is always testing art in technology, intending them to be very engaging with her themes of naturalism and wonder. Composed with LED lights in the form of hanging vines and a new art form expressing human regeneration as visual imagery. There are even couches in there to relax in and dream alongside the projections shown on the walls. Maybe losing yourselves in a fantasy wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I recommend it,” you suggested with a slight smile. You stood near the doorway, scooting aside to let others take a small peak at the show.

Behind you, you hear a soft snort coming from behind the walls. Looking over your shoulder, you immediately frown with a roll of your eyes as you notice the familiar someone. Your co-worker/ friend, Bethany grinned to herself as she mimicked your speech, mouthing the words while puppeting it on her hand. Holding the urge not to call her out in the middle of the crowd, you made a small quick clap and urged your crowd to continue with you to finish the tour.

“Tickets will be available once the date is posted on the website. There will be rules regarding the exhibition so make sure to look over those if you intend on bringing children or other!”

………………………………………………………………………….

“You had me in the first half, I won’t lie. I mean, I thought your whimsy quips didn't manage to weave itself in your talk like it does out of nowhere. Because if it didn’t, I wouldn't believe you’d talk that professional.”

“Mmm, well, when you spend so much time talking about works on illusions and dreams coming to a reality, I guess you get sucked in it too. Just happens.”

The first group of touring was done for the first hour and a half, and now you found yourself having a scrutinizing conversation with Bethany about your style of work. You both were in the average noise breakroom, taking your lunch break while still keeping the time.

Getting the job was hard but you managed that getting yourself out there to effectively communicate with people required you to get yourself out of your comfort zone first.

Easy said, easy done.

One sacrifice to offer to the devil of the work was all you needed. Pretty soon your boss became impressed with your way of words, even when it seemed you lacked effort in them at first.

When you told your parents about your job, you expected them to be a little less than happy about it. That expectation was quickly dismissed as they were thrilled you had finally achieved a job (even more when they heard insurance was graciously offered to you.) Your dad joked with you about sending money their way, but you’d always cut it off with the excuse of your break coming to an end. Same case with your mom, though it was more about your college degree even being used at all.

“So what was all that money for?”

You didn’t know how to respond without becoming upset.

And you met Bethany, the security guard, meandering in the locker room. A rough start as she searched through your duffle bag for a pack of cigarettes, and to her disappointment, you didn’t have any. But you offered her gum instead and she took it without hesitation. And throughout the months that came, you got to know her better and became friends. She was in her late 30’s, single, not so much of a hopeless romantic instead preferring to stay on the side of logic and reason.

A bit “evil” you wanted to say, maybe a little too noisy but nevertheless you tolerated her presence and grew to appreciate her. Not once did she leave you out of any hot topic that roamed in the museum or her life, so you felt somewhat special being let in her inner circle.

“Ever watched that old Spanish film called ‘Open Your Eyes?’ You asked Bethany with an expectant stare from across the room. A perplexed expression crossed her features as she pulled out her casserole lunch from the microwave and made her way back to your table. She saw your sad looking ham sandwich in your hands and said

“No, why?” She tilted the veggie casserole towards you to offer in the stead of your meal and you kindly refused. You responded casually

“Because the exhibition that I talked about kinda reminds me of that movie. A dreamlike fantasy you end up losing yourself in because your reality sucks. That movie is all about that.”

Your friend made a small tsk and wagged her finger as she picked on her casserole.

“Don’t think it was the artist's literal intention to have you forget reality. Much less your worries actually vanish. All that is just for show.” Bethany mused as she picked her food, pushing away a piece of broccoli on the side of her plate. You frowned, staring at your ham sandwich with little interest. You replied assertively.

“Yeah but it's in the name. How can it not be?”

“I don’t know, I ain’t an expert in that okay? Answer it yourself.”

“Okay, fine.” A silence lingered over you both, until Bethany asked between mid-chew

“Why exactly did you ask?”

You mulled over the question of why. Maybe it was those people from the tour who interrupted so much. Maybe it was looking back on your old home life. Or the memories of what happened in the morning which flooded through your mind and you got goosebumps because of it. Suddenly you felt embarrassed to even tell. You wanted to hide under a rock from your reality. You confessed with a grim reply

“Cause I’m always wondering if my reality is a dream or my hell right now. Van Gogh was in a limbo, so where am I?”

Bethany being Bethany; cringed at the statement, making a disgusted face as she settled her fork down.

“Okay, okay enough with the philosophy and comparing yourself with dead artists. Look, I'll pinch you if you want to see if you're here with me, weirdo.”

At that you laughed breezily a bit and shook your head, responding smoothly

“No thanks, I’m good as it is. Anyways, I want to finish my lunch before I start touring again. That last group sure had its professionals. I was starting to wonder if I needed to call our boss and quit right on the spot just so they could do the job for me.” You took a bite of your sandwich with a slight grumble and chewed on it with a sigh. Bethany side glanced at you from her food and shrugged.

“Oh come on, you know Boss-man would cry if you left. You’re one of our best. You’re just overthinking it. Like you usually do with that guy on the train. Speaking of which….” Bethany leaned closer to you, you leaning back as a response from the grinchy like smile growing on her face as she rubbed her hands together.

“...You saw him again, didn’t ya?”

You stopped chewing midway of your food. No doubt you did tell her about the stranger. Fifty fifty you regret coming down to this, but she was your friend and you were dying to tell someone. In fact she was the only one you’ve told.

Bethany had remained invested in this topic for as long as you can remember, especially since you maintained your personal life private from many around you. Bethany knew some things. But glimpses of your romantic (if you wanted to coin it like that) life was like striking gold for dear Bethany.

Your eyes glanced away from her creepy smile and your mouth scrunched to the side as you mumbled

“Yes. And?”

Suddenly, she slams her palms on the table that shook with a rattle, causing you and others in the breakroom to jump. Looking back at her you almost yell with a slight strained voice, pieces of your sandwich falling abruptly on your lap.

“Was that necessary?!”

Bethany ignored you, and continued, “Did you finally ask if he was single?!”

You rolled your eyes as you shook your head, incling down at the floor from your seat as you picked up your mess from the floor.

“Of course I didn’t! You know I wouldn’t even think of asking him that. Would you have done the same?” You argued with your voice wavering a bit from the intensity, even breathing a little slowly to calm your nerves. Wrong question, you knew your answer already. Bethany crossed her arms and haughtily replied.

“Yeah, I would’ve done it if I was really that interested. Are you not? How long are ya gonna keep stalling yourself my dear co-worker? Can’t stand the idea of being rejected?”

Your brain couldn’t even process all that, leaving you gripping your thighs anxiously and your mouth gaping without a single word being uttered out. Once the calmness settled, you managed to hush out

“I’m trying… of sorts. Yeah, I’m scared shitless if I get rejected, who wouldn't? And good god Bethany, I already told you he doesn’t seem to be the type you straight up ask on those things…”

Bethany huffed a laugh, and shook her head as if she wasn’t taking that as an answer.

“Yeah but, how long have we been talking about this guy? It’s the same shit! ‘Oh I wanna talk with him this’ and ‘I wanna talk with him that—’ Please just do it, you’re killing meeeee…” Bethany whined, grabbing your shoulders from behind and shook you.

You flick your fingers on the hands on your shoulders and manage to get them off of you. As Bethany peers close to your face, you look back at her as a dark look crosses your eyes.

It finally came to your mind that you were still on your break and the whole staff room was staring at your commotion from the corner of the room. The sound of the water dripping from the sink could be heard in the background.

Pushing your chair back, you stood to let the blood flow through your legs again and moved to toss the pieces of sandwich near the garbage disposal. As you sat back down with a melancholic feeling, you mumbled,

“Everything at its time. Don’t rush me, okay?”

You buried your face in your hands continuing to mumble incoherent complaints in them. Bethany surrendered her hands in the air as she slumped in her seat and started to absentmindedly pick her casserole again.

“You're too respectful. You shouldn’t.”

You snapped your head up, glaring slightly.

“We’re strangers. I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. Some random creep asking if you're single out of nowhere? That raises so many red flags if you hadn't noticed. You know what… think I might need that pinch now.”

Bethany reached to pat your back with mild consolation, still with that smug smile and a borderline joy of taking in your pain. Now you just felt tired and yearned to go home. Sadly it was only 2 in the afternoon so you’d need to wait 3 more hours. You then hear Bethany say in a tranquilizing tone

“Take it easy. Listen I know you’re a dreamer, and you keep dreaming okay? I don’t want to burst your bubble. But while that train keeps on moving and he keeps riding it, you should shoot your shot. Never know if he’s gonna be gone the next day. Uncanny events always force someone to move out of here.”

Hearing her make that statement, raises a the hairs in the back of your head. Maybe a part of you refused to accept that fact, but you knew it was the truth. It was either take it or leave it. How long you’ve spent pondering on the thought of talking to him… oh a very long time, that you already made yourself clear on the train. You clenched your jaw, gulping quietly as you spoke with hesitancy.

“I’ll try… but I’m sure things will end up falling short of my expectations.”

“No no, I’m certain you’re gonna do fine. You have a way with words. Your personality is pretty good. And you are…” Bethany leaned back to take your form from head to toe and back over again with an easy smile “...You’re pretty hot enough to catch someone's eye. Although I’m not saying looks are everything. Say, if he saw you today, did he make any sign that he looked even the slightest interested in you?”

You scratched your cheek for a minute or two in thought, then you finally shake your head and simply responded

“No.”

“No?” Bethany repeated bluntly. You shook your head again. You made a slight tilt as you added,

“Although we did hold a stare for about 15 seconds. Does that count?”

“Hmm, it's something. What else did he do?”

“Er, well he did this funny thing with his lip. It went back a bit. Like…like he tried to…” Bethany watched you intently as you reenacted the funny lip jump. She only thinned her lips as a teasing smile started to form, until she burst, pointing a finger at you gushing.

“Oh my god, did he try to smile at you?!” Bethany's smile must have reached its limit as it was already way too wide and way too disturbing to hold eye contact. You chuckled nervously with a half-shrug.

“I guess…? It would be a first actually.” An attempted smile from him… it made your chest feel fuzzy from that thought. Still though it could’ve meant anything. Bethany giggles, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to her. You winced a little, smelling the breath of onion from her casserole as she whispered.

“Just go talk to him. You know you’re brave. Wake up and make it a reality. Got one life, so don’t waste it.” She gave you a small shake in her arm, before the weight was lifted off of you. You fixed the collar of your uniform and looked at the time again. Your break was over. Her words of encouragement suddenly pushed you to actually want to do it.

Like previous times of course.

“I suppose so huh? Tomorrow we’ll see then. Thanks Bethany.”

She gave you a small thumbs up as you both stood up from your seats. Both of you then stepped outside of the breakroom, departing with a side hug and left to finish the day. You waved at your crowd from the end of the hallway on your left and approached them with a professional welcoming smile.

Maybe I should do it tomorrow. Nothing can go wrong from here… right?

…………………………………..……………………………………

Now your day is over. And your pained feet were dying to get home.

But as expected you were held back for a couple reasons. First was to finish answering some questions from the guests, and then your boss whose news reached to his ears about you and Bethany “fighting” in the breakroom. To which you denied sincerely without trying to smile. You two could never.

In consequence, those actions from both parties have left you to forget the sun set earlier in the month of July. Crap.

5:45 P.M, and you also missed your train. You sent Bethany a text asking for a ride, but you deleted the message as you recalled her mentioning in the morning about a dentist appointment after her break. Meaning you were going to need to walk home.

Fuck.

Adjusting your duffel bag on your shoulder, you climbed down the stairs while keeping a taser you borrowed from Bethany close by in your pocket. You quickly took a left from the station and started jogging slightly as you wanted to avoid any possible encounter with people. Not at this hour, no siree.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this. But not regularly either.

The approximation from your work to your apartment was about 30-45 minutes depending how fast you got there on foot, but you knew you weren’t gonna get there anytime soon. The uncomfortable feeling of being watched as you jogged without a stop for breath became awkward as hell.

You passed by the town shops that still had their lights on, staying close by them as you needed to see the cemented path ahead of you. For a summer night the air felt a mix of cool air and warm heat, making you start sweating anyway. Man you felt that adrenaline and motivation push your limits already.

The night sky wasn’t all dark as it was being illuminated by a full moon and the stars sparkled brightly. You huffed a breath as you turned a dark corner.

Only a couple more blocks, I can do this.

You began to feel a little dizzy from your excessive jogging and weariness of your feet starting to catch up with you that you immediately slowed down. A sharp pain from the side of your ribs irked you to recoil and grab on to the wall to lean on. Ragged breathing started to fill your ears as you took a breather and your eyes scanned your surroundings.

You had entered an alleyway with no exit. Dark and murky.

A sudden crash from a nearby garbage dump from the exit of the alleyway, caused you to stagger back with alert. Your hand fumbled in your pocket as you pulled out your taser and kept it to your side as you looked over your shoulder, just to make sure nothing from the darkness or exit came out.

You were so wrong.

From the pit of your chest you felt your heart drop to your stomach as you saw something moving towards the entrance of the alleyway. Dark shadows plastered on the wall from the light reflected off the moon and a growling noise seemed to rumble out. It resembled that of the creature and you almost had a feeling what it was. It started to become closer and closer.

You bite your tongue trying not to make a noise, stepping back into the shadows but without realizing it; your heel accidentally stepped on a piece of glass breaking it loudly.

Shit—-

You let out a scream as the creature rages in the alley about to grab you with their sharp claws.

I’M DEAD, I’M SO DEAD—-!

Your panicked thoughts were cut off aggressively as you were pulled upwards by something that grabbed your back shirt. You felt it snap off of you as your body was being rag dolled around by something keeping you close.

And very tightly; your back was being dug with their immense grip on you. More growls and yells were heard by your ear and your eyes couldn’t focus on it. Everything was a blur of colors red, black—-

Red and black? Hold up—-

Instinctively you wrapped your arms around the neck of this something you realized… it was none other than the Scarlet Spider himself.

You stared in awe at his red lenses, seeing your own face back at them. And oh man… his breathing sounded hotter up close. Of all places you finally met the hero. Yet that didn’t stop you from feeling scared as the webbed hero was swinging swiftly in the air with the web in one hand from a great height. The feeling was just like when you were a kid, being pushed on the swing and feeling the air pressure wacking your face. So you gradually held on tightly.

Yeah—you wanted to throw up right then in there.

Below you a grassy patch of land was coming into view. A playground from the nearby school you knew close to your home. With a loud thump you both landed on the ground safely, the noises of growls faded away in the distance.

“Hey… you can let go now,” You heard a low rough voice speak from the mask. You didn’t realize you closed your eyes and you opened them, raising your head away from his shoulder. Dumbly, you shakily let go of the hero and a soft thud from the padding of your feet was audibly heard as it touched the grass.

As your arms slid from his shoulders, you only noticed that the hero was just leaning down for you when he suddenly straightened up from his inclined posture.

He was much…taller.

“Are you okay?” He asked with a gruff tone. A soft gruff tone if you heard carefully.

You shook your head just to quickly revert it to a nod as you silently answered his question. He answered it with a nod of his own as he craned his neck to look at you up and down for potential injuries.

“Good. Don’t be wandering out at night—it’s dangerous you hear? See what almost happened to you back there? Almost became a snack.”

If you had enough energy you would have laughed at the warning. You didn’t answer, just stared. An impatient snap to your face woke you from your trance.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“U-uh, y-yeah… t-thanks…” You stuttered softly.

A beat.

The hero stared at you in silence and for a moment it felt like he wanted to say something. From the looks of his hands on his sides flexing their fingers, he seemed to hesitate doing something. He didn’t do anything. Finally, he said in a rather plain tone,

“Go home now. Take a pill for the nerves and a day off. You’re shaken up, I can tell.”

“U-uh h-huh…” you managed, as the jelly legs found themselves on your legs when you turned around to walk. You were numbly questioning the creature that almost killed you and the urge to ask him came to you. You wanted to say something else to him as you turned around to face him once again—-but he was gone.

Damn. You wanted him to stay a little longer.

Home it is then. You pulled your duffel bag—-correction, nothing.

You scan all over your body for anything and you let out a frustrated groan as you realize your duffel bag was lost back at that alley. Worst of all, you didn’t even know which one.

Well… at least you had a spare key under your mat.

⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴

11/27/23

Hello there!!

So yes I was working on this really really hard. And you have a friend yay! Maybe you’ll expect another chapter in two weeks (I know, I’m bummed out too.)

Alright so… here’s the thing.

I was drafting where this story will head and here’s what I have in mind: Kaine technically left Houston right? Because of… stuff. But what if… what if he came back?

I have hopes for that. So this fic is where that intends to go. Where Kaine technically comes back to Houston. He has his friends back (minus one if you have an idea who), and he’s basically trying to start all over again. That’s all I can say for now.

And yes of course he still has The Other (not all fanfiction is canon remember!)

This journey is likely gonna be long folks. With super long paragraphs. And a hella amount of plot.

So… enjoy every moment and thank you for your support. You guys keep me going 🤗

—LonelySucker7

Next: Chapter 3

Previously: Chapter 1

#kaine parker #kaine parker x reader #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writer #MAYBE THIS IS NOT AS GOOD AS THE FIRST ONE #But don’t worry—it should get better from here I think #I am uncertain #fanfic #also I finally found the keep reading button lmao #so your welcome dear readers for sparing you from an endless scroll from the bottom to the top #scarlet spider #Kaine Parker x gn!reader #question did I rush the scarlet spider coming in?? #my pacing is terrible but trust me— #also yes I did watch “Open your eyes #thought had some interesting connections with art and living in a fantasy but also because the whole movie reminds me of Kaine in a strange #bizzare way #Philosophying my way here lol #strangers on a train

[karatekels]

TIGmas Day #8 – What You Do To Me

Today’s request is for @iliketoboopacat, who has requested KK3 Terry doing what only Mr. Silver can: overwhelming Reader with adoration that crosses over into sweet, sweet torture. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: You and Terry have been together for quite awhile now and he is crazy about you. Before he can tell you that he loves you, he decides to test your loyalty by seeing how you respond to another man trying to seduce you at a gala. Once you pass his test with flying colours, he sneaks away with you to confess his love, and shows you just what it’s like to have his full devotion…

TW: Deception; unhealthy relationships; dirty talk; edging; overstimulation; degradation kink; crying kink; praise kink; fingering (vaginal); graphic sex;

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What You Do To Me

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Reader’s POV:

The interior of the Ennis House had been transformed into a thing of pure fantasy, and you had been decorated along with it. DynaTox’s annual Christmas party was being hosted at its CEO’s home for the first time, an uncharacteristically vulnerable choice that let the employees and their guests have a glimpse into the life of the man himself. One would almost think that as they stepped over the threshold into the house that they had been transported from California to the mountains of Colorado, fake snow mounded around the bases of real pines. An honest-to-goodness ice rink had been constructed in the Grand Ballroom, the waitstaff skating amongst the guests with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres in hand.

Despite all of this revelry, there’s only one thing on your mind.

Where’s Terry?

This is the first elite party you’ve attended where you are also playing the hostess. You had anticipated that Terry, who normally kept you glued to his side constantly, would be even more insistent to have you with him – the two of you had been together for long enough now to be considered serious, and he had made clear his intentions to get you used to being in his circles.

But now, when you needed him around, he was nowhere to be found. You ordinarily felt a bit at sea when you weren’t by his side, especially at lavish events like these, but now that you were in a way responsible for the event you feel like you’re outright drowning. Servers, caterers, and security had all come to you for directions, and you have been doing your best to guide them, hoping that everything would go off without a hitch. So far, it had.

“Excuse me, Y/N L/N?” comes a voice from behind you, and you turn, bracing yourself to put out yet another fire.

Instead you find Michael Nelson, the star quarterback from your high school days. He seems to have grown nicely into adulthood and success, judging by the way his expensive suit fits his strong build. Was this some sort of a weird dream?

Michael had been the first man you had fallen for – but then, all the girls had fallen for him back in the day. But you had been friends and neighbours growing up, you knew each other.

You’d thought you’d had a chance with him, but the opportunity never came.

It had taken you quite awhile to get over your infatuation, and looking at him now you still have those childish butterflies in your belly. The man was the epitome of the one who got away, after all.

“Michael Nelson!?” you say his name with incredulity. What was he doing here, anyway? He didn’t work for DynaTox, not that you knew of anyway.

“You remember me!” he exclaims, giving you a warm smile that would’ve made you melt back in school. Instead, it has you worrying about Terry taking this moment to appear – he doesn’t appreciate other men chatting you up.

“Of course I do, Michael,” you reply distractedly, scanning the ballroom for Terry. “How have you been?” Your brain doesn’t even register his response, letting him talk to himself as you try to find a way out of the conversation.

“Y/N?” he asks, trying to reclaim your attention. Your eyes reluctantly slide back over to his; you don’t want to be rude to him, after all.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you ask, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I said that I’m glad I ran into you; it’s been awhile. And you look wonderful tonight.”

His eyes roam across your expensive, form-fitting velvet dress, and you’re grateful that you elected to wear this one with the turtleneck rather than a lower cut neckline as his eyes linger on your chest.

“Thank you, Michael. So do you.” You return the compliment with a complete lack of enthusiasm, and he pretends not to recognize it, sensing that you’re going to try to leave the conversation.

“Can I get you a drink?” He cuts in eagerly, head inclined down towards yours as though he was trying to hypnotize you into accepting. “I would love to catch up and hear about what you’ve been up to since we last saw each other.”

“I’m sorry, I actually need to go tend to a few things. I’m one of the people in charge of this circus! It was… nice running into you.”

You turn and walk away from him without another word, your eyes now scanning the party not just for Terry but for anyone you recognized who would be able to keep Michael at bay. Miraculously your eyes land on Margaret, and you make a beeline for the older woman trying not to look too desperate.

“Is everything alright, Miss L/N?” she asks as you approach, taking in your panicked expression.

“Have you seen Terry? I can’t find him anywhere!” You’re doing your best to appear at least somewhat poised, not wanting to look too pathetic – you couldn’t expect Terry to solve all of your problems for you, after all. He already did so much…

“Mr. Silver had an important matter come up that he needed to attend to. He’ll rejoin the party when he’s finished.”

You bite back the small pout you feel start to twist your lips; you hate being at these sorts of events without him, but to be partly responsible for making sure things ran smoothly in his absence is an entirely different level of overwhelming.

“What are we going to do? The staff keep coming up to me for instructions, and I don’t know what to tell them!” you ask, your brows knitting together. Margaret lifts an eyebrow at you.

“I will handle any issues that arise, Miss L/N. Mr. Silver rarely troubles himself with organizing the events he plays host to. You should enjoy your evening,” she suggests firmly, dismissing you without another word as she turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd. You briefly look around for anyone else you recognize that you could start a conversation with but give up after a moment, needing to just get away from everything now that you know you aren’t needed to help the evening go smoothly.

You make your way out onto one of the small terraces that lined the property of the Ennis House, trying to keep to the shadows as you take a minute to yourself. You know that it’s silly, feeling disappointed – Terry was an incredibly successful and important man, and the party had plenty to offer by way of distraction. But you find that you don’t want to enjoy yourself without him there beside you; you always wanted to share everything with him.

The breeze is lovely, but the relative quiet is what you find really refreshing. You take another deep breath of air, bracing yourself to re-enter the party. Hopefully Terry wouldn’t be too long, and when he returned he could see you having fun and fitting into his world the way that you so desperately want to.

“I never knew you to be the type of woman who liked to play hard to get, Y/N.”

Michael’s voice is harsh and quiet as he joins you out on the dark terrace, sending a shiver down your spine. You whirl around in surprise, not having heard his approach, and notice that he is already trying to herd you into the dark corner of the balcony, keeping himself between you and the door heading inside to prevent your escape.

“I’m not playing anything, Michael,” you snap back at him, offended by the insinuation. You don’t remember him being nearly so egotistical back in school.

“Yeah? I thought you said you had to go help with the party but here you are, sneaking away from everyone like you didn’t know I was watching.”

You suppress a shudder. “I didn’t know you were watching. I hoped you weren’t,” you snap at him defiantly, stepping back until your legs hit the balustrade surrounding the porch. Michael keeps coming towards you, increasing his pace as his confidence grows.

“Don’t act so naïve. You’ve been in love with me for years, and everyone knows it. Let’s finally give us a chance, Y/N,” he purrs as he cages you in against the balcony. Gathering your nerve, you give his chest a firm shove until he takes a few steps back from you.

“I’m not interested, Michael; I’m with someone.”

“And what, they’re worried about a little competition? So worried that they’ve left you all alone tonight?”

“There’s no competition to be had! I’m dating Terry Silver; I’m already his.”

He seems briefly taken aback at the news that the man you’re with is the CEO of the company but quickly recovers, his nose crinkling with distaste.

“You’re his?” he echoes you in disbelief. “You’re talking about your relationship like you’re his property!”

You roll your eyes; clearly he wasn’t very familiar with the man that owned his job. That, or he hadn’t considered that the level of devotion you and Terry had for one another was a two-way street – you know that you’re crazy about one another.

“We belong to each other, Michael, and there’s nothing that you or anyone else can do to change that. Now, if you want to keep your dignity and your job intact, I’d recommend leaving, or at least getting the hell away from me,” you hiss, a fire blazing in your eyes.

“B-But Y/N, I –” Michael starts to stammer, but you’ve had enough.

“Leave. Now. Terry doesn’t take well to those who try to steal from him.”

You’re not entirely sure where this fury is coming from, but the thought of someone trying to come between you and the man you love has you absolutely fuming. And you do love Terry, even if you haven’t told him yet.

You have to go and find him, you realize with a sudden urgency as your heart clenches with need. Paying Michael no mind, you move past him and back into the ballroom, determined to find your love.

Terry’s POV:

Terry could not be more pleased with your performance so far this evening. He’s been stealthily following you all evening, either from hidden alcoves or security cameras, unbeknownst to you and the guests. Hosting the annual Christmas party at the Ennis House enabled him to observe you when left to your own devices. Hell, the whole reason he was having this party was to see how you would behave when pursued by another man, especially one he knew you had once held feelings for.

And why has he chosen to test you in this manner?

Because he has come to the conclusion that he is in love with you. Once he had come to that realization, it was as though a switch had been flipped. He now knew without a shadow of a doubt that you are the one he’s going to spend his life with.

But before he can tell you, he needs to make sure that you are just as infatuated with him in order to commit to you fully.

His plans had been elaborate, and had been going on for months now, at the first inkling of falling for you. First, he had needed to do some research into your history, looking for a suitable candidate to test you with. You weren’t the type of person who would be wooed by a celebrity, even though that would have been much easier to organize for his purposes. No, he’d had to find someone that you’d had a connection with, maybe even feelings for.

Your yearbook had been a great source of insight into your early forays into romance, showing photographs of you with some kid, your schoolgirl crush evident in your innocent eyes. After that, it hadn’t taken him long to investigate, determining the extent of your history with this man and confirming that he would be the perfect bait.

Then, he’d had to set the scene so that you could be alone with Mr. Nelson – with him being able to watch in secret, of course – to see if you would even entertain the idea of leaving him for ‘the one who got away.’ That meant purchasing the small law firm that the man worked at, ensuring his attendance at tonight’s event, a worthy investment in his opinion if it meant cementing you by his side permanently. The two of you had kept your relationship relatively quiet and out of the public eye for now, and he had ensured that the other man was not made aware that you were spoken for.

After that, all he’d had to do was wait for tonight’s main event, disappearing into the labyrinth of passages the Ennis House held within its walls and greedily drinking you in with his eyes. You look particularly ravishing tonight in your slinky velvet dress; Nelson had better keep his hands off of you. No one but him would be touching you, on this night or any that came after.

It was difficult for him to stay away from you as the party stretched on, his unwitting pawn apparently needing to down some liquid courage before approaching you. It wasn’t only his own need to be by your side but your own desire to have him with you that nearly has him throwing his own plan out the window and whisking you upstairs and away from the world.

But he was a paranoid man, and he would not be making himself vulnerable without ascertaining your loyalty first.

Fortunately, you had exceeded his expectations, hardly giving the man the time of day as he’d first approached you. Margaret, aware of his plan as always, had played her part brilliantly, refusing to let you cling to her for protection and relieving you of your role as hostess for the evening. You’d have to deal with Nelson now.

He’d cracked the window just above the balcony where the man had rejoined you, eagerly listening in. His large hands gripped the windowsill hard enough to make it crack as he watches the man trying to cage you in, only loosening when you firmly shove the man away from you. Part of his investigation into Michael Nelson had been to determine if there was anything of concern with regards to his romantic history – he wanted to test you, but not if it meant some prick putting their hands on you, let alone causing you any harm. The PIs that he’d hired to dig up dirt had clearly been worth the money, as they’d been correct in their conclusion that Nelson wouldn’t force himself on a woman.

Hearing the way you take him to task was well worth the momentary stress of leaving you alone with another man. And when you’d called yourself his… he had immediately started to get hard, the urge to rush down and take you nearly overwhelming him.

And now he could. You had done more than pass his little test, you had shown him the depth of your devotion.

He waits until you storm past the man than had dared to refer to him as competition before making his way back to the ballroom. Keeping out of sight, he takes a moment to watch you searching for him with desperation. Your persistence is something to be rewarded, and to be rewarded now. Stepping into view, he makes sure to savour the look on your face when you lay eyes on him – relief, desire, need.

Perfect.

He lets you come to him, watching you gracefully twist and bend your body as you slip through the crowd towards him.

In an uncharacteristically public display of affection you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck as you press your body up against him, your eyes seeking out his. He winds his arms around you in a tight hug before gripping your hips, holding you at an arm’s length from him.

“What’s the matter, doll? Are you alright?” he asks innocently. If he had his way (and he would), you would never know his role in how the evening had played out thus far.

Your brow creases adorably and you nibble your lip, likely trying to decide whether or not telling him the truth would have him disappearing to hunt down the man that dared to try to have you for himself. You decide to avoid the topic by gripping the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him down far enough to speak in his ear.

“Take me somewhere where we can talk, please,” you beg in a breathy whisper, and the needy tone to your voice sends a thrill through him. He tucks you under his arm, immediately leading you to one of the studies just down the hall, closing and locking the door behind him. Ducking under his arm, you turn to face him with hooded eyes, though the tension held in your body is palpable.

“Tell me that I’m yours,” you plead with him, and your need to be claimed has celebratory fireworks going off in his head as you all but proclaim yourself his perfect little doll.

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” he coos, slowly guiding you backwards and over to his desk. You hop up onto it the moment your back hits the wood; he’s trained you well. “You’re all mine,” he purrs as he comes to stand before you, enjoying the way you relax at the words, letting out a deep breath. “But what’s this all about, sweetheart?” he asks, taking your face in hand and stroking your cheek.

“It’s nothing, I… I just wanted to hear you say it,” you mumble in a quiet voice, your eyes fluttering closed as though embarrassed, and that won’t do. The last thing he wants is you feeling ashamed about your need for him; you should be reveling in it. He decides to banish that thought from your pretty little head without dragging things out any further.

“Oh Y/N,” he croons, chuckling slightly. “I love you, my silly girl.”

The expression on your face as your eyes fly open is one that he vows to remember forever.

Reader’s POV:

You are completely taken aback by Terry’s confession, your eyes flying open to look at his face to determine if it was a joke or an accidental slip of the tongue. Instead you find his eyes locked onto your face, gauging your response with an intense expression of his own.

You never would’ve thought he’d be the one to say it first – part of you had thought that he wouldn’t say it ever – which was part of the reason you haven’t told him about your own feelings. Even though the depth of your love for him was likely very apparent, you hadn’t wanted to put it into words at the risk of scaring him off.

You gasp for breath after a prolonged silence, belatedly realizing you haven’t been bothering to breathe, the shock too much for your body to function normally.

“I – I – Oh!” you are unable to get the sentence out, your heart thudding too fast and too hard.

Terry, calm as ever, seems to identify the symptoms of a panic attack and moves to help you work through it, his large hands gripping your shoulders firmly but gently as he bends to your eye-level.

“Breathe with me, Y/N,” he instructs you, taking slow, deep breaths that you try your best to mimic. You keep your eyes locked with his, calmed by their gorgeous shade of blue, and after a few minutes of focus your breathing returns to normal.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asks, looking you over with a watchful eye, his brow creasing slightly with worry.

“You love me?” you ask him somewhat incredulously in response to his question. You don’t think you’ll ever be simply ‘alright’ again after this. Terry’s gaze softens, and he takes your face in his hand once more, his thumb softly stroking your cheek.

“I do, but I won’t say it again if it’s going to give you a heart attack,” he jokes, his mouth quirked in a small smile. Your heart skips a beat, and you fight to stay calm, not wanting to give him a reason to stop this thread of conversation. You still can’t quite believe it.

“Say it again,” you beg him in a whisper, your body leaning towards him like a flower to the sun. His nostrils flare slightly as he moves to lean over you, his palms flat on the desk to either side of your hips, making you feel on edge as though he was a about to strike. He lowers his face close to yours, his eyes unblinking, and you feel yourself hypnotized.

“I. Love. You.”

He enunciates each word clearly in a deep, husky voice and the intensity of the confession has you trembling. Rather than the moment being awkward as you are physically unable say the words back to him, Terry seems to take in your reaction with a great deal of satisfaction, his lips curved upward in a slight smirk.

You’re not sure how you’re lucid or coordinated enough in this moment to pull the move off, but you somehow manage to launch yourself off the desk and into his arms, kissing him desperately as though you need the taste of him more than air.

Terry’s reflexes are lightning quick as always, his arms wrapping around you to support you as he returns the kiss, gradually returning you to your perch on his desk, though his lips never leave yours. Something about the way he’s kissing you breathless feels different from before; perhaps you’re just caught in the moment and imagining it, but every brush of his lips against yours feels more intimate, more precious, as though every second of sweet torment is conveying the depth of his love.

“I love you too,” you pant out the words once he lets you up for air, your fingers clinging to his suit jacket as you try to keep him pressed against you. His gaze is still possessive and sensual as he gazes down at you, but you see the way his eyes light up as soon as the words leave your lips. “Please never let me go, Terry.”

“Not a chance,” he growls at you, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulls you towards him for another searing kiss that makes your heart sing.

A loud ripping noise brings you out of your dazed stupor, and Terry’s hands running up your bare thighs helps you attribute the noise to him having torn your dress, extending the side slit from your knee up to your waist.

“Terry!” you whimper against his lips, though you know he doesn’t give a damn about the dress. You get the sense that he would tear through anything to get to you in this moment. He shushes you in response, his hands coming up to tear it off the rest of the way, throwing the scraps of fabric behind him.

“Nothing is going to keep me from having you, Y/N,” he growls against your skin as he laves kisses across your bared flesh, his hands gripping you tightly. Your hands eagerly reach for his belt and begin to unbuckle it, but he snatches your wrists, pinning them none-too-gently over your head against the desk and leaving you squirming as you lay exposed to him. “Oh no no no. You’re getting all the attention tonight, babygirl. I’m gonna make you earn my cock.”

Your head falls back against the desk with a groan – you thought Terry had been intense and nearly torturous with his teasing before. You can’t even imagine what you’re in for now. He chuckles darkly at your reaction, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Sitting you up, he tenderly removes your lingerie, his fingers barely brushing your skin and making your body yearn for more. You wriggle your hips to help him slide your underwear down your legs, your whole body tense as you brace yourself for whatever is about to happen.

Instead of touching you, Terry moves to the bar on the other side of the room, pouring himself a whisky. He takes a long sip as he stares you down before resting the glass on a side table as he shrugs off his jacket, draping it across the back of the chair. You wait patiently, biting your lip as you try not to squirm.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks you casually as he neatly rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, not a hair out of place while you sit on his desk flushed and naked.

“You!” you moan, clenching your thighs together as you desperately try to get some friction on your clit. “I’m all yours Terry, just please –”

“What were you made for?” he interrupts you, retrieving his drink and slowly making his way back over to you as though he didn’t have a care in the world. You can see his erection straining against the fabric of his pants, the only visible sign of his arousal.

“To please you,” you whimper, the words spilling past your lips oh-so naturally. He gives you a wolfish grin in your response.

“And what does that mean?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you over the rim of his glass.

“It… it means I’ll do whatever you want?” you reply hesitantly, unsure if that’s the answer he’s looking for. “I’ll do anything, I’ll be anything, just please let me do something, Terry! I need you,” you whine, your fingers digging into the wood of the desk as you grip it tightly. And you do mean what you’re saying – you’re quite sure that you are so enamored by Terry Silver that you will happily do anything he asks of you.

“Let’s test that out,” he leers, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Push your tits together for me.”

Your hands immediately move up to grab your breasts, lifting them up and presenting them to him, your eyes rolling back into your head as your hardened nipples rub against your palms. Terry’s eyes glint as he polishes off his drink, never taking his eyes off of yours. He’s still too far away to touch you, and the realization has you nearly sobbing with need.

“Good girl,” he praises, and you feel yourself getting wetter. “Keep them there, and spread your legs.”

You feel your face burning with humiliation, but you do as he says with no hesitation, opening your legs for him.

“Wider.”

A whimper escapes your lips as you spread your legs as wide as you can, fully on display for him.

“Now tell me what you want.”

“Anything. Everything. Just please fucking touch me!”

Terry gives you a pleased grin, finally closing in on you. Tangling his free hand in your hair, he pulls your head back, pouring the remnants of whisky onto your chest and making you shiver as you try to remain in position.

“Such a perfect little doll,” Terry coos, running his hands along your legs. Dipping his head, he laps at the droplets of whisky that run down your body, pulling your hands away from your chest as he lays you back down on the desk, savouring every taste as you arch your back up towards him, craving more.

“You’re so good, so needy for me,” he breathes against the curve of your neck, his lower lip running along your sensitive skin to your ear. “I want you to keep track of how many times I make you come, Y/N. I’m gonna make every fucking inch of you mine tonight, inside and out.”

“Yes Sir,” you chirp up at him with a cheeky smile. He looks down at you with amusement, his dark eyes promising a long night of pleasure that will have you aching and spent.

“Then lay back, pretty girl, and let’s see just how quickly I can make you scream for me.”

It doesn’t take long; the instant his fingers brush against your neglected clit you are wailing for him. Terry pins your hips down with one arm, teasing you with his free hand, quickly pumping two and then three fingers into your tight heat. You let out a constant stream of moans, obscenities and his name the only coherent words you can produce.

“God Y/N, your pussy takes my fingers so good,” he groans, lifting his head and pausing his mouth’s vicious attack on your breasts to watch you coming apart from him.

“Meant to take you – please!” you choke out, tears in your eyes from the intensity of your desire. You can hardly believe how quickly he’s got you on the edge.

“You wanna come already, baby?” he taunts, laughing as you frantically nod your head, unable to speak.“Yeah? Talk dirty for me and let me hear how bad you want it.”

“TERRY PLEASE!” you scream, your voice hoarse and cracking. “Please don’t stop, please make me come for you!” Your fingernails dig into his forearm, trying to keep his hand in place. “I’m so close, you fingerfuck me so good! Right there baby, pleeeease!”

Terry takes your words to heart, keeping your hips still as he curls his fingers inside you, his thumb teasing your clit as your thighs clamp down hard on his hand as you come hard. He doesn’t relent, forcing you to stay in place as he draws out your orgasm, watching you with a fiendish delight as tears stream down your face, your chest heaving as you gasp for breath. Before you can even process anything he’s pushing you to another orgasm without you ever coming down from the high the first time.

After what feels like an eternity he lets up, pulling his hand from between your legs and wiping the evidence of your arousal on your chest until your breasts are shiny with it, the hickeys he’s given you dark and glossy along your flushed skin.

“How many was that, love?” he purrs the petname, smirking smugly down at you. He’s lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, massaging your calf to keep it from cramping up and laying kisses up and down your leg. You hold up two fingers, your hand trembling as you try to get your breathing under control, but he clucks his tongue at you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“T-Two,” you whine the word at him, feeling delirious. A low, pleased rumbling emanates from Terry’s chest, and he wordlessly switches the position of your legs to tend to the other.

“Only two, and you’re already such a mess for me, babygirl,” he croons as he kisses your ankle, his tone condescending in a way that has you shuddering with desire. Only Terry could have you feeling like both a dirty, desperate slut and the luckiest, most cherished woman in the world all at the same time. You give a noncommittal hum in response, unable to speak, but he clearly thinks that you’ve had enough of a break. “Flip over for me,” he demands, lowering your leg, and you force yourself to slide off the desk only to turn and bend over it, only barely having the presence of mind to curl your arms together to form a pillow.

“Oh, I know you haven’t had enough yet, doll. Not even close.”

You lift up one leg, your knee resting on the desk, presenting yourself to him to let him know you want more. Terry’s hands knead your ass roughly and you brace yourself with your hands on the desk to try to keep yourself upright. Sex with Terry was as much a mental act as it was a physical one; you always had to anticipate what he wanted from you and what he was going to do next.

“Beg for it.”

“Pleeeeease,” you groan, your eyes scrunched shut as you try to focus on getting the words out. “Please fuck me, Terry – I need you inside me!”

“Do you think I don’t know exactly what this pussy needs?” he snarls, delivering a sharp slap to your clit that has you lurching forwards against the desk and nearly going cross-eyed. He always seems to know just where your line is, getting as close to the boundary as he can in ways that you don’t know how to navigate yourself.

“You do you do you do!” you whine. “It’s yours, my whole body is yours!”

You recognize the sound of fabric rustling and brace yourself for a thorough fucking, but he refuses to touch you until you’re trembling with need.

“Show me how bad you want it, my dirty girl,” he growls, his hard cock teasing your slick entrance as he lubes himself up with your arousal.

With a desperate cry you force yourself to crawl fully on the desk, your shoulders and head pressed against the surface as you reach back and pull apart your thighs and ass, baring the most intimate parts of you to his gaze shamelessly. Your show of obedience is rewarded as he thrusts himself fully inside you, the bone-deep sense of completion echoing through the room as you both moan loudly with satisfaction.

“God, I love this tight little body of yours,” he hisses through his teeth, reaching around to pull you back against his chest, large hands playing roughly with your nipples as your head lolls back against him; you’re completely cock-drunk. “Perfect little cocksleeve… just made for me…”

“M-M-Made for you – ah!” you keen as he fucks you at a new angle, the fat head of his cock hitting your cervix hard enough to ache deliciously. “L-Love you, n-need it so m-much!”

Terry’s hands grip you hard enough to bruise as he ruts into you almost frantically; your admission of love in the heat of the moment making him thrust into you at a furious pace as he takes his pleasure in your entire body and makes you sing for him.

“Take one more, sweetheart. Let me give you just one more,” he coaxes you in a hoarse, guttural voice, clutching you to him like a man possessed.

You grind your hips back against him, your brain and body unable to do anything except try to get him in deeper…harder… He could fuck you every day for forever and you don’t think you’d ever get enough, even as he utterly overwhelms you.

“That’s it, my sweet girl; ride my cock and come with me,” he coos, his muscles straining slightly as he holds you tightly right where he wants you.

“Yes fuck Terry YES!” you chant over and over in time with your ass bouncing against his hips, completely mindless with pleasure.

“That’s it baby, get after it,” he growls, leaning down to bite your shoulder as he pistons his cock to fuck up and into you. “Be a good girl and let me feel that pretty pussy come all over my cock.”

You roll your hips, grinding against him and moaning wantonly, feeling so damn close.

“Just one more, and then my little slut gets a break before I take her upstairs,” he urges you. “Take me, sweetheart – take all my love.”

Your pussy clamps down, squeezing his cock tightly as his words take you over the edge. Terry’s hands slide down your hips, holding you down on his cock as he comes as deep inside you as he can with a low grunt of your name. You both catch your breath, your body slick with sweat against Terry, who somehow still doesn’t have a hair out of place.

“Three?” he asks quietly as he gently guides you to sit back on the desk. You let out a whimper, your pussy tender from his rough attentions.

“Three,” you confirm the number of orgasms, giving him a sheepish, sleepy grin.

“I think that’s earned you a bit of a break then, princess,” he announces, and you bite back a sigh of relief.

Terry walks over to the chair, picking up his suit jacket and laying it over his arm. Your eyes scan the floor, spotting the scraps of your torn dress, and you look up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, his head slightly cocked to the side as though considering something, his eyes tracking you as you retrieve your lingerie; at least that was still in tact.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks suddenly, still surveying you with bright eyes, and you know it’s a test. You walk over to him, trying not to stumble with your weak knees, dropping to the ground when you get close and dropping to your knees. You crawl to his feet, nuzzling your face against his legs in answer to his question. After a moment you feel one of his hands in your hair, stroking the top of your head almost shyly. Looking up at him, you see him looking down at you with a soft smile.

“God, I love you,” he whispers, a tone of awe in his voice that has you feeling all tingly. He offers you his hand, pulling you to your feet and into his arms. You stand on your toes, calves twinging slightly, and lay a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I love you too, Terry.”

He tosses his jacket around your shoulders, helping you put your arms through the long sleeves; you must look a mess right about now, but from the way he’s looking at you, you might as well be a queen in his eyes.

“Your job now,” he begins quietly, and you find yourself automatically straightening in response to his commanding tone, “is to make it upstairs with nobody seeing you.”

Just the thought of anyone seeing you like this, reeking of sweat and sex and wrapped only in Terry’s jacket has you blushing. No, only Terry could see you like this.

You know who you belong to.

Giving him a nod, you move to retrieve your shoes, concealing them beneath your coat with your lingerie and your ruined dress.

“I’ll go make our excuses for the evening, and tell Margaret that we are not to be disturbed. By the time I join you upstairs, I expect to find you on all fours on the bed. I want that ass to be the first thing I see when I walk in.”

You can’t help the noise that escapes you, and he arches an eyebrow at you in response.

“You didn’t really think we’d be stopping after three, did you?” he asks incredulously, giving you a laugh. “Oh, Y/N, you’re in for a long night.”

He walks over to the door, turning back to you before unlocking it. You have no idea how long the two of you have been gone for.

“Nothing’s for free, doll,” he murmurs, taking your face in his hand and running his thumb along your swollen bottom lip. “You’re gonna pay for what you do to me, and you’re gonna thank me for it.”

He turns away from you without another word, leaving the door open behind him as he returns to your guests. You nervously peek your head out, making sure the coast is clear before scampering down the hall and up the stairs, trying to keep hold of your bundle of clothing.

The price of owning Terry’s heart is high, but you’re content to be forever in his debt.

(I know this isn't the most fitting gif, but I think it still fits and I couldn't resist after seeing the way it pans down to show the extent of the slutty gi!)

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Thanks for your patience everyone, and I hope you enjoyed! I did have some ideas for when they make it up to the bedroom where he really pushes you over the edge, so if anyone would want to see that at some point just throw it in my inbox!

#Thomas Ian Griffith #Terry Silver #Karate Kid 3 #tkk3 #TIGmas #12 Days of TIGmas #Smut #Romance #Definitely inspired by that post you tagged me in

[elbiotipo]

I'm not kidding when I say worldbuilding is extremely easy and fun, you can make easily all sorts of new fantasy worlds on like half an hour, follow this guide:

take a rectangle, draw a line through the middle, that's your equator, draw another two lines south and north, those are your tropics, draw another two lines further north (you can see a real world map to guide yourself), those are your arctic/antarctic circles

Draw continents, any shape you want, it's better to combine large soft blobs (like Africa or South America) with coastlines full of peninsulas and islands (like Europe or South Asia). Draw some island chains in between where you feel it's appropiate. Some inland seas like the Mediterranean are good too.

Decide where you will place mountain ranges. In real life, they are where oceanic-continental plates (Andes) or continental-continental plates (Himalayas, Alps), collide. These are very important.

Place rivers, just the most important ones. The places where you place big river systems are gonna be big plains.

Now, the fun part. With your first step, you've already decided where arctic, temperate, and tropical climates are there. You can mark it as letters in your map. Mountain ranges, of course, are colder.

Here's the tricky part: vegetation: vegetation mostly follows precipitation, and precipitation is mostly decided by altitude and distance from the ocean. The interior of your continents should be dry with plains and deserts; the coasts should be rainy with forests and plains. But remember, if you have a mountain range, that's a rain shadow! Picture the wind coming from the ocean with rain, and it should get less rainy when it "clashes" with a mountain range, with the other side a desert.

Deserts are tricky to place, but as a quick cheat, you can place them in your tropic lines. They can even border oceans: see Australia and the Kalahari.

WHEN IN DOUBT, LOOK AT SIMILAR AREAS ON A REAL WORLD VEGETATION/CLIMATE MAP. THIS IS WHY DRAWING THE EQUATOR AND THE TROPICS IS SO IMPORTANT AND SHOULD BE YOUR FIRST STEP ALWAYS.

Now you already have a quick and dirty vegetation map, you're halfway there! Don't worry if there are some doubtful areas, real world geography can be weird.

Now for the REAL fun stuff (if you aren't having fun already, I sure am): making civilizations!

You have to decide center of origins for your domesticated crops and animals. Basically, every early civilization had its own "package" of staple crops and animals that are still used today.

With this, you can decide:

the primary civilizations of your world

roughly how different animals and vegetation are distributed, if you want an Earth-like world (for an quicker method, you can apply the biogeographical realms to your own continents as you wish)

A quick cheat sheet of centers of origin, what they have, and where you can place them:

(this is just a quick thing, do read the article it's so much better)

Middle Eastern: wheat, barley, cows, sheep, goats. Place them in a dry area with lots of rivers (the Fertile Crescent!)

East Asia: rice, soybean, oranges, pigs, horses. Place it in a rainy temperate area bordering the tropics.

Mesoamerica: Corn, beans, pumpkin, chilli, tomato. Place it in a dry area near the tropics.

Andes: Potato, quinoa, llamas. Place it in a mountain range.

Tropical South America: manioc, peanuts, pineapple. In the tropics.

Tropical Asia: Rice, banana, sugar cane, beans. In the tropics, again.

or, just straight up use this fucking map, it's so much better:

You can mix and match the crops, animals, and such as you wish, and you should definitively read the wiki page on center of origins and see some other less known crops.

If you have non-human civilizations, of course they'll have different packages. Carnivore or subterranean civilizations might be very different. But at this point, your imagination should be flying already and I don't have to hold your hand here.

Now, you have a rough map of your world at the dawn of agriculture! Congratulations! Depending on the historical period you're setting your world, you can start to draw countries and civilizations. This is where it gets complicated again. I might have to make a part two... But just with this, you already have a new world to use as you wish.

I'll make a worked example later to show you how easy it is if you don't believe me.

#worldbuilding #cosas mias

[izelascendant]

Wet.

Ezra X f!Original Character

NSFW 18+

words: 1,743

summary: They return to the ship in a weary and uneasy state, only for Ezra to soothe her to the best of his abilities.

tags: Semi Clothed Sex, Wet Clothing, Panties, Wet & Messy, Dirty Talk, Touching, She Comes First, Come As Lube, Praise, Teasing, Non-Penetrative Sex, Mouth Kink, Cumshot, SMUT, PORN

author’s note: Oh my lord, I hope y’all enjoyed this because I sure did have fun writing it. I love the thought of Ezra being a filthy, filthy man.

The precipitation levels were exceptionally high, casting a dark and wet atmosphere that evening. They found themselves in a muddy puddle, soaking their suits completely. Cold and grumpy, she allowed him to guide her back to the ship. Aware of her sensitivity to temperature fluctuations, he was determined to prevent her from getting any more irritable.

She reclined on the cushioned bench with folded legs, one hand gently resting on her chest, and the other supporting her head. The pendant around her neck lay flat in the hollow where her throat met her neckline. Although the interior of the ship provided warmth, her skin still bore goosebumps, dampness lingering.

They had strategically hung their damp clothes and suits throughout the ship to facilitate drying, leaving them both mostly undressed. Standing across from her by the heating post, he was shirtless, clad only in a pair of gray sweats cinched around his hips to provide some coverage for his lower body.

He observed her, noticing the white tank top that clung to her chest, making no attempt to hide the defined contours of her hardened nipples. He observed the rhythmic motion of her torso as she breathed, and from his vantage point and her position with legs raised, he had an optimal view of a small wet patch on the fabric of her underwear, nestled between her inner thighs.

Unable to control his thoughts, his body felt warm and electrified with fantasies about all the things he wanted to do with her and recalling their previous encounters. He didn't shy away from acknowledging the fact that he was a filthy man with a filthy mind. Just from observing her tranquil repose on the bench, he found himself already halfway to becoming fully erect, wondering about the thoughts occupying her mind.

Turning her head towards him, a serene expression graced her features. "D’you think it’ll still be wet outside tomorrow?" she inquired calmly.

He barely acknowledged her question, tilting his head shamelessly and fixing his gaze directly between her legs. "Hmm," he groaned in a husky voice, "right now, you're the only thing on my mind that's wet."

She maintained eye contact with him, feeling a sudden surge of warmth throughout her body and face. His gaze felt intense, almost penetrating. Finally, she offered a small smirk before softly murmuring, "I am," in response.

He emitted a low chuckle, moving closer to gently brush his thick fingers across her exposed legs. His thoughts were consumed by the exclusivity of enjoying her sight—she belonged solely to him. "I can almost smell you from afar, birdie," he started, his voice filled with anticipation. "That warmth," he continued, trailing his fingers over the damp fabric of her panties, "slick, just calling my name."

"Calling your name," she echoed softly, her eyes fluttering closed momentarily as she succumbed to a drowsy, lustful haze. Reaching towards his sweats, her hand brushed over the fabric covering his crotch, confirming that he was already deliciously hard. It felt almost like an automatic response, or at least the most logical one in her mind.

He remained in place, concentrating on teasing her through the thin fabric barrier, while his other hand intercepted hers, gently pushing it away as he noticed her wanting to reciprocate. "Not yet," he instructed calmly, a smug smile playing on his lips as he alternated his gaze between her face and the space between her thighs. "That's it. Keep your eyes on me."

She complied, keeping her focus solely on him, her breathing quickening as he applied a bit more pressure, maintaining his light and teasing movements. Her eyes widened, appearing slightly red and glassy, yet conveying a sense of relaxation and submission.

"Pretty girl," his voice rasped as he let his free hand trace along her face, "did so well out in the field today, despite the nasty conditions," he praised. His hand then moved up to her hair, feeling the texture at her roots.

She emitted a soft groan, leaning into his touch and closing her eyes to fully savor the sensation. Jerking her hips slightly, she murmured, "more," swallowing as desire surged through her. His gentle caresses were pleasant, but she yearned for more intensity.

He pressed his thumb directly against her most sensitive spot, rubbing slowly yet firmly. A small whimper escaped her, followed by another, and he took pleasure in the sounds she made. "You don’t like getting wet out there, do you, sweetheart?" he teased with a deep chuckle.

"Hm, no," she replied, making an effort to provide a clear response. "My bones feel cold from all the condensation in the trees." As his hand traced down along her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek, she leaned in and wrapped her warm mouth around it, sucking tentatively.

"Now, now, birdie," he murmured, swirling his thumb against the raspiness of her tongue, "we were just startin’ to have a good conversation." He smirked, his mind racing with desire at the sight of her mouth eagerly enveloping his thumb, sucking it sensually.

She hummed against him, still in a state of almost hypnotic surrender. Her teeth grazed his thumb gently as he moved it in and out of her mouth. Then, he maintained his digit in her mouth, pressing down further on the back of her tongue. "Open," he commanded. She struggled momentarily, suppressing her gag reflex, her eyes watering – exactly what he desired, to witness his girl's eyes welling up from his actions.

He withdrew his thumb from her mouth, brushing it along her lower lip as she caught her breath. "Good girl," he praised as he positioned himself at the edge of the bench, right between her legs. He had no intention of wasting any more time.

"I wanna touch you," she pleaded, looking up at him with yearning eyes. However, he paid little attention to her request, as he already had his own plans in mind. With a small huff, he hooked his fingers to the edge of her panties, dragging them to the side for better access. He repeated the same movement with his thumb, this time without the barrier of the fabric.

She moaned in satisfaction, closing her eyes. "Ezra," she breathed out with a small smile, appreciating his dedication. "So warm, it's all I can think about," he mumbled as he ran his index and middle fingers through her folds, feeling them slippery and smooth like butter.

She emitted a soft coo, his words combined with his touch making her perfectly eager. She squeezed her thighs together, locking around his hand. "Ezra," she repeated, "please." He forced her legs back open, allowing the fabric of her underwear to cover her once again. "Hmm, is there something you want?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

She tilted her head, blessing him with a sultry look. "I want your cock," she murmured, her voice low and hushed. Shifting her hips slightly, she reached her bare foot out to caress along his side invitingly. Her request caused him to twitch in his sweats.

He couldn't be any more turned on at that point, and he saw no reason to wait. He tugged at the band around his hips, pulling his sweats down to allow himself to spring free. "Shit, look at that, I'm leaking," he remarked. She practically drooled at the sight of his large hand grabbing the base to guide it onto her clothed heat, a large bead of slick escaping the tip and dripping right onto her. "Fuck," she whispered, watching as he rubbed himself against her, "beautiful," she smiled eagerly.

Once again, her words sent a rush through his bloodstream, eliciting a groan from him. "Makin’ a mess," he remarked, tilting his head to take a look at the soaked fabric he rubbed up against. She was now burning with need. She whined desperately, "I'm already getting close," she warned, her head falling back almost limp.

“You wanna come don’t you, birdie?” He gripped the edge of her underwear, pulling the fabric to the side enough for him to be able to slide his length through her slick folds. She looked down, relishing in the sight of him sliding in and out, fabric clinging to the base of his dick as he rubbed against her wetness.

It dawned on her that he enjoyed it this way – the naughtiness of thrusting in and out of her panties, not bothering to take them off, as if invading a part of her that was incredibly private and intimate. She held her legs up, granting him full access, and his hands gripped onto the bottom of her thighs. "Please, Ezra, I need to," she begged.

It was a visual and auditory feast, the explicit sight blended with the lewd sounds coming from both of them. "Fuck," he growled, thrusting relentlessly. His face remained focused, with furrowed eyebrows and prominent veins on his arms as he held her in place. "Please, please, please," she whined, feeling a knot form in her stomach.

He remained focused, observing as she lost control beneath him. "Fuck, I'm—" she warned, her core quivering and her legs shaking involuntarily as she whimpered pathetically. "There she is," a smirk lit up on his face as he watched her reach her climax. It was all too sweet, and he knew he wasn't far behind.

Her eyes were droopy with ecstasy, her head rolling back for just a moment before she kept her gaze fixed on him upon catching her breath, not wanting to miss the sight of his own climax. "You're such a pleasure to use, baby," he mumbled, out of breath. "So good to let me come on you like this." He groaned and grunted, his movements slowing as he pulled out of her panties and spilled onto her.

Thick, warm, white ropes painted over the already soaked fabric, spurting repeatedly. She exhaled heavily, and he released one final deep groan. His load now covered her sensitive heat, and she placed her hand on top to rub it in, smiling sweetly as she did. "Thank you."

Her expression was so wholesome that it almost made him forget what had just transpired. After letting out a deep sigh and tucking himself back into his sweats, he emitted a small chuckle. "Warmer now, dove?"

"Mhm," she nodded in reply, "sleepier too." He smiled in return. "Yeah, it's been a long day." He took a step closer, planting a gentle kiss on her lips.

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x ofc #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x ofc #ezra prospect x original character #ezra x original character #prospect 2018 #pedro pascal characters #prospect 2018 fic #ezra prospect fic #ezra prospect fanfiction #ezra prospect smut

[arashisenshi]

The Stones Stay Silent launches on April 14th!

Here is the official blurb:

When a deadly plague sweeps the land, the priests of the Parents accuse those deemed to have incurred the gods' wrath. Leiander, unmarried and with interests unbecoming to the woman people consider him to be, flees for his life. With the Night Demon Kevv'ach by his side and his deepest wish undiminished, he journeys to the Great Lith, said to still channel the magic of the Parents. He will beseech the gods to remake his body in the image of the Father, so the world sees him as his true self: Leiander.

And here’s what you can expect:

- A character-driven medieval-ish fantasy story; - Transgender aroace main character seeking to live his life and maybe bake; - Cinnamon roll Night Demon bestie with partial amnesia (and a sweet tooth); - Steadfast friends turned found family (and occasionally, a pair of mules); - Absent gods who left behind mysterious blue monoliths; - Strict gender roles dictating what jobs people have, what colors they wear, and what tattoos they get + a couple of fanatics hell-bent on enforcing said rules; - Extensive travel through a plague ravaged realm; - A conspicuous lack of magic; or swords; or sorcery; or monsters; - Even more giant statues; - A bunch of recipes to try for yourself, from Romanian, Austrian and... whatever cuisine baked goat cheese in walnut crust comes from; - Named chapters! Pronunciation guide! Maps for each part! Extensive content warnings! Handy reference chart for timekeeping! Cameo appearance by my cat! - Eventually, I promise, a happy end.

You can already preorder the ebook on Amazon and have it synch to your device on Friday, when the paperback will also be available there. If you’d rather support your local indie bookshop, go for it! You can ask them to order a book for you once published, by providing them the following details:

Title: The Stones Stay Silent Author: Danny Ride ISBN:  9783982494906

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If it’s not up your alley, you don’t want or can’t afford to buy the book, you can still support - it would mean so much!

- share this post - let your friends know - ask your local library to order the book for you! (you and anyone else can read it for free then!) - suggest it as reading for book clubs - add the book to your list on goodreads - mark it as to read on the story graph - upvote it on reedsy discovery - there is a detailed review there from an independent reviewer, and you can also read the first chapter for free!

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images: 1) promo material of the book featuring the book cover 2) moodboard of the seven parts and the epilogue 3) promo material showing a sample of the book interior

#The Stones Stay Silent #Danny Ride #lgbt fantasy #lgbtq fantasy #lgbtq representation #trans books #ace book #aro books #aroace books #aroace mc #trans mc

[writer-somewhat]

This is an index of the many, many guides created by the Fountain Of Knowledge also widely known as @inky-duchess. However I decided to organize and revise to share, after seeing one ask about whether or not there was a compilation.

Full disclosure: I very well may have missed a post or two, but do you know how many guides Inky has??? I spent a few hours scrolling (and re-scrolling when I enviably clicked a post, and had to go back) so let me know if I missed one. I'll also edit and add to the list as more guides are published.

Also, I had to breakdown the list over multiple posts due to Tumblr's constraints, so I have added a handy list with each part.

Table of Contents

Part One �� You Are Here Part Two Part Three

Writing Theory

Mental Health A Great Opening Controlling The Pace Scene Transitions Character Introductions Character Description Finding Your Character's Voice Character Arcs Writing Children Believable Heroes Morally Grey Characters Unsympathetic Villains Writing Romance Chekov's Gun Handling Multi-PoVs

Writing Guides

How To Plan Part 1Part 2 Murder The Mary Sue Plot Armor Part 1Part 2 Prologues PoV Death Match Unreliable Narrators Dialogue Revenge Red Herrings Motives - Heroes & Villains Foreshadowing Show, Don't Tell Time Jumps Memories & Thoughts Happy Scenes Villain's Ending Rescue Missions & Captives Cursing Is Cool Fight Scenes Guide To Murder Colours & Symbols Glasses

Writing Tropes

Of Fantasy Rags to Riches

What Writers Can Learn From...

Black Panther Venom Mulan The King Joker A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes The Witcher

World Building

World Building Part 1Part 2 Creating Language Myths & Legends Religion Currency Societies Legal System Government Building a Culture Heraldry- Sigils - Coat of Arms Architecture & Interiors Economy Palaces & Medieval Castles

Creature Feature

Build-A-BearCritter Griffins Dragons

#inky duchess #writing resources #writing reference #writing masterlist