#just saw a pose and had to draw my wife in it

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐨 [𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail Pairings: Jing Yuan x Fem!reader Warnings: just fluff, events after the battle with the Phantylia

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq 

Throughout the story, I wanted to hug this man tightly and wrap him in a soft blanket. He's so sad and so in need of the warmth that he deserves<3

You sigh heavily, sorting papers on your lover's desk. General Jing Yuan won't be able to return to work for a while yet, and it's the least you can do to lighten his burden after he fully recovers. Knowing him, you could say with confidence that he would have run away from any paperwork even faster than usual when he saw what a mess had formed at his workplace in his absence.

Your soul was restless. Although you visited him every day and Jing Yuan was always smiling and sticking to you the same way as always, you felt that he really needed a rest. Of course, you couldn't question Miss Bailu's skill, but what kind of loving girl would you be if you weren't worried about your irresponsible General?

— God, I should at least deal with what I can do, — you mumble to yourself, taking a thoughtful pose, looking at the endless stacks of papers. Another doomed sigh leaves your lungs before you grab the key from the table. — However… It can wait until tomorrow.

When you go outside, you are greeted by the night sky and lights illuminating the almost deserted Lofu.

— Oh, it obviously took longer than I planned… — you grab the belt of your bag slung over your shoulder and are about to proceed towards the house when someone's hand wraps around your wrist.

You shudder, turning sharply, ready to draw your, albeit small, but still a sword. Jing Yuan usually forbids you to carry weapons with you, preferring to send a couple of Cloud Knights to accompany you, but you never liked to attract too much attention to yourself and stand out from the crowd, so you rarely listened to his lectures about the dangers of weapons for inexperienced fighters, especially such clumsy ones like you. The main thing for you has always been a sense of security and comfort, which could well be provided by Jing Yuan himself or a small blade that will not harm you, but can injure the enemy if you are unlucky enough to be in a situation where you have to use it.

And it seems that this day has come.

You put your hand on the scabbard hidden under the blouse on your belt, turning abruptly to meet face to face with someone who had the audacity to touch a strange woman on the street at such a late hour. The General would be proud of your grace and speed. It seemed to you that now you can cut off the head from the shoulders of this brazen pervert, but by making too sharp a turn on your heels, you stumble over your own foot, almost losing your balance. But everything started so well.

You're desperately trying to stay on your feet, balancing on the heel of one foot, but a pair of strong arms instantly encircles your forearms, forcing you to squint in fright. That's all. Is this ridiculous mistake going to cost you your honor and dignity now? Jing Yuan definitely wouldn't be proud of that…

— Jing Yuan?! — your eyes open wide with genuine shock, your lips open wide, and there is not a single censorious thought in your thoughts when your gaze meets golden eyes depicting poorly feigned guilt, which is instantly replaced by curiosity and mischief inherent in the General.

— Oh, where were you reaching for, m? — one of the General's palms slides down your waist until it is on the belt, catching the edge of the blouse and lifting up the thin fabric. — Tsk-tsk, I think I already told you that I don't want my future wife to carry a sword with her.

— And I think I said that I don't want to marry an idiot who can't just stay in the infirmary until his wounds heal! What are you doing here? — you nervously pull his palm, defiantly pouting and crossing your arms over your chest.

— Miss Bailu exaggerates my incapacity too much. I'm healthy enough to go out for a little airing.

— Rlly? And I think you just wanted to see me, even though we saw each other this morning and would have seen each other again in just a few hours if you hadn't run away like a naughty child.

— Ah, you see right through me, darling, — the General grabs his chest resentfully before laughing softly, placing his palms on either side of your thighs again. — I can't help myself, I needed to hug my future wife now and not a second later.

You sigh in frustration, shaking your head in displeasure, but eventually you give up, wrapping your palms around his neck. No matter how many stupid things he does, no matter how childish, you can never resist his incredible charm. The velvety voice, the soft look, the warmth emanating from Jing Yuan's body — these are all things without which you cannot imagine any of the days of your life. You would be blatantly lying if you said that you didn't miss him even when you parted for some miserable half a day. But your concern and care for the irresponsible General outweighed your longing for him, so you resigned yourself to the fact that you would have to part for some time, which you purposely filled with something related to him, so as not to feel lonely until the next meeting.

Your facial expression softens, your gaze fills with tenderness, and the corners of your lips lift in a warm smile. You tiptoe up, pressing your lips to Jing Yuan's cheek, catching him off guard with a short kiss. You catch a glimpse of his eyebrows lifting, and the once playful expression turns to surprise before you bury your face in his neck, pressing your body against his. The General is so big and strong, and whenever you have the opportunity to just hug him, you feel really safe, wrapped in care, love and his warmth.

You can feel Jing Yuan's chest vibrating with loud laughter as he wraps his big hands around your back more tightly, squeezing you even tighter in his embrace.

— Did someone miss me too?

— I'm still mad at you and I'll tie you to the bed as soon as you get back to the infirmary, — you grumble in displeasure at his fluffy hair tickling your face. — But I missed you, Jing Yuan…

#hsr #honkai: star rail #hsr x reader #honkai: star rail x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #fluff #headcanons #hsr headcanons

[annymation]

Fun facts about “Kingdom of Wishes” characters

I’m bored, so have some random facts about the characters from my wish rewrite!

Random picture just cause I like to have eye catching pics as “thumbnails” for my blogs and also I can totally see my version of Asha making this pose.

Anyway, if you haven’t read my Kingdom of Wishes- A Wish Rewrite then this post might not make much sense, feel free to read it anyway though, there’s no spoilers.

On to the fun facts!

Asha✨

Asha sometimes sits hunched over when she's drawing. Her friends constantly have to remind her to keep her back straight otherwise she'll get a bad posture.

After Simon gave away his wish and became… Well, sleepy, she had to become the voice of reason in their group, the big sister in a way, since she was now the eldest. She wasn’t that good at leading before though so she left most of it to Dahlia.

Asha's favorite color is purple, obviously, and she dresses in purple for her birthday, however, her second favorite color that she also wears often is orange.

She's not very good interacting with kids, believe it or not, of course she likes kids, but she has a hard time knowing how to play with them.

Asha did meet the king in person ONCE before her 18th birthday… I’ll leave it at that.

Aster 💫

Aster is canonically the star Lacaille 8760

Picked this one because it looks like he’s boxed up in the middle of other brighter stars that make up the Microscope constellation, and yeah there is a microscope constellation and it’s straight up just a square. He’s one of the nearest stars to the Sun, at about 12.9 light-years' distance, however his light is so faint it’s almost impossible to see with the naked eye.

2. Aster’s eyes can see what people desire, more clearly if he holds the person’s hand, like an empath, but even without touching the person he can see what they want, but only if he focus, and the way he sees it is like words surrounding the person.

3. I said this once in a ask but I’ll say it again, I see Aster and Rapunzel’s powers as connected, not that all Disney movies are connected with KOW, but Tangled at least is pretty close. So, Rapunzel got her powers from a sun drop, right? Well, the sun is a star, we can assume she has star powers. My point is that if Aster was to sing the Rapunzel’s healing song they’d glow and heal any injured person around, and make the elderly younger, Magnifico sure didn’t know that though because if he did he’d just do what Gothel did and lock Aster up.

4. Aster could hear Asha reading stories with Sabino every night, and that’s one of the many ways they became interested in human culture.

5. Aster often annoyed some stars by complaining that their constellations didn’t look like what humans called them as, like the Cetus constellation doesn’t look like a sea monster, or the Leo constellation didn’t look like a lion, even though the stars had no control over how humans saw them as and they couldn’t change their positions in the sky.

Magnifico 🫧

Magnifico could look younger if he drank his wife's rejuvenating potions, but they taste horrible and every time she drinks them (Twice a year) she screams in agony like her insides are burning, only to then turn to him with a smile and ask "Want some, my love?" and he just replies with "... Thanks dear, but I think I'll stick with my skincare routine."

Most of his "passionate king" persona he got from copying his brother's mannerisms, after all, his father always said he should be more like his little brother.

He kinda hates that little hair strand coming out on his forehead, but no matter how much hair gel he applies on it, the hair strand always comes back... Also his brother had an identical one.

Kings and queens in Rosas usually don't wear crowns, as the culture is for them to feel close to the people, not above them. However, Magnifico gifted Amaya with a tiara, that has a red garnet on her forehead, red garnets are associated with love, passion, and desire, but it has also been known to represent other things such as courage, strength, and protection. Basically he gave her a lucky charm. He also gave her the sash with the drawing of a moon she wears on her waist, it used to be his when he was a prince.

I can’t for the life of me decide which one of these Magnifico would wear to sleep:

I can see him wearing either of them. Same for Amaya.

Amaya 👑

1.Amaya pretty much had to teach Magnifico how to be a likable figure. I implied it a little bit in the story with Magnifico saying stuff like “Well, I did have the best teacher” to Amaya after he made a little acting scene on chapter “When Blue Turns Green”. Point is, before meeting her Magnus was pretty much an antisocial, reclusive prince that avoided even being seen in public. For him to become the larger than life, enthusiastic king we know in the story he and Amaya had to practice his social skills a lot, think of it like Belle teaching the Beast proper manners, Amaya changed him… But for the worst.

2.Like I explained on her backstory, Amaya is from Greece, and she committed some very serious crimes over there. So every time Rosas receives visitors from Greece Amaya puts on the hood of her cloak over her head during the wish ceremonies. It’s kinda funny, any other wish ceremony she looks normal, but whenever Greek people are around she goes:

3.I imagine some fun shenanigans must have happened over the years with Amaya’s potions going wrong, like she tests it on a rat and it turns into a giant rat running around the castle, or she mislabels the potions and drinks one that turns her into a worm 🐛 so Magnifico gotta prove he’d love her even if she was a worn and turn her back to normal.

4.Amaya is kinda like the moon in this story, because the moon doesn’t shine every night, in some phases the moon is barely visible, just like how Amaya is most of the time more in the background while Magnifico shines like the sun, but, when it IS her time to shine, just like a full moon, she outshines Magnifico himself.

5.She likes to feel comfy, she often walks around the castle with no shoes on most of the time but no one can tell because of her long dress.

Aaaand that’s all I got, hope you guys like this additional content, might inspire some fun asks hehe 😜

Thank You For Reading!

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #kingdom of wishes #disney wish #wish 2023 #disney #wish movie #wish #wish disney #wish star

[oflights]

Hi Allie! Love your fics and your prompt fills are great so far! If you still have room for more prompts, do you want to write something about time travel? Your time travel story in hockey RPF is one of my favorite fanfics ever and I would love to see your Drarry take. No pressure, though!

ahh hi, hello!! i have to tell you that this ask kind of broke my brain a little and gave me a new idea (not a Time Traveler's Wife AU, god, never again, bless u though) that i think is probably, sort of, maybe possibly going to turn into a real fic at some point? maybe?

here's 1.6k words of it for now hahaha. this is: professional time traveler draco who goes on an assignment back to the late 80s in surrey and maybe, sort of, possibly, accidentally kidnaps 7-year-old harry potter back to his time. yeah. enjoy? more to come someday???

Draco waits in an anxious crouch at the hearth, thighs straining, cursing himself for not just giving in to his aching back and getting on all fours. Not that that’s great for his knees—and Draco loves doing this mental exercise in his 30s, he really does, it’s—

“What do you want?” Blaise asks when he activates his Floo. He’s sitting with his legs slung over the arm of a chair, a book in his hands—upside down, because he’d definitely just picked it up and posed like that to answer the Floo. Draco rolls his eyes, face turned downward.

“Can you, erm, come over? Right now?”

“Right now?” Blaise echoes lazily. “I thought you were on assignment.”

“Right, I was, but I’m back now, and—”

“I hardly even noticed.”

Now Draco really rolls his eyes, and does not hide it; he doesn’t have the patience for this routine. “You are aware that when I’m on assignment, no time passes for you because I return directly to the moment in time where I first traveled from, right? So of course you wouldn’t have noticed, you never notice, and you just—look. Never mind. I need you to come over, right now.”

Now Blaise pinches the bridge of his nose with a frown. “Ugh. All that talk gives me a headache, you know that, Draco. Not the best way to get me to agree to your demands.”

“What if you agree to my demands because if you don’t, I will go over there and drag you through the Floo by your ear—”

“I’ve a full stone on you; unless you can time magic your way into some upper body strength—”

“I will get Greg and make him do it. Blaise.” Blaise finally looks up, the frown lingering. “I’m not joking. Please come here.”

For a moment, Blaise frowns deeply enough that it seems as if he is going to agree. He even puts down the book he’s not reading.

And then he gives Draco a slow, honeyed grin. “What’s in it for me?”

It takes the promise of a few good bottles of wine, a vow to join Blaise and his mother for tea with the latest stepfather, and all the money Draco has in his pocket—over 100 Galleons, unfortunately—to coax Blaise through the Floo. By then, Draco’s back is aching and it cracks ominously when he stands up, but the drops his hands from it as soon as Blaise steps through.

“All right,” Blaise says with a heavy sigh. “What’s so urgent?”

“It’s—I just—see, the thing is—” Draco paces, wringing his hands together, wincing at how sweaty they are. “It’s just that—oh, bollocks. I just need to show you.” Draco grabs Blaise by the wrist, ignoring his look of appalled offense, and marches him down the hall to the drawing room, where he casts a Notice-Me-Not and inches open the door. “Look,” he whispers, and Blaise pokes his head through and sucks in a breath.

“Is that—” Blaise says, and Draco shushes him quickly and shoves him back as the child looks up, frowning. He’s been frowning since Draco first saw him, hadn’t even stopped when Draco brought him here and scrounged up every abandoned toy Pansy’s girls or Teddy had ever left behind and presented them to him. He’d frowned when Draco asked him if he wanted something to eat, frowned harder when Draco had practically run to the kitchen to throw a jam sandwich together with shaking hands because he knew that, despite what the child said, he was surely hungry, he had to be, he—

“Sorry,” Draco says hastily as 7-year-old Harry Potter turns his frown in the direction of the cracked open door, ending the Notice-Me-Not. “Just, ah, checking on you. Everything all right?”

Harry just keeps frowning. He’s got a small soft toy in the form of a dragon in his hands, but he drops it on the tea table as Draco’s eyes sweep over it, placing his hands quickly in his lap. The plate from the sandwich is utterly empty, devoid even of crumbs, and the glass of milk is similarly drained, and Harry’s eyes flash to them with a guilt that shouldn’t be there, sending another fissure of heartbreak through Draco.

“Another sandwich?” he asks, knowing the answer he’s going to get and knowing the answer that’s true.

Harry shakes his head, the barest hint of movement; his tiny, too-thin shoulders are hunched. Draco takes a steadying breath, gives a firm, determined nod, and says, “I’ll be right back.”

He pushes back, where Blaise is stood to the side now, gaping. “Come on,” Draco whispers. “I’ll explain while I make him another sandwich.”

“Draco,” Blaise says urgently as he follows Draco on another dash to the kitchen. “Tell me that’s not Harry Potter.”

“It’s not Harry Potter,” Draco says in an utterly flat, emotionless voice. Blaise groans out loud.

“It’s finally happened. You’ve lost your mind completely; that job of yours has smoothed out every remaining wrinkle in your brain. Pansy was right, we should’ve staged an intervention years ago, it’s our fault, really—”

“It is, I’m in complete agreement,” Draco says, nodding vigorously as he slams into the swinging kitchen door. Everything to make the jam sandwich is still laid out on the bench, so he slices bread with shaking hands and then turns the knife on Blaise, a glob of jam trembling at the end of it. “I’ll have that intervention now, if it’s on offer.”

“It’s a bit bloody late for it, isn’t it?” Blaise says, rubbing his hands over his face. “Is he—that’s not adult Potter on potions, is it? Is this not as bad as I think it is?”

“No, and no, it’s definitely much worse than you think it is,” Draco says as he scrapes butter up on his knife and then scrapes it over the bread rather desperately. “It’s—look.” The knife drops with a clatter, and Draco whips out his pocket watch, shoving it under Blaise’s nose.

Blaise squints down at it. “I—Draco, you know I haven’t the foggiest what any of these mad instruments say. What am I looking at?”

“Do you see that ticking hand there? The green one?” Draco asks, jabbing his finger at it. “That’s our timeline. And the rest—all the different colored hands—those are other timelines. Sometimes I go to them to fix—things, aberrations, events falling too far out of control. Sometimes I go and—and destroy them, and the hands disappear. And sometimes I just go back in my timeline, the green timeline, and go on assignment, and I get bored because my assignment is in a horrible place called Little Whinging, Surrey, and I have time to kill—don’t laugh—and I decide to peek in on my old school rival and see if I can find any fun childhood embarrassments to make fun of for the next time he forgets who I am and tries to drunkenly hit on me at the pub—”

“Oh, good god, Draco.”

“—you know, when he calls me Dresden and asks where I went to school because he would’ve remembered—”

“It’s pathetic and absurd that you’re still completely fucking hung up on that, Draco, it was months ago—”

“Vengeance takes time!”

“Kidnapping someone from the past is a little far for vengeance! You are insane!”

“No, it’s not—” Draco takes a shuddering breath and turns back to the sandwich, struggling to unscrew the jam jar while still holding the pocket watch. “This isn’t vengeance. You didn’t see—I didn’t know—”

“Know what? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“It was—they treated him horribly, Blaise, I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—”

Draco hears Blaise suck in a harsh, shocked breath. “So this is—bloody hell. You’re not planning on sending him back?”

“I can’t. Even if I wanted to—look.” He whirls around with the watch again and points at a different hand. “See that—that tiny hand, the little red one? That’s a new timeline. It appeared when I brought him back here.”

Blaise stares at him in utter shock, more genuine emotion on his face that Draco’s ever seen. “So you created a new timeline, all on your own? Have you ever done that before?”

“Of course not. It’s utterly forbidden, it’s disastrous, I may have broken the universe. It’s—it’s the end of my time-traveling career.” Draco’s voice breaks on the last few words, and he turns back to the bench, wrenching the jam jar open, piling jam on top of the butter and then pulling out a new plate to serve it on. A flick of his wand and there’s a new glass, milk pouring into it, splashing out a little where Draco can’t keep a steady hand. His breathing is coming fast and a little wheezy.

“What are you going to do?” Blaise asks in a hushed, pitying voice.

Draco thinks about it for a second, trembling in his kitchen. A thousand different scenarios are flaring out in his mind, all the possibilities—he’s always thinking in multiple timelines in his line of work, always considering every possible outcome and calculation and consequence. It brings up an unpleasant buzzing in his head, rushing in his ears, and he has to take a deep, deep breath.

Then he sets the sandwich plate and the glass of milk to Levitate by the door, puts the pocket watch on the bench, picks up the knife, and brings the hilt of it down onto the face of the watch, smashing it to pieces that scatter all around them, dozens of colorful hands and gears and shattered pieces of glass, time strewn all about.

“Right now, I’m going to give that child a jam sandwich,” Draco says.

#drarry #drarry fic #oflights #asks #anonymous #fic prompts #deaging sort of?? #a lot is unsaid here because i am almost certainly going to make this a Thing lol #but i needed to get this out rn #am i going to break my own heart writing this eventually? yes probably #ain't that just the way #my fic

[sketchfanda]

Chestnut Stud Across the Multiverse: Mother Russia’s Finest

Zarya would be lying if she said she didn’t have mixed feelings about this current moment and time she was experiencing right now. Standing in some luxury penthouse bedroom in an outfit that quite frankly wouldn’t look out place on a run of the mill hooker working on a street corner. Looking herself over in the mirror,she had to admit it wasn't something she was usually comfy with wearing but she couldn't help but bite her lip sensually as her own reflection. Damn if she felt and looked sexy as all hell and the thought of what she'd be doing in this room in a moments time was making her tingly in all the right places. A surge of anticipation running up along her spine as she felt her cameltoe twitch and pulse, liquid pleasure threatening to flow and run down along her powerful meaty thighs thinking of what was to commence within this room. It was all so surreal, she was the pride of her homeland,a top ranked spec ops agent for dealing with threats terrestrial and extraterrestrial. Yet here she was on behalf of a favour to a co-worker’s wife as her thoughts were broken from hearing footsteps and muffled voices drawing in closer and closer to the door. Doing her best to make herself look sexy as she did a pose like for a pinup photo shoot and flexing for a bodybuilder contest. The door opening to reveal a certain Blonde bombshell and her compact husband entering.

18:trust me babe,this anniversary gift you are just gonna love.*her tone playful,teasing and seductive eeben while sincere,as she guided Krillin to the bedroom of the penthouse suite Bulma so generously rented for them. Taking delight in his expression at what he saw before him,the sight of Zarya,one of his co-workers from the SCPD spec ops division,dressed and done up like a whore.* zarya:*clears her throat as she more or less got into character,that exotic accent of hers adding some sensual spice* Good evening to you,handsome sir. Your lovely wife has brought here to fulfill your every need and desire.*biting her lip sensually at finding herself falling so easily into character,looking him over from hesd to toe* krillin:*jaw dropped,seeing zarya all like this,unable to say anything,leaving him wide open to 18 suddenly undoing his fly as she whipped out his cock for Zarya’s viewing pleasure* zarya:*bites her lip sensually at seeing dick in the naked flesh*oh my,she told me Yiu were very well endowed but this is something else for sure…. 18:she’s all yours handsome,remember no condoms,feel free to ehr romantic and there’s plenty of lube in the drawer if you need it*giving her man a peck kn the cheek as went and parked herself on a couch a few feet away from the bed,crossing her legs as she prepared to enjoy the show set to transpire.*

shaking his head as he got over his shock, Krillin rolled his eyes as he realised that once again, his kinky wife had gone out of his way to get laid with another woman. Well he would be lying if he was asked he’d thought of zarya in such ways and said no. The woman was a phsyical work of art, okay sure there were a lot of guys who said they weren’t into muscular women. But for a guy like Krillin, the amazonian beauty in women like Zarya was Something to behold, the curves and tits and ass of a pornstar combined with the powerful physique of a classical sculpture, as he made his way over to her. Her hooker outfit soon commando as she sensually grinned,blushjng as she peeled off her panties, leaving his five foot frame face level with her smooth, pretty pussy. To which he pressed his fsceace to as he began to kiss her slit, eating her out as zarya threw back her head to moan,clutching that smooth dome of his as her 6 foot 5 muscular form began to quiver and perspire. 18 licking her lips as she knew she was in for a good time,nothing was more erotic than when her man rolled with the momentum and seize initiative. Shamelessly pleasuring herself as she stripped herself naked, looking on as Zarya laid on the bed in the nude with Krillin. The exotic foreign muscle vixen holding him upside down as she suffocated herself on his cock, deepthroating him with abandon as her lips kissed his balls and his abs, neck bulging from his length sand girth while he held her hips in his grasp as he ate and made out with her pussy. Drinking up her nectar as it dazzled his tastebuds on his tongue, and this was just the foreplay.

Zarya:oooooh fuuuuuck me yes yes yes!! Harder!, ahn fuck me zaika!! *calling Krillin her native tonfue’s word for rabbit or or bunny,as she laid on her back on the bed. Moaning wantonly as she held Krillin atop her,his hips bucking and plowing her in the classic missionary position. Her powerful legs wrapped around his compact Herculean body as he mad her become acquainted his sexual prowess first hand. Proving the wet dreams she’d been having of her co-worker had nothing on the real deal.* 18:*licked her lips and sensually bit her lip as she juggled her tits in one hand and plowed a warrior monk dildo into her pussy. This was the sort of encounter where nothing less than just watching her man fuck a woman all day and night until that alpha male clock and those heavy balls were fully drained and emptied with satisfaction. Knowing thst zarya would be left in a sweaty heap in the remains of a bed, her holes overflowing with excess jizz. Falling in love with her man all oer again at seeing the expression on his face. The look o man who tapped into that part of his brain, a caveman who was being countered by a bitch jn heat that desired to bare his seed.*

Zarya of course made sure 18 was getting her figurative money’s worth, so glad she hadn’t had any second thoughts about when the woman approached her,requesting her to be her husband’s “anniversary gift”. One of those quirky,kinky little traditions and surprises she did for him whenever the chance and opportunity presented themselves. The 6 foot 5 Amazon riding him in ro foreard and reverse cowgirl,showing off her thicc,curvy muscular form,posing for his pleasure as she flexed her muscles. Biceps swelling,triceps rippling, as he massaged her mesty abs,hips and thighs. Which made for a delight contrast with her plump,meaty tips and ass jiggling and bouncing, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Drooling as she howled with deep throated moans and gasps, especially when she found herself on her hands and knees as her horny little zaika plowed her like the butch in heat she was reduced to. Eeping in delight when he would smack her ass,leaving the red sting of his palm marks on those meat buns. But of course Krillin was a thorough compact stud whi aimed to not only wreck and stuff the muscular hottie’s womb but also her ass and that dirty mouth of hers. From facefucking her as her head hung off the edge of the bed,tomkayinf soo her prone bone as he jackhammered her glorious ass with erotic intentions. The only orgasms she could meep track and count of being his,the delicious thrill when his dick erupted with his baby batter a sensation her brain didn’t become tire of, as the 6’5” Amazon the 5 foot short king went at it all day,long into the night.

come sunrise,the cries and echoes of their grunts and moans of passion were still going on,the bed was trashed,the scent of sweat and sex in the air. 18 hugging her man from behind,kissing him as she long since cast aside voyeurism to finally join in. Her blue eyes a king delight in seeing zarya pressed up against the wall. His hands grasping her ass as she had powerful arms and megs wrapped around her stud fox short king. Tongue out,drooling as her brain was fucked to the point of briefly stuck in butch jn heat mode,pink hesrts glowing in her eyes as the cyborg knew for certain,once again another fine hot piece of ass had fallen under the Krillin effect. How sweet it is….

#sketchfan85 #sketchfanda #sketchfan #krillin smut #krillin dragonball #dragonball krillin #krillin #zarya #aleksandra zaryanova #overwatch zarya #ow zarya #overwatch

[titleleaf]

@rocket-eighty-eight mentioned you on a post “The real saw trap is reading an incredibly wrong...”:

@titleleaf WHERE did you see this red dragon take?!?!!

​Why, here on Tumblr Dot Com, of course! I thought I had it screencapped but I managed to restrain myself from engaging with the original post -- the OP was all of 20 and God knows I made absolutely boneheaded Tumblr posts when I was 20, I make some pretty stupid ones now. Regardless, it had pretty hardcore "hasn't actually read Red Dragon" energy. As you might also expect it was a post gassing up the NBC Hannibal s3 finale, framing Will's participation in the killing of Dolarhyde as him embracing queerness and aligning himself with his true love, Hannibal, rather than his fake comphet love, Molly.

Paraphrased, their interpretation was: "the end of Red Dragon, the book, has Will triumphing over Dolarhyde and successfully saving his wife and child, reaffirming the integrity of heterosexual marriage and exorcising the queer threat that Lecter poses to Will's identity of himself as straight, while the show's s3 finale has the better and more affirming depiction: Will leaving behind his wife and child and going to be with Hannibal and embrace his nature as a killer, showing that he's accepted his true self and what he holds in common with Lecter." Which... all of that aside, that's not remotely what happens in the book Red Dragon!

The ending of the novel is so notoriously downbeat and ambivalent that I have read multiple pieces of academic writing commenting on it, and it's something both film adaptations have felt the need to change. It's a fucking downer. You can't even feel good about Molly killing Dolarhyde because you've seen enough of Dolarhyde as a sympathetic wounded beast to wish that outcome, however inevitable genre conventions make it, could be different. Will's relationship to his stepson is already fatally wounded before Dolarhyde shows up, and Will's marriage is fucking toast -- even as Will's lying in his hospital bed he knows this, that Molly will leave him because of what's happened, and by the time SOTL takes place it certainly seems to have come true. Will's physical and mental well-being have been burned through, and by the next time we hear about him he's a deeply traumatized alcoholic whose face looks like damn Picasso drew it, and, we can assume, very single. Heterosexual love is not enough in this book to save anybody! Not Dolarhyde and Reba, not Will and Molly, not the Leedses, not the Jacobis, not Dolarhyde's mother and her new husband, not even Freddy Lounds and Wendy. Will comes to a fuller understanding of the "vicious urges" within him that humanity more broadly struggles with, not just outliers like Dolarhyde and Lecter, but it's not a comfortable exorcism of the destabilizing threat of violence, the emotional tone remains uneasy and weird. It's a bummer. Nobody is living happily ever after and it's Lecter who gets the last word. (And he's such a bitch about it, too, I'm obsessed.)

My own feelings on how the show does the RD plotline with Dolarhyde in s3 aside (short version: badly) I think people have a tendency to back-project the show's framing of Will and Hannibal's relationship onto the first novel when it doesn't apply. Their relationship in the book is interesting and imo very fun but it's very different because the rest of the canon from which the show will draw to pad it out just does not exist yet -- the show sort of Frankensteins together parts of Clarice's plotlines to make up the difference and while I enjoy the results in isolation Will and Hannibal's relationship dynamic in the show isn't remotely a straightforward translation from book to screen or some kind of more correct, uncensored version of what the book was too timid to show. (Clarice's whole perverse union with Lecter in Hannibal the book follows its own different trajectory, and I can see how people read it as liberating and/or affirming, but uhhhh I'll get back to them on that later.) I don't think the show does the fusion of those two relationships particularly elegantly (or the distribution of other aspects of the Hannibal-Clarice relationship onto other characters' relationships to Hannibal, though it did bring me one of my favorite parts of s3 with Bedelia) but I think it's really muddied people's ability to talk about the actual books (and films) on the merits of what they actually contain versus what they assume they must contain or would like them to contain. It's a hot mess express.

#rocket-eighty-eight #ska reads a thing #ska watches nbc hannibal

[goldlightsaber]

I had a dream my landlord invited me to a Christmas/Thanksgiving dinner of some kind — at first I just saw his family but then I noticed the cast of Succession were in attendance. Not all of them but I ended up meeting Kieran Culkin and his wife. There was some teen at the party drawing them like anime characters (and they posed for it). I also talked to Brian Cox as he was heading out of the party — he saw that I was eager to talk to him so he came back and politely indulged me.

#text #the succ brainrot is bubbling up to the surface and detoxing out of my system i guess #i think maybe some more minor characters were there too but no Jeremy and i think no Sarah #Kieran was cussing a lot and being his whacky self #also Jazz’s voice was a lot more high pitched than I anticipated

[hughmunculus]

Ranking Columbo's Top 5 Babygirls

By popular demand (context: nobody asked, I saw it in a dream) I've made a list of the men in Columbo you should absolutely draw in this pose. Please let it be known the presence of the babygirl does not necessarily mean the episode itself is good. Sometimes God gives its strongest babygirls its weirdest episodes.

Criteria for this was pretty obvious:

Are they absolutely sopping wet

Is there some odd sexual tension there

Would I let them hit it

5. Alex Brady (S8 Ep2: Murder, Smoke, and Shadows)

Photo credit: columboscreens.com

So 5 was a tough spot because I knew what my top 4 were going to be pretty handily, but this was going to be one that was lacking in one or the other criteria set out above. In the end, it was between the soaking wet Emmett Clayton (S2 Ep7, The Most Dangerous Match) and the unhinged Alex Brady. In the end, I judged it on the most sacred criteria: what that dick do. And there is no way Clayton's dick game is anything but awful, if its anything like his chess game.

Fisher Steven's character though is an insane, controlling chaos goblin that's fun to watch when he's winning and even more fun to watch while he's losing. Fortunately he loses, a Lot. Later seasons of Columbo can often feel less about the titular detective and much more about the murderers, but I'd argue in this case its for the best as we watch him completely unravel (and in one famous instance, hallunicate Columbo in a Ringmaster's outfit).

4. Joe Devlin (S7 Ep5: The Conspirators)

Photo credit: columboscreens.com

Who is this man smiling at? His wife, a lover perhaps? What about the detective that's going to bust his ass for murder and illegal firearms trading? Were it not for Clive Revill and Peter Falk's chemistry, this episode about a man funneling weapons to the IRA would be... Challenging. Instead he's just kind of a chill dude in over his head who, to quote Columbo Screens, "wants to fuck Columbo so bad it makes them look stupid".

That being said, he most certainly corners the market on being a sad little man when trying to get ahold of those guns. His initial encounter with the RV Salesman easily tops my "most pathetic Columbo villain moments" as he struggles to find innuendo for guns while the RV Salesman politely tries to turn him down like a thirsty dude at a bar.

3. Dale Kingston (S1 Ep4: Suitable for Framing)

Photo credit: Columbophile.com

What he lacks in obvious chemistry with Columbo he makes up in wearing a frilly, crushed velvet suit and being just so extremely gay. Ross Martin's performance as the murderer and art critic is a powerhouse in a likewise tightly written episode. When he's not begging Columbo to leave him alone in the most sopping-wet manner possible he's making snide, catty comments about the art world. I wouldn't be surprised if Joel Cairo was a touchstone for his performance.

I would also be negligent to not say that when he's finally caught his lower lip literally fucking trembles. That final scene is so goddamn good though I won't link it, so go watch the whole episode for yourself.

2. Roger Stanford (S1 Ep6: Short Fuse)

Photo credit: columboscreens.com

Let it be known I had to fight the temptation hard to not just use the Roddy MacDowell cock photo. It would've been so fucking easy man. But I think this photo better captures the impish, effervescent performance he gives as the chemical company heir. He spends so much of this episode capering about, pulling pranks, wearing pants so tight you can see the outline of his co-

ANYWAY he isn't super soaking wet in the beginning, but through the episode you watch him slowly becoming more and more frazzled, more exasperated, more testy until it finally culminates in an explosive (pun intentional) final gotcha by Columbo. Watching Roddy MacDowell completely break down into a fit of laughter, putting his scholarship chain around Columbo's neck and affectionately patting his cheeks, you can't help but be awestruck by its weirdness, its patheticness, and how it's kinda... y'know...

1. Ward Fowler (S6 Ep1: Fade Into Murder)

Image credit: columbophile.com

Maybe this is a controversial top pick, but hear me out: never has a Columbo villain been so pathetic, so attractive, and so obviously into Columbo before. William Shatner plays a man playing a TV detective against a man playing a real detective, and the way he decides to do that is by having Ward be absolutely captivated by Columbo.

Ward is so desperate to get Columbo's approval, often trying to relate his real life experiences to the tropes he's played on TV as Detective Lucerne. Getting away with the murder of his blackmailing wife feels like a distant second of just getting Columbo to like him.

It all culminates with Ward filming Columbo with one of their TV camera, the latter unable to even get a single line out without dissolving into giggles. Afterwards they review the footage filmed while - dare I say it - CUDDLING on the couch???? Apparently Shatner and Falk actually hit it off immediately on set, which must speak to Falk's magnetic personality more than anything else.

This is the only performance I can describe on Columbo as "cute". Shatner schoolboy cruch on Columbo is so cute (and simultaneously so sad considering you know, the murder) that it feels unfair to not give him the top spot.

Anyway, all the credit to the Columbophile Blog for inspiring me to write this post, and to Columbo Screens for the gorgeous screenshots and being the de facto Columbo authority on Tumblr.

#columbo #peter falk #detective columbo #I kinda want to do more lists like this lol

[mostspecialgirl]

Insiders (2023) - redrawn from 2019

(rambling under the cut)

thank you tumblr for compressing my image down to disgusting crusty poop pixels on the app

i love to do a new big reference piece for my babies every few years, and the time has finally come due… and WOW !!! LOOK AT THAT IMPROVEMENT !!! everyone looks Normal And Alive and Non Bugeyed !!! everyone is a little less pasty white (im talking about you, tanith) !!! i think they all show a lil bit of nice personality in their faces now too which is lovely for me. i love to see my children happy. now to write about each of them

angelo’s line art has the least effort into it here and i was GONNA redraw him but honestly if anyone is going to look like a scrunkly little bug IT IS GOING TO BE HIM !!!!!! It’s been a minute since i’ve drawn his body-saws and on a whim i made them red AND !!! IT WORKS !!! I’M A FAN !!! i think he’s due for a main-outfit change though. not sure. i struggled with finding him a natural-looking skin color too because i’ve slowly made him as a person less undead-corpse-like and i think i’ve found a good spot. for now.

i pulled the perfect angora out of my mind and honestly i am shocked at what i have created. she looks so sweet and kind and innocent here (as she should) that to any unfamiliar observers you’d be hard pressed to tell she’s a big lazy gross vulgar piece of shit rat of a fishwoman. and that is EXACTLY how it should be. i have lost the plot for too long, giving her more sharp edges and a hunched back and wild expressions, but the standard angora really should be deceptively pretty. because that’s my girl.

Mila looks great as always. What more can I say? She’s always perfect. I had fun giving her lips for the first time!

AMPH … MY ADISHESHA … (slamming my fist down) I’ve finally perfected him… isn’t he pretty? isn’t he so pretty? I chose to draw him in his naga/incarnated form instead of the shadow form this time because i wasn’t lazy. I decided to throw a big coat on him, originally intended to be more lab coat-y, but influenced by how fucking cold it is outside i allowed myself to give him a big fur collared one. because if you can’t tell i love giving characters though. i think it worked out well for AMPH here, and now I have to be putting him in all sorts of cowls and capes until the end of time.

TANITH !!!!!!!! GGGGYRRRRAAAAHHHHH!!!! LOOK AT MY GIRL !!!!!!! I’M FERAL OVER THIS!!!!!! LOOK AT MY IMPROVEMENT !!!!!!! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve colored her, but i changed her palette in my mind a while ago AND looking at it here ? existing ? i’ve done it again. My lovely little sword daughter … i know i JUST doodled her but christ something was in the water here because SHE LOOKS SO GOOD. this is the best ive drawn any of them. i gave her some nice clothes this time instead of her usual big t-shirt because i realized i only gave her that in the past because i didn’t know how to draw clothes.

speaking of “best ive ever drawn any of them” somnus … THIS IS HIM … i’ve gotten close to capturing him in all the times i’ve drawn him but i think i’ve finally pinned him down here. and of course, he’s hitting the same pose as his wife because they’re cute like that. i ripped his colors straight from the solo reference piece i made for him a while back which has held up quite wonderfully.

FINALLY !!! SETH IS HERE !!! HE HAS ARRIVED IN PROPER INSIDERS GROUP ART !!! he looks pretty good here. i think he could still look BETTER, but for the purpose of having a nice group reference piece he looks pretty great i think. I struggled pinning down some colors for his clothes and was pretty lazy with the Purple Under His Hair That Glows BUT WHO CARES !!!! LOOKS GOOD TO ME !!! LOOK AT MY HANDSOME SON !!! i also decided to stick his full name on here that i’ve kept vaulted up for the reason that i’ve never had to put it anywhere before. if you know why he has “-zoe adamiel” as his chosen full name, congrats, you’re a huge fucking nerd.

eventually, i’m probably going to tack daisy, kane, sampi and demiurge onto the right side of this piece, but that’s for another day down the line. thanks for reading!

#insiders #oc #oc art #original character #original characters #oc design #oc designs #mostspecialgirlarttag #relicverse #sinai clan #angelo rust #angora heta #mila sinai #amph #tanith #soma somnus #seth-zoe adamiel

[dream--writing]

At long last, they’re here! For my Persona/Bayo au, this is the disgraced witch Kuragari and his persona, Odysseus.

Before I talk about Kuragari, I’m gonna start with Odysseus, since that decision influenced a lot of what came after. Now before you hardcore Persona fans yell at me, yes I do know Odysseus already exists as a persona in the second game. However, there are several reasons why I chose him for Kuragari. For starters, Odysseus’ family plays a large role in his story, particularly his wife and son. The same could be said for Kuragari, as his romance with Akiko is what begins this whole story and he is very close with his son Akira. That was honestly the main reason I chose Odysseus. Another reason is that Odysseus is actually in hell, at least according to Dante Alighieri. In his Inferno, Odysseus is in the Eighth Circle for his “crimes”. Therefore, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that in this universe he was reborn as a demon in hell and would form a contract with an Umbra witch. The last reason, when you think about what Odysseus does during his adventures, wouldn’t you call him a trickster?

When it comes to Odysseus’ design, I’ll admit I wasn’t too satisfied with Atlus’. It’s just, if you told me that was supposed to be Odysseus, I probably wouldn’t believe you. So I thought it would be fitting to draw him as the warrior he was. I gave him bronze coloring, as a lot of Greek statues were made of bronze. I also wanted to incorporate the iconic black and orange you see on Greek pottery somewhere in the design, and I thought bronze would go better with that than say, marble. I ended up using those colors on his shield, his main weapon. I can just see him bashing in angel skulls with that thing.

Once I settled on Odysseus as his persona, I began on Kuragari’s design. The name Kuragari, as far as I can tell, means “darkness” which felt like a nice contrast to Akiko’s name. I wanted to put Greek elements into his outfit to reflect his persona. The bottom of his shirt and sash were inspired by men’s chitons and sashes. I also put in the Greek knot pattern for a little something extra. The hat he’s wearing is called a petasos, which was worn by travelers. I thought that would be a good accessory. His umbra watch is shaped like a compass, which is also a nice tie to Odysseus. And of course I had to give him the famous comedy/tragedy mask. The one problem with that though, was that with all the Greek masks I saw, they covered the whole face. And when you look at the masks in Persona, they all leave at least part of the face uncovered so we can see the character’s expressions. So as a compromise I only covered the bottom half of Kuragari’s face. This allowed me to show off the mask’s mouth while leaving his eyes exposed. This also connects back to Rosa, who also keeps the bottom of her face covered. Kuragari’s mask can actually change depending on his mood. For example, when he’s battling angels it’s shaped in the comedy smile, but when something serious happens (ex. the Umbra clock tower is destroyed) it changes to tragedy.

I wasn’t too happy with the first pose I put Kuragari in, but I kept it because it showed off his outfit. I did draw him in another pose though (ref used) that also included his chains. I tried to add his guns, but the angle wasn’t working so I kinda gave up. If you’re curious though, his guns are the same design as Rosa’s (because I can’t design weapons myself) but are instead named Anemoi. Their individual names are Boreas, Zephyrus, Notus, and Eurus.

I think that covers everything! If you’ve read until the end, I appreciate it! Let me know what you think, and I’ll be back soon with another update!

#Fanart #persona 5 #Bayonetta #persona 5 au #bayonetta au #p5 #p5 au #please bear with me as I figure out my color/shading style #i'm figuring it out #if you have any questions #please ask

[nickyfolcart]

Billy Gibson, ready to serve 😉

#no excuse for this #just saw a pose and had to draw my wife in it #the terror #the terror amc #billy gibson

[f10werfae]

Henry Cavill Fatherhood Scenarios #1☁️

Pairing: Dad! Henry Cavill x Wife! Reader

Word count: 886

Summary: Watch Henry and Y/n become and act as parents♥️

Requests are always open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

Doing Daddy's Makeup

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Sitting with Rose across from Henry, her tiny two year old hands grabbed my makeup from its pouch, laying out all my brushes and products in front of her.

Henry looked at me warily, his hands rubbing my knees as I sat criss crossed with Rose in the middle of my legs.

“Are you going to make daddy beautiful, just like mumma?” Henry asked Rose in a soft voice, hearing her hum and giggle in reply.

Wrapping my arms around her torso, I snuggled my head into her hair, the slight newborn scent still sticking despite all this time.

“I love you both so much” I heard Henry say out of the blue, lifting up my head I saw him looking at us lovingly, his hands now rubbing my thighs instead.

“We love you too Hen” I said leaning over Rose, placing a soft kiss on Henry's lips feeling him smirk into the kiss.

Feeling Rose starting to squirm in my lap, I pulled away seeing her start to fiddle with my eyebrow pencil, winding it up slightly.

“Ok now bub, this is an eyebrow pencil. Remember when we taught you to colour in the lines, now you can draw your own lines on dad's eyebrows and colour it in yourself” I said slowly, picking up the pencil, acting out what she was about to do before giving her back the pencil.

Sitting up a bit more in my lap, she leant over to Henry, one of her hands on his head to stabilise her. Her tongue sticking out as she focused on drawing Henry's eyebrows. Drawing quite harsh lines, his eyebrows soon turned block shape, the dark black colour popping out from his face.

Causing slight giggles to erupt from Rose and I, Henry raised one of his new eyebrows, “what are you two giggling at huh?”

“Nothin daddy” Rose said placing down the eyebrow pencil, picking up the next thing that caught her eye, choosing the eye shadow palette.

“This is an eye shadow palette Rose, so just colour in daddy's eyes with any colours okay?” I said, helping her to open the palette and choosing a suitable brush for her.

Seeing her dip the brush harshly into the dark blue eyeshadow, I saw Henry's eyes shift to mine, seeing a hint of worry in his eyes at how pigmented it was.

Sending him a wink, I helped Rose to sit up again, “Okay close your eyes daddy” I said to Henry, watching as Rose started patting on the shadow carefully, Henry now looking as if he had just been in a boxing match.

Sitting back down, Rose looked up at me, “Mummy, I done”

“Already lovie?”

“Mhm, I wanna play with horses now”

“What about Daddy's makeup?”

“Daddy already beautiful now” She said smiling happily, clapping her hands together and looking towards her play room. Smiling at her I helped her up. Fixing her nappy and sleep shirt, I sent her off to her playroom, leaving Henry and I in our bedroom.

“Well how do I look babe?” Henry said throwing a pose, his eyes closed to show off his eye shadow.

“As sexy as always” I replied, putting away my makeup bag into the drawer as we both stood up from the floor.

“Well surely not as sexy as you, my love”

“Are you sure about that Cavill?” I said laughing, reaching over for a makeup wipe and starting to dab at his face.

“As sure as always” He said bringing me in a for a kiss.

Cuddling while Pregnant - (technically not a father scenario but ya know)

(Y/n's P.O.V)

With it being deep into December, the ground outside was now painted white, ice covering all surfaces.

However one thing that didn’t change despite the season, was the fact that our bed was as warm and comfortable as could be.

Henry's body may as well have provided us both heat all year round, our bed always feeling like a warm bear cave. Laying on my side, the sun still hadn’t come up, yet the kicks to my stomach sent me fluttering awake.

Rubbing over my stomach softly, I felt occasional kicks, before I think I finally

lulled our baby boy back to sleep. Henry's warm built arms, pulling me back against his bare chest. The warmth from his chest, spreading all over my back making me feel all mellow inside.

“Did he wake up darling” I heard Henry ask from behind me, his breath gruff and warm on the nape of my neck.

“Yup, but i’m not complaining” I replied back, grabbing Henry’s arm that was below my stomach and placing it to where the kicks were coming from here and there.

“They’re less often now, so I think mini Cavill has finally gone back to sleep” I whispered, feeling Henry placing soft wet kisses on my neck, humming as a reply.

“You know with all the kicking he does, we should put him into football love” Henry said chuckling, but I know he was being dead serious, he always gushed about having someone to play ball with.

“Hm how about let’s have him come out of my belly first, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you want honey, but we have a premier league player in there”

#henry cavill #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction

[maskedtruths666]

Part 3.8 of the trophy wife series. Caylin’s POV, FINALE. Or is it? 😈

As Caylin woke up from the whole night of gang banging, she felt like that was her purpose, her hidden desires unleashed. She knew then that she would go to the highest bidder. Whoever made her feel good and bought her whatever she wanted, she’d go to him. She decided that she should embrace her true self, which is a trophy wife to be used by her husband as long as he can pay her.

She decided to go on one last romp before she’d come back to reality and tell Jack that she’s ready to end things with him.

She sat down with both Dylan and Aaron and told both of them that only one could have her. They’d have to sexually satisfy her and offer her expensive gifts in order to be exclusively theirs.

She gave them a day to decide how they’d woo her and for her to rest and get her affairs in order. Caylin decided to engage a lawyer to draw up a contract that benefited her greatly in monetary terms.

Once the dust is settled and contracts drawn up, she was ready. The guys on the other hand, really both wanted her and stopped at nothing just to get her.

Aaron made the first big move. He immediately called his car dealer and bought Caylin a Mercedes, much to her delight.

When Aaron brought her down to the car, he made her pose so that he could show off to the whole world, mostly Dylan, what he just did for Caylin. Caylin loved it and squealed with delight.

After taking a couple of pictures, Caylin decided to reward Aaron with road head.

“Drive around. I’ll reward you nicely for the car.” Caylin said as she went down on Aaron. Even as he was driving on shaky roads and the space in the car wasn’t the biggest, Caylin had the skills to satisfy him in moments.

With one hand on the steering wheel and one hand controlling the motion of Caylin’s head, Aaron found it tough to concentrate. Within minutes, Aaron shot his load into Caylin’s mouth and being the good slut she is, she swallowed every single drop of it.

“Fuck, you’re good. I’m not going to let that scum Dylan win you. I’ve definitely got more money than him.” Aaron said, whilst touching Caylin’s thighs.

“Well, we’ll see about that. But whatever car Dylan gives me, unless it’s a sports car like a lambo or Ferrari, you’ve taken the lead.” Caylin said, smiling innocently at Aaron, which turned him on immediately.

He stopped by the roadside, brought Caylin to the back of the car and fucked her hard. He bent her over the seats and started pounding her pussy. As he penetrated her, Caylin let out a moan that only drove Aaron crazier for her.

“Oh yes daddy, give it to me. Use my pussy however you like. Use me like the dirty little whore of a trophy wife I am.” Caylin moaned as Aaron was viciously pounding her pussy.

“Am I bigger than Dylan? Am I better than him?” Aaron said as he thrusted into Caylin without mercy.

“Yes, fuck me like that. Fuck me harder. I want you to fuck me harder daddy.” Caylin groaned in pleasure as Aaron continually pounded her pussy.

As he was ravaging her pussy, he bent over and switched between grabbing her juicy tits or her amazing ass. They were fucking like a pair of animals, giving into their animalistic instincts. Just as Aaron was about to unleashed his second load into Caylin, her phone rang.

When she saw that it was Dylan calling, she tried to push Aaron away to answer the phone but Aaron would let her. He forcefully pinned her down, with one hand pushing her face on the seat and the other, restricting her hand movements.

“Let me answer the call, please.” Caylin begged, even as Aaron was fucking her.

“I don’t think so. Let the phone ring.” Aaron said, breathless as he slowed down his rhythm and slowly fucked her this time.

“Come on, please let me answer his phone call.” Caylin begged again.

“You. Are. Mine.” Aaron said as he slammed into her pussy with each word.

“No, I’m not yours. I haven’t decided yet. Let’s stop having sex first.” Caylin said.

In a fit of rage, Aaron turned her over, pinned her down, pulled her hair backwards with one hand and with the other, grabbed her throat. He then said in a soft, dangerous voice, “You are not going anywhere. You belong to me now. If you resist, I’ll only get angrier.”

Even in that moment of danger, Caylin was very turned on. She knew Aaron could potentially kill her there and then but she played along. She whimpered and nodded, with tears in her eyes, she said, “ I’m all yours. Don’t hurt me.”

As Aaron saw that, he continued fucking her hard and without mercy. He thrusted in harder and harder as Caylin cried. When he had enough, he slapped her repeatedly across the face.

“Stop crying like a little bitch. You’re my slut doll and cum dumpster. You cheap whore, you’ll do exactly as I say.” Aaron said menacingly as he continued pounding her pussy and abusing her, despite her begging him to stop it.

When he finally reached his edge, he unleashed his cum balls deep into Caylin’s throbbing pussy. He then took out his thick, wet veiny dick and slapped Caylin’s face repeatedly, as if marking his territory.

He then took a photo and sent it to Dylan with the caption, “You can have my leftovers. I’m done with this whore. She’s not the woman I thought she was. Just remember, I came in her first, I used every hole first and I bought her the car.”

“You can go to Dylan. I don’t need you. I’m done with you.” Aaron said as he dressed up and left Caylin in the back seat with a pussy filled with cum and red cheeks from the abuse.

Next part coming soon! Might be Jack’s POV. Who knows? 😈

[gunterfan1992]

Interview with James Baxter (the Human)

Guess what, everyone? I just had the pleasure of exchanging emails with James Baxter—that’s right the James Baxter! James is something of a legend in the animation world, and he is known for his beautifully expressive animation style that is able to make even the simplest shape look majestic and full of life. In addition to the myriad movies he has worked on, James also contributed special animation to Adventure Time, working on season five’s “James Baxter the Horse” and season eight’s “Horse and Ball”; not only was the character named after him, but he even got to voice his horse doppelgänger!

And so, without further ado, Mr. James Baxter the Human:

GunterFan: I know that you've recounted it before, but would it be possible to get your take on the 'origin story' of the "James Baxter the Horse" episode. How did it all come together?

James Baxter: Well, Pen and I were in contact with each other while I was working at DreamWorks. I had known about him since he had left CalArts and I had already told him how much I liked Adventure Time, and I had told him that if he ever needed me to do anything to give me a call. I guess he heard me because later he asked me to meet him at a tiny sandwich place that was on Flower St. and Sonora in Burbank (it's called Little Ground now, but I can't remember what it used to be back then). There, he pitched me the idea for the character and he gave me a quick sketch of James Baxter the Horse. I said  yes, absolutely I would love to animate and voice that for you, that sounds amazing. He also reminded me of one of my animation demo lectures that I had done at CalArts when he was a student there. I usually ask for suggestions from the students of what they would like me to animate for them, so they can see the thought process. At that lecture someone yelled out, "Do a horse balancing on a ball!" (it may have been Pen) I guess as a goof, knowing that might be a little tricky for a quick demo. I remember asking for something a little simpler please. I suppose Pen remembered that moment because that's where the idea came from. As far as the actual episode goes, and what happens in it, that's all Pen and his team.

GF: What was the animation process like? How long did it take you to get everything all together?

JB: I saw the storyboard, and they gave me a printed copy of it, as well as some exposure sheets for the shots that the horse was in. I spent a little time working out some different cycles that I could move between, James balancing in place, James turning in a circle etc. I was trying to do cycles that could be reused over and over in different shots to save on work. it was all animated on paper and all the clean up drawings were done by my wife Kendra. Then all those drawings were shipped overseas to the production studio that was doing the rest of the animation for the show, so that they could do the color and compositing. I guess it took us about a month or six weeks, but I was only working on it evenings and weekends.

GF: How much say did you have with regard to the character design? What about key poses? Were you given creative freedom?

JB: I was given a lot of freedom. I just had that one sketch that Pen had drawn, but he had suggested that I give it a more flowing mane and tail. I remember sending a drawing of mine back to the team at Cartoon Network so that they could do a color model for him. As far as key poses went, I just had the boards to go from, which were clear but not super detailed, so I had a lot of freedom to make up the animation as long as I stayed true to the staging and to the length of the shots. By the time i got the exposure sheets the dialogue tracks had already been written on them, which is common practice, so I could animate to the sound.

GF: I love James Baxter (the Horse)'s voice! What inspired the accent and the whinny? What was the recording process like?

JB: I guess the voice is me just trying to be horsey, and a little posh, and British. He only ever says his name (no trouble remembering the lines!), so it's a little hard to really define an accent, but I'm British so that's where I went. My natural accent hovers somewhere over the mid-Atlantic since I've lived in the US for over thirty years. The whinny is just me trying not to cough as I'm trying to make horsey noises! Voice acting is not my talent, but it was a lot of fun, mostly because it was so surreal just saying my own name in different ways for half an hour! They were very nice and patient with me.

GF: I haven't been able to find a lot of info on "Horse and Ball." What was that like? Was it different the second time?

JB: How did you feel returning to the show? Well, I was very pleased to get another chance to do more James Baxter, but there was more footage of him in the second episode and I had less time to do it. That meant that I only animated a few shots of him in that episode, not all of him as I had done in the first one. I would have loved to have done it all, but there just wasn't time. But it was just as fun to animate, especially falling off the ball and the dance at the end.

GF: What has the reception been like on your end? Do folks ever connect your name to the character without realizing that they're both you?

JB: I’ve never had the "Oh, I never knew that James Baxter was a real person" comment face to face, but I've seen it quite a lot in comment sections on YouTube and other places online. I've got to say, it's very gratifying having this amazing alter-ego of me in AT, especially since he's such a benevolent character. I'm glad Pen didn't decide to make him a jerk! All he does is ride around cheering people up, how amazing is that?! It's certainly become a gateway for a whole lot of people to discover me as an artist, not just a cartoon character.

I hope to incorporate all this information into the second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo... one day. Either way, thank you James Baxter for not only agreeing to a little interview, but also making the world a better place!

#adventure time #adventuretime #atimers #james baxter #james baxter the horse #james baxter the human #animation #interview

[needleandhammer]

Fruition

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6216

Summary: You're the Governor's daughter and you've caught the eye of Boston's most eligible bachelor.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex. P in v. Reader's first time having sex. Cunnilingus. Dub con. Possessive!Ransom. Sort of Dark!Ransom. Historically inaccurate. Slight breeding kink. 18+ only!

A/N: Period au. I kept the time period and nobility ranking real vague because I'm not about to research and actually world-build a mashed 19th century American colonies and Victorian period au :D It's not quite as dark!Ransom as I had intended, mostly soft. Inspired by Bridgerton, yes. And the amazing debauchery of @stargazingfangirl18 for their Soft Dark 5k challenge. Congrats and thank you for such amazing stories!

Yet another season of balls, picnics, and courtship.

“Have you heard the news? The young Drysdale is to be named heir to the Thrombey estates.”

“That makes him heir to both Thrombey and Drysdale legacies.”

“Do you think he’s in search of a wife?”

“It’s Drysdale we’re talking about. The only thing he’s in search of is someone to warm his bed for one night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that inheritance must require a wife to keep in order.”

“I wouldn’t mind warming his bed even for one night.”

“Shh! That’s scandalous!”

You heard your name and looked up to see your friend Vincenza approach. “Have you heard? Drysdale is to be—“

“Must I endure an entire evening of talk about that boorish man?”

She giggled at your complaint. “But it’s the talk of the city. Lord Thrombey has replaced his own son with his grandson as heir. And…” She glanced around, leaning close to you to whisper. “I heard that the transfer of inheritance was all due to Drysdale’s uncle’s inability to produce a child.”

Your brow folded, unsure whether such a decision was fair. “Well it’s not our business, Vinnie.”

“But that’s the thing!” Her whisper grew breathless with excitement. “It’s all of our business. Well, those of us not determined to narrow our marriage choices in the name of love.” She shook her head at you with good nature. “If Drysdale is to produce an heir, he needs a wife! It’s certain that all the available ladies of Boston will be trying to earn his favor.”

You sighed as Vinnie hooked her arm around your elbow, both of you weaving slowly through the ballroom.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this, hearing gossip about the infamous Drysdale son, the eldest grandson to the retired Lord Thrombey. How such a noble scholar could be related to the notorious heartbreaker sometimes stretched your comprehension. And even more ridiculous, autumn found you as Drysdale’s target for humiliation. You knew such a flirt had no intentions of settling down, yet, he had endeavored to make sure he danced with you at every ball thus far this season, and even called on you at your city townhome. You were quick to inform him that you were uninterested, yet he seemed unbothered. In fact, upon your firm rejection, Drysdale seemed to make it his goal to visit your brother as often as possible - as the two were college pals - ensuring you encountered him several times a week. Drysdale was not outright courting you, but he made his attentions evident to you. Most frustrating of all, he seemed to have a knack for cornering you under the guise of innocently keeping his friend’s sister company. It irked you that your family could not see what you saw.

You caught sight of your brother waving at you, so you led Vinnie in his direction.

Perhaps Vinnie was correct and you were closing doors that were better left open in the opulent realm of nobility courtship. Your chances of marrying for love were slim, but that didn’t mean you could not at least try to maneuver your way closer to those slim chances. Even in Boston’s ruthless high society of meddling mothers, envious debutantes, and arrogant “gentlemen.” But you were the Governor’s first-born daughter – beauty praised by all, poised and sharp, and most accomplished at a number of activities thanks to the Governor and your mother encouraging a diverse array of talents since you were young. Theirs was a happy and long marriage resulting in five children, and supported by a successful political career that you were proud to celebrate. You had no doubt that no matter the pressures of society, your parents would support you if you opposed an incompatible proposal in your search for the right person.

As long as you navigated the nobility’s courtship rituals with the wits you inherited from your own mother, there should be no reason you should lose the romantic interests of countless eligible bachelors, or heaven forbid, fall upon a scandal that may prevent a proposal of love.

Well, there was one reason you might end the season in scandal, by way of delivering a swift knee to the vulnerable private area of one particularly irritating gentleman in full public view of hundreds of good folk who have gathered to enjoy the Senator’s autumn ball. Alas, you were not going to bring that kind of shame to your parents.

The particular reason, the gentleman who irritated you so, was currently greeting your elder brother quietly, whilst his penetrating gaze remained on you. Determined not to be ruffled by his attention, you kept your shoulders back and chin high, sweeping your eyes through the crowd and dancers.

Your attention returned to your group of family and friends when your hand was captured. By him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale Thrombey.

“My, don’t you look breath-taking. It is my pleasure to get to see you tonight, Miss Y/L/N.” Drysdale’s eyes flowed down your form, and much to your chagrin, his smirk widened. No doubt the warm flush on your bare collar would be apparent to him.

You couldn’t help yourself, with those glowing azure eyes of his so clearly admiring your figure. The man was completely inappropriate.

“Yes, it surely is.” You offered a pursed barely-there smile and tugged your hand. He tightened his grip upon your fingers, raising them to meet his lips. You cursed yourself for choosing the delicate lace gloves this evening, as you felt his warm breath feather through the lace onto your skin. He deliberately kept his lips upon your fingers for longer than necessary, curved in that signature smirk.

“Mr. Drysdale, if I may have my hand back. I must obtain a beverage for my sister.”

Mischief twinkled back at you from his eyes. “Allow me to accompany you. I’m sure your brother and mother would both enjoy a drink,” he was quick to close down the objection posed on your lips.

Your brother thanked Drysdale with a clap on his shoulder and motioned for you to go on. You could only give Vinnie a frown as she preened at you with excitement. You proceeded without protest, knowing your brother’s attention was occupied, searching for a Miss Amarea Dane, whom you were certain you would welcome as sister-in-law very soon.

You smiled quietly to yourself, once again dreaming of following in your brother’s footsteps and finding a match so certain and true, so compelled by love and affection, rather than simply honor and title. To think, it had been Drysdale who had introduced the couple.

Suddenly, a man backed up straight into your path. You couldn’t avoid stumbling aside and directly into the arms of Drysdale.

“Watch yourself, Chen. Maybe go easy on the wine,” Drysdale called to the man who raised an empty glass at him with a laugh.

You attempted to straighten up, aware you were surrounded by several people and had just fallen into the embrace of Drysdale, who was notorious for seducing the city’s ladies.

“Let go,” you insisted quietly, dropping your gaze to your wrist which he held on to.

Drysdale gave you stern glance and led you close behind him, keeping his grasp on you hidden as he pulled you through the room.

When the two of you made it beyond the side entrance, you tried retrieving your hand.

“Mr. Drysdale, let go.” You had not wanted to draw attention with so many guests around you. You would die of embarrassment to allow anyone to see Drysdale’s hand on yours beyond the required polite greeting.

“Come, my lady. You cannot blame me for wishing to acquire your attention all to myself.”

“You are being most inappropriate.” You huffed as he pulled into the gardens. “Let go of me this instant.”

“So eager to return to your suitors? I’m sure I saw at least five gentleman who have called on you this month.”

“How can you know of the gentlemen who have called on me?” You dug your heels into the gravel, drawing up short when Drysdale stopped and rounded on you.

“Well, Barber makes no secret of his admiration for you. Or that idiot colonel’s son? And that Wilson fellow makes such noise at the gentlemen’s club about his intent to propose.”

You smiled at his apparent crossness. “Are you tracking my proposals? Are you requesting a fee for updating me about the intentions of my suitors?”

Drysdale stepped closer, his sharp jawline clenched. “So you’re pleased then?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You bit back a gasp when he tugged you forward, his hands on your waist which pressed against his front. “If you don’t let go—“

“What will you do?” His smirk returned and your fists pushed against the solid muscle of his arms. “What would you do?” He asked again, dipping his face close to yours. “If someone saw the Governor’s honorable eldest daughter, the pearl of the city, alone in the dark with a man?”

“How dare you? You better let go or my brother –“

“Would only be too happy to welcome me into the family.”

You did not miss his meaning. If you were discovered in this position by anyone, your brother would demand that your honor be redeemed by marriage to Drysdale. As handsome as the man was, you had no wish to pair the rest of your life with a man who flirted with dozens of women each season and broke just as many hearts.

“Well I am certain, sir, he would never force me to marry someone so crude as yourself. He is familiar with your outrageous behavior, so he knows you would make an ill match and I would never consent to it.” You tried leaning back from Drysdale, feeling a growl work from his chest. You couldn’t show him fear, no. You had enough of this man making your life miserable just because he was bored.

He didn’t relent, his palms flexing around your waist tighter. “You think that just because your father protects you, you are beyond the pressures, the claws of people of our standing?” He chuckled darkly. “I assure you, if it was between your happiness and ensuring your family avoids falling from grace, your parents would not hesitate to throw you to the wolves, to sacrifice your childish dreams in order to uphold their status. That’s what you’re searching for, isn’t it? Behind that pretty face are the same silly fancies as all the other girls. Dreams of love.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, so mock me all you want.” You continued struggling, determined to not back down from his burning gaze, but drawing short of breath all the same to have him so close. “Everyone knows you’re too busy fooling around and playing with women who, yes, want to find love. I only pity them for believing you have the ability to give that to them.”

He whispered your name low in warning, his voice sending a flutter down your stomach. You arranged a fierce scowl at him.

“It’s the truth. All you care about are your family’s riches and living like you have no responsibility to your community. Well, go on. Find some poor woman and give your family an heir so you can secure your fortune and continue your wild ways in comfort. But rest assured, I’d rather be thrown to wolves than end up paired with a man like you.”

Your squeak of shock was cut short when Drysdale crashed his mouth on yours. He molded your lips, swallowing your gasp as he sucked your lower lip. You felt suffocated with an intense heat blossoming from your stomach and growing further as you sensed the wet lick of his tongue.

Drysdale knew every time he pushed your buttons he got to enjoy your soft features lighting up just the way he liked; and at the same time he suffered your blatant disdain. For months he had told himself he was only after some entertainment in the form of your admittedly beautiful displeasure directed at him to liven up the droll season. Yet, here he was, unable to restrain himself from touching you, your warm smile haunting his thoughts, the silk of your skin an insufferable craving that occupied him at every hour.

You tried to twist out of his arms, but he held you pressed against him, a soft whimper from you further igniting his desire to wrap you up and make sure no other man witnessed you like this. Breathless. Vulnerable. So, so sweet, just as he imagined you would be.

You were unsure how to respond, failing to escape from his hold. So you fought back with your mouth, lips pushing against his, much to Drysdale’s delight. He barely allowed you to draw breath as he tilted his head, hand caressing the back of your neck to keep you close, quickly sneaking his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth. He felt you tremble at his invasion, your hands gripping his jacket. He opened his eyes, appreciating the moon’s gleam on your cheek, your lashes fluttering. Despite your drawn brow, he could tell you were no longer opposed to his ministrations. He groaned when your tongue whirled against his.

It was the familiar quiver in your core that struck you and had you thrashing until you had pushed Drysdale away. You could not allow this man to awaken desires within you. You covered your mouth, panting, feeling tears sting your eyes.

You heard your name from him.

“Don’t!” You kept your face hidden with a hand, as though you could hide what had just happened. “Don’t every come near me again, Drysdale.”

“You can’t mean that.”

You stepped back before he could reach you. “I’m sorry. I am to call you Thrombey now, correct? You’ve inherited a title and doubled your worth. Well, don’t for one second think that makes me care for you.”

You rushed out of the garden, praying he wouldn’t catch up. Drysdale breathed deep. Your words stung him.

He shook himself, making a vow. Darling, you’re not getting away from me.

------------------

No, no, this could not be happening. It was still early in the day and your life was ruined. Or, it would be very soon.

“If you don’t accept my proposal, I will ensure that the whole city hears about your little moonlight tryst with Drysdale. We all know he’s not the type to step up for a woman’s honor. So you’ll be left with a scandal and no further suitors, you can be sure of it.”

That was the threat from Mr. Mildred, the colonel’s son who creeped on the edges of parties and was known to mistreat the help of his household.

You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Mildred. Yet, what were your options? Your parents would heed your wishes, but the shame of a scandal would be hard for your family to recover from. You father’s reelection might even be impacted. Boston may be a modern city but progress was slow when it came to the rules of courtship amongst upper social circles. And your marriage prospects, well, very few bachelors would come calling once they heard you described as a loose woman.

It had been too much to hope that no one witnessed what happened in the garden.

You stood, restless and angry with yourself. How could you have melted into Drysdale’s touch? That was just as agonizing to you as Mildred’s words. Ever since you first met Drysdale, heard of his leisurely bachelor ways and his aversion to marriage and family, you had vowed to never fraternize with anyone of his nature. He was everything you did not want for a stable, loving family and spouse.

So many months, you had been forced to hear him mock you with pleasantries, intrude on your homely comforts, charm your mother and sisters, monopolize your brother’s time. And yet. His broad form hovering close to you as you practiced pianoforte. His many glances with those sky blue eyes during park strolls. The low purr of his voice that followed you into your dreams. Drysdale had managed to worm his way into your subconscious. At one point, you had thought he was tolerable, kind, and perhaps capable of sincerity; but that night in the garden had shown you his true colors.

Two days later, you fared no better. Your mother summoned you into the parlor, sharing that she had encountered Mr. Mildred at a tea party and he mentioned a dreadful whisper he believed to be about you and a gentleman together without chaperones in the Senator’s garden.

Had Mildred run out of patience already? Your mother’s tight frown was your answer. You apologized profusely, tears escaping as you tried to hold yourself together in the presence of someone you had sworn never to disappoint.

Apparently, Mildred informed your mother that such a whisper had not spread far, but he could not be certain of preventing its spread.

You were interrupted by the house maid, bringing a letter to your mother informing of a dinner visit.

The rest of your day, your head ached with the decision you had to make. Drysdale would not be affected by the gossip but you would not remain unscathed for long. Even with the respect your father received as Governor, your prospects grew slimmer than ever. Yet you could not accept a sacred vow of lifelong marriage to the conniving Mildred.

And Drysdale, well, you told yourself you would not entertain the idea. You had rejected his advances once already. You told yourself he had only courted you to add to his conquests and he only continued to antagonize you to alleviate his boredom.

It wasn’t until you entered the dining room that you realized your mother’s dinner guests were the Drysdales, including Lord Thrombey. You lowered yourself into a seat next to your sister, forcing a smile at Lady Drysdale before her strident tones returned to a conversation with your mother. Movement to your other side prompted you, but your smile fell flat to see Ransom Drysdale beside you. He only nodded to you, though you caught his eyes glinting with purpose before he turned to your brother.

It was halfway through dinner that Drysdale made the announcement. He had requested your father’s permission and was proposing to you this very night.

You scarcely noted your two families’ reactions, excusing yourself from the table and winding up in the dimly lit back yard of your home.

“Why?” you asked as soon as you heard footsteps behind you. Turning to Drysdale, you demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched you, eyes dark and framed by thick lashes. His jaw tensed and then he stepped up to you, looking down at you.

“As you said. I have to earn my inheritance. I need an heir for my grandfather. For that to happen, I need a wife.”

You shook your head, his words striking at your heart.

“You’ll do just fine, I suppose,” he finished.

“No!” You shoved at his chest, barely swaying him. “You don’t get to do this. This is my life.”

“I heard what Mildred was going to do,” he said, swallowing hard. “If I didn’t propose, you’d have to marry him. Or –“

“I would deal with the gossip however I see fit! How could you come to my home and propose in front of our entire families. How could you—“

He wrapped his hands around your biceps, dragging you close. “You can’t say no.”

Helpless, you could only silently deny his ruthless words with an anguished shake of your head.

“You can’t say no to me. No matter what you tell yourself about how merciful your lovely society friends will be. We both know if you don’t accept my proposal…” He glanced away with a chuckle before eying you, his grin cocky, sneering. “And don’t even bother thinking you might escape from this by actually marrying Mildred. He’ll back off as soon as he hears the new Lord Thrombey has proposed. Either way, looks like you’re not going to the wolves.”

One hand grasped your neck and jaw, drawing your lips to his. He could sigh with relief. He had not been able to rest ever since tasting you.

“Drysdale –“

“Ransom,” he whispered, rubbing his lips to yours before reclaiming them in a deeper kiss that consumed all of your senses. You couldn’t gather your wits to question how he managed to force all thoughts from your mind. Surely your anger was the source of the sparks lit in your breast as you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth roughly. You sagged against him. Ransom’s lips released you, trailing along your skin.

“Call me Ransom.” His order came firm as he dropped kisses down the corner of your mouth to your ear. It pained him to be the cause of your tears, but he would be damned if he let that weasel Mildred sully your name, or get to twist his fingers in your dark tresses, learn your curves, taste your lips. No, Ransom would be your villain.

“R-Ransom,” you gasped out, so aware of his body heat rolling against you, his thick arms encircling you.

“Accept my proposal.” He knew he had crushed his very slight chances of being on the receiving end of your kind heart, forcing your hand like this.

He pressed his forehead to yours, warm hands framing either side of your face. His thumbs stroked away your tears, and you were struck by the earnest plea in his eyes.

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from you, his face a cool mask. "Let us inform our families."

This may be another game to him, an easy means to an end. For you, it wasn’t a choice.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made it through your short engagement and overly grand wedding by devoting your entire energy to convincing your family that you were the eager, blushing bride. You offered minimal answers as your dear sister asked about how Drysdale – no, how Ransom had claimed your heart. You dutifully picked out wedding bouquets with your mother and responded to the well wishes of your father’s friends.

All the while, your busy schedule served as an excuse to avoid your groom-to-be. With middling success. Now that he had claimed your hand, and more, proved your dreams were all for naught, he couldn’t resist reminding you to your face how naïve you had been. Worse, he took advantage of his status as your fiancé.

He took the opportunity at every lunch to sit close to you and toss that triumphant smirk your way. He invited you to the park with your family, leading you ahead and lacing his fingers through yours as he put on a show of holding you steady upon the walkways. He played the love-struck bachelor, dragging you between the far shelves of your father’s library and exploring your mouth with a frenzy that left you dizzy. Your resistance was no match for his determination to overpower you, to flaunt his victory. Yet, you could almost see the arrogant curl of his mouth morphing with each kiss as his eyes softened. And each time, you grew more hopeless - conflicted - as his touch grew familiar, satisfying a part of you which you could not control. You were truly out of your depth when it came to Ransom.

It mattered not. You could not take back your word. The Governor’s daughter that you were so proud to be could not collapse in your own despair. As far as anyone was concerned, you and Ransom had both discovered an unlikely, passionate love for one another and wished very badly to wed.

You should have been exhausted after the early day of wedding celebration you had endured with Ransom, the incomparably handsome and gallant groom. And after many hours riding out to Halifax, the Thrombey country home. Your new home.

But a new challenge was upon you this late night - your wedding night. At least, that had been your sole problem up until Ransom had deposited you in your marital chamber and excused himself. You had absentmindedly, nervously, glided around the room to admire the woodwork. Only to notice a parchment corner peeking from the drawer of an antique desk. Which led you to open the drawer and pluck at the papers with your name upon them.

The pearl of the city. An apt title, yet it fails to define your beauty, Y/N…

…Is it a gift or a curse that I should be visited with visions of your sweet face as I sleep…

Barry speaks highly of you, his sister, and your affinity for family, your desire for a true love. A shame that such an exquisite soul should be beyond my grasp. No, I have earned this torture. I could never deserve you, nor offer you what you deserve…

So many lines speaking of admiration for your character, yearning to learn what would be worthy of your affections, admissions that you were too sweet, too good to be burdened with him. Words hinting of curiosity, of desire for a future with you, a family unlike the one he grew up with.

…I can only laugh at myself for daring to dream God might have mercy on me and lead me into your arms, and lead us to the dreams you and I share…

The sound of the door swinging open had you looking up to meet Ransom’s gaze. He slowed in his entrance, seeing the pile you clasped in hand.

“Those are mine,” he said, voice tight. His hands curled with your big eyes shining upon him full of question.

“My name is on them. They’re mine,” you countered.

“Forget them,” he commanded. “They are only…”

“Fancies? Silly dreams of…love?” you asked. “You’re a talented writer.” You smiled seeing his flushed cheeks, his averted, shy grimace.

“I used to sit with my grandfather for long hours. Reading. Discussing stories.”

“Did your grandfather also help you practice writing love letters?”

He smiled without mirth. “No. I figured I wanted to make a fool of myself so I documented foolish musings.”

You closed the distance between you. Your face was uplifted, beseeching Ransom to meet your eyes. He could not ignore your presence, attention intense on him and almost more than he could bear.

“Is there truth in these words?” you asked quietly, careful not to spook this man, this loud, cocky man who had presented you with such a convincing disdain for anything sincere.

“It does not matter.”

“It matters. Because you chose me.” You pressed your fingertips to his lip, stopping his protest. Ransom closed his eyes for moment, barely believing you were touching him of your own will. He breathed in your perfume, disoriented by your proximity, your discovery. “Why did you never…?”

“Because I’ve always known such things were childish. My own parents proved to me a long time ago love has little value in a family.”

You shook your head in protest of such cynicism. But the bitter turn of his mouth reminded you of various instances in his family's presence - his parent's demand for recognition and power, his uncle scoffing at expressions of kindness.

“Because I felt foolish for even wanting something different. You were right. Anyone would be lucky to avoid me and my family. We’re a sham. There’s nothing beneath the surface for my parents and they’ve taught me well.”

“There’s more,” you insisted.

“Well then I’m a coward because I can’t bring myself to go in search for more. You were right. I am content with my family’s fortune. I would have been fine growing old alone, but I had to trap you with me. Now, you won’t achieve your marriage of love, your desire for a warm family.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “I was the coward.” You drew him down, closing your eyes and pressing your foreheads together. “I saw more in you, but I was afraid. Afraid of risking my heart, afraid I might achieve the very thing that I have been yearning for.”

He whispered your name. You hushed him.

“Tell me. Do you truly love me?”

His breath feathered against your lips. “I love you.” There was such a raw vulnerability in his confession.

“Then that is all that matters. You and I will build the family we dreamed of. I promise.”

Like your vow had snipped him loose of his control, he yanked you in and kissed you hard.

“Be mine,” he murmured between sucks of your lips, drinking you in. “Give me all of you, and I swear, love, I’ll be your family. I’ll give you anything.”

You believed him. Cupped his head in yearning. “Yes. Yes, Ransom.”

His hands tugged impatiently at your gown, dragging the outer layers down. Long fingers pulled at your skirts. You worked at undoing his vest and shirt. Your hands trembled to feel his bare skin, the tickle of chest hair and such warmth emanating against you as he drew you close. You gasped to feel his hands squeezing your curves through your thin shift, seeking with greed for more. He walked you both to the bed and placed you in the middle, laid out for him as he had dreamt for months.

His touch dipped under your shift, setting your heart racing. As his mouth danced lower, he growled, tearing the top of your shift to expose your bare tits and mouth hungrily at them. You couldn’t stop wriggling, clutching around his neck and shoulders, arching up to his tongue that flicked a nipple before sucking.

“I’ve wanted you so long. Want to taste you.”

Before you knew it, you felt him panting at the delicate flesh between your legs, no article of clothing remotely hiding your body from him. He stopped you from closing your thighs, fingertips bruising as he held you open and licked broad stripes at your sex. You had never imagined such sensations, such a heat as Ransom so thoroughly pulled you apart with his mouth.

He watched through his lashes as you writhed, testing what you enjoyed most. His tongue teased at your entrance and then breached you to lash your inner walls. Your sharp cry had him groaning as his hard cock begged for friction. Your gasps bordered on sobs and he needed to see you fall off that edge.

His lips closed around your increasingly wet petals, shaking his head back and forth and sucking hard. When his teeth scraped your clit, your mouth froze open, your back arched off the bed and locked in feverish pleasure. Your rapture pulsed through you as he pressed his tongue flat to your throbbing bud.

“Darling, look at you.” How glorious you looked, soft and panting. Ransom climbed forward to kiss you, sharing the earthy tang of your pleasure. You hummed into his mouth, still drifting in a hazy cloud.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered. You opened your eyes. He watched you, lust and joy burning in his gaze. “You’re mine.”

You nuzzled his nose, whispered, “I’m yours.” Your breath left you as his cock, thick and insistent, pressed into you, pushing in and in until you felt nothing but full.

His lips never stopped kissing your face, your jaw, your mouth. As if he could tell the very instant the sting receded for you, Ransom moved, thrusting shallow. You found yourself wrapped around him, clinging as you had never been so desperate for another person before.

His moans and grunts joined you as he sped up. Everything he was doing, his hips clapping your thighs, his weight caging you, rekindled the thrill in you, the pleasure mounting more when he managed to slide his hand between you and swipe at your clit. You keened, unable to beg him to finish you off, but you knew he would do it. Knew he wouldn’t stop. His mouth sucked at your neck and he angled his thrust just so. You were lost to the world, grinding up against Ransom, chasing the pleasure that crackled from your core. Ransom nearly crushed you to the mattress as his rhythm rose to a frantic end and he released his seed through his swelling cock to fill you.

Your name rasped from him as he ground his hips into you with the instinctual need to ram his seed into your womb.

Long hours later, after Ransom’s need to claim you again resulted in multiple releases for you both, when you had caught your breath, you let him wind his naked form around yours.

You drifted off to his sleepy murmurs of, “I’m yours.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month later and Ransom maintained firm control of your attentions, both mental and physical. He seemed intent on desecrating every room of the vast country home. One afternoon, the two of you had toured the family’s art collection. He had lured you into an alcove to view a Verocchio sculpture. You ended up with his face buried between your legs under the sculpture’s shadow, biting your fist to quiet your moans as Ransom’s tongue thrust into you. Right before you came, he slipped out from your skirts, bunching them at your waist and pushing you up against the wall. Your faced pressed into his neck with relief to feel his cock stretch you. Opened you up with rough jolts as your legs drew tight around him. His hips snapped urgently, quickly blazing flames within you until your explosive climax overwhelmed you. He fucked you until he came, biting your shoulder as he rutted hard to push his release deep into you, until you were overfilled and his spend seeped out and trailed between the two of you to mix with your own juices.

Tonight, his desire for you was unrestrained. Already, he had kissed and licked what seemed like every inch of your skin. Your release dripped from you and into his greedy mouth latched to your folds as you came down from your high, tugging his dark locks of hair.

“Ransom, please.”

“Yes, love?” His lips grazed a path up your stomach, then up between your breasts littered with red love bites. He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Need to feel you.”

Ransom grinned. He pulled you upward, lifting and turning you so you rested in his lap with your shoulder blades meeting his chest dusted with fine hair. You arched your back, feeling his hard, leaking cock so hot against your skin. His fingers combed your hair aside, mouth nipping and kissing from your neck to your shoulder.

His hand cupped your sex, groaning at the soaked heat of you. He guided you, lifting up just enough to run the sensitive head of his cock through your folds. Your whine forced more precum to dribble from his slit. He could resist no longer, his cock splitting you open as he drew you down upon his lap until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat. Soft curses met your ears. You bit your lip, grinding back and forth. Ransom squeezed your waist, held you still.

“Ransom…”

Damned, how he loved the sound of his name falling from you, needy and wrecked from pleasure. And still wanting more of him. He couldn’t begin to guess how someone like him could deserve your affections and loyalty. Good thing he was a greedy bastard, unrepentant of his actions that had blessed his home and bed with you.

Shivers wracked your spine when he cooed at you with his gravelly tone. “You want me, love?”

“Want you so bad.”

He smirked at your whimper when he swirled his groin slow beneath you. His tongue teased along your earlobe, driving a plea from you.

“Want you, Ransom. Oh, please.”

“And you’ll give me what I desire, yes? Will you, love?”

You managed jerky nods, choking when he slid agonizingly slow from your cunt and pushed back into you. Only to stop and hold himself there, speared maddeningly in you.

His breath tickled your ear. “You, love, are going to give me a baby. Yes?”

He drove his hips up, drawing a moan from you.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Y-yes…Rans…ah” You stuttered with his deep, hard strokes.

“Is that what you want? Hm? Big, beautiful family with me?”

“Yes.” Your response rushed out, breathy.

“Love you. Want to fill you up over and over.”

You whined loud, his words and the drag of his thick cock inside you driving you crazy.

“Because you’re mine. You’re all mine.” His hand curled over yours, pressing your palm and fingers to your core where the two of you were joined beneath dark curls. ��Feel that?”

“Oh god.” You surely felt what he wanted you to. His steely member claiming you again and again.

“Yes, feel me and you? This.” He kept your hand there, feeling every push and pull of his cock, from inside and out, so you couldn’t escape him. “Feel how you belong to me? All of you. You’re mine forever.”

“I’m yours….” You cried out as his rhythm sped up. “Ransom!”

You threw your head back, both yours and his fingers circling the nub of your inflamed clit, his harsh breaths beating against your neck as his words blended.

“Mine,” he grunted.

Your pleasure burst like a dam, your release splashed and squirted out, then throbbed with his relentless touch. The wave spread outward, tensing your muscles, buzzing upon your skin. Feeling you squeeze and flutter around him drove Ransom to the brink until all he could think of was filling you, rooting his seed into you so you grew soft and big with his child. You were the beginning and finish of his everything.

Ransom couldn’t stop himself. His strokes grew uneven but remained deep, hard, determined. His arm wrapped around you tight as he launched you both forward, driving you onto your hands and knees so he could rut as deep as possible. You moaned, overcome with the hot rush of his seed filling you and his cock pounding it deeper into you.

You both settled into the bed with tangled limbs, slowing your breaths and the ache of desire. Your toes curled, enjoying the pressure of his cock nestled in you still, content that you both were looking forward to your first child. To a family all your own.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #smut #ransom drysdale x woc!reader

[feralphoenix]

a thing that i really love about hollow knight is that part of its incredibly strict Show Don’t Tell policy means it works a lot in juxtapositions. comparisons and parallels.

like, rather than Telling us what makes for a good and responsible ruler, we get to know about various different heads of state in the various nations of the crater, and we can observe how they handled international relations, public policy, etc and the consequences/effects of their choices, and draw conclusions by ourselves.

there are lots of different parent-child relationships, and sibling relationships, so that we have many examples to compare ghost and their family to.

there are also a number of higher beings around and you can compare them to each other to understand their different approaches to godhood, how they handled being the center of a culture & the responsibilities that entails (radi, unn, tpk) or the ways they sidestepped those roles (white lady, grimm). in addition to forming our opinions of these characters this also contextualizes what ghost does when they attain godhood in the godseeker endings & after the delicate flower variant, in godseeker mode.

like you can use these points of reference for a lot of different analysis topics!!! but one of the things that always Gets Me In My Emotions is the direct juxtaposition between herrah, radiance, and tpk and how differently these three characters handle the cost of fighting Existential Crisis.

the pale king’s policy is officially No Cost Too Great, but just like the hunter says in hollow’s bestiary entry, for tpk “cost” was a thing for other people to pay, and he was not willing to risk any sort of harm to his own person. his plan to deal with the infection involved sacrificing the dreamers & the hollow knight, and his plan to create a hollow knight involved birthing hundreds of thousands of children who were designed to be expendable - they were there so he could experiment on them, select a candidate, cull the failures, and then sacrifice said candidate.

the worst tpk might have experienced through all this is emotional turmoil, and it’s left ambiguous in-game whether he was actually conflicted about the child sacrifice/felt attachment to hollow or whether his personal low point throughout all this was being butthurt about his wife walking out rather than birth a second batch of vessels for the slaughter. (he must’ve been pretty darn butthurt to have lied to the kingdom that the white lady was dead.)

as soon as his plan failed and he had no other recourse, tpk fled rather than expose himself to any potential harm. he was willing to - perhaps desperate enough to - expend any number of chess pieces if it would save hallownest, but his own life and safety was NEVER on the table.

just like tpk, radiance is trying to protect herself and her people. just like tpk and herrah, she too is willing to go to any lengths necessary to get the settlers to fucking step off, give her children back, and leave her alone.

for her this entails being willing to bend her own principles - i’ve talked about this in depth before so you can find all that in my essay tag if you’re interested, but in-game evidence points to radiance having been a pacifist like the rest of her tribe pre-hallownest. and the infection is a curse that’s only sometimes fatal, but it causes extreme amounts of harm and fear and chaos to inflicted parties. and this level of harm is something she’s willing to do just to threaten/pressure tpk into backing down.

her method also causes a large amount of collateral damage (including lateral harm to other indigenous bugs!), suggesting that she either doesn’t have the emotional wherewithal to worry about who might get hurt, or just plain doesn’t care. if you squint, it’s possible to make the argument that radiance might have warned unn before her counterattack against hallownest, but even then forewarning was the only mitigation she was able and willing to provide. if this is what it takes to protect herself and her tribe, then so be it.

so, compared to tpk, who chose to actively sacrifice the lives of individuals to protect the institution of hallownest, and radiance, who doesn’t care about splash damage to bystanders as long as she can save her tribe... what i find extraordinary about herrah is that when she determined that sacrifice was necessary to protect deepnest, she took all that sacrifice upon herself.

most obviously herrah accepts the role of dreamer in hopes of ending the plague, sacrificing her life. in order to keep tpk from taking advantage of that to conquer deepnest, she also negotiates that he has to provide her with an heir, thus ensuring deepnest’s sovereignty... but this means she has to have sex with the very creature who has been trying to commit genocide against the spiders for generations. she has to let her lifelong worst enemy who she’s been fighting alone since the death of her husband impregnate her. this decision had to have come with some form of emotional distress for her, and yet herrah shoulders it and soldiers through it.

and then even through this, it’s implied in the white lady and midwife’s dialogue (+ posed in the dev notes/style guide) that tpk snatched up hornet when she was a child to raise her in the white palace. it’s unclear whether he did this to keep hornet as a hostage to make sure herrah couldn’t renege on their treaty now she’d got what she wanted out of the bargain, to ensure his offspring would be raised in the culture he created rather than in deepnest, which he clearly believed to be barbaric and uncivilized, or both.

yet instead of calling bullshit and flouncing on the deal or trying to steal hornet back, thereby exposing deepnest to the threat of both the infection And aggression from hallownest once more, herrah stuck with it. midwife says that herrah paid dearly for her involvement with this plan, but herrah valued deepnest’s survival over her own individual life, and saw it through to the end no matter how tpk’s plan caused her to suffer or hurt her dignity.

there’s an incredible amount of nobility and integrity herrah shows here. she refuses to let any harm come to her country, and insists that any and all sacrifice required of her as a leader be her sole responsibility. her courage, her political intelligence, and her strength of character as a leader are all nothing short of awe-inspiring.

at the same time, there is still a downside to herrah’s spirit of self-sacrifice. as anyone who’s ever watched steven universe can tell you, self-sacrifice is actually kind of a shitty solution to one’s problems because self-destruction hurts the people who love you.

we get glimpses of hornet’s intense emotional torment over her mother’s fate and her understanding that it’s necessary to let ghost murder herrah to change the status quo; similarly we can understand the crushing amount of personal responsibility hornet feels towards the whole crater comes from knowing the cost of her own birth, and having front row seats to her parents’ political power struggle.

we hear from herrah herself that everything she does is done for hornet, so hornet’s pain is probably the last thing herrah would have wanted, but ironically what hornet goes through in hollow knight is a direct consequence of herrah choosing to martyr herself.

anyway all of this speaks SO much for herrah and radi and tpk’s individual priorities and problem-solving strategies and also their blind spots... plus, there’s a lot about herrah’s character that goes underappreciated and this is one of those unsung aspects. fandom... fandom blease be SAD about SPIDER MAMA with me

#hollow knight #herrah the beast #the radiance #the pale king #hollow knight meta #essay #this got longer than i meant it to be i just have a lot of FEELINGS about HERRAH HOLLOWKNIGHT #also about radi hollowknight too but everyone knows that already lol

[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 1}

See {overview} for more info!

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: mentions of death/war, emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4.2k

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Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

Bond  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

“Good morning, Your Highness,” you called, entering the prince’s room and walking to open the curtains, revealing the cloudless sky behind them.  Of course a beautiful day like today would have to be ruined by the very event you were here to collect Chan for.

Chan’s head peeked out from around the dressing panel, smiling softly as you pressed the shirt he’d clearly been looking for into his hands. “Good morning Y/n.”

“Your father’s in quite the foul mood this morning,” you said, leaving Chan to finish changing as you tidied up his dresser and prepared the many pins and beads bearing the royal crest that would adorn his formal attire for today.

You could hear the scowl in his voice as he grumbled, “Only he could manage to be upset during an event solely orchestrated by him and his insufferable band of so-called advisors.”

You nodded your head, indulging him in his ranting.  Better he get it all out now with only you here to hear than cause a scene in front of the court.  The prince took his responsibilities seriously and hardly ever openly clashed with his father, no matter how much they disagreed.  But this had been an exceedingly upsetting matter for him, and, by extension, you as well.  You’d spent the majority of the last week attempting to keep the peace between him and his father, as well as show your support for your friend as best you could.

Chan stepped out from behind the screen, and you had to stop yourself from doing a double take at the man in front of you.  A far cry from his normal outfit of loose breeches and dirtied, tattered tunics, his cleanly pressed white shirt was tucked neatly into snug fitting black trousers, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim figure.  You were sure he hated the confines of such an ensemble, but you were equally sure he would turn every head in the kingdom during today’s events, and you smiled at having the privilege to see him here first as he struck a nonchalant pose and asked, “So, how do I look?”

“Very handsome,” you replied, stepping up to pin his bright red cloak around his shoulders and set to work attaching the fineries to the outside.

“You do as well.  Look very nice, I mean,” he corrected sheepishly, pose all but forgotten and head tilting forward as a blush formed on his cheeks.

You glanced upward, smoothing his hair that had gotten tousled from his rushed dressing.  “Thank you, Your Highness,” you replied quietly.  You decided to throw in a humorous quip, hoping to lighten his mood as you finished decorating the course, red fabric.  “We couldn’t have the prince’s personal attendant looking like she’d just had a spar with a knight and lost, now could we?”

“Certainly not,” he laughed, then quieted as he continued, “And you’re still wearing the flower.”

You reached your hand absently up to the flower that was perched behind your ear, and you felt his fingertips ghost over yours as he gently pushed your hair to sit behind it.

“Of course, Your Highness.  Is it not our tradition that I wear it until it is completely bare of petals?”

“Mhmm… our tradition,” he hummed, his hand lingering next to your cheek.

“We really must be h-heading out.”  You cringed at the unsteadiness of your voice.  You needed to get out of here, needed to get him out of here.  You straightened the clasps of his cloak and tapped your hands on his chest.

“There.  Now you look like a real prince charming,” you said, forcing a smile to your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He shook his head as he half chuckled, half grimaced at your words, lips forming into a straight line.  “Then I suppose we must go meet my future wife.”

You Have My Bow  |  Kingdom of Gu, 19 years ago

“Mama, Mama, look what Papa made for me!” you squealed, bounding into your tightly-packed cottage and nearly crashing into your mother’s legs as she stood boiling soup at the stove.

Your father had taken you to the woods that morning, your favorite place to go with him when he had a rare spare moment away from the castle.  You had thought he was taking you for your usual ritual: fishing by the river’s edge in the hopes of catching something to use for dinner.  Instead, when you reached the riverbank, your father knelt down and pulled a tiny child’s bow from his knapsack, small enough to fit in your four-year-old hands.

“I’m going to teach you how to use this bow Y/n.  Not many girls will know how to, but you need to be able to fend for yourself and your mother if anything should ever happen to me.”

“Why would anything happen to you Papa?”

“Well, Papa helps the king to keep our home safe, and there are some people who might want to make it unsafe.”

“Like the Lajorans?  Or the Mirohans?  The ones with the missing princess?!  Or the Sillans?  I heard old man Jerrald talking outside the tavern, and he said Lajorans like to ...”

“Yes, just like those,” your father interrupted your enthusiastic babbling, “though you shouldn’t believe everything old man Jerrald says, alright?”  You nodded as he continued, “The king does everything he can to keep the peace, but sometimes our peoples get into fights.  Really big ones, where people use swords and bows like this.  And I want to make sure that if that ever happens, if one day a fight should come here, that you can keep yourself and your mother safe.  Do you think you could do that for me, Y/n?”

You’d agreed of course, your little body bouncing with excitement as he pulled you in for a hug then took the bow and began to show you the basic principles.  The two of you had spent the rest of the day practicing, and you couldn’t be more excited to show your mother what you’d learned.

“Y/n be careful,” your mother admonished, kneeling down to your height as she gave you a tight squeeze.  “Now let’s see what that father of yours has cooked up for you this time.”

“It’s called a boo!” you all but shouted, whipping the bow out from behind your skirts and drawing back the string in a mock archer’s pose.

“A bow, Y/n, it’s called a bow sweetheart,” came your father’s voice from the doorstep.  He crossed the small space to pull your mother into a tight embrace as he said, “And be careful with that in the house, or your mother will have my head.”  You nodded back at him and he sent you a mischievous wink over her shoulder.

Your mother turned to face him with a wary smile as you started galloping in circles, pretending to ride an imaginary horse.  “Giving our already rambunctious child a deadly weapon, Minhyuk?  You want to get her into trouble, I see.”

“Julietta, you worry too much,” your father whispered, pressing his lips to her temple in a gentle kiss.  “Besides, I’d be more concerned about the trouble she’d be in if she didn’t know how to take care of herself.”

Little did you know that everything you learned that day would soon come crashing into your life, taking many precious things with it when it left.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You struggled to keep up as you walked behind Chan, the two of you heading to the throne room where you were sure a very short tempered King Bang would be waiting to reprimand you for your tardiness.  Sure enough, when the guards opened the doors, you saw the king pacing in the small space in front of the raised thones, his head snapping up as he heard your footsteps approach.

“You’re late.  I told you to have him here 20 minutes ago Y/n, did I not?”

“It’s not her fault,” Chan defended.  “Besides, they’re not here yet, are they?”  He gestured around to the otherwise empty hall, save for the usual servants and guards, then slumped into his seat at the right hand of his father’s.

“You would do well to lose that attitude before they do arrive.  I will not have you embarrassing yourself or this court because of your petty feud with me.”  Chan gave a hollow laugh at that, eyes closing to block out the mere presence of his father.

You took your place behind Chan’s throne, hands coming up to rest on the ornately upholstered back.  You liked keeping your hands there; it made you feel like you were supporting Chan in some way, the closest you would ever come to being able to actually hold his hand the way you wanted to right now.

After a few moments, you heard the telltale sound of trumpets and the growing shuffling of a group of approaching footsteps.  Chan straightened in his seat and his father took his place at the head of the room.

The doors opened, and you were greeted by a small party of what appeared to be political ministers and guards, in the middle of whom stood a woman clad in a yellow gown.  She was beautiful, golden hair spun up into a twist and a delicate silver circlet resting above it.  You would know she was a princess from a mile away.

The Gu herald spoke first, gesturing towards the two men seated at the thrones.  “May I present His Majesty, King Bang Geun of the Gu Kingdom and his son, His Royal Highness Bang Christopher Chan, crown prince of the Gu Kingdom.”

The gaggle of people gave a quick bow, then parted to allow the woman through.  She stepped to the front, then dipped into a low curtsey.  “I am Princess Korenna Dormio of Lajor,” she spoke, her high, clear voice ringing in the chamber.  “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

The king stood up, walking towards Korenna with you and Chan trailing behind.  He took her hand and kissed the top of it, his voice exclaiming in a fake bright tone, “We are honored you could join us in our kingdom!  May I present my son, Christopher.”

Chan stepped forward at that, hand outstretched to take hers.  “I prefer strangers to call me Chan.”

You could feel the icy gaze King Bang was sending to his son, but he pressed on, ever the politician.

“This is Y/n.  She is Chr- err Chan’s personal attendant, and will be at your service during your stay.  Go to her with whatever you may need.”

Korenna eyed you with a curious look, and you knew why.  It was unusual, though not entirely unheard of, for a prince to have a woman as his personal attendant.  Not only did they complete duties for him in the domestic sphere, but they also served a professional purpose, a sort of squire, scheduler, and strategist all in one, roles typically reserved for men.  The unique circumstances surrounding the time of your’s and Chan’s upbringing had made having you as his attendant a logical choice, but you could understand her concern about the man she was supposed to marry spending most of his time in the company of a woman she knew nothing about.

You knelt into a curtsey, head leaning forward as you heard Korenna’s voice.  “A pleasure to meet you Y/n.”

“You as well, Your Grace,” you responded.  Glancing up, you saw that Chan was not even looking in her direction, gaze apparently trained on a fascinating branch just outside the rightmost window.  Well this was off to a wonderful start.

“Very well,” King Bang said tentatively, “I will let you two become acquainted.  Y/n, I believe you were given their itinerary for the day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the king made his way to mingle with the rest of Korenna’s visiting party, Chan turned to the both of you, eyes almost glaring at the princess.

“I don’t want to be here, and I doubt you do either, so let’s just get all of this shit over with so we can go back to our normal lives.”  With that, he stalked towards the door, leaving you and a highly affronted Korenna to follow in his wake.

***

The next few hours only got worse.

The pair were thrust immediately into making a multitude of decisions about the wedding ceremony: What kind of flatware did they want?  Which cakes were their favorite?  How should the shrubbery around the edge of the garden be trimmed?  And all the while you stood between them, relaying information to the various servants charged with these tasks and corralling the two royals between each of their stops.

Your latest one was with the palace groundskeeper, to determine what flowers would adorn the wedding canopy.

“We can always have tulips brought in from the highlands, Your Grace.”

“Tulips are fine, but I was thinking something more along the lines of white roses or lilies.”

Chan’s annoyed huff at her words was impossible to miss.

“Can you at least try to give some input about this?”

“We’ve barely met and they have us making all these asinine decisions about something weeks away!  What do you even care what I have to say about flowers anyway?!”

“I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

“Isn’t that what your people are good at?!  Picking a fight with someone who never asked to be involved in the first place?”

You hated seeing Chan like this.  His normally kind, generous, and thoughtful demeanor, that you knew to be his real self, not just some facade put on to impress the nobles or win ladies’ affections, was being replaced by this antagonistic attitude, intent on ruining any chance of finding common ground with this woman.  You knew he was doing it to protect himself, both from his father’s antics and from his own fear of being open, of letting someone in and risking actually wanting to keep them there.  But under different circumstances, you knew he would never want to be seen treating anyone like he was right now, let alone a princess from another powerful kingdom.  And she didn’t seem to be so bad; if she felt the same malice as he felt towards her, she at least did a better job of hiding it.  You needed to stop him before he did something you knew he would regret.

“Your Highness, I believe Prince Minho wanted to brief you on the latest border patrol, seeing as he is back in the city for the time being.  Why don’t you meet with him while I escort Her Grace to the ladies afternoon tea?”

“A wonderful idea,” Chan muttered unenthusiastically and began walking towards the closest castle door as you guided the princess in the opposite direction.  You looked back and locked eyes with him, reading the expression of thanks on his face.

When you were out of earshot from Chan, Korenna turned to you almost immediately and asked, “Is he always this standoffish?”

You were unsure how to answer that question, wanting to make it clear he wasn’t always like this without getting her hopes up that he would change his attitude about this particular situation any time soon.

“His Highness is not especially fond of this arrangement.  It has nothing to do with you personally, Your Grace.”

“Well I am also not especially fond of this arrangement, but it’s the arrangement we have at present and at least I’m attempting to be civil towards him.”

“Perhaps you should tell him of your similar feelings, to establish some common ground?”

Korenna became agitated at that suggestion, visibly tensing as she said, “And risk my father finding out I feel that way.  Absolutely not.”

You understood that apprehension, that fear.  Stories of her father, King Eunther, had spread often throughout your kingdom, and from what you heard, you knew he was not someone you wanted to cross.

You walked in silence for the rest of the way, until you rounded the corner into the courtyard where you could hear ladies’ voices and the gentle clinking of fine china.  Korenna turned to you, placing her hand on your arm.

“You and him seem to be… close.  Maybe you could talk to him, ask him to try to appear like he doesn’t despise me and everything I do or say?”

You had a feeling that would only make it worse, his oldest friend asking him to grin and bear it for the “good of the kingdom.”  You also knew his political protest against his father might not be the only reason for his general disdain of everything that had happened the past week.  But Korenna seemed like she was genuinely trying to put in some effort, and you couldn’t bring yourself to outright deny her request.

“I will try, Your Grace.”

As you left Korenna in the garden, you reached up to feel for the flower by your ear, and found that all the remaining petals had fallen off.

Arrangements  |  Kingdom of Gu, 1 week ago

“Have you heard anything?  From the staff, about what this announcement might be?”

Chan was walking briskly ahead of you, voice coming out slightly strained.  You knew why; his father calling an unscheduled meeting with the entire court, alluding to some mysterious “announcement,” had everyone on edge, Chan most of all.  The king still kept his son in the dark about the majority of his political proceedings, much to Chan’s frustration and chagrin, and no one but his closest inner circle had any inkling as to what this might be about.

“No, Your Highness. It’s been quiet in the servants’ quarters; everyone is equally surprised.”

“Well, whatever it is, promise to take my side?”

“Have I ever not?”

The two of you entered the throne room, and despite your knowledge of what a full court gathering was, you were still taken aback by the sheer amount of people present.  Every nobleman, every knight, every person who wasn’t otherwise occupied was here, filling the space along the wall and facing the dias at the head of the room where King Bang sat, the empty seats to his right and left standing out amongst the crowded room.  Even Prince Minho, the king’s nephew and second in command of the royal guard after Chan, was back from his post on the Lajoran border.

Whatever this announcement was, it was serious.

Chan approached his seat next to the king as he usually did on occasions like this, but was stopped by his father’s voice.

“Chan, please remain there.  You are the subject of my announcement today.”

You saw Chan’s face pale as he remained in the center of the room.  You were still standing behind him, debating whether or not you should stay beside him or step back to one of the walls where the servants stood.  As you scanned for your mother in the crowd, that question was answered for you.

“Y/n, you too shall stay where you are.  I will have instructions for you as well.”

You bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement of his order, and took your place slightly behind Chan’s left shoulder to await whatever insane proclamation King Bang was about to make.

Nothing could have prepared you for the words that left his mouth.

“Chris, I have made you a wedding match.  You are to be married to Princess Korenna of Lajor in six week’s time.”

The entire room was silent, every person holding their breath to hear what the prince’s reaction would be.  This was not something anyone was expecting, Chan least of all.  It took every ounce of your willpower to school your face into a neutral expression as you tried to contend with the hundreds of thoughts flooding your mind.

Chan was to be married?  To someone from Lajor?  One of Gu’s oldest enemies suddenly wanted to form an alliance, and through marriage?  What would that even entail?  Who would hold what powers?  Why was the ceremony so soon?  Who would be in charge of the preparations?  How would this change your relationship with Chan?

After what felt like hours, but was more likely only several seconds, you heard Chan’s voice echoing one of your thoughts out loud.

“A Lajoran?!  But father, they are responsible for - “

“You need not remind me what they are responsible for, Christopher.”

“Then I don’t understand, how did this come about?!”

You couldn’t stop the low ringing slowly building in your ears, accompanied by a sudden wave of nausea.  You vaguely registered the king’s voice, explaining how King Eunther had approached him, how he agreed “it was time we put that mess behind us,” and how his daughter would be a suitable match for the Gu prince.  Your mind wandered, remembering how many times Chan had told you he never wanted to be used as a pawn in his father’s political games, how he hated the idea of being forced to marry a stranger.  You couldn’t seem to register any other information, thinking solely about Chan, the man you’d known since childhood, your friend, having to be married off to satisfy his father’s need for power.  Finally, a loud voice cut through the fog in your head.

“Y/n, are you listening?  Look at me when I’m talking to you, girl!”

You looked up in surprise to see the king’s unpleasant expression looking down at you.  Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chan’s pained face turned slightly towards you, waiting to see why his father had kept you in the center of the room as well.

“I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“You will serve Princess Korenna when she arrives for her introductory stay here a week from today.”

You heard a scoff from next to you and glanced to see Chan’s face growing angrier by the second.  “First you lay this on me, now you’re taking away my servant?!  How do you expect me to cope with all of this?”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words.  You knew he was simply talking in a language his father would understand, explaining how it would be an inconvenience for him to not have someone available at all times of the day, to keep track of his schedule, to clean his clothes, bring him his meals, prepare his horses and armor.  But you couldn’t help the sting of being referred to as a “servant”; surely Chan saw you as more than that, just as you saw him as more than just your future monarch.

“You will manage with half of her normal attention,” the king answered, his tone laced with a hint of irritation at his son’s current attitude.  “Besides, you’ll spend most of your time with Korenna, so she’ll be with the both of you regardless.”

The anger was coming off of Chan in waves, so palpable you felt like you could reach out and touch it.  Finally he set his jaw, facing his father.

“Is that all you had for me?”

“Well that’s all for the matter of the marriage yes but - “

Chan turned on his heel, walking out of the room to the sound of hushed whispers and his father’s increasingly pitiful protests.

You wanted nothing more than to run after him, to pull him into your arms and soothe him, tell him everything would be alright.  But you knew better than to leave, not having been dismissed by the king yet.  So you stood there, heart aching so badly, feeling exposed, like everyone could see the shattered pieces of it that had fallen at your feet.

“I’ll go look for him,” you heard Minho say as he passed by you, the king nodding and waving his hand to dismiss the rest of you.  You heard your mother calling for you but you ignored her, wanting to get out of that stifling room, to go somewhere, anywhere where you could be alone.  You knew where Chan had gone, where he always went when he was upset and needed time to think, but no one bothered to ask you in their search for him.

***

He returned to his room that evening like you knew he would, the door creaking open as you stood across the room ironing his rarely used formal wear with the glass smoother.

His voice came out choked as he whispered, “I’m sorry for what I said.  For referring to you as my servant.”

“It’s alright, Your Highness.  I know you were upset - “

“That’s no excuse.”

Feeling his presence close behind you, you turned to him, reaching for his hand.  “I forgive you.”

He brought his other hand to your cheek, and when you looked up, you saw his eyes staring at you, imploring you to stay, to talk to him.  It was so tempting, the desire to give in, to lean in to him and let him hold you like you knew he wanted.  But you had to be strong, for him and for yourself.  And you knew if you stayed, if you opened up to each other, tried to confront the feelings you knew you still had and could only hope he reciprocated, neither of you would ever recover.  So you took his hand from your face, holding both of his in yours between you as you said, “You should get some rest, Your Highness.”

“Y/n please,” he murmured.

“It is done.  There’s nothing you or I can do.”

He made one last attempt, turning and holding your wrist lightly, but let you go as you pulled away.  Opening the door, you wished him goodnight, desperately trying to hold in your tears as you left.  Your footsteps took you down the hall quickly, but not before you caught the small sound of a sob coming from behind his door.

{part 2}

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