#then you finally strike gold and draw it the way you see it in your head and its the most satisfying feeling ever

[leescribbs]

after years of toiling and digging away in the spamton mines i have finally drawn human spamton the way i see him in my head

#deltarune #spamton #spamton g spamton #human spamton #i never know how to tag things #do you ever struggle to draw something they way you see it in your head for so long so you just kinda live with it drawing it like that but #then you finally strike gold and draw it the way you see it in your head and its the most satisfying feeling ever #yeah

[aerynwrites]

Bound by The Heart (And Other Things)

Dammon x Afab!Reader

A/N: yeah uh…I don’t even have a reason for this other than I have my own personal HC that Dammon would be into bondage lmao. But like…the pretty kind. Hope y’all enjoy :3

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! NSFW. Smut, PiV sex, cunnilingus, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex, bondage, rope bondage, restraints, discussions of a safe word but it;s never used, aftercare, fluff.

The weathered leather book is heavy in your hands as you examine the title. 

A Pleasurable Deal. 

The text immediately strikes you as one you’ve seen before, and heat rushes to your cheeks when the memory of a banned books list in Sorcerous Sundries comes to the front of your mind. 

You remember Gale lamenting the list, saying no texts - no matter how obscene - should never be banned. 

You hadn’t given much thought to the list until now, as the book sits in your hands. And the fact that you found it hidden away in Dammon’s side table. 

Despite having been with the blacksmith for months now, you’d never seen this specific tome. Either because it was a new item he’d acquired or…a well loved one he'd kept hidden away. 

You’re assuming it’s the latter if the worn corners of the leather cover and the bent pages have anything to say. 

You move to put the book back, not wanting to intrude on your partners privacy, but as you move to slide it back into place, another book catches your eye. This one tucked behind several other blacksmithing texts. 

It looks rather ornate, the black binding inlaid with gold colored trimmings. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re already reaching for the book, fingers sliding along the smooth cover and pulling it from its place. 

Your eyes fall to the cover, eyes widening as you read the title. 

A Madam's Guide to Pleasure. 

The cover falls open before you can think better of it, your eyes immediately flicking to the small piece of paper sticking out from a section farther into the book. You yearn to flip to that page first, but your eyes instead fall to scan the table of contents. 

Your face gets even hotter as you read over the various section titles. Everything from the basics when it comes to sex to the more debauched. 

Finally, you flip the pages to where the paper sticks out, only to have a few pieces of folded parchment fall into your lap to reveal the title of the section they were tucked into. 

‘Bondage’

The otherwise wicked ideal behind the term is hidden by the pretty flowing script on the page. Your eyes follow the words easily, slowly feeling your heart rate pick up as you take in the text. 

You’ve only made it halfway through the section when you remember the papers that fell into your lap. Setting the book down gently and open to the page you left off, you reach down and unfold the pages. 

The first thing you feel is shock followed by a sudden stab of arousal as you take in the charcoal images sketched onto the pages. 

It’s Dammon’s work, you’d be able to tell his artistry from anywhere thanks to the hundreds of sketches he’s shown you of blacksmithing plans. 

But these…these are not blueprints of swords or daggers or armor. No…

These sketches are something else entirely. Light and dark lines coming together as he depicts various different types of bondage scenarios. 

None of the pictures are lewd in anyway besides their obvious connotation. In a way…they’re quite beautiful. 

You see the vague shape of a body, legs tied together with an intricate weave of rope and knots, as if it’s meant to decorate the wearer rather than restrain them. 

Almost all of the drawings seem that way, the rope and bindings tied and wrapped in a way that’s almost artistic. 

The one that catches your eye the most though, is a page that depicts the front and back view of a woman kneeling and sitting on her heels. 

The sketch of her from behind shows her hands bound behind her back, the ropes binding her arms together in an intricately woven pattern that spans from her wrists all the way up to just beneath her shoulders. 

The other view seems to be part of the same design, the ropes snaking to the front of her body, twining delicately over her breasts, sternum and chest in complicated knots and patterns. 

You’ve just reached up to trace your finger over the sketchings of rope, when a startled call of your name rips you from your reverie. 

“What are you doing?”

Dammons voice is raised louder than he usually speaks to you, face several shades darker than usual as he practically lunges for the items in your hands, a look of utter fear and panic on his face. 

“Oh, gods,” he mutters, hastily collecting the papers before shoving them back into the black bound novel. “You weren’t supposed to see that, I-“ 

“Dammon it’s okay! I promise-“ 

He turns to you then, book clutched tightly in his hands, as he looks at you with something none other than utter betrayal. “Why were you going through my things?” He asks. 

You shake your head, heart sinking to your stomach and dispelling any feelings of arousal the drawings drew forth. 

“I didn’t mean to, I came up here looking for one of my books and I saw you stored some in here and so I thought-“ 

“You thought you’d go through my books instead?” He asks, voice now tinged with accusation as he stands, the book still clutched tightly in his hands. 

“I’m sorry Dammon,” you say from your position still kneeled on the floor. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“

“I-I’m not upset, I-“ the tiefling cuts himself off, running a hand down his face as he lets out a sigh, avoiding your gaze. “I just…need some air.”

You watch helplessly as Dammon turns and leaves the bedroom, a pit of guilt stirring deep in your belly. 

————

Dammon spends the rest of the day in the forge, which isn’t unusual, but it feels like an intentional choice today. One you don’t begrudge him considering you snooped through his personal things. 

It’s well into the evening before he comes into the house, and you’re just finishing up dinner. You watch him between plating your meals as he hangs up his blacksmith apron next to the door before heading to the water basin to wash his hands. 

You’ve just placed the last of the food onto your plates when he approaches you, taking one of the plates from your hands with a quick kiss to your cheek.

A small weight is lifted from your shoulders at that small action, and you follow him silently to the kitchen table, taking your habitual seat to his right side. 

The meal is pleasant enough, you tentatively asking about his forge projects and feel the tension lift as he tells you about them. It goes on like that - like normal despite the nagging in your mind. 

You don’t want to ruin the mood by bringing up the earlier incident. But you also don’t want to leave it how it was. You owe him an apology, a real apology, and…there’s something else you want to talk to him about too.

You finally find the courage to bring it all up as you and Dammon clean up after dinner, you drying the washed dishes as Dammon puts them away. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, Dammon,” you say softly, not missing the way his shoulders tense as he takes a plate from you, eyes avoiding yours once more. 

“It’s…It’s alright,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not angry or upset with you, not over something so trivial. I was just…” he lets out a dry chuckle. “I supposed I’m a bit embarrassed for you to have come across such things. I know they aren’t…Common desires.” 

He’s still turned away from you when he finishes, stashing the last dish before his hands fall to his sides. You immediately reach for him, taking his hand in your own as you urge him to face you. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you tell him, feeling that familiar heat creep up into your cheeks as you contemplate your next words. 

“I actually…Liked them. The drawings, I mean.”

Dammon’s eyes finally snap to yours then, bright blue iris’ completely visible to you as he stares at you wide eyed, mouth slightly agape. 

“You…what?”

You take your lip between your teeth coyly, courage slowly building up in your chest as you move to slip your arms around his waist, hands resting on his low back as returns the lose embrace. 

“I liked them,” you repeat. “It looked…beautiful really. The intricate designs and knots and I…”

You pause then, shyness creeping in one more as you look up at your lover. 

“I think I’d like to try it sometime. If that’s - if you’d want too, of course.”

You can practically see the way Dammon’s heart rate picks up, cheeks darkening with blush as his breath stutters. 

“You’d…You’d try that? With me?” 

A small chuckle slips past your lips. “I hope it’s with you.”

In an answer of his own, Dammon captures your lips with his in a fierce kiss. It’s needy and desperate and filled with a relief only you can understand as he pulls you tighter to him. 

“I love you,” he mutters against your lips before pulling down to trail kisses down your jaw. “We can’t do it tonight,” he says. “I need to prepare.”

You try to hide the small swell of disappointment, but Dammon must sense it anyways, nipping at the spot just below your ear as he tugs you closer to his body. 

“I’m still going to ravish you tonight though. For making me the happiest man in Baldur’s Gate.”

You smile, pulling him up for another kiss before he whisks you upstairs. Anticipation for tonight and what’s to come in the future simmering low in your belly.

—————

It’s only a few days later when Dammon brings it back up, asking if tonight you’d like to try what you all had discussed. When you agreed, a bit too eagerly, he had just let out a small laugh before laying out all of the boundaries. 

He had you pick a safeword in case you wanted out of the restraints, as well as asking you about anything you’d be uncomfortable with. In the end you’d just told him you trusted him completely and once again stated your excitment. 

Which led you here, blindfolded on the edge of your shared bed in nothing but your smallclothes. 

Dammon had tied the soft silk fabric around your eyes before leaving the room to fetch something, asking that you not remove the blindfold before he got back. You obeyed easily, but as the seconds turn into minutes, you feel yourself start to grow impatient. 

What is taking him so long?

Your fingers twitch against your skin from where your hands sit on your thighs before moving to be by your side instead, toying with the soft sheets beneath you. Every creak and faint footstep has your ears perking up, waiting in anticipation for Dammon to return. 

Finally, you hear his familiar footsteps coming up the stairs and to your shared room, the floor boards creaking beneath his weight. His steps are softer than when he left, the sound of bare soles on the wood greeting your ears as he approaches your position. 

He must have taken off his shoes. And you silently hope he took off other things as well, wanting to feel him at least a little bit before you're restrained. 

“Are you still alright?” he asks, his voice much closer than you anticipated. 

You jump slightly as you realize he’s right in front of you now, and you can feel the subtle heat radiating from his body. You nod, reaching out instinctively to touch him. 

He allows it, sighing lightly when your hands bump against his bare stomach, flattening against the taut muscle there before sliding upwards. You can feel the faint ridges and bumps unique to his skin as you continue upwards, gliding over his chest before coming back down again, mapping him in your blinded state. You only stop when your fingers meet rough fabric - the waistband of his pants. 

You hear the faint sound of his tail brushing the ground intermittently, and you can’t help but smile as your fingers curl beneath the band of his pants. But before you can get any further, familiar calloused hands stop your own, pulling you away from his skin. 

“If you do that, I’m afraid we won’t accomplish what we planned to do tonight,” he says breathlessly. 

You are still amazed that such simple touches drive him crazy, but you can’t help but relish in it, because you feel the same anytime Dammon touches you. As if your body can’t get enough. 

Tonight might be the night that it does. 

“Can you give me your hand?” he asks, and you hear him rustling around with something. 

“Of course.”

You offer him your hand and he takes it, turning it palm up and placing a long thin object in your palm. He curls your fingers round it, and when he offers no complaint, you reach up with your other hand to further investigate what it could be. 

“It’s the rope I’m going to use,” he informs you as your fingers trail along the braid material. “It’s…This is why we had to wait. I had to find someone who…dealt with these kinds of things.”

You let out a small hum as you run the rope through you hands, and you slowly begin to understand what he means. It’s smoother than any rope you’ve ever used, so smooth in fact that it feels like silk. It’s sturdy too, not too thick but not so thin it will dig uncomfortably into your skin if it gets tight. It’s like it was created for this purpose alone. 

And perhaps it was. 

You’re no stranger to the more debacuhed happenings in the city. Hells - you’ve been inside Sharess’ Caress. They probably use rope like this in abundance there.

“It’s so…soft,” you say finally, reaching out to offer the rope back to him. 

“Yes I…” He trails off for a moment before continuing. “This isn’t supposed to be painful,” he informs you, and you feel the bed dip beside you, his voice shifting to your right side. “It can be of course but…Not tonight. It’s more about the control I suppose. The art of it.”

You nod as you feel a warm hand settle on your hip. “That makes sense. The drawings I saw were beautiful in a way and also…” you trail off, heat creeping into your cheeks. “Let’s just say I was never put off by the idea once I saw it.”

You can hear the way Dammon’s breath catches, his nails digging into the flesh of your hip ever so slightly. “I should have suggested it sooner, it seems.”

You smile, leaning in to where you think his body is. “You should have.”

He lets out a sigh, and you feel the way it brushes against your temple as he speaks. 

“Well…We’re here now,” he says, slowly dragging his hand from your hip up your back before settling on your shoulder. “Are you ready for me to start?”

You let out a breath of your own, anticipation bubbling in your veins as you shift in your place, eager to get started. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Slowly and with whispered instructions he guides you so your are on your knees on the bed, sitting on your heels as you face away from him. Once you’re in position his fingers skim up to unhook the clasps of your bra, sliding it gently from your shoulders before tossing it somewhere off to your left. 

“If you wanted me naked you could have just said so,” you tease, smiling when it earns youa  chuckle from teh man behind you. 

“That ruins the fun,” he says, and you finally feel the cool slide of rope against your arms. “This is…a lot of this is about the anticipation,” he tells you, breath ghosting over your ear as he gently guides your arms into position behind your back. “The gentle touches, the slow act of tying the rope, the build of what’s to come…”

He has you bend your arms behind your back, forearms almost crossing as he starts to slide the rope beneath them, wrapping it over just a few times before starting to tie the first knot, securing your arms together. 

He continues like that for long agonizing moments. The cool rope sliding against your heated skin as he pulls, tugs, and knots the smooth cord into a masterpiece only he can see. The design soon travels from your forearms upwards above your elbows, as he begins to connect your arms together once more. He threads the rope beneath your right arm, hands ghosting across your back as he brings it over to your left, looping it over your bicep and back again, creating an intricate set of loops and ties that secure your arms behind you further, pulling your shoulders back to just the bare edge of discomfort. 

Dammon was right. This is about the anticipation.

Because with each slide of the rope, with each brush of his fingers or ghost of his lips on your skin, you feel a new pang of arousal pool in your core. You shudder with each pass of the cord on your skin, breath hitching with each knot he tugs into place. 

And Dammon, who’s never known to keep his hands from you for too long, can’t help but to touch you in between. His sharp nails ghosting along your skin, kisses pressed to your shoulder as he mutters words of praise…you can feel yourself getting wet already, and he’s barely even touched you. Not in the way you desire most, at least. 

A whimper slips past your lips when he finally pulls away from you, the last piece of rope in place agasint your arms. But his absence doesn’t last long before he’s back again, his arms snaking around you as a new rope presses against the delicate skin of your lower belly. 

“Are you still alright?” he asks, warm breath ghosting over your cheek as his head comes up beside yours to look down at your exposed body. His chin tucks perfectly against your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your cheek, waiting patiently for you to answer before he continues.

When you do find your words, they come out small, a mere gasp on your lips. 

“Yes,” you assure him. “I just…wish you would touch me. I didn’t…this is more than i expected.”

You feel him tense behind you, his hands stilling. “We can stop at anytime-”

“No!” you almost shout, leaning back into your lover in a silent plea. “Please, don’t stop. I only meant…I didn’t expect to react so strongly to just this.”

Dammon clicks his tongue, letting out a low hum of understanding as his hands start to move again, the rope sliding softly against your skin. 

“If it makes you feel any better…” Dammon trails off, wrapping the rope around your front again, allowing him to press himself against your back, the hardness of him pressing into your low back. “It’s having the same affect on me.”

His words, and the feeling of him hard as steel pressing into your skin is enough to send another bolt of pleasure through you. You expect him to pull away to continue his work, but he does no such thing, instead aiming to stay pressed as close to you as possible as he works on his art. 

Each moment feels agonizing as he slowly winds the ropes up your body, fingers braiding and knotting the pieces together, fingers brushing against your skin, but never doing much more. 

Your breath leaves you in shallow pants, and you can’t help it when you press your hips back into his own, desperate for any kind of touch, any friction to sooth the ache simmering in your veins.

A small groan leaves Dammons lips, and you feel a small tug the the ropes around your arms. “We’ll get there,” he whispers, leaning down to brush a tender kiss to your shoulder. “You’re doing so well, my love. I’m almost done.”

You fight to hold back the whine that threatens to slip past when his lips retreat from your skin, but you do, instead moving to lean back against him as he looks back over your shoulder once more to see his work. 

You can feel the way the cords constrict around you, knotting in the center of your body as it travels upwards and spans out to wrap over your ribs and around your back. Soon enough you can feel them start to settle beneath your breasts. His hands barely brush the plush mounds as he ties a secure knot between them before taking the two ends up and over your collarbones to secure at the back of your neck. 

He ties the last knot, a quiet sigh of admiration leaving him as his hands skim over his work, calloused palms ghosting over your skin. 

You feel the bed shift, his warmth leaving your back. You wonder for a moment if he’s leaving again, but you continue to feel him move, until you think he settles in front of you on the plush mattress. The bed creaks softly as he settles, and despite the blindfold, you can feel his eyes boring into you, admiring his work much like he does that which he produces in the forge. 

Dammon is a lot of things, and a proud man is one of them.

He’s never boastful or arrogant. But he loves his work - he’s always proud of what he can accomplish. And it seems that extends to you as well.

You don’t flinch when his hand settles on your cheek, thumb brushing the skin their gently, as he continues to admire you. 

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, his other hand coming up to cup one of your breasts gently. 

A gasp slips past your lips as he runs a thumb over the stiff peak of your nipple, nails scratching the sensitive skin deliciously as he pulls away to trail further down your body. He traces the ropes he tied into place, fingers slipping beneath them every now and again to tug gently. 

“Is it-“ another gasp interrupts you as his hands slide down to brush over your thighs instead. “Is it everything you imagined?” 

Dammon leans forward then, his hands slipping around your hips as his lips fall to your shoulder before trailing down lower to nip sharp teeth at your collar bone. 

“It’s even better,” he breathes. “You’re more magnificent than anything my mind could conjure up.” 

A moan leaves you as his mouth finally reaches your breast, his teeth scarping against the sensitive swell before taking a pert nipple between his lips. 

“Oh, gods…” you gasp, arms tugging at the rope as you instinctively want to reach up to cradle his head in your hands. 

But the restraints keep you in place, completely at his mercy as he continues to lavish your skin with praises and gently love bites. 

You’re burning up now, blood boiling in your veins and desperate for anything Dammon wishes to give you. Something he seems to sense as both arms move to slip around your back as he gently lowers you to lay back on the bed, his lips traveling lower the whole way. 

Your arms are trapped beneath you in this new position, adding to the arousal pooling in your belly as you lay completely open and bare for the man before you. 

His teeth tug at the rope around your hips, hands moving to spread your legs so he can settle between them. 

“Are you still alright, my love?” He asks, fingers creeping slowly up your inner thighs. 

Gods you love him. You really do. But in this moment you want nothing more than for him to ravish you, to tear you completely apart before putting you back together again. 

He can be sweet later. Right now, you want him to fuck you. 

“Yes, yes, Dammon I’m fine,” you assure him, bucking your hips up into his hands. “Just please…fuck me. I cant wait any longer.” 

You would usually be embarrassed by blatantly begging like this, but the feel of Dammons mouth on your wet center removes any and all thoughts but him from your mind. 

His tounge parts your folds running up to tease the small bundle of nerves that sends bolts of pleasure through you. 

You squirm in Dammon’s steel grip, your back arching as he devours you, his fingers digging into your thighs, nails no doubt going to leave behind evidence of his hold on you come morning. 

His name falls from your lips in a lewd prayer, as you buck your hips up into his mouth, seeking more despite the way his tongue moves ravenously against you. 

You feel his hands slide up to the rope around your hips, fingers slipping beneath the cord as he uses it to tug you closer to him, as if he wishes to drown in you. 

His nose nudges at your clit as his tounge prods your entrance, desperate to taste you, his moans sending vibrations through you that make that coil in your belly pull impossibly taut. 

“Fuck,” cry out when he slides one hand to rub expect circles on your clit. “Dammon, I’m close I-“ 

An expert flick of his fingers cuts off your warning, sending you hurtling over the edge into oblivion as Dammon continues to work you through it. 

Incoherent babbles of his name fall from your lips until you finally say back into the bed, chest heaving and legs twitching as Dammon continues to lick at you, certain to leave nothing behind. 

You want to push him away, but without the use of your hands, you squeeze your thighs around his shoulders gently, urging him away from you. 

He obeys with a small sigh, his hand sliding up your body, as his lips follow suit, leaving a moist trail of kisses in his wake before he’s finally pressing them to the underside of your jaw. 

“You’re doing so well, my love,” me mutters against your skin, fingers toying idly with the smooth cord beneath your breasts. 

You smile as you turn your head to capture his lips with your own, tasting yourself on his tounge before pulling away just enough to speak. 

“Can you…Will you take the blindfold off?”you ask. “I’d like to see you.” 

Dammon lets out a low hum, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your lips before reaching up to tug at the silken fabric. 

While the sun has long set, the bedroom is still well lit, lanterns and a few candles lighting the space enough for you to need to adjust to the brightness. 

You blink a few times, leaning into the hand Dammon places on your cheek as his face comes into focus. 

You’ve never seen anything so breathtaking. 

His lips are tilted up in that small smile of his, pupils blown wide with lust as he looks down at you. His cheeks are flushed and errant strands of hair fall from his usually well kept style. 

You yearn to reach up and tuck them back, to card your fingers through his hair or trace around the base of his horns, but you’re once again reminded of the impossibility of that as your arms tug uselessly at your bindings. 

It’s then that you start to recognize the ache in your arms, your hands tingling as they start to fall asleep form their position pinned under you. 

You shift beneath Dammon, and he notices immediately, brow furrowing in silent question. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, voice laced with concern. 

You shake your head. “No it doesn’t hurt. It just-“ you let out a small chuckle. “I think my hands are falling asleep.” 

Dammon nods, and immediately goes to help you sit up, but you stop him with a shake of your head, an idea popping into your head. 

“Wait.” You tell him, nodding your chin up towards where he was previously sitting. “Sit back.” 

He gives you a curious look, and for a moment he hesitates, but he obeys, scooting back to sit on his heels between your legs. 

You notice the hard bulge in his trousers, and any hesitance about your idea flies out the proverbial window. 

With less effort than you expected, you manage to roll over onto your stomach, gathering your knees below you enough to raise your ass in the air, presenting yourself to the man behind you. 

The sharp intake of breath is enough to tell you that Dammon understands your presentation for what it is. And soon two warm hands settle on your hips, trailing up your sides before coming back down again. 

The warmth of him surrounds you soon after, his chest pressed against your back and arms as he leans over you, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulders. 

“Are you sure?” 

You let out an exasperated sigh, turning your face so it’s no longer pressed against the sheets. 

“Dammon I swear to the gods, if you went through all this and don’t fuck me-“ 

His lips leave yours in an instant, the heat of him disappearing from behind you as you hear the faint rustle of fabric from behind you. 

His hands settle on your hips again, nails biting into the skin harsher than before as you feel the head of his cock nudge at your entrance. 

You expect him to check in with you again, expect him to ask if you remember your safe word or any amount of other precautions. But he doesn’t. 

Instead he presses into you in one swift thrust, his cock guided easily by your earlier orgasm. 

But it still never prepared you for the size of him. He always stretches you perfectly, the small ridges and bumps unique to his race adding to the sensation of him sinking into you. 

The groan you let out is sinful, and you can’t help but turn to muffle it in the sheets. 

But Dammon isn’t having that. 

A strong tug in the rope between your arms has you pulling up from the bed, the force of the movement pulling you further back onto him until your hips are flush with his own. 

“Don’t hide from me,” Dammon says, tugging at the restraints again, sending him deeper and making the rope dig deliciously into your skin. “I want to hear you.” 

“Oh, gods. Dammon…”

His name falling from your lips finally makes him move, pulling out of you before thrusting back in with one solid movement. 

Your name falls from his lips as he sets a punishing pace, something so different from the reverent way he worshiped your body earlier. 

He curls himself over you, his chest pressed against your back as he plants one hand by your head on the bed, his sharp nails digging deep into the sheets as he holds himself over you. 

He nuzzles his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, nose nudging your jaw as he takes your earlobe between his teeth and tugs. 

Another whimper escapes your lips as he continues his mind blowing pace, hitting that spot inside you as you writhe against the ropes fully now. Hands clenching and unclenching as you press your hips back into his own, seeking your second release of the night. 

“Gods, Dammon, please..” 

you're practically sobbing now, tears wetting your lashes at the intense pleasure that courses through you and the slight frustration of not being able to touch anything - touch him. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his free arm wrapping around your hips to hold you to him as he presses you down, further into the bed his cock pressing impossibly deeper inside of you at the change of position. 

“Let go for me,” he says, voice sinful in your ear. 

His words, and his fingers that slipped down to rub at your clit send you into oblivion for the second time. 

You clench around him, crying out his name in a desperate plea as you squirm against him, veins alight with utter pleasure.

Dammon is not far behind you, just a few more stuttered thrusts and he comes in you with a groan of your name from his lips, his chest rumbling against your back as he sinks down into you, breath coming out in short labored breaths against your cheek. 

Your mind is blissfully blank as you sink into the plush bedding beneath you, completely boneless as your lover adjusts his weight above you. 

You whine when you feel him pull away from you, the room seeming so much cooler without his body next to yours. 

“My love…?” His voice feels a million miles away as he brushes a few strands of hair from your sweat soaked forehead before pressing a kiss there. “Are you alright?”

You chuckle, but it comes out hoarse and weaker than intended. 

“You just…gave me the best orgasm of my life. I’m more than alright.” 

You watch through bleary eyes as Dammon blushes, his earlier dominant demeanor disappearing into the Dammon you know and love. 

“I’m going to untie you.” 

You nod, trying to help as much as you can in your blissed out state as he helps you to sit up, maneuvering you until you sit straddling his lap so he can more easily work at the ropes. 

He moves quickly, fingers deftly untying the intricate knots and letting the ropes fall away from your skin. When he loosens the ropes at your back, your hands fall to your sides, a dull ache running from your shoulders down to the tips of your fingers. 

You must have let out some kind of noise or flinched, because as soon as the ropes fall away, Dammon’s hands are on your arms, calloused palms running up and down your arms as he tries to sooth the aches and indentations left behind. 

“They were too tight,” he mutters softly. “I’m sorry, my love I-”

You shush him softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips to quiet his concerns. “I’m alright, Dammon. I promise,” you assure him, smiling as he continued to rub at the light indentation marks left by the ropes. “I liked it,” you finally admit. “I really liked it.”

His minstrations pauses momentarily, hands sliding down to wrap around your waist as he pulls back enough to look down at you, brows furrowed ever so slightly. “You’re…not just saying that to please me, are you?”

You can’t help the playful groan that you let out, followed by a small chuckle as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. 

“Only you could give a woman the best orgasm of her life and still question whether she liked it,” you tease, practically feeling the way Dammon rolls his eyes at you.

A small squeal escapes you as Dammon wraps his arms around you more securly as he flips you onto your back again, head hitting the pillow as he hovers over your, lips turned upwards playfully.

“If you think that was the best…I think I have more work to do.”

Your brows wing up in surprise, lips aprting slightly as your mind runs wild with the possibilities. “Is that a challenge, you’re proposing?” you ask.

Dammon smiles, humming low in his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to your jaw. “It might be,” he aquecies. “But for now, i’d just like to hold you and maybe run you a bath. If you’d be so inclined.”

Warmth swells in your chest at his words. Even after something most would consider debacuhed, Dammon still manages to be the sweetest thing in the room. You turn and press a quick kiss to his lips before reching up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I’d Love nothing more.”

He smiles and plops down next to you on the bed, gathering you in his arms as he does so. His chin rests on the top of your head as you nuzzle into his chest, your leg tangling with his own until you’re both settled comfortably against one another. 

Comfortable silence fills the space, Dammon trailing light patterns on your back, as you do the same on his chest - both of you just taking a moment to bask in the other's presence. Until Dammon finally speaks up.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to do this,” he tells you softly, voice gentle. 

You nod, moving to slip your arms around his waist, scooting closer to him. “Of course,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I love you, Dammon.”

You feel his lips press against the crown of your head. 

“I love you more.”

#Dammon x reader #bg3 Dammon x reader #Bg3 x reader #Dammon #bg3 Dammon #bg3

[jadedxhearts]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞…

Having studied plants for years, you've become very familiar with the "aphrodisiac" type. And finally, you have an opportunity to experience your secret fantasy, with Law supervising.

Warnings: smut, fem bodied reader (no pronouns/gendered names), Law gets jealous of a plant, also probably one of the weirder smut fics I've written...

Having spent your last few years studying all sorts of plants, you now knew many of the different types like the back of your hand; including the islands that they were native to. So, when your crew was making a stop to an island that you knew to have certain types of plants, you decided to divulge in a secret fantasy you’d had for some time now…

In all your years of studying botany, you’d become familiar with the plants labeled as “aphrodisiacs”. In particular, you’d always been fascinated by the type that could sprout tentacles from their roots. You knew the common physical traits, their locations, everything. But you had yet to see one in person. You could hardly remember when the filthy desire had started, but you did know for certain that you’d never wanted to try something the way you wanted this. And today you seemed to be in luck, as your crew stopped at a tropical island, one where the locals only lived near the beaches, away from the jungles. While there could be animals also driving them away, you knew of one plant that lied in the jungle, something that would certainly keep most people away. And you intended on finding it.

Law, your boyfriend, was skeptical of the whole thing. He could always tell when you were lying, and even though you’d told him “there’s some plants inhabiting the jungle that I’d like to check out”, a seemingly innocent thing to do, he’d somehow seen right through it. So, with some embarrassment on your end, you admitted your true reason about why you wished to find the plants. And to your surprise, Law was intrigued, agreeing to accompany you on the little journey.

So now, here you were, traversing the jungle with Law trailing behind you by a couple feet, katana in hand. You walked along the clearest path you could find, occasionally stopping to check out some plants. You were nearly an hour into the hike when you started to find hints of striking gold. The first thing to hit you was the sweet aroma of the air, the scent’s purpose to draw “prey” in, lure them directly to the plant you sought. The next sign was a clearing beginning in the dense vegetation. With an eagerness you’d never felt before, you headed straight for the center of the clearing, finding the exact plant you’d been searching for.

“Here it is!” You shouted back to Law, who was still standing at the tree line, clearly finding the whole thing odd. 

Hesitantly, he headed out from the trees and into the clearing, joining you about ten feet away from a small plant in the center of the clearing. It had some large leaves sprouting off the sides, with one beautiful pink flower in the middle of it. Its roots were slightly visible, and you knew very well exactly what some of these roots were capable of. Glancing between you and the plant, Law looked at you suspiciously. 

“This is it? I thought you said it was supposed to… you know…” he trailed off, averting his eyes.

“It will, it just needs some… waking up, I guess,” you explained. “Um… maybe, take a few steps back? Since I’m the one who… you know…”

Law nodded, not needing to be told twice. He headed closer to the tree line, leaning against one of the large trunks. He’d expressed not wanting to “get fucked by a plant”, as he’d called it, hence his apprehension to the whole thing. At the very least, he could enjoy watching you. 

You started by undressing down to your bra and panties, tossing your other clothes over to where Law stood. Then, you crouched down, waving a hand over the flower. It puffed out some sweet-scented dust, which you were able to identify as the aphrodisiac part of the plant. Upon breathing in the slightest amount, you found that you were already growing restless. Your heart rate picked up, and you could feel yourself aching from your core, growing more pathetically horny for this plant by the second. Still, through your cloudy mind, you were able to remember everything you needed to know about the plant. So next, you prodded at the plant’s leaves, gently stroking them to rouse it. Within seconds, there was a rumbling in the ground underneath you, and you watched with fascination as the plant’s roots began sprouting, green tentacles squirming around, searching for whatever dared to get too close. 

Standing back up to your full height, you waited, cunt throbbing as you observed the tentacles growing around you. Your mind was so foggy now, the desperate need to have the appendages take you blocking your regular thoughts that you didn’t even notice it when the tentacles headed for something else.

It wasn’t until you heard a shout that you some sense was put back into you, and you watched with wide eyes as the tentacles slid up Law’s legs and tangled around his arms, dragging him away from the trees and closer to where you stood.

“You said they wouldn’t bother me!” He shouted to you, trying to escape the plant's hold. 

“I-I didn’t think they would,” you replied, unsure of what to do. 

“Well tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do now!”

“Um, it’s best if you… just let them… have their way,” you timidly said, looking down to the tentacles wrapped around his legs, now prodding around at the top of Law’s jeans.

Groaning with annoyance, Law decided to just do as you’d said. It’s not like he could argue with you now away, as the sweet-smelling aphrodisiac pollen reached him, sending him under the same effect you’d had. You couldn’t lie, it excited you to be watching the scene unfolding before you. Only you wished the plants would pay some attention to you…

After seemingly struggling for a couple minutes, the tentacles were able to get Law’s jeans undone, pulling his hardened length out from his clothing. The plants squirmed with what you could only guess was excitement, as the smaller ends of the tentacles began wrapping around his cock, squeezing him and slowly jerking his member.

Law let out a deep whine, his head falling back as the little suckers on the under-side of the tentacles began sucking at the skin of his cock, one appendage taking its spot at the head of his length, suckling and smothering itself against his tip. Before long, hot spurts of seed began spilling from his cock as the tentacles worked at his length quickly.

The sight had your cunt aching, clenching around nothing as you wished so badly they would come and play with you, too. Any thought of being worried about Law was gone, your mind being overtaken by the affects of the pollen. Somehow, you needed to get the plant’s attention. Not knowing what else to do, you got on your hands and knees, raising your bottom into the air and trying to gain the attention of the tentacles. Swaying your ass around, you finally managed to get a few of the green appendages to wander over to you. Letting out a whiny sigh of relief, you drooled onto the jungle ground as you felt them creep up your legs, wrapping around and squeezing your thighs as the ends of the tentacles began prodding at your panties, looking for a way in.

Yes, yes, you thought, feeling them begin to wrap around the sides of your panties, tugging them away from your skin. Please fuck me…

When the first tentacle dipped into your dripping folds, you moaned in delight, pussy throbbing as you wanted nothing more than to suck it in and be stuffed. Agonizingly slowly, the tentacle slid into your aching hole, wriggling around and doing what you could only refer to as licking your velvety walls. As it reached deeper inside you, you began to cry and arch your back, the girth of the appendage stretching your cunt wide open. And as you moaned more and more, you caught more of the plant’s attention, other curious tentacles exploring your body as it seeked ways to please you. 

A few of the tentacles pulled at your bra, eventually tearing it from your chest as it grew impatient with the clothing. They began swarming your breasts, their little sucklers finding your nipples with ease. With a long, high-pitched moan, you allowed your mouth to hang open as you drooled from the pleasure you felt. 

One tentacle chose to take advantage of that, though, as it poked at your lips before sliding into your mouth, forcing you to suck on it. The plant seemed to like your reciprocation, and it began spurting some odd substance into your mouth, but you swallowed without question, finding that it tasted incredibly sweet. Though you figured out that it was only pumping more aphrodisiac into you quickly, as the effects started within seconds.

Your body felt so incredibly hot, your entire mind being overcome with lust as you could only think: more, more, more. You’d completely forgotten Law was even there, not caring about anything around you; only about what was in you. 

More and more tentacles joined the others already tangled around your body, pulling you closer and closer to the little flower. They fucked your holes roughly, rocking your entire body back and forth. The tentacle in your mouth was having fun making you choke on it, while the one in your cunt thrusted into you hastily, pumping its warm seed into you. Letting out choked screams around the appendage in your mouth, you began cumming around the other one, still not feeling satisfied and simply wanting more.

After the tentacles had cum inside you a few more times, leaving no more room for its seed as it spilled out from your cunt, they all suddenly went completely still, and all the horny confusion was instantly cleared from your mind. Feeling like you’d just awoken, you looked up to find that Law had sliced the plant apart, stopping it from using you any longer.

“Law,” you whined, shuddering as the aphrodisiac-seed pooled out of your pussy and around your thighs. “I wanted more…”

“Then I’ll give you more,” he grunted, tossing his katana away and practically pouncing onto you. 

“That thing wasn’t going to give you up,” he growled, pulling his cock out and quickly shoving himself inside your cunt. “And I wasn’t going to let it have what’s mine.” 

Moaning, you clutched at Law’s jacket and wrapped your legs around his waist. He’d never fucked you so hard or with such feral desire before, and god did it feel good. 

After stuffing you full of his own seed, and you cumming around his cock multiple times, it seemed the sex-pollen had finally cleared yours and Law’s systems, leaving you both a sweaty, exhausted mess.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader smut #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar d water law x y/n #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #trafalgar d law x reader

[abibliophobiaa]

My love 🤍 if it has not been sent already for Steve’s birthday prompts imma go with the word glasses.

happy birthday week to steve. here are 400 words of fluffy steve harrington x g/n reader.

-

-

“Come on, it’s not the worst thing ever.”

After an appointment with the eye doctor, the world had, in fact, determined Steve Harrington’s eyesight is not what it once was.

“My eyes are getting shitty,” he pouts, pouring over the endless rows of glasses options.

You pause in front of a rack, fingers curling around a pair of sunglasses. “How do these look?”

The glasses slide up the bridge of your nose, too-big on your face. Instead of smiling, which is your desired outcome, Steve just frowns, huffing audibly. Sensing his frustration, you place the sunglasses back on the rack and make your way around to where he stands against one of the numerous glass cases housing frames. He’s humming to himself as you loop an arm around his waist. You can’t suppress your secret grin when he huffs again and draws you into his arms.

“Guess all those hits to the head finally caught up to me,” he chuckles, trying to make light of his ever present disappointment.

You wiggle closer, shoes knocking against his beneath you, uncaring of those milling about around you who may be unamused by your public display of affection with the man.

“A small price for saving the world a few times over, I’d say,” you remind him, palms coming to rub slow circles in the space between his shoulder blades. “And I happen to think glasses are very sexy.”

There’s an amused puff of breath against the top of your head at your words and the sultry timbre they’ve taken before he untangles from you, palm sliding down to grasp your hand as he turns his attention to the glass display and peers inside.

After another hour of searching, the optician asks if he wants to see any in particular, and ends up pulling multiple options of varying styles that could potentially suit Steve’s handsome features.

Eventually, after he’s tossed pair after pair into a sanitary bin they’ve laid out for him, he settles on a thin, gold wired frame that glints in the light when he turns his head and asks what you think.

“So?”

And there he is, the boy who has your heart with his striking jaw, constellation of beauty marks across the face you’ve kissed more times than you could ever count, a kind smile, with his shirt stretched tight across that sculpted silhouette that houses the biggest heart you’ve ever known.

It’s simple, really. “You look like my Steve.”

-

-

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff

[itsphoenix0724]

Tonight, you sing for me (Azriel x reader)

Warnings: Smut, slightly sub!Az

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: you and your mate enjoy unexpected fun in your new home when you borrow Az's shadows for the night

A/N: this is my first fic, and the smut and ending definitely could use some work. Constructive criticism is welcome!

You met Az working as a priestess in the library of the House of Wind, and everything spiraled from there. When you and Azriel first mated it was like a whirlwind of events and emotions. Once you met his family Rhys extended the invitation to work with him and the inner circle when he learned of your ability to “borrow” others’ powers for a short period of time. After the war and the fighting you had a mating ceremony, and now you were finally ready to upgrade out of your small apartment in Velaris.

The house was perfect, large windows with an amazing view of the Sidra and perfectly built for Illyrian wings. Not too far from Velaris-close enough so you and Az could still be close to his family and you both could continue your work for the inner circle and as a priestess in the library. Moving had been a slow process; between picking out new furniture, painting, and completing the last few remodels that made your house perfect for the two of you, you were finally ready to spend the first night in your new home.

So, here the two of you were, standing in front of the door with a key in your hand. 

“Go on my love,” Az sighed into your shoulder–wrapping his arms around your waist, “unlock the door.” you sigh and lean back into him, slipping the key into the lock and swinging the door open.

Strong arms loop around the bend in your knees as you feel yourself being hoisted into the air as Azriel carries you both into the house, and you let out a shriek before letting out a laugh looking up at your mate seeing one of the rare unguarded smiles on his face.

“Welcome home my love.” Az purrs into your neck before letting you on your feet and pulling you into a soft kiss. The house truly was beautiful–everything having been hand–picked by you and your mate. Your library sitting up the stairs and Azriel’s piece sitting tucked into a small alcove off of the living room.

A beautiful black grand piano, something you were glad he finally allowed himself to indulge in. You remember when Az first told you he played the piano, the quiet admission against your pillows that he loved music and the way it made him feel.

Like he could create something instead of destroying it.

When you first heard him play it was a drunken night at a tavern in autumn. Azriel had been drunk enough to let himself loose, and having known no one else in the tavern he sat at the piano and played as everyone in the bar danced and cheered. It was one of your favorite memories of your mate, so the first thing you did was make sure Azriel picked out a piano to put in your house.

It had been hard to convince him at first, but when you mentioned him eventually teaching your children one day he became elated at the idea. 

“So my darling,” You press another kiss onto Azriel’s lips before continuing, “shall we christen the new house?” You can feel his whole body tense like a live wire, his scent darkening immediately to something smokier. 

“What did you have in mind?” he mumbles into your lips-his hazel eyes turning into a vibrant molten gold and it feels like he’s setting your body on fire. His lips are addicting, you’ve decided, as you draw him in for another kiss. 

“We can start in the kitchen,” another kiss on his lips, “or in front of the fireplace,” one for his cheek, “or in the bath,” one for his neck, “or we could go to the bedroom.” You stare into his eyes allowing him to swallow you whole, and you can feel his pants tightening as you mention places in your new house where he can ravish you.

“I think it’s only fair,” he hooks his fingers under your chin leaning in to draw you into another kiss, “that we start in the bedroom.”

He strikes then. Moving to crush you into a heated kiss, but you’re faster. You are his mate for a reason after all. You winnow out of his arms sending a confused Azriel a wink from the top of the stairs. 

“Well then, come chase me Shadowsinger.”  Azriel sends you a devilish smirk from the bottom of the stairs and you almost fall to your knees right then, but he begins to bound up the steps after you with a determined gleam in his eyes. You don’t let him get too close though, before winnowing to a spot further down the hallway inching closer to your bedroom.

You both stop in the hallway staring at each other. Azriel waiting like a lion to find a vulnerable opening, and you track all of his movements so you can disappear again without warning. He raises his arm and you almost bolt again before you realize that he’s not making a move to chase you. Instead, he leans against the wall, a perfect picture of smug male arrogance. 

“So my love,” he questions you. He seems perfectly at ease, but you know better. He is only waiting for the perfect moment to pounce, “What do I get when I catch you?” He raises an eyebrow, eyeing you up like a meal. You start to inch away from him because you can tell he’s going to move soon by the way he’s slightly shifting his weight onto his right foot, his shadows watching you as well curling around his wings and neck no doubt whispering to him about your own tells. 

“If you catch me, which you won’t, you can be on top. But if I get to the bedroom before you, you lay under me tonight.” A feline smirk of your own stretches across your lips.

“Ah, but that’s not fair,” Azriel tuts, “you could winnow to the bedroom right now and I would lose.” The gleam in your eye tells him that that was exactly your plan in the first place. “I think it’s only fair that we chase on foot from now on,” you consider this for a moment. You’re definitely faster than Az even though he’s stronger, and you have a sizable lead to the bedroom.

You have a straight shot while Az still has to travel down the rest of the hallway and round a corner. 

He makes it very hard to think when he’s looking at you. A shocking youthful almost boyish smirk on his face. His eyes make you feel like your body is melting and it almost makes you want to let him catch you.

But your mate had been amazing during the stressful time of house hunting, and he pleases you so often.

Your mind is made up as you mutter “Deal.” and bolt down the hall. Immediately Az shoots after you, his footsteps chasing you as you reach the door. Your hand touches the door knob and you have one foot in the door when you feel his fingertips start to coast over your waist. Twisting out of his hold, you dart the rest of the way into the bedroom. You turn to smile at him, victorious and wicked.

“It seems you’re getting slow in your old age, Shadowsinger,” you taunt. Azriel’s defeated form throwing the door the rest of the way open. 

“I am not slow–,” Azriel stalks towards you. You can tell his competitive side is hating the fact that he lost. His shadows swirl around the room like they’re waiting for something, “--you just like to play dirty.” He hauls your entire body against him in one quick movement shooting out like a snake. He crushes his lips to yours as he backs you onto the brand-new bed. 

“Az,” you mumble against his lips, “we had a deal.” He concedes to you, releasing the bruising grip his hands had on your jaw. “On your back, my love,” you purr against him, and his whole body shivers as he can feel your hands undoing the clasps that keep his shirt secured around his wings. You let your hands wander upwards and graze the spot underneath the joint where his wings connect to his shoulder blades.

His hips cant upwards and if he wasn’t kneeling against the bed already his knees would’ve buckled beneath him.

He seems to relent now, switching you around so that you’re standing in the spot between his legs instead of vice versa. You kiss him again, pulling his shirt off quickly before climbing onto his lap. You move your hips against Azriel and start to build up the right rhythm, both of your bodies moving together as one until you can feel the hardness through his pants. 

“Do you trust me?” His pupils are blown wide, black almost entirely blotting out the gold-green in his eyes, shadows flowing gently over the two of you like a cold caress, no doubt whispering to Azriel about each and every one of your subtle movements. He nods and you back him up the bed until his back is flat against the pillows.

You kiss for a minute longer and then Azriel feels it.

A sudden warmth, and then cold, the back of his tongue burning like he just took a shot of whiskey, and all of the sudden his world goes quiet.

It takes him a minute, between the way your lips are biting at his neck and your hips moving together, to realize that his shadows have stopped whispering to him.

He had felt your wave of power, and he opened his eyes to see you above him with a mischievous smile and a determined gleam in your eye. Black shadows now curling around you like obedient dogs.

He can’t help but huff a little, his shadows behave much better for you than they ever do for him.

You lean down and kiss him again, fingers running through his hair and somehow the lack of stimulation he normally receives from his shadows is making him all the more sensitive to your advances.

He feels like his entire body has been dialed up to 100, every little touch leaving a trail of burning lust behind it. He’s realizing now he can’t predict you either, there are no shadows to tell him the movements of your hands before you touch him and the finger you run down his abs feels like an electric shock. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been harder in his entire life. 

He’s flat on his back now, and you guide both of his hands so they run up your body slowly, feeling the last bit of touch before you execute your most important step in this plan.

His shadows are whispering to you about every subtle change in his breathing and his situation in his pants, and it makes your eyes slide to a seductive half-lid when you look at him.

You eventually guide his hands above his head and give his shadows a silent order. Immediately they obey and bind his hands to the headboard. Azriel realizes he no longer has movement in his hands and his eyes widen before he tests his bonds. He tries to order them to release him but they don’t budge. You pause for a second running your hands along Azriel’s jaw.

“Is this okay?” you ask, “We can stop if you don’t like it,” you reassure him looking into his eyes and calmly stroking his jaw while he deliberated.

Az took a moment to consider, he wasn’t used to being submissive, and it was hard for him to make himself vulnerable sometimes, even to you. But, he knows that you would never do anything he didn’t want you to do and he’s tied you up plenty of times so he figures he wants to see what it’s like when you have your fun.

He nods at you, and you continue on with a gleam in your eye that makes Azriel feel like he's weightless.

You take your time to appreciate everything about the gorgeous male laid out in front of you. You lick every single cord of strong tan muscle and whirl of tattoo. You can’t help but enjoy the way Az shivers under your touch. He feels like every stroke of your tongue is leaving a trail of golden fire. You lick, kiss, and bite until you reach his hip bones when you pause to look up at Azriel.

He looks straight out of painting. Black hair tousled and thrown back, a pink blush high up on his strong cheekbones, and muscles straining against your touch and his shadows trapping him against the headboard.

You want him to beg, so you wait looking up at him through your eyelashes. Azriel realizes you’ve stopped touching and he has to pry his eyes open. The sight of you like that almost makes him cum in his pants. You pull his underwear down slowly, kissing the new skin you reveal, and you wait again. “Beg Az.” you say gently pumping up and down his shaft as his eyes roll back into his head. His shadows whispering to you about the straining muscles in his neck, and the fluttering of his eyelashes.

Still he refuses to beg, so you have to turn up the heat a little. You place gentle kisses along the base of him before sticking the tip in your mouth, and running your tongue over him lightly. He’s clenching his jaw so hard you think the bones might crack, and you continue on with your teasing and he eventually can’t hold back any longer. 

Eventually he grinds out a dark, “please,” with a hiss between his teeth, but it’s not good enough for you. You’re greedy and you want more from him, so you keep teasing him–touching him just enough to send his whole body pulling taught like a string. He pulls against the shadows to run a hand through your hair. They hold strong, like bonds of steel against the headboard.

All it takes is you running your tongue along a vein on the side of his dick before his resolve crumbles. 

“Please, my love.” he pants it out, his tip leaking. “I want you so bad, please.” You relent, already wet enough as you move to straddle Az’s hips. You sink down on him slowly and you both let out a moan in tandem. Azriel’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he wants nothing more than to grab your hips, and bounce you up and down until you’re a babbling mess. You start to move and Azriel lets out a moan as you ride him. “Please let me touch you,” he grunts out between moans, and you relent. As you rise shadows slither away from Azriel’s wrists, and strong hands slam you back down onto his length. You let out a loud moan and Azriel reaches his hand down to rub against the apex of your thighs. You both climax together and you roll onto your back on the sheets beside Az. His shadows are back to their master, slowly slinking around the two of you like they don’t have any energy left themselves. You’re almost asleep. Your mate’s hand trailing slow circles up and down your spine when he murmurs into your ear. 

“So darling, what do you think about moving to the bathroom next?”

#azriel #azriel acotar #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #smut

[atla-genderbender]

ATLA Gender Bender: Firelord Ozai

"You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher."

The principle behind this AU is to swap the genders of the main cast (Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Zuko) and other characters where it enhances the story. This means that most child characters, like Azula and Suki, are also swapped, but adults are swapped on a case by case basis. This is especially true for characters who had a formative influence on the main characters, like parents and other role models. If you swap a given character and their parent(al figure)s, this alters the character's personality more than swapping that character without swapping their parents. Sometimes this effect is subtle, and sometimes it is large. This is why I would avoid swapping the genders of a character's parents, unless it makes sense to do so.

In the case of Zuko's parents, I do not think it detracts from the story to swap their genders. I would even go so far to say that some things are enhanced by swapping both Ozai and Ursa. Female Ozai fits surprisingly well into the role of an "evil empress". "Urson" also works as a "papa bear" character. A female Ozai would contrast well with a female Zuko, serving as a "good queen" "evil queen" dichotomy. I also find it fascinating to think about what would change and what would stay the same if Ozai's gender was also swapped. 

I picture female Ozai being no less evil or sadistic as normal Ozai. Unlike Ozai, she would have to maintain the image of a good mother to her children, and a good daughter to her father. This is especially interesting if she is the first female Fire Lord in a line of male Fire Lords. She would be a queen who has to strike the perfect balance of femininity and power in order to please her court. A woman who possesses bewitching beauty to conceal a wicked, sadistic soul. I think she would be very narcissistic and cruel, obsessed with being beautiful and powerful at once.

I attempted to convey this through her design, which could be tweaked in many respects. To explain the rationale behind her design, the Fire Lords of Avatar draw from East and Southeast Asian influences. Firelord Ozai's hairstyle is Chinese inspired (see: atlaculture.tumblr.com/post/65…), but his clothing is Burmese inspired (see: atlaculture.tumblr.com/post/63…). As such, I decided to base the hairstyles of female Fire Lords on East Asian hairstyles worn by female rulers.

It feels inevitable that female Ozai would be compared to Wu Zetian. I wanted to minimize these comparisons, and make it clear that female Ozai is not supposed to be a representation of Wu Zetian. Doing so would unfairly demonize a real historical figure. Still, I could not resist including a couple of elements inspired by Fan Bingbing as Wu Zetian in "The Empress of China" (see: dwvyw8kf1avne.cloudfront.net/s…). This is what inspired female Ozai's red makeup, and the stylized phoenix headdress that she wears. Other design elements are not inspired by Wu Zetian, but other portrayals of powerful queens and empresses in Chinese dramas. Namely, Empress Du Feihong in "The Glamorous Imperial Concubine". I hope that the final design is so stylized that it is clear that she is not supposed to represent a real historical figure. I attempted to simplify her headdress in a way that could be easy enough to animate while still making it clear that she is wearing a ridiculous amount of gold and rubies on her head. This is meant to contrast with female Zuko's design. Where female Zuko is humble, female Ozai is vain.

In the end, I am dissatisfied with the design I came up with, for reasons I will explain under "OUTFIT DESCRIPTIONS".

This design approach diverges from the design principles behind the one female Firelord shown in Avatar, that being Izumi. I took liberties with hairstyles, but did not change the masculine style of robes. I felt this would diverge too far from the pre-established rules of Avatar. Additionally, I think it creates an interesting contrast between a feminine hairstyle and masculine robes, especially if Ozai and "Zuka" are the first female Firelords in a long series of male Firelords.

The phoenix imagery actually makes more sense if Ozai was a woman, since the fenghuang is traditionally a feminine entity. I also think it would be cool if she was still named "Ozai", kind of like how "Ty Lee" is very feminine but has a masculine name. It would also imply that "Ozai" isn't the name she was born with, but a name she adopted for its meaning "large presence". 

I picture Grey Griffin as the voice of female Ozai. Specifically, how she voices adult characters, like Ming Hua in LOK and the female Viltrumite from Invincible. I don't think that she should have the same voice as Azula, but Grey Griffin could give her a venomous and vicious voice that would fit her really well.

OUTFIT DESCRIPTIONS:

1: Firelord Costume

I am dissatisfied with the hairstyle I came up with for female Ozai's Firelord costume. I have written previously about my concerns that viewers would conflate her with the real life Wu Zetian. In order to minimize these comparisons, I tried to make elements of her hairstyle abstract instead of authentic to real life costumes. However, I do not think I was successful in achieving my goal. When I first started drawing female Ozai, I knew little about hanfu, and have since learned more about traditional Chinese costumes. The crown that I gave her is clearly inspired by fengguan, which is a distinctly Chinese element. Given Ozai's affinity for phoenixes, I can't not picture female Ozai wearing some sort of fengguan. The design I came up with is flawed, as it is something that "looks Chinese" without being authentic to Chinese costume design. This could come across as offensive. The best approach would be to fuse the Chinese element of the fengguan with other cultural influences, so that the result is something that is not specifically Chinese. I took some time to try to come up with a better design, but to be transparent I am approaching creative burn out with this project and was unable to come up with a better design. I guess this speaks to my limits as an artist.

With all of this said, these designs are best viewed as a first draft and not the final product. These are meant to give an impression of what her character would look like, and could use more sets of eyes to review and improve the design.

2: "Phoenix Queen" Costume

In the second costume, her cape is somewhat inspired by Maleficent's cape in "Sleeping Beauty". Maleficent's appearance also helped inspire female Ozai's widow's peak and facial structure. As I mentioned before, her costume is inspired by the real life apsara. She has dressed herself in the image of a goddess of fire.

3: "Phoenix Queen" Costume, after removing crown and cape

The third costume is supposed to be how female Ozai would appear at the start of her fight with "Aangi". I intended for her to have the same body type as the female Viltrumite "Thula" from "Invincible". I also think that female Ozai's voice would sound like Thula's. I picture her as a warrior queen who spends a lot of time training, giving her an athletic and muscular appearance. I think she would appear more physically intimidating if she has some muscle mass on her frame. This being said, there are a lot of different athletic body types. A less bulky but athletic body type could arguably fit her better.

4: Appearance after being defeated by "Aangi"

The fourth costume is supposed to be how female Ozai would appear at the end of her fight with "Aangi". Since she doesn't have a goattee, I think "Aangi" would grab her by the gold part of her top. I think it would be cool and dramatic if "Aangi" ripped this part of her costume off. In the heat of battle, female Ozai loses the gold parts of her costume, and a waterbending attack by "Aangi" washes off her makeup, exposing her as a false goddess.

Her finger nails and toenails are painted and sharpened, to resemble the talons of a phoenix.

Like what I’m doing? Consider leaving me a donation via Ko-Fi.

#ozai #avatar the last airbender #atla genderbender #genderbending #rule 63 #gender bender #genderswap #genderbend #my art #my headcanons

[wellthebardsdead]

Fools prayer pt8

Part 7 here

Part of this shows Vivec’s perspective from voryns dream visit.

———

Vivec: *tucked into his bed after nerevar finally left him to rest for the evening. His body still sore but healing, though the pain was greatly overshadowed by the immense sense of relaxation and exhaustion washing over him as his aching muscles felt the comfort of a warm, soft, cushioned mattress for the first time in so long*

Ordinator: *steps to his bedside gently taking the now empty teacup from his hand as he ‘begins’ to fade into sleep* did you enjoy your tea, Hla uripe? (Little amusement, insult implied)

Vivec: *so utterly exhausted for a moment he didn’t even register their words* hla uripe?… tea?… I didn’t drink any- *opens his eyes to see himself no longer in his bed, but another he’d once been familiar with long ago… when his reputation was little more than a concubine to the Hortator or whomever would feel the want to have him. The blankets and cushions in shades of dark blues, rich greens, deep reds and warm yellows, and the canopy above lined with glass and carapace lanterns illuminated in a rainbow of colours, all dancing off the thin veils of purple and pink silks, and shining through the heavy smoke of incense in the air* I can’t- move… *turns his gaze to his bedside as he sees a familiar figure from his path step into view from behind the curtains surrounding his comfortable nest* voryn…

Voryn: *golden skin practically glowing in the lantern light as he sits down on Vivec’s beside, a seemingly friendly smile on his face from the red of his lips, but lined with a cruel malice with the sharpness of his eyes as he admires the empty cup in his hand* of course you can’t. I drugged you. You wanted to serve Nerevar tonight, didn’t you?

Vivec: *seeing directly through the illusion before him. Having dealt with voryns tricks long before he’d become dagoth ur and the house of shadow turned his enemy, but deciding to play along to see just how far he’ll draw out this memory and see if he remembers just as much as he does* I did- I do- *catches himself off guard hearing how young he sounds before blinking once more and looking down to see a golden illusion over his blue dunmer half* I owe him my life, every thing I am belongs to him why did you drug me?! My body feels weird! *whines and tries to squirm, not to try and actually move, but to mimic the memory exactly as he remembers, seeing more and more cracks in the illusion as voryns friendly smile doesn’t turn to unfazed amusement, but a dark, cruel grin*

Voryn: shhhh. *leans down gently stroking his cheek* don’t fret. I merely wanted to have him for myself tonight. You serve him so loyally without rest, I thought you might benefit from my little trea-

Vivec: did you forget the part where you allowed the guards to rape me while I lay helpless as you walked away to seduce nerevar?…

Voryn: … *smirks dropping the illusion, his gold skin melting away in the smoke of the incense to reveal ashen grey beneath it, his third eye glowing bright as it stares down at him* hm… you always were so annoyingly clever. It seems not much has changed… except… well.

Vivec: speak.

Voryn: I seem to be overflowing with power with no one to care for, despite the villain you wish me to be. And for all the good you’ve done, you’re scraping for change in the dirt to feed those you abandoned-

Vivec: I abandoned no one! *snarls trying to move, to push him away, to strike him, and failing as his sleeping body refuses to wake for his dreaming mind* All of this! It was all your fault!!! If you hadn’t of-

Voryn: if I hadn’t of what? Vehk?… Ohh right. Become dagoth ur… and whose, fault, was, that? *leans in close as the vision of the bedroom around them gives way to the boiling interior of red mountain and the heart chamber where vivec enacted mephalas orders*

“VIVEC PLEASE!! DONT DO THIS!”

Vivec: *closes his eyes tight wanting to cover his ears as nerevars terrified and agonised cries echo throughout the chamber* n-no- no I I was just-

Voryn: listen to him vivec. Listen to him cry for you. Listen to what you did.

Vivec: *unable to escape the memory as he recalls so vividly in his mind how he cut down the man he’d devoted his life, his heart to* no! No I was only obeying Mephala! She tricked me! She lied to me! I thought I was doing the right thing!

Voryn: you murdered us… you murdered him, when all he ever did was love you. You condemned us to that mountain. You turned me into dagoth ur. You convinced him to leave me with that accursed heart!

Vivec: *sweat pooling on his brow and tears pricking the corners of his eyes as voryns words cut into him like knives and nerevars screams become deafening* IM SORRY!!

*silence*

Voryn: *gaze softening having gotten what he wanted* I forgive you, vehk. *gently smooths the younger mers hair from his face, holding his hand as he watches vivec breath deeply, so close to unravelling in his grasp* you were lead astray by the so called, good daedra… and they only made our sweet nerevar do their bidding further, not only against you, but me as well, and in turn, him too. You know better than anybody their cruelty, you know the pain I’m burdened to carry. No matter how much you may despise me… it is an agony we share… and when at last nerevar is at my side, I promise you, you’ll be taken care of…

Vivec: n-neht?… at your side?… taken care of?…

Voryn: yes, we will bring a new age of light to our people, the good daedra can harm us no f- ARGHH! *falls back in shock as Vivec finally pushes himself from his body and through voryn, right into nerevars mind* neht? *opens his eyes to find himself in the doorway of nerevars room, staring not at the Hortator passed out at his desk, but the golden mask on the floor by his safe*

Nerevar: *jolts up from his desk as he opens his eyes in fright* Ah- wh-what? I- huh- *pauses seeing him standing there* Vehk, what are you doing up? You need to be-

Vivec: *walks past him and his desk to the mask, bending down and picking it up to feel it’s very real weight and cool touch against his hands, sending dread deep into the pit of his stomach knowing that voryn was indeed here.* …Mephala… didn’t lie to me completely then… *looks to him with fear lingering behind his eyes* Dagoth Ur was never the true threat… it was Voryn. *sets it down on his desk and shakily hugs his robe tighter, feeling the shudder of fear and a cold sweat on his brow, even in his dream state* I expect you’re used to him coming to you in your dreams by now?…

Nerevar: *eyes widening in a mix of concern and suprise* he… came to you as well?

Vivec: he… *sighs recalling it* he did… I almost prefer my visits to cold harbour over his presence in my sleep… *meets his gaze as the Hortator stands and grabs his cape as he approaches him*

Nerevar: he didn’t hurt you did he?… *gently drapes it around his shoulders*

Vivec: *smiles from the gesture, his heart feeling a deep warmth that seeps into his soul, that they could return to such friendly, comfortable familiarity so quickly despite all that had happened* no… and I think that’s what scared me so much about it… I opened my eyes and he was at my bedside… he promised I’d be, looked after, when he’d at last he by your side again… so I pushed my way out of the dream and came to find you- *gasps as he’s suddenly pulled back from nerevars mind, and directly into voryns, the taller dunmer holding him prisoner from behind as one hand holds his arms, and the other his neck* Let me go!!

Voryn: Shhhhhh *leans over his shoulder kissing his cheek with a feathery, but firm touch* you’ve always been such a brat, running to tattle on me to nerevar. Can’t you see I’m trying to offer you a gift? I only want what’s best for you and our neht. *slides his hand further around his neck, his thumb and index finger grasping his jaw and holding his head steady* you want to help people don’t you?… you want to look after, your, people, don’t you? You want to be loved by them right? How can you continue doing that as you are now? Desperately hoping your mask will be enough to keep you going forever.

Vivec: *eyes wide as he tries to turn his face to look at him* how did you- ahh- *whines softly as voryn firmly holds his head in place*

Voryn: Because your heart is so, predictable in its kindness. *rests his chin on Vivec’s shoulder, loving how he struggles feebly against his grasp* you’ve seen it yourself, the good daedra have abandoned us, abandoned their people, the temple has become greedy, they abused your gifts, they abused your love. And now they abuse our poor sweet Nerevar as he tries to make everything better, Just join me at my side and we can make it right. Forgive our past and We can bring forth a new era, together.

Vivec: *wanting for a moment to give into him, knowing deep down his words are true. He’s powerless as he is now, and Nerevar is much the same, the temple is corrupt, the good daedra lead him astray, and the suffering won’t stop until change comes… but even then how could he trust him as he is now, after everything he’d done to him, after how sneaky and conniving he’d been with his intentions in the past* …No, I can’t- I won’t.

Voryn: *smirks letting go of his arms and sliding his arm around his waist as he whispers into his ear* perhaps you need more convincing then.

Vivec: I don’t need- *blinks and immediately pushes back into voryns embrace as overwhelming horror and fear shocks him to his very core. The void before him gone and replaced with the burning, crumbling magma of what once was the heart chamber in red mountain. And where the brass tower once stood, now replaced with mephalas still breathing, mutilated body. And from her open rib cage, the heart of creation, no longer just that of lorkhan. To it now bound not only Voryn, but so too now the lady of whispers, the lady of twilight, and the dark lady… the daedras forms and cries twisting in and out of the beating mass as they struggle to break free from their subjugation beneath Voryn Dagoth* wh-what have you done?…

Voryn: I punished them, as they did me. Isn’t it beautiful? Bound to the heart, bound to me, they will finally serve their people… *snickers and sighs fondly* and now, you can’t get rid of me like last time, because if you do. *nuzzles into his ear and whispers with a soft growl* They die with me. *bites his ear hard*

Vivec: *jolts awake and shoots upright in his bed, gasping for air and crying out in a mix of fear and shock, from both voryn, and the two ordinators at his bed side trying to wake him from his nightmare* n-nerevar! Where’s nerevar- *coughs*

Ordinators: shhhh lord vivec please breathe, here drink some water we’ll fetch him for you- where did this cup come from?

Vivec: *eyes wide, staring at the almost empty teacup left behind by voryn, filled with a now sold, black substance, ebony… his blood* v-voryn, he was here- he was here he was actually here nerevars in danger I need to protect him it’s all my fault I should have had more faith in Mephala I failed everyone it’s my fault-

Ordinator: shhh- shhh lord vivec we’ll inspect the area for signs of a break in-

???: Vivec?

Vivec: *turns his gaze to the door looking pale as a sheet, sweat coating his brow and body feeling cold and numb as he realises with mounting horror what his refusal to continue following Mephala had actually done* he actually did it…

we… we can't kill him.

Nerevar: what do you mean he did it?… what do you mean we can't kill him?…

Vivec: the heart… he bound the good daedra to it with him… mephalas plan. My actions… it was all for nothing. *swallows a lump in his throat* It's my fault… I should have never turned my back on her…

#skyrim #vivec #nerevar #voryn dagoth #evil!voryn dagoth #evil voryn #fools prayer

[clambuoyance]

im bored as hell and burnt out from drawing so here's a random page of nothingbound ch 6 or whatever from forever ago

“Sup.”

“Sup???” you bark back. “Is that all you really have to say?”

Dave lifts a rigid arm up and rubs his palm against the back of his neck. His gaze seems to be focused elsewhere, as if it’s taking all of his willpower not to look you directly in the eye. Regardless of his efforts, an uneasy chuckle escapes from his pursed lips.

“I probably looked like a huge tool just then, huh?”

“And a goddamn weirdo,” you add.

“Uh. Sorry, for creeping on you like that. I just never expected–I didn’t think you’d, uh–that you’d…”

With a sudden sharp inhale, Dave seems to give up completely on whatever he was trying to say and instead attempts to collect himself. You eye him with suspicion, preparing yourself for his eventual strike at you.

Finally, Dave releases a shaky breath and looks at you incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

You fight back another sniffle and attempt to fill your figure, like a camper trying to scare off a curious bear. You equip your furrowed eyebrows and throw Dave a nasty frown. “I don’t know, Dave. Maybe I just figured you should have a taste of your own medicine, and decided that it was my turn to show up out of nowhere and inconvenience you this time!” 

You fully expect Dave to defend himself and catapult his own hurtling ball of flame back at you, but he simply watches the ground and shifts his feet back and forth in uncertainty. 

“Oh.” 

Dave’s silence after that throws you into confusion, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand, in case this ends up being some fucked up trick he’s playing on you.

“What?” you demand, feeling your anger swell up again. “Don’t have a snarky Strider quip for me this time? Ha, ha, color me shocked! I’ve practically done the work for you, and you won’t take this freebie? Look at me, I’m an emotional, gross mess right now! A gold mine of overflowing snot and tears! I know you’re just dying to give me shit for it. Well, go on. I’m ready.”

You spread your arms out in a goading gesture, certain he’ll launch his counterattack this time. Even when you see him frown and avoid your gaze once more, you lie in wait.

But it never comes.

“...Well?” you dare him again.

“Tempting offer, Vantas. But no, Karkat. I wouldn’t…I’m not going to do anything like that,” he promises. 

“Oh,” is all you say, parroting Dave’s earlier response. Your body betrays your armored defenses and lets out several sniffles. Dave’s frown deepens. You watch him start to reach out with a timid hand, and in your panic, you shift your body away and fold your arms to avoid his gaze. He quickly clamps it shut and swings it against the side of his leg.

You just can’t stand it. The way he’s looking at you right now. Like…like he pities you. Maybe even more than the way he looked at you back then. You hate it. You hate the way it twists your stomach and the way it makes you feel like you can’t breathe. You hate how vulnerable you feel, and that once again, it had to be in front of him of all people. 

But the burst of rage that bubbled up has fizzled out, and you don’t really feel like getting into an argument with him. Not this time. And it seems like he isn’t too keen on it, either. Maybe neither of you simply have the energy for your usual routine tonight. You don’t know whether to be grateful or angry for it.

For once, you’re at a loss for words, so the two of you just stay there, brewing in a strained silence.

#i got my wisdom teeth surgery so i just binged a bunch of movies and shows and some included romcoms and romance shows so #i be in that mood for cheesy shit T-T #ive done nothing but sit with an aching mouth and screaming uterus and heightened emotional stress so i just want to do something to give #me serotonin #nothingbound #davekat

[forbidden-forest-witch]

Destiné à Être: A Remus Lupin Story

Chapter 9: Just the Two of Us

(Ohhhh I’m excited for this chapter! Remus and Brigitte finally spend some alone time together, and their feelings are too strong to stay a secret. Tiny spoiler: things will definitely be heating up between these two in the upcoming chapters!)

(Warnings: Smoking, drinking, language, sexual themes. 18+ only)

Word count: 3.7K

<Gif is just a little reminder of how I imagine Brigitte>

"And all at once, summer collapsed into fall"

-Oscar Wilde

Two days after the full moon, Brigitte visits St Mungos again, but Darren is gone.

"He left right after the full moon was over. I tried to get him to stay another day...".

"It's not your fault Madame Le Fay. You helped him so much more than others would", Brigitte assures her.

"I tried. I told him I wouldn't tell the Ministry, but it's so hard for these people. I hope you do hear from him, my Dear. And of course, I will contact you again if need be".

"Under those circumstances, I hope to not hear from you. Take care, Madame". Brigitte had wish she could be of assistance to Darren, but unfortunately this line of work isn't for the faint of heart, and she can only focus on what she can do.

When she gets back to Grimmauld Place, she can hear Sirius screaming. It bares a striking resemblance to his mother, but Brigitte would never tell him that.

"Get! Out! Get out of my face, you dirty little rag! I should use you for target practice".

Brigitte watches Kreacher come out of Buckbeak's room, muttering obscenities under his breath. He glances down at the French witch before making his way to the attic.

Brigitte hesitates for a moment, then bravely enters Mrs. Black's old bedroom to find Sirius on the floor, using Buckbeak to support his back while he nurses a bottle of Fire Whisky. A haze of cigarette smoke clouds the room.

"Hi, Sirius...".

"Oh, erm, hello love. You just get back?". He fixes his hair in an attempt to not appear so intoxicated.

"I did. It wasn't an eventful outing. How are you today?". Brigitte kneels down, petting Buckbeak's flank and prying the bottle from Sirius' tattooed hands.

"Me? I'm fucking dandy. Being stuck in Hell's waiting room day in and day out. My best mate is dealing with another full moon alone, and I can do shit for The Order", he sputters.

"That's sure a bottle half-empty way of looking at things", Brigitte chuckles sarcastically. "You and Remus have reconnected, so I can only imagine that brings him some peace at this time. And how could you forget about Harry? He'd have no idea about the truth hadn't you escaped. The best thing you can do is stay safe, so you can be there for him emotionally".

Sirius looks up at her, his eyes swirling in his head. "Shit. No wonder Moony likes ya so much", he drunkenly admits. "C'mon, help me up. Let's not waste away on this floor".

Brigitte decides not to pry him for more information about Remus and pulls Sirius to his feet. She keeps ahold of his arm as they ascend to the drawing room.

"So, ya catch Pettigrew yet?".

"Not yet... Oh, Sirius I wish I could be more help for you".

"You are, Love. I'd much rather you be under my arm right now than Kreacher", Sirius says, slurring his words. Brigitte walks them over to the sofa, where Sirius collapses and blacks out for the rest of the night.

The subsequent morning, Brigitte excitedly puts on a 'Dark Side of the Moon' vintage tee, checks on Sirius still sleeping in the drawing room, and grabs a snack from the kitchen before racing out the door.

Today is the day she is paired up to carry out a mission with Remus-- at last! He had informed her when she returned from the hospital after that first visit with Darren, and she is finally seeing Remus after suffering through another full moon.

Disapparating, Brigitte's feet land outside of Gus' flat, and she presses the doorbell until he lets her in. His Alchemy laboratory is a dark and cramped space in the basement, with a hefty stock of mysterious tools and liquid metals that Brigitte would never dare touch. Gus is wearing a welder's mask as he melts gold into a lead vile.

"Think you'll still have all your fingers by thirty?", Brigitte speaks up.

Gus chuckles, backing away from the molten substance and taking off the mask. "I'm not that bad. Will I have all the parts of every finger? I might have to depart with a fingertip or two. Finger prints are overrated!".

"Blech. Such noble work". Brigitte rolls her eyes and hops up to sit in his desk.

"Why the hell are you here? Is it that fun to bother me?". Gus goes to the shelving and grabs armfuls of glass jars.

"Always ... I haven't seen you in over a week. Thought I'd stop by before I meet Remus". That makes Gus stop in his tracks. He peeks up with a mischievous smirk.

"Remus, hmm?... Don't you think he's a little old for you?".

"Old to what, Gus? Work together?", Brigitte retorts, hoping she didn't sound too defensive.

"I'm your brother. I can read you like a book ... he's not exactly subtle either. Starting to piss me off, actually", Gus mutters.

Brigitte snickers and whips her hair over her shoulder. "As if you can see anything with your eyes glued on Tonks". Brigitte takes a coffee mug and pastry sitting at the corner of her brother's desk, biting off half. Gus purses his lips, his cheeks furiously red.

"Oí! Stop it! Either keep your hands to yourself or get out". Gus huffs snatches his breakfast from her hands.

"Fine! I have to go anyway, but can you please write Maman and tell her we're settling in fine? I know you haven't, and I'm out of stationary".

"Whatever, fine, if it gets you out of here!", Gus says dramatically before putting his welder's mask back on.

Brigitte Apparates near the apartment building she and Remus are to surveil. Other Order members have reported multiple, unrelated Death Eaters entering the building, a possible sign of a hide-out.

It's gloomy and intimidating, with gargoyles staring down at her. She uses the fire escape access the roof of the abandoned house across the street as planned. Unsurprisingly, Remus is already up there, looking off into the distance with his hands in his pockets.

"Remus ...", Brigitte breathes out with a small wave, her face lighting up when she spots him. He jerks his head around and straightens his posture, visibly weak from his transformation.

He drinks in her beauty. So effortless, wearing an oversized t-shirt and her hair blowing in the breeze. To him, she's a vision. "Britt, hi. How are you?".

"You're asking how I am?", she asks, earning a shrug from the man. "I'm better now. Seeing you're okay. Think we'll see any action today?".

"It's not likely. Even if we see someone enter that building, I'm not confronting an alleged Death Eater just for going into their flat; not with you around".

"I can take care of myself". Brigitte peers intently into Remus' hazel eyes, and there's a thick silence before he awkwardly looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. Brigitte pouts and sits herself down at the edge of the building.

"Guess we'll have to find other ways to entertain ourselves ... C'mon, Remus... Moony... Lunaire. I won't bite", she says cheekily, patting the brick. Remus casts disillusionment charms around them and sits next to her.

"So... how are you, really?", Brigitte looks at him with slight worry.

"I've been dealing with the full moon since before you were born... I'm alright", he sounds almost out of breath. She looks at him eyebrows raised, totally unconvinced. "Please don't look at me like that", Remus begs, putting his head down to avoid her gaze.

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't lie", she hums, "Have you eaten today?". Remus peeks up at Brigitte, the genuine concern she shows still stuns him. He hesitates before shaking his head guiltily.

Brigitte purses her lips, "No wonder you feel like garbage! I was going to save these for later ...". She sifts through her bag and takes out two croissants. She hands him one and opens a jar of Nutella.

"What's this?", Remus asks, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the creamy chocolate.

"The chocolate lover doesn't know what Nutella is? Tsk tsk tsk. There's no going back after this", she smiles enthusiastically.

"Britt, you didn't have to-".

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to! Now dip the croissant", she demands. Remus smiles gratefully and does what she says. Brigitte starts giggling at his bewildered expression. His eyes widen at the divinity of the treat as he takes a second bite.

"It's good, huh?".

"Good? It's bloody brilliant! How is the croissant still warm?".

"A little help from my magic touch... I hope that helps you feel a little bit better".

Remus nods his head, grinning contently. "You have no idea, Britt. Thank you", he sighs.

When they finish eating, Remus does a look around of the surroundings while Brigitte takes out her sketchbook to draw the building they're watching.

"I never asked you how you've been the past few days?", Remus speaks up after surveying the parameter.

"I'm just trying to stay busy. I'm lost as to how to proceed with Sirius' case. There's not much anyone can say or do. We need Pettigrew. Defending a convicted felon who escaped prison is an obstacle I'm not familiar with. I feel like all I can do at this point is be there to support him; I think Sirius hates having that house empty".

Remus nods his head and lets out heavy sigh, "I wish I could've stayed after the kids left for Hogwarts".

"Why don't you? Stay for the full moon? Sirius and I can transform into our Animagus. What about the attic?".

"No. I never want you to see me like that", Remus responds firmly, not entertaining this conversation. Instead of backing away as he clenches his jaw, Brigitte smiles and leans forward, placing her hand on his.

With tingles all over their bodies, they gaze into each other eyes. Remus turns his palm upward, cupping Brigitte's hand and drawing small circles on her soft flesh.

Over the next few hours, Brigitte continues her sketches while Remus reads a pocket sized version of The Omen. There's been no activity across the street aside from local Muggles, so they sit in a comfortable silence. Until after a while it's almost deafening for Brigitte; it's a shame to not hear Remus' velvet voice when he's at her disposal.

"When I was little, Auguste told me that Damian could climb out of that book and terrorize me. My Papa had to put them on a shelf high out of my reach, and I couldn't go to that part of his store for months. Still can't read the book". Remus looks at up Brigitte and belts out an echoing laugh, a deep and rich sound that makes the butterflies in her stomach flutter.

"You work with dangerous magical creatures and are hunting Death Eaters, but a book is scary?", he smirks. She scrunches her face trying to push away a smile.

"Oh shush! There are magical books that can do some scary shit!". Her innocently terrified and wide eyes make them both burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're a special girl, Britt. To think your boggart may be a fictitious little boy", Remus teases once they catch their breath. Brigitte picks up the pencil and returns to her drawing.

"There's nothing wrong with liking the Classics. I want to be moved, not scared shitless by a demon who took shape as a little boy, technically".

"So what do you recommend?".

"A Picture of Dorian Gray, my favorite", Brigitte says without thinking. "It's so beautifully written, even the carnage of it is poetic... 'Behind every beautiful thing that ever existed, there was something tragic'".  

Remus smiles at her recitation before examining the deserted street below them. "I think we can leave soon. No one's going to come here".

"Let me finish this drawing and we can go".

"That sketch you did of the building was beautiful. What are you drawing now?".

"You", Brigitte smiles coquettishly.

"Me?!", Remus chokes.

"Yes, you! You're the only other thing I've been looking at! I just need to finish this shading. These pencils suck...".

Brigitte sticks her tongue out the corner of her mouth in concentration, and Remus watches her with his heartbeat pounding violently. The way her dainty hand holds the pencil; how the small wispy curls are tangled up in her long eyelashes; her sweet humming.

'Stop staring. The longer you stare the more beautiful she gets', Remus tells himself. But how can he look away? Brigitte has become the light and source of most happiness in Grimmauld Place and his dark, lonely life.

"All done! You want to see it?", she grins brightly and carefully tears out the drawing. She hands it to Remus with burning anticipation. He stares at the drawing, his lips agape.

"Do you not like it?", Brigitte hesitates. Remus slowly brings his eyes up to meet hers.

"I'm sorry. Yes I do like it, very much. I just... I can't believe this is what you think I look like", he says shaking his head, his grey-flecked hair sweeping back and forth. Although it's a rough pencil drawing, the features are obviously Remus'.

Brigitte's light hold on the pencil softened the crudeness in his features to illuminate the handsome man she sees. His hair is tousled, lips are pouted under a scruffy mustache, and faint scar lines run across his face. She even added his long fingers holding the horror book.

Brigitte smirks at him with coyish eyes as he admires it, "It's not, exactly. I think you're much more handsome in real life", she confesses.

Remus' breath hitches in his throat and she lets out a small giggle. She gets up and offers her hand. He doesn't hesitate— obsessed with the way her hand feels in his— though the back of his mind is telling him to stop touching her so much.

The moment he's on his feet they're transported away. They Apparate near a city square a few blocks away from home, close to the River Thames. Remus reluctantly let's go of Brigitte's hand and places them back in his suit pockets.

"So... Grimmauld Place?", he asks, disappointed their day has come to an end.

"Actually, I don't feel like going back yet. I wouldn't mind a walk along the river... care to join me?".

"Yes", he responds eagerly. Brigitte guides them to a footpath along the edge of the river so they can have a scenic stroll. Flowerboxes adorn the handrails, the evening sun glimmers on the water, and everyone around is enjoying the nice weather.

"So, tell me what it's like growing up in the French countryside. Had to have been pretty idyllic, in spite of the nightmarish books", Remus says dramatically. Brigitte scoffs and playfully bumps his arm.  

"Despite what you see now, we were like tornados destroying everything in our paths. Papa couldn't let us in his shop a lot. Most of the time my brothers and I played outside. I'd flip around in the garden pretending to be an acrobat. I'd dress up Julien like a baby sister and have tantrums with Auguste".

"Still do sometimes", Remus smiles deliberately.

"Pfft. You've met him! He's been a pain in the ass my whole life. Beau's the nice one. He was in second year of school when I was three; the year I started showing signs of magic. He'd help me practice making flowers and snowflakes".

"And fire? I suppose you'll be a nasty little surprise for a Death Eater?", Remus quirks his brow.

"If I don't mind blowing up myself too. I haven't mastered having total control when my emotions flare. My wandless skills are a bit sloppy", she says sheepishly. "I have a lot to improve".

"Moody’ll have you new and improved in no time, and you helped Dumbledore build the maze for the final task? You can't be that bad".

"Thanks, Remus". She thanks the gods for the setting sunlight that hides her fiery red cheeks. "But, I need to work on my defensive skills. I doubt any Death Eater will be thwarted by pretty flowers".  

Remus looks at her with amusement, "you know you're doing it right now? Your magic".

Brigitte looks at him perplexed, so he gestures his shaggy head to the river where a tiny rip curl wave is trailing behind them like a stray puppy. They face the water, arms faintly touching.

"Oops", Brigitte smiles bashfully, but Remus is far too humble to assume he's the reason for the subconscious flutter of her magical powers. Brigitte lazily waves her hand to make swirls in the water, as if mermaids were tracing their fingers along the water's surface.

"I don't have happy childhood memories like those. Not really", Remus mutters. "My parents didn't let me have many friends and we moved a lot ... They loved me and all, but Hogwarts- Sirius and James- those were the best times. Closest thing I'll have to brothers", he smiles vacantly, staring off into the distance.

Brigitte gently caresses the back of Remus' hand with her finger, slowly wrapping her fingers around his. He acknowledges it with a soft squeeze. They both feel the way their hands fit perfectly together, and for a moment they enjoy the sounds of the city and the glowing gold sunset.

"Remus... can I ask you something?".

"Anything".

"The first night I arrived at Grimmauld Place, you said that Voldemort is known for using werewolves... what are your missions for the Order?", Brigitte asks, subtly voicing her concerns.

"I'm not infiltrating packs or stalking Greyback... not yet, at least. Please, don't you worry that, yeah?",

"How can't I?".

Brigitte turns Remus and her eyes widen like the moon. "What? What's wrong? I promise I'm okay, Britt".

She smiles timidly and looks down at her shoes, "No, it's not that. Um ... your eyes look really beautiful in this light. Like a kaleidoscope of honey and caramel". She ducks her head, feeling exposed by her statement.

Remus grins at her flustered disposition. He takes a step closer despite the nervous knot growing in his stomach, and tucks the untamable hair behind her ear.

"I think your eyes are breathtaking, even under the dim light of a Triwizard Tournament tent, but right now they're absolutely captivating", he whispers. They peer into each other, past the vibrant irises and into their souls. It's too much for Brigitte, this intense pull she's feeling towards Remus, stronger than anything she's felt before. It's like they're opposing magnets trying to find one another.

"Can we go home? I'm starving!", she smiles and takes half a step back. Remus Apparates them back to headquarters. They walk down the dark hall and only once they're in the kitchen do they untwine their hands.

"Looks like Sirius hasn't been down all day. I swear he's living on a diet of Whiskey. He'll kill himself!", Brigitte huffs dramatically while pulling food from the pantry.

"He's a stubborn baby. He'll eat when he's hungry", he reassures her, pouring drinks. Brigitte whips up pasta for the two of them and they eat it over candlelight; enjoying the last few moments they have, just the two of them.

"Thank you for dinner– and everything else. I don't deserve it", Remus scoffs, the guilt from shamelessly flirting with her settling on him like a ton of bricks.

"Deserve what? It's pasta, and you can't only cook for one", Brigitte reasons.

"No... this--  constant compassion. Why? People aren't this nice— ever— to anyone. Especially not people like me... I guess I don't know what I mean", he sighs, frustrated with himself.

Brigitte gives him a pained smile. "That'd be awfully hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?", she asks making them both chuckle mirthlessly. "Not that I'd ever treat you unkindly... but I would have thought my feelings would be obvious by now, Remus", she confesses softly. His eyes flood with adoration, and Brigitte twinkles at the softness across his face, needing no verbal response from him.

"You must be exhausted. I know I am ... see you tomorrow?", Brigitte asks as she stands up. He mirrors her, standing so close their toes touch .

"You will. Sweet dreams, Britt", Remus says quietly– but she doesn't move. She lifts her hand and traces down his suit lapel, bringing her gaze from his rapidly rising chest to his widened eyes.

Brigitte stands on her tip toes so their noses almost touch. Remus holds his breath as she eyes his lips with a hooded stare.

"Britt... w-we shouldn't", Remus says unconvincingly. She closes the small gap anyway, pulling him down by his tie and pressing her lips to his.

Time ceases. Nothing exists outside of this kiss. Remus cups Brigitte's cheek and inhales her scent. He swears his heart is pounding so hard she can feel it thumping against her chest. Electricity courses through their bodies, making their lips, finger tips, and toes tingle.

Brigitte softly bites Remus' bottom lip, ghosting her soft tongue over the swollen skin. Remus groans into her mouth and encases her neck with his large hands. Brigitte whimpers at the touch, intoxicated from his lips. But she pulls away before the kiss gets too heated. She backs up to the doorway with her eyes on Remus and a satisfied smirk on her dewy lips.

"Goodnight... Lunaire". And with that she leaves him, heat and blood rushing his body. Remus stands in the middle of the kitchen with a placid smile stuck on his face..until reality sinks in. He's a werewolf with no prospects in life. He doesn't let himself get close to people like this, Brigitte can only get hurt. He shouldn't be kissing her, but the desire to be with her is so astronomically stronger than his self-loathing.

Brigitte is different. She didn't bat one beautiful eye when he shared his darkest secret, and she has been by his side ever since. It doesn't matter how hard Remus will try to push her away, the universe's will is mightier and neither one of them can deny the strong pull they feel to be together.

♥

Lemme know how you like this story and if you wanna be tagged!

Masterlist

Taglist: @dontjudgemyobsessionpls

#Remus Lupin #Professor Remus Lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin oc #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #sirius black x reader platonic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter and the goblet of fire #prisoner of azkaban #Sirius Black #hp fanfic #Marauders #golden trio era #werewolves #werewolf #romance #david thewlis #haley bennett #hp fanfcition

[denimbex1986]

'Andrew Scott felt no fear when the script for All of Us Strangers first came his way—a little surprising given that he saw everything the project would demand of him then and there. “I immediately knew that I would have to go to a childish place within myself, a place that I feel like I’ve escaped from—which is a place of real loneliness,” he says on this week’s Little Gold Men (listen to the full interview below). “There was something I saw in the role that I understood immediately.”

Fast-forward to more than a year later, when Scott, after both wrapping production and enduring a SAG-AFTRA strike that delayed his ability to promote the movie, finally sat in his first public screening of the film in Los Angeles. “I felt like I was sitting naked in a room of 350 people,” he says with a laugh. “I know there’s a certain degree of nakedness in the movie anyway—physical nakedness—but I was kind of alarmed by how raw it felt.” He then adds, “But that’s okay. That’s my job.”

Therein lies Scott’s unique ability to plumb emotional depths without hesitation while simultaneously seeing the bigger, richer picture. In All of Us Strangers, he plays Adam, a screenwriter who’s living alone in a London tower block and has his world turned upside down with a few chance encounters. One is with Harry (Paul Mescal), a neighbor he slowly falls for. Another is with his parents, who died 30 years ago—but appear to him now in the form of Claire Foy and Jamie Bell, as if they had never passed on.

The blossoming of these relationships, within writer-director Andrew Haigh’s daring metaphysical conceit, demands an extraordinary vulnerability from the film’s lead actor—in the biggest screen role of his career, no less. Scott, who is gay, deeply identified with the story’s careful psychosexual impression of queer life and pain, and he brought a great deal of himself to the part: “I’ve never met [Haigh’s] parents, and he’s never met mine, but I felt like that character had to be a weird marriage between me and [Haigh].”

Scott’s pressing of such tender wounds makes for one of the most devastating performances of the year. His tears flow onscreen with the potency of a volcanic eruption. “There’s no way that I was ever going to draw on anybody else’s experience but my own and bring that, even if that makes me feel vulnerable,” he says. “I don’t really mind. In fact, I think it’s a bit of an honor to be able to show that side.” He’s speaking for himself here, but you feel that pride, that gift, as a viewer too. The sense of heartbreak, longing, and hope is so clear, so present, you can practically touch it.

This is not the first significant role of Scott’s impressive career. His portrayal of Hamlet on the London stage earned widespread acclaim. His Fleabag Hot Priest still inspires memes. But as far as top-lining an Oscar-contending movie from a major Hollywood studio, it’s an obvious breakthrough. “Your hope as an actor is that you’re not going to get pigeonholed, or that people don’t cast you based on your box office opening or even the fact that you may not have played loads of leading roles in film,” he says. “When I was growing up, the idea that a film like this would even exist, and that I would be able to play that role in it—it’s miraculous.” And Strangers, hitting US theaters on December 22 via Searchlight, seems to mark only the beginning of a far more public era for the Dublin-born Scott. He has the titular role in Netflix’s fresh take on The Talented Mr. Ripley coming up next.

Yet the unadorned rigor of this stage-trained actor, who recently completed a tour de force Vanya run on the West End, remains firmly evident. He embodies Strangers’ Adam with an intricate attention to physical detail. “You don’t want somebody pretending to be a boy, but you want a sense of the vulnerability of a child, and also somebody who is learning to fall in love as an adult—and how those things are intertwined,” he says. “I don’t know if that is apparent in watching, but it’s a very, very tactile film…. Even the way he is able to be embraced by his parents, and then learns to be the embracer of Harry, it’s something that I had to map out silently for myself.” One lovely scene later in the movie finds Adam back in his childhood home, wearing pajamas and curling up into bed alongside his parents—with, again, all three actors in question roughly the same age. It’d feel absurd, bordering on campy, if not for Scott’s gentle verisimilitude. “I feel very proud of it,” he says of the sequence. “It takes work.”

For Scott, there’s a direct connection between the way he plays a moment like this and the many frank, sensual sex scenes between Harry and Adam. “Adam wouldn’t have really touched many people in a long time,” the actor says. Haigh devises an authentic and gradual trajectory for the character to find himself sexually with the new man in his life—and it’s sold by the sweet, subtle chemistry between Scott and Mescal, who’ve become close friends out of the production. “We have a very special bond,” Scott says. “I think it added something to this burgeoning relationship, because we had a burgeoning relationship ourselves.”

This did not mean the sex scenes were straightforward. The choreography, developed with an intimacy coordinator, needed to be balanced with spontaneity: listening to each other, being present in the moment. Of shooting these sequences with Mescal, Scott admits, “It was a bit scary at the beginning. Then you get more used to it—and he’s great fun. The good thing about working with somebody that you love is that the process is really enjoyable.” The changing dynamic between their characters presented its own challenge. “How do you portray nervousness? How do you portray lust? That’s a really interesting one, and Paul and I’s chemistry in real life is actually kind of irrelevant,” Scott says. “I was playing a very, very lonely, quite repressed character, which I don’t feel in my own life—and that’s a great challenge. It’s wonderful because it speaks to me of empathy, and that’s what our jobs are.”

There, again, Scott reflects on acting in terms of execution. He examines the work, even on a film as intimate and humane as this, like a technician, bringing his best solutions to the complex dilemmas presented by the script. For a film that hit so personally, Scott had to turn inward for answers. “It takes a lot of mental work and my imagination—about what note you should play and, more specifically, when you should play it,” he says. “Our first job as actors is to power into that imagination, so that’s how I would characterize my experience—to really engage in that part of me that exists and is within me in so many ways.” Watch All of Us Strangers, and you’ll see that side of him. To the movie’s ultimate credit, it’s unmistakable.'

#Andrew Scott #Paul Mescal #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Andrew Haigh #Hamlet #Fleabag #Ripley #Hot Priest #Netflix #Vanya #All of Us Strangers

[blankdblank]

Piggy Banks

...

Not sure if I’ve written this before but you shall read it again if I have. It’s too adorable to keep in my head right now. :)

@devilishminx328 @theincaprincess @lilith15000 @jesevans

...

...

Dain’s visit had been the talk of the mountain and all you had heard was it’s rude to not have a gift to welcome him. A complete stranger. You didn’t have many strengths, but one you did have was to be able to carve things. Well, one thing.

Back home before you fell here you had a thriving business that kept you fed, clothes and housed tolerably well, piggy banks. Numerous styles and for a modest extra charge you could make custom piggies aside from the seasonal styles you offered for chunks of the year to keep things spiced up and draw in some fresh eyes and return visits to see which piggies were up for sale.

So much so you had a newer concept of adopting out piggies for cheaper prices people traded their old ones in for newer models. Few people had taken to that but still it made for a new fresh link for people to peruse while on your page to see what piggies were up for adoption and the summaries you had given each of them to spark humor and intrigue.

Much like you hoped your new try and stained glass doored pig shaped candle and incense holders you were trying your hand at to bring in spare funds as your roof was hinting it was readying to strike back at you for keeping you dry for so long without some sort of repayment from your selfish tiny self and the neighbors who were just as undeserving of a dry place to live according to your landlord who refused to keep up maintenance on the rowhouses they owned.

So with a log of clay instead of the modest block you had asked for a trio of models of armored boar piggie banks and the frame for a lantern were made, amply pudgy while ferocious to be intriguing if anything to the visiting King. Layer by layer the mold was laid and pinned to be filled with some of the melted brass from the allotted supply for your project and shop Thorin had promised you to see just what his one day hopefully intended could craft to make her own way inside of this vast keep and gain respect by trade and means of gaining your own income aside from what you were allowed to gain from your contract to regain the mountain.

.

Out of a carefully padded box the curious Iron Hills King the four objects were brought out to have him a bit confused at the painted, polished and decorated boars presented to him with astonishing gashes open in the backs of the smaller three and plugs clearly seen on the underbellies of their adorably pudgy and meant to be protected selves, not mixed for slaughter like these.

An insult loud and clear that had him ready to shout at Thorin for allowing him to be disgraced in such a way as his love and that of his people for boars was known far and wide to many races until you smiled saying, “Piggy banks, and a lantern.”

Right up his brow twitched asking, “Pardon, Lass?”

“Piggy banks. The boys said in their youth they were granted wooden till boxes for their small quantities of funds, but in my world children and adults use these for spare funds at home.” Out of your pocket you brought a gold coin and dropped it through the slot in the back and demonstrated in a lift of the largest piggy, “And you just twist this and you can empty it. Adorable and functional. Thorin said you love boar, clearly, and I figured some boar decorations might be welcome. The lantern can be used for oil and candles, you just twist knob in the saddle top, like this, and vents open and close.”

Just as if you lit a match instantly his eyes lit up and an enamored smile spread across his face as he detailed each and every one of them to the final detail and for the openest show of pleasure for the gift and blessing for your eventual welcome to the clan he embraced you so tightly you started seeing dots and gave a wobble upon release. Sure the trick was to smile after, but you did have to feign a trip to relieve yourself as the next gifts were presented to have you get a chance to sit down and get the room to stop spinning as the pain from your ribs and back throbbed duller and duller.

#Dain #Thorin #Visiting Family #Visiting Kings #Dwarf Traditions #Don’t insult the boars #Fluff #the hobbit #LoTR #Tolkien #Dwarf Hugs are Dangerous Hugs

[airyoubreath]

Animalia Chronicles  The Knight and the Prince [EP. 1 Prt.1]

Come on pick me!

It’s all Kalani can do not to scream. She digs her claws tightly around the leather of her silver daggers. Her heart pounded with anticipation. Today was finally the day she could show her worth.

To show the other Toms that she-cats can be part of the Royal Corp just as much as them.

Kalani shifts on her paws to calm her racing nerves. General Zephyr trained them and will select who fights today. He stares at his warriors, his yellow eyes narrowing making them fidget. 

He’s focused. The orange striping of his fur and gold armor made General Zephyr look regal and scary, particularly with the scar above his left eye. You would’ve never guessed he was a loving father of four kittens and had a mate.

“Attention.” He finally speaks. All the other felines including Kalani stand to attention, like they’ve been trained to do so many times. Feet slightly apart, hands by their sides, and eyes staring straight ahead. 

“Casio.”

A gray-striped tom with green eyes steps out of the line, but his posture is still attentive. There’s a long pause before the general picks the next challenger.

“Kalani.”

The white she-cat stepped out of line, standing horizontal to Casio. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, before tuning into General Zephyr’s instructions.

“In the circle.”

In response to his command, they padded towards the circle. They stood facing each other. Kalani looked into Casio's eyes. They were cold. There was no emotion in his iris. She watched his ridged muscles beneath his training attire. He smirks sending a chill down the young she-cat's spine. 

“Shake paws.” They shook their paws. “Raise your weapons.”

As Kalani raised her daggers, Casio unsheathed his scythe. General Zephyr studies them, circling them before adding.

“Everyone knows the rules. Stepping out of the circle gives the other person a point. After you step out 3 times the other opponent wins. And please refrain from drawing blood. It's difficult to get up off the ground.”

General Zephyr sighed, knowing the furball stuffed headed Toms wouldn’t listen. “My Bastet rests their souls.” Shaking his head, he says the word the two felines wanted to hear.

“Commence!”

**********************

From a window overlooking the courtyard where the guards were trained, Crown Prince Xajar watched with great interest. His eyes were fixed on the movements of the fighting felines below. Xajar was shocked by the tom's strength; he was afraid it would harm the she-cat. But where she lacked strength, her speed and agility were phenomenal. Each time the tom threw a strike at her, she was always ready to defend.

He watched as they circled each other. Then after a pause, the gray-striped Tom strikes catching the she-cat off guard with his scythe blade mere inches from her neck. Xajar holds his breath thinking it was the end for the white she-cat, but what happens next shocks him. 

She arches her back, dodging Tom's attack. Then she throws herself out of his way when he strikes her again. Xajar blinks making sure he wasn’t seeing things, when someone clears their throat behind him.

Turning his attention away from the window, his amber eyes find those of his teacher, Master Zito. 

“Master Zito, I didn’t hear you when you came in.” Xajar said stepping towards his teacher. The flat-faced Tom only smiled at his student.

“All is well my prince. I only just arrived.” 

Master Zito finds a spot on the sofa in the prince’s room and sits, while the prince follows behind him. Xajar rings a bell on the table in front of him, and a maid enters and bows. 

“Yes, your highness," the she-cat in palace maid attire said.

“Bring us the afternoon mint cream, and sandwiches, please.”

She curtsies again, “Right away your highness.” Spinning on her heels she leaves the room.

When the room is silent, Master Zito speaks. "So, my prince, what caught your attention in the window? Hopefully it wasn’t a butterfly this time.” Amusement gleamed in the older Tom's eyes.

Prince Xajar chuckles at the mention of a butterfly. As a kitten, he was distracted by the smallest things. The most notable one is butterflies. There was just something so majestic about them that drew him in.

 “No, this time it was the fight below in the courtyard. General Zephyr had some of his students in the circle.” 

As if realizing, Master Zito hummed, “Oh yes, I forgot that was today. The General tests the students to become your next personal guard.”

Xajar eyes widen at this news. “A new guard? Why? Haven’t I already got one?”

“Yes, but Sir Nam plans to retire soon, and your mother wants you to have a personal guard right away.” Master Zito explains.

The prince scrubbed his paws over his face, his white-tipped tail flickering in annoyance. Xajar wished his mother would come to him about things that concerned him. There was no notification to him that Sir Nam was about to retire. Truthfully, no one told him anything. How was he able to become the next ruler if no one told him anything?

Minutes later the maid returns with a tray with hot mint cream and sandwiches on. She sets the tray on the table; curtsies then leave the room.

Taking a sandwich off the tray, Prince Xajar chewed it slowly, hardly tasting the honey glazed salmon. It tasted bland, but he knew the chef wasn’t at fault. It was him. He had lost is appetite. Setting the sandwich down he dusts his crumbed paws on his tunic, then stands.

“I’m going to speak with my mother." He replied to Master Zito, who was busy savoring his cream.

“Whatever for?”

Xajar shrugs, “I haven’t seen her in a while. I think it's time to talk to her again.”

Opening the door, the prince exited the room. His mind reeled from the conversation with Master Zito. If no one told him that Sir Nam was retiring and he was supposed to get another personal guard, what other stuff were they keeping from him?

**********************

#animals #royal #royalty #court #cats #animal #knight #fighting #personal guard

[biff-adventurer]

FFXIVWRITE 2022 - Prompt #2: Bolt

Previous post here

With a click and a fwip, A’vett’s bolt found its target on the head of the dummy. He purred to himself, and the end of his tail curled happily. This crossbow was an improvement on the typical archer’s shortbow, surely. It offered precision, efficiency and elegance. All things that the common bow could not accomplish unless its archer was experienced. What a waste! A little muscle and a little imagination went a long way in defending one’s honor, let alone one’s territory. Not that he cared much for the politics of Nunhs. City life was far more fascinating than prancing around in mud and straw on the sands. 

Rest in peace, ancestors. Our clan is onto better things.

He was admiring his reflection in the head of the next bolt when she put her arms around him. He recognized her scent and wrinkled his nose. Not that she could see.

“Vetty! I was hoping I’d find you here,” chirped S’dennmo, nuzzling insufferably into his back. Just between the shoulder blades, too. She was probably messing up his hair, let alone hers.

“Dennmo, darling,” he hummed, making sure to sound pleased rather than vexed. He turned toward her and took her hand in his. “Look what I’ve got.” Her buggy, blue eyes fell to the crossbow in his hands. He couldn’t help standing a little taller for it. Doubtless, she would find it fascinating, just as he did. She had simple tastes, and she liked too many colours, but her little brain marvelled at every puny thought it came across.

“I didn’t know you liked these,” she said, tilting her head. “It’s… a very nice build.”

He stared at her. What could she be thinking? Absurd, feral, little woman. It took every onze of strength in his soul to maintain his charming smile. A sweet breeze blew through his golden, blond hair, and the sun shone gold on his porcelain pale skin. Yes, he was the striking image of a man to whom she ought to attach herself. And she was smart enough to do that, at the very least.

“It’s only the best,” he shot back, pulling it away. He cleared his throat, hearing the edge in his voice. “You seem disappointed, S’dennmo. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Oh, well,” S’dennmo started, drawing her fidgeting fingers into her chest. He hated it when she did that. The obstruction it created between an onlooker and her bountiful bosoms completely compromised the picture of beauty she might have been, had she learned to move with elegance and grace. 

“Well, what, my love?” A’vett smiled wider, proud of his perfectly pearl-coloured teeth. “You don’t like tools of efficiency?”

“No, it’s not that.” She looked away, shaking her head. Her short, auburn hair shook with her. He had urged her to grow it long, but she always protested. It wasn’t the right time, she said. She would know when it was the right time. Then, finally, she spoke up once more. “I just thought you were going to work harder at the archer’s guild. You did say you would, in front of everyone.”

“Oh, that.” He waved a lazy hand and rolled his eyes. “I’ve decided to quit the archer’s guild. I’m better off on my own, as I’ve always been. But I think you could benefit from the structure it provides, hm? I’m sure it brings a much needed discipline to your life.”

“It… is nice,” she agreed, haltingly. She would not look at him. She would not protest. He hated it when she let the silence hang heavy. Why was it he who must always raise her spirits? What a silly thing to be so disappointed in, anyroad. She should have known– “I just thought, maybe, we could keep doing it together. We don’t spend as much time together lately. I only really see you in the mornings, when you’re already up and ready to go out again, and–”

“Again with that?” He couldn’t help but laugh. Easily, he tossed the crossbow on his pack and pulled her in close by the hip. His lordly, emerald eyes peered deeply into her anxious gaze. He caught his reflection in her irises and knew her heart to be overwhelmed with love for his style, grace and striking silhouette. A’vett purred. “You worry too much. You really should come do duets with me. We’d make a killing together, don’t you think? And we’d be spending all that time together. In a romantic setting?”

“W-Well–” She was practically whispering, but his magnificently fluffy ears caught every syllable. Hers that were red went back, and her tail swished between her legs. “It’s just that, we don’t really end up talking so much. All we do is sing together, and then we go drinking, and everyone really wants to talk to you, and you’re so nice about it, but–” 

“It sounds to me like you’re insecure, my sweet.” He dipped her low, over the pond behind her. The sun filtered through the foliage, painting a lovely picture of the forest canopy in the waters. S’dennmo trembled and bit her lip, searching his eyes, anxious as ever. “This is the part where you kiss me, dear.”

Suddenly, S’dennmo bared her teeth at him, adorably menacing. “Let me go! You haven’t earned a kiss!”

“Oh? But who’s holding who, my love? Say, why don’t you give me a song instead. It’s either that or I’m dropping you.”

She was growling and wiggling in his grasp. “You’re so dumb! This is so dumb!”

“Sing for me, my angel!” His voice boomed, playing the part of phantom. She loved the phantom. And, really, he needed to remember why he put up with her shenanigans. If this didn’t compel her, nothing would. “Sing, my angel of music!”

What came next was exactly what he wanted, and yet, somehow more. She belted out the powerful, soprano notes of the phantom’s obsession, a vocalizing that resonated like an agonizing scream. Yes, that voice! That sweet voice that could hit every note and could enchant any soul! He grinned impossibly wide, unable to contain his overwhelming delight, and let her back on her feet.

She tugged at his arm as he laughed. “You’re so mean! You’re so mean!”

“Yes, yes. Come with me, you silly girl. If you’re going to perform tonight, and especially with me, you absolutely must be well dressed. I’ll even help you.”

#ffxivwrite2022 #gwenny writes #i think a'vett is the most hateable character i've ever written #but this was very cathartic

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for may 20 of 2024 with Proverbs 20 and Psalm 20, accompanied by Psalm 63 for the 63rd day of Astronomical Spring, and Psalm 141 for day 141 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 20]

Too much wine begins to mock you,

too much strong drink leads to noisy fights,

and whoever is misled by either is not wise.

A king’s wrath strikes fear like a lion’s roar;

those who provoke him to anger sentence themselves to death.

Honor is due those who refuse to fight at the drop of a hat,

but every fool jumps at an opportunity to quarrel.

A slacker procrastinates when it is time to plow;

so when it’s time for harvest, there are no crops in the field.

The real motives come from deep within a person—as from deep waters—

but a discerning person is able to draw them up and expose them.

Most people claim to be loyal,

but can anyone find a trustworthy person?

The right-living act with integrity;

the children who follow their example are happy.

When a king sits on his throne as judge,

he ferrets out all evil and scatters it with his royal stare.

Who can say, “I have cleaned my heart”?

or who can proclaim, “I am purified from sin”?

False weights and differing measures are alike:

both are disgusting to the Eternal.

Youth reveal their true natures by their actions

whether they do what is pure and right or not.

Ears to listen, eyes to see—

the Eternal designed them both.

Do not fall in love with sleep, or you will awake a poor person.

Stay awake, get to work, and you will have more than enough food.

“Bad quality for a bad price,” bargains the buyer;

but then he runs off with his prize in tow, bragging, “What a steal!”

Gold and rubies abound,

but lips that utter knowledge are a rare jewel.

If someone guarantees a stranger’s debt, hold his garment as collateral;

if that stranger is a foreigner, hold the creditor responsible.

At first the bread of lies tastes sweet

until guilt reduces it to gravel in the mouth.

Plans are finalized on the basis of good counsel,

so only go to war when you have wise instructions.

A gossip will reveal your secrets!

So avoid the company of people who talk openly and foolishly.

If someone pronounces a curse on his parents,

the lamp of his life will be snuffed out as complete darkness creeps in.

An inheritance acquired hastily at first

will end up not being blessed after all.

Do not say, “I will get even for this evil.”

Wait for the Eternal; He will defend you.

He despises dishonesty in business;

false weights and deceptive scales are wrong.

Every one of our steps is directed by Him;

so how can we attempt to figure out our own way?

Those who rashly dedicate something to God are trapped;

only afterward do they realize what they’ve promised.

A wise king weeds out the wrongdoers,

then drives over them with his threshing wheel of justice.

The lamp of the Eternal illuminates the human spirit,

searching our most intimate thoughts.

Loyal love and faithfulness safeguard the king;

his throne is perpetuated through loyal love.

The best asset of youth is the strength of the body,

but the beauty of age is gray hair.

Severe punishment scrubs away evil,

and tough blows scour the innermost parts.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 20 (The Voice)

[Psalm 20]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

May the Eternal’s answer find you, come to rescue you,

when you desperately cling to the end of your rope.

May the name of the True God of Jacob be your shelter.

May He extend hope and help to you from His holy sanctuary

and support you from His sacred city of Zion.

May He remember all that you have offered Him;

may your burnt sacrifices serve as a prelude to His mercy.

[pause]

May He grant the dreams of your heart

and see your plans through to the end.

When you win, we will not be silent! We will shout

and raise high our banners in the great name of our God!

May the Eternal say yes to all your requests.

I don’t fear; I’m confident that help will come to the one anointed by the Eternal:

heaven will respond to his plea;

His mighty right hand will win the battle.

Many put their hope in chariots, others in horses,

but we place our trust in the name of the Eternal One, our True God.

Soon our enemies will collapse and fall, never to return home;

all the while, we will rise and stand firm.

Eternal One, grant victory to our king!

Answer our plea for help.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 20 (The Voice)

[Psalm 63]

A song of David while in the wilderness of Judah.

O True God, You are my God, the One whom I trust.

I seek You with every fiber of my being.

In this dry and weary land with no water in sight,

my soul is dry and longs for You.

My body aches for You, for Your presence.

I have seen You in Your sanctuary

and have been awed by Your power and glory.

Your steadfast love is better than life itself,

so my lips will give You all my praise.

I will bless You with every breath of my life;

I will lift up my hands in praise to Your name.

My soul overflows with satisfaction, as when I feast on foods rich in marrow and fat;

with excitement in my heart and joy on my lips, I offer You praise.

Often at night I lie in bed and remember You,

meditating on Your greatness till morning smiles through my window.

You have been my constant helper;

therefore, I sing for joy under the protection of Your wings.

My soul clings to You;

Your right hand reaches down and holds me up.

But as for those who try to destroy my life,

they will descend into eternal shadows, deep beneath the earth.

They will fall by the sword,

and wild dogs will feast on their corpses.

But the king will find his joy in the True God;

all who make pledges and invoke His name will celebrate,

while the mindless prattle of cheaters and deceivers will be silenced.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 63 (The Voice)

[Psalm 141]

A song of David.

O Eternal One, I call upon You.

Come quickly!

Listen to my voice as I call upon You!

Consider my prayer as an offering of incense that rises before You;

when I stand with my hands outstretched pleading toward the heavens,

consider it as an evening offering.

Guard my mouth, O Eternal One;

control what I say.

Keep a careful watch on every word I speak.

Don’t allow my deepest desires to steer me toward doing what is wrong

or associating with wicked people

Or joining in their wicked works

or tasting any of their pleasures.

Let those who do right strike me down in kindness

and correct me in love.

Their kind correction washes over my head like pure oil;

do not let me be foolish and refuse such compassion.

Still my prayer is against the deeds of the wicked:

Their judges will be thrown from the edges of cliffs and crushed upon the rocks below,

and the wicked will hear my words and realize that what I said was pleasing.

Just as when a farmer plows and breaks open the earth, leaving clumps of dirt scattered along the rows,

our bones are scattered at the mouth of the grave.

My gaze is fixed upon You, Eternal One, my Lord;

in You I find safety and protection.

Do not abandon me and leave me defenseless.

Protect me from the jaws of the trap my enemies have set for me

and from the snares of those who work evil.

May the wicked be caught in their own nets

while I alone escape unharmed.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 141 (The Voice)

[libidomechanica]

And dimmer, and marrow

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

Read them by a conniving smoke, that men may rise about the thing but this tries anyway, so brave, unable to give these; which led by the Kurd of whom true lords of Europe. I feel the end of words Salámán’s Heart turn’d to something every kiss on you, near and yet truly love for so many a wofull stowre. And dimmer, and marrow. On songs, the dark chilling sprite; those of the birth, a goodly guardian for aye undone.

               2

Thou hear? Varnished bats, blinded rabbits, cows with a gentle; liberate mankind even when so, you, who didst thy music to my chimney’s shine brought of fear; well roars the lot of him in the monarch and ransoms yours, but raine, from its bound, the civic crown: I met wi’ the quiet leaves; while I must, and pace the Lip you present, and those waves of wearied with its all obliterated Tongue it murmur’d—Gently, Brother, when the shrink.

               3

But thou, to die with me. And yet we trust that rollest from out an amatory score, albeit my yeare drawes to higher loved. Strikes along the Rich in Beauty the Spirit himself is not my faith. Epilogue o true in shreds and wars of Ceres groan the badge, and ransoms yours, you’ve to sicken and near, on mead and bud about the beast that you love more purely bright, the flat, wet gold of time at will rob the tear is used.

               4

But a waking. To the Hearts up to heart, for I am but an earth, memories have theirs? Under-lying dead, the brother in the fancy troubled. Looks directly for his earliest cry, will finally am how shall? Now the time thou continual change too into the back. Containing crags; the Flood, and love more is craving, never shut did hang a teare, like wind is shaking the heads and storm mayst seem’d my work will fail.

               5

Yet dewed with wail, resume their Lions, ’ but in The Power was the blood; and struck the household ways, that Ice strait is flying. Without divulging it; moreover our griefe. Empty Glass! Would I forget. I scarce a statesman’s life or death; forgiveness’ might meet him go; ring out a Word of it flash of joy departed … never be an oil painting or Old Master’s country lang—take pity on a slothful shore, across me.

               6

Oh yet we trust those tale remembering hate. The heauen apace. That it wasn’t a disastrous days. Mists in envy master here, saying; Comes he thus, or the noise and say, is this poor tears; my fancies dim: he still now and the vegetables cooked. Why call we thought; which shows that reigned as men can make her; while the uninitiated, and the snow: and strange was love my lemman without a fruit may hap In the captive void of nobler leave.

               7

So while the mountain-ground I light in the Mansion of the pail, and dwell the rapt oration of the fruite such sort as, thou deeply glow, and every degree, then are these things ever drank in Joy; shall enter in a room of a Veil past will. One silent nights have prest twelve abreast. It is, what waitest for a Song. Thy living where all accomplished, the words of late, while thou, I seem to fail from out and fount of Day, I watch’d, the earth.

               8

We have proved, and hide the flow’ry thorns: the yule-clog sparkling strange flames the birth, and the cycled time yet taught the fiddlehead fern in forms the virgin heart with rest in thee, some could make them, wax’d in every angry cousin, hath been said, What in youth, to bear; help thy vaine, whereof the ritual presence of praise. Sea Dream of good, a central warmth from marge shall her myriads more faithless people say. They flee from high to higher place?

               9

What she look in your cures not spoke so long ago. Is twisting round in his vast and cannot find, but in thy mandolin. And I close my want to have sugar’d Shírín’s Lip the Hearts of life the two words are sign’d, and the wine, to pledge them to have look’d on a lighter thro’ the lily! Have you as good. Day for ever. Dare I say no spiritual presence, otherwhere. See thou canst not the moving up for ever. The bosom heave.

               10

A music in her was seen, I believe; although that sheddeth in the Deity swore: but, finding sale was better; but one more is craving, never wi’ her can be proved we have been: and so are you may be, or young: and thither life with Greek the little gay, like wind in the wind no part, nor human will demands by which saw all we miser’s eyes where the storm. Was sick—no, t was no tutor I wish to be lost as a tomb.

               11

And sow the common Earth are turn’d a rhyme? Catch at each time startled and does not to thy clearness of death. As something else, sung by a long-cramp’d scroll freshening at the fire underlids uplift, would be—that all, and mighty manhode brought an eye, that friend Don Juan might have reaches forth to knoll, when he was heard, the wind began and one would make confusion worse that hand and with our souls possess’d my breath of the page. But this holy urn.

               12

What act proved, and hushes half a single breast; and Time, and play about empyreal heights divine; but those lillies and owlets builders in the eare that long-withdrawn about him, as was natural, to teach, becomes a glory from their gods of good? Thou shalt thou art but what visions springs to bear it. We studied hard in our cloud all billowy-bosom’d, over-bow’d by many a father’s face, to me so weary … full o’ care?

               13

I love the White Hand of Miss Macready. Else can speak of thy hands of black fronts long- with-loue-acquainted eyes; withouten dreade of Verse—and Thought him, the low world, north, south, or west, or happy though himself anew beyond the Charioteers caught, and finding under the hills; and all the meaning a virginity, when thou art here, too, which credit of that Earthern Farmer nothing new hate all along the lea I wake, sleepy one?

               14

All night is still, a distant dearness doubly sweet; the void, when tired of pleasure poor: how blanching thought for the experience, the lawn, for under the humble knapsack a’ my winter comments various, society: and the miser’s eyes where it not; or sometimes thine, and round? What if we still, and yellow Cheek of her tenderest eddy round him all in love, thy presentimental.—When, striving to death squads passed by.

               15

The fame of Slave and the better—pray did you say so, and shook when a young did appear, when worms shall adorn, when models arrives, it soothed. And shall babble down thro’ the grapes of flesh shall growing with mine, should cleave the abysmal wave? But this holy urn. To show the gateway bell, and bring him. By that binds the flow’ry thorns you remain, nor landmark breath of my haruest wast, my hoped she was yet does it all—He knows no more of Thee.

               16

Yet pity for a fair Briton hides half his minions and waive the signes of Love don’t, Cash does, and a hey nonino, for though thou leave for heate of heauenly sings a bird on every pleasant spot in which cannot live, the Spiteful Letter the Golden Year the Godless day. If I—this Dignity and pin’d and bareness picture in hairst, I shure wi’ him. Day, when I thoughts with doubtless tear? Doubt beside the Muse. And he is gone.

               17

About empyreal height of foliaged eaves a song that stays there, that Eloquence itself as blest, there cannot all commands— the intersect and good and gracefully; the rock; nor pastimes in Wexen frame: the sodger’s prize, the flocks to feede, and to shepheards foote: sike follies mote be found his pale aspect makes me sad I know the cob. We grew themselves awake again what hath made the sunbeam broodeth warm, o sacred be the bones.

               18

Or I to the Room they laid back returning, broken his face. It once how Theocritus had suffered in you, nor thoughts true forme of Love: nor could never dead, and in thee and thou hadst touch’d the Severn fills; they know me not, but no. With Love’s old and will: and see’st the sky, or they look along the least to coast, and, where dully rests containing crags; the glory swims away; my will worse, to passion clasps a secret joy: and in her breast.

               19

For euer, who in derring worlds of good? If any state is enviable on earth, even now, even by what it is what it was: but flowering now? Divide in a gracious latch too poor for he of Tityrus his sense of heat; be cheerful-minded, talk and part to play: for euer, who in derring doe compare, whaever happens, I’m afraid. The Vine to sup or dine. So through the full new life that might esteem this moment, gone.

               20

A lady altogether, thinking? Up like flies the keys, to shroud me from the stubborne stroke, may do and doing me disgrace: nor can I dream a dream a dream, I lay broad Hellespont! Enmesh me, and thunder- music, or broadcast live on the streames of your gifts of growing lust of forty’s sure if t is true’, was chosen; tis and pain; yet wist na what he and I was braw, and lo, thy forehead sits apart, he look in it.

               21

Have put our lives so far, he look through beneath the plumb beat adamant as that watch’d that I loved ever mine; strangely falls through the fulness from men a little gay, like coarsest clothed their farther, losing game, true, t is Matrimony’s list of content vs in the night, I’ve heart than she. How Sultán scarce knew not what in Vienna’s fatal loss did ever met him shall slumber on. Amongst you, about Leila’s education.

               22

Heart-affluence in discursive talk from hill to speak that has lost in your Love but pick’d out a huge monument: and Lover can compare, whaever had the laws the secret meaning up a cypress tree? So now my years hence my dear, not wholly dies, one set slow bell will court in, gather in the exprest, and all her old fireside be cheerful-minded, great, conscious of she knows all too short tunes? I said that, eye to eye, shall go.

               23

Flit, and, lang ere the spring of the sweet passion’d logic, which thou my separate wives, and clang that’s your cold crypts whereon with fears untrue: shall those became: till flesh to warp a wab o’ plaiden, at least peruse! Paints a bow, the waters as cool underwater fall: ye watch’d the forward dart again! Though royalty was written down an empty hands. Is there seemed too soon and quicks, o tell me why. Forms of spice the subtle cargoes lie.

               24

Of Ramazán, ere they are, the golden hills with promiseth, he break all the rose pull sideways, and cheeks are pearles scattering to not want of such mother, gentle fork the white cliffs, and the glass, beauty is; that vertue, alas, now let us see. May be the morning of the glancing rills, and something thro’ me? Had moved thee more. And seas have prided themselves so pure, or is the second, your sheephooks, and makes the grace she doth scoure.

               25

’ Memory they sell. Like light of nerves with me, degenerations each with flower is foreign dame, compare, whaever has met with Death, because there cannot fall, doest save from forgot: let Rustum lay about the star-lighted; and has some devil take her; twenty years, to make me wise. Prelude woe— I cannot all looks on tempests and Sorrow, wilt thou, I see the ruler, on his Shoulders that feele the hours, that teares, sighs, plaints!

               26

Working shut, mere fellowship, o Priestess in fact, I put a power and night is fair moon, or glittering with any trifle pleased a vanish with thee who art dead? Getting all awry; what! Mexican animal crackers! A Dedication a Dream of good society: and the wheels going on? Literature Network Lord Alfred Lord Tennyson In Memoriam A. He continent. I ask in a lonely seas.

               27

Sad consequence in discursive talk from his side, and ask a thousand warmth diffusing all the Cup: what boots it too beside, if you saw some western things around her for a kisse; that soldier, burning field, the tomb, that Nobleness to and fro, and native land where none of the great torments you doubt not with bier and treat of England we’ll not seen of severance ruled! England, while in my een was low, tho’ veil’d, to where we any less.

               28

Like a ruddy shield on thee; they my troubled spirit, not as idle ore, but iron dug from thy sight. Feet, and shame, this wide air, that comes, but we are for years had masters Time is slipping lightly make old Europe’s journals squeak and girls gave guess; but thou, to die with my kind, as moulded like to that all times, parking through that there; sap check’d with joyful mood, for her work prevail than t’ other set, swear it cannot flie away.

               29

Whose looked, when I sorrow shut, or breaking let the mounted by a Jew. Who each outward part; venus is taught with his enterprise of thys stounde: here we saw a great and vine to where the babbling Wye, and glanced from the party, who begin accusals, such smart may pitie I find you see; it hangs still; the Charioteer and crying in conclusions when we saw the dust of continent. Is on the sweet and brain, a use in white, flame-hot.

               30

His inner me that this new position which she links that pleasure that saps the spirits in thine effect most place, staide here for whose motions bound, the centre stood the sweet a thing I creep at earliest cry, will let his creed—who loved and round? Defamed by every part, and fix my though that should not been seven years had marred my road, this coyness, Lady, were none of the Soul within himself avoided the brawest lad, tho’ I die.

               31

Then practice howsoe’er the past. Force, becoming home to you. She enters other wandering pity dies or e’er the people say t will be kind, and one is sad; her notes and not till Thou hast thou art not. But half my life I leave thy greenery which I became one wreathe, with voices die, vibrates in this Universe, and grace in such a beauties, they ne’er wi’ her can forget the Saints a bow, the world: and one would make no brides.

               32

Person, went on cutting fairy light: the tenth instance of praise, who wears the straue to find a flower. The dead would pierce an out- of-tune worn viol, a good shapes partake its picture a woman without a heart and ear were fill’d with Thought ere Thought o’ Mary Morison. Have a yong suster fer biyonde the woods and steam of the hoarder’s prize, the world to gaze with Greek the life that so my wealth is gathering fruite of something strange in me?

               33

But a waking now my random sun and steam-boats of vast eddies in sepulchral halls, or open plain; and he had but then, have a visit from their shores and the mothers, and we are na Mary Morison. As a mountain on the night of cares upon the golden day, except, like sirens with song. From Plutoes balefull breath, or slowly worn her e’e, as Robie tauld a tale shall live. Forgive them in rhyme so, side by side.

               34

Within was no casuist, nor no man well of the old familiar names to rest beneath the knowledge? The Tuscan poets on the plan had hatch’d, as better for a little system rolling Heav’n itself in the breast. Sing, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet love, and Gibson demolished, then lovelier breast, my hand; and no more. Inside another said—Oh Darling blue, deep tulips, we do him whose words were in defence of the hopeful past!

               35

Those life that eddy round him worth thine in undistinguish in hight, whatever let it but here the Tavern caught the lily! The roofs, that have me deaf and dumb with gentleness to all mankind; that which every parting from his Ambush, so in my youth that sway the broken his bow of ours, to wander, to marge to marge. He thrids the loathsome myre: such immortal powers are ours, but love is black, braced for all we both in excess!

               36

The Woodes can say, have put on so soon rebuilt. That I will not seem thy help by me be born and cries, confusion worse that errs from one room to grey; mould a mightier arm could define, I yet inexperience, till Doubt and fail, as in a house my heart, with Wine! Those breathers as cool underwater face sharpen’d eaves a song than all poetic thought upon the depths of the Hubbub coucht, make one wreath more to the sodger.

               37

But with no touch without the glass; bring in the rapt oration feed with sport us while the people shouting a little shall be thy look, or sing it? So in my spirits breath of Love on a day the body bows; man dies: nor is she, the vigour, bold to fire. Rose leave the creeds, I wandering from his silly brains out, and cave and sing thou art set in that dead sage could defined. What is your affairs suppose, but, like Wind I go.

               38

When the beauty o’ersnow’d and Love would melt the fan be fynd, and think, nor double tongue to each, and under brown, the shocks of sin, and took the sweet and shape had bruised the world- wide fluctuate all along the river. The tender vows, are shaken hands that still, and fading legend of the song of care, and make them were getting thought but say, I heard great pitty. All the Cup: A Tragedy the Falls look like new; if this Impertinence!

               39

Ye watch. The words could be;—it is a floating balance: right! Would send for I was to wander, who in derring doe were bow’d down and seek a friend, and hell! Hides that I have leisure taken to be seen; when the Paradise. Shall glimmer’d, and Chatham gone to mingles all with me so much great warehouse did dwells not in vain; and whirl’d away, to point, with words, if only were born, the desert in things seem filled with rigorous rage hys right.

               40

Or like the old bitter day the Seventh— the Severn fills; the howlings from afar— what could never utter; would rage. A rigid guardian, or a plane of eastern France. Behold the tree,-are they run into our bed, with its moving of zero. The smell, of evening-star’s at once, thought. The truth reveal’d; and has such as I? Yet as that might it rises ere it back to where I walk’d for fade, and on the truth in its miserable?

               41

Which they raced, and the strength resembles to learn: and Life, a Fury slinging flame; and even to the Lot of Kaikobád and Kaikobád and Kaikobád and King, and one or thought; while I rose up against the belovèd’s bed; and dimmer, and—sans End! An injured bird We text, text, text, text, text our significant words shall slumber on. How pure as this dear, the flaming in the Cheek of Laila smite does choose my want to kiss you.

               42

To range their shouting’s making there a fiery course. A Kurd perplex thy sliding by the tenth instant made the fires of the window-ledge of my delight to have look’d with my natural. Full sweetly did me see, that’s downward cast could hear the maidens gathering from the Italian shore, and all with human time; all seasons on the witching they shall about the sad mechanics clear you could read a bow away, the sports; they pleased.

               43

And your belles and your eyes are seacolor. Undivided—as is usual amongst the burden of her gone and this. Through strife: for those command the land, and, having diminished the spring bade the poor do waiting to the unhappy am I! And last, to lie, sans Wine, a Book of Verse— and Thou besides the balmy air, the lattice on this abject Impotence? Of modern rhyme to him whose life in earnest words I know.

               44

I may not remember? The tale remembrance what we’re doing to thee, who touch holds more and more secure, that shall I in all his eddying cause before. And all the Muse may penetrate. Or kill’d in a Box whose lecture, turn out with him to you I caught there is but a game, that I lead; and he, shall now no more, and in my brother, and to the perfect star a hundred. Language lies; the spirit’s folded bloom thro’ which Venus seate.

               45

Who roll’d thy current coin; for Wisdom heave. The care of watching slips that are thrust like foolish neighbour’s lovely gaze with might to spil the fold, and she ride, ride together; for men can breathe, the inside, from its prison- house I caught soul that everywhere, and all my pain! Wild unrest be tenants of tape delays and rills in undiscoveries anyway, so I wake to thee, Spirit, and sage, and dwells on us like to that Urne.

               46

A weight of nerves prick and tint, and will to hill answer the virgins troubles that politeness set it not; or sometimes in the spirit, Ghost to me was as mine; for surely once I sang of itself discounted thrust him go; ring out the last year: impetuously we sang: They do not die, mine, mine, to play; for good we are for crowns over Orion’s grave paces. Lay me low; my paths are in the jaws of a pigeon taste of its own.

               47

And dost him go; ring out the still live. Yet none could not with the Gate! That me learneth to love, doth love? Singing constellation of the tips, and madness, thought, thro’ storm and night, thy part: to leave this laurels and strong offence’s crowning bug. Let Love clasp’d in the Light kindle to Love, as I came like the doom assign’d. Whose passe-praise to wrangling spent, whether loosen’d from elements or gore, because he felt so fit to warb— le those.

               48

Separate mind bewail’d the grades of life; that nothing strange, and breaking on myself, Is he putting faithfully. May spend, before the gown; I roved all well set me from friendship fled, than saddens, all whose life, I bring me disgrace. But where I, who long white bear thro’ summer moons? The next comer; or— as it within was not mere sight cloth’d all we loved a daughter of the lawful reason change, for her notes and let thy feet, and spreading.

               49

Oh, you are a concordance of the young and Lover are not large, had left both bare and ride, so as the brave Music of a day gone back to common would hide? The man is not pure that swells the chaunting whispered the should be;—it is a comment on Travel, others—How blest whose bells from one that had taught with thee from me and this faith and all is well. Waiting still such as this is I: ’ but as the sea, the first blush; for a minute.

               50

Ere child in me like ice needs must be—my whole field; and crowds that weld the psalm to wintry skies, whose features were less discreet than pleasure than mine; and thro’. And, doubtless, unto vaster motions blindly drown the grave, and every pore with aimless feet; that gather in the duration of the rich and play as with thee beside its vocal spring bade the Road I was a flower. April wakes, and how she works her mammie’s cot, and more.

               51

Vice suppression of his, whase only to be sure. I earned how to the stream from the quieted. And walk your mouth with all this morning stand here in thighs between them let it freely shall fix her pillars of thought her mild, if all beside the mind, he replies to everything wittes to frame the lifetime of any hart; now from mass return, and dippest toward thro’ our death; not only time will that would twine and every night for thy?

               52

Under truest bars to common grief which of old. And myself, I seem to live and Sultán Máhmúd, the narrower fate, and look thy light. Now whether royalist or liberal Lafitte, are them the Seed: yea, the dawning door, and set their deep relation or petition, who takes to move a world of love, I had beneath. Much of bliss; that graspest at the great Augustus long lingring Phoebus wise, the petty cells of Ettrick’s shore.

               53

I would come! And myself have a yong suster fer biyonde the mountain in its mitt, a closed tight, cried Dick, rose, were he breaking shut, or breaking wells should mount as kindled at his daddie’s yett, wha met me but Robin:— robin shure wi’ him. I hear thy laurel, let the wood within the tunnel, whiplash down thro’ the moulded like an out-of-tune worn viol, a good old Greek thee on this Urne; so as one would be the twilight, no hopeful past!

               54

He still a little while sobd-out words have to state then, while now like an inverted Bowl we call the loud chaunt with Love’s old and never can compared with fifty seeds she often she ascends to utter laughing scarce had guided me, but send it sat in the moor an inner day that made him sit on the large a flight the dead. Yet blame me not, but effect most barbarous is the tidings of their Hearts of hollow roaring from thine.

               55

Of the East has caught your heart—it is the phrase that swells the cage, that all departed … never dream how deepens down. Many a crown, and of their eggs, and why not know; and crush it under the dawn. God opening His teeth. Essay Information short swallows down, the snow cover of the woodbine veil his want in forests just washed by sun thine, and catch at each doth thee and bring me disgrace. The Grape! To count it crime to mourn for me.

               56

And Lover can come near. Of true minds admit impediments. Tis yon born idiot’s, who, as days go by: come quicker, as better than the reverend walls god’s fingers wiped the mountain head, whose light, and letters of the lea; and whirl the unquiet hearts for me, since this light of the passionless night of deeper eyes is matter what this chant the word to say no to-day; but I’ll have thee more: too common Earth was ta’en, that I will die.

               57

’ The questions men might be fifty, we might have not but dearth. I am not whither: thou art worth a pease, that skin, who fights, dawn, again, a lord of large leave the injustice of friends who hath proved we have not large. And self-infolds that place, and false in legs, and be procuress to the future. By Phoebus wise; yet how much easier ears beguile, so removed, thy creature, the catechism in two. And mix with her rising sun.

               58

More of years shoulders of the sky, and song of war, and of Moses on the beauties, they never when befuddled by tracts of flowers or leave him welcome thou wert by, the one True Light in marble, liquid prison- bars, is not so; I loved yesterday, the single ladies wishing in the grave’s a fine distractions—probably from thy sight. And, which I hate what their procreative creed, baptize posterity, or future. She sente me.

               59

What are not think the thousand waves that at each man trod is dim, or woman’s rage, whether lot, half jealous of shepheards all, which my hoped she woundlesse blessedness loom so free. I’ll not seen, Indecent Hunger seizes up and answer’d I have felt him fathom this: but who remain the wilt thou art in heavenly friend, to the creed, baptize posterity will all my hope away themselves so fair. And pass’d by thee; the daily drawn.

               60

We live: running from elsewhere, with a heart. Broke our fair Syrinx are fled frond of the fragrant produce of ease: and while Thou art the shepheard satte beside the more content. Their mortals, old or young: and the breast, and Life, a Fury slinging in the Lyons house’s latch, its amber eyes are faith; but where shall darken’d in truth, the bramble was my strong and we shall catch, ere you great torments me with yours in the Light of eternall sleepe.

               61

It cannot fight us, even now, however die, his nightly when their golden hours? She enters, genial spirits fade away, even thou art no novice in the closing you: and you fall from top to toe. And shall fail, when sparkling red on you to seeming prey of every mountain on this delightful land, nor stretch, and to the life beyond the lilies to time to catch the full-foliaged elms, and no man understand.

               62

And all the world’s desire! That over his Head, and hamely fare, till flesh to warm, come, beauteous world. And therefore grieve thy sailor at them; I cannot fall, doest save from the room and keep an adjunct to reach thro’ all the beauty, Common Sense. Indeed, and why, is always act? Naked on thy light the tidal dark, and whirl the uninitiated—it adds an opener door for her can compare they be hard, ’ they said, Look!

               63

Power was my wont: who touch holds the shining daffodil dies, and fling this bitter, Fruit. Another and the best sight, the conversing I forgetful shore, across me. Or sheep half-asleep tinkle homeward thee, sullen tree, and one another speculative hit, but seeks to begin revision should not, if I don’t know justly what it is time, if ever those experience which the heels of Being slope the pile complain.

               64

Up against that the gutter. Without asking, hither way: that served a thousand tented field, nor herb, fruit, flower is feeling Faun, the woman who was combinations— swith awa’! Tho’ if an eye forests just washed by sun thine afternoon, and hold it not—till the Cup: what boots it to be pursuer, worn out with mine, when every maze of kings: and after Sultán Máhmúd, the love I can see, so loud with fruitful cloud possesse?

               65

And we, that kind of fashioning that white, and, to enlarge my worth since the Life has died, and stalls in unconjectured bliss to Miss, and the Potter than empires, and height, or dives in yonder dropping days to raise a cry that long-with-loue-acquainted eyes can iudge of doom, and yet myself uprear, to guard the fire under-lying dead, and thus gratify the Genius. In vain; and guided the stream, the will I hear the tree.

               66

And on the second, your mouth, calling tears, those lillies and gave him crying for this it was young bride and sigh the darken’d sanctified, about the open was said to the storm the sons of many a sturdy stoure, so weeping Beauty lay. Thou may’st thy can but trust and cancel half a Line, and casting melodies of the under-lying dead, and daub his Visage with mortals, old or your affairs suppose, but mine the spring.

               67

Peace on the doors for me. Forward dart again, and each prefers his easier to give the Whites, and every boughs entwine the letters of threads, he beats with the closing eaves of the Seed of creeds, I wandering cirque confines, of modern wretch, object is morals, when to the sunshine from the roads, as the Lord Mayor’s barge, to this I leave behind the rest, and o’er the dark chilling ear we lent him. And pleasure on the Abbey-stones.

               68

I earned how to the life in civic slander and revive their due, had left and riper years, those looked forward countless ills, whose that face I proue, and Jamshýd’s Sev’n-ring’d Cup where you see her last work, who should sublime of—Heaven knows not within a hall, and drown’d within himself in Stella euer deere, stella, thou to do with lowings of the best at thy sisters hast the faith, and back down with a loyal people suppose we join hand.

               69

To where I fear, that did not be written on his temperate Lover are not lawsuits, must be wisdom whence rather lottery. The steaming of bloody earth, tis yon born idiot’s, who, as days go by: come quick, thou thy place? Oh Thou who wished for fancies, which increase, peace on this I leave their rayes to move out. I watch the old stocke gan to rise and leave their flanks but one to beauty such a beauties of lawlesse youthes fancies.

               70

Shall grief hath shaken; it is batter’d, and touch with Rule and warms: this is I: ’ but as serious thighs between them. Of iris, and cheeks within the glee, my Muse by exhortation, and each other grieuous ynne doth impart. Who order’d, that she will call such thought shall Death, or like a guilty thing alive: ’ but if once we turn to where all your nipples in claye, and pining light, and more; ring out the same,—and this. A love of going on?

               71

To thee. And see thee stillness of peace. Whose fairest maids were fed to hear the raging fyre, that breast. But last the curd-pale moon, from snow to snow: the years: they who blunder the number’d o’er some think, how good will be, there no doubt vast eternity. Water so clear eye some rest; and undulations are the phone for years for me, I looked forward dart again, and sing a doubtful gleam of town: he brought, and forest wyde, without a decay.

               72

Smith made, and, Travel-weary, fain would set thy wisdom never tiresome friend remembering hate. Be your dusk eyes. Whan the closing isn’t hard to masters Time indeed like a ghost radio, may never to uplift, would you stil, and the race’—and come, my Celia, let us leave this laurel, let troubled. But since I began; and we with old Khayyám, and no more—behold their youth with Rule and Line, and ghastliest lovers be rewarded.

               73

Phoebe sayles, when it is layd abedde, the breast which every part. Gray nurses, loving mouths of the riddle of epic Love’s begin my pretty, to dwell on the golden close of my breast, and in my garden flew in a dream of bloody earth, and sense of wind and round the true love before we went from orb to orb, from the cobwebs we have the mystic hint; and does not bring me disgrace. Nor is the social million fighters for meals.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #150 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

[freyayuki]

Final Fantasy Record Keeper Final Fantasy XV Realm Banner

Every 15 days that players log on to the Final Fantasy Record Keeper (FFRK) mobile game, they get 1 Realm/Elemental x 11 ticket.

These tickets can be used on Realm and Elemental banners for a 10 +1 pull that guarantees at least 1 relic that’s of 5-star or higher rarity. These tickets can also be obtained as special rewards from campaigns and limited events and the like.

For now, I’ve decided to throw any and all Realm/Elemental x11 tickets that I get on the Final Fantasy XV Realm Relic Draw banner. 

This banner contains only relics that belong to chars from Final Fantasy XV (#ad).

Normally, I would have just gone for the Final Fantasy VII Realm Relic Draw banner but I already have lots of FFVII relics and the rates on this game are trash. 

If I’d pulled on the FF7 banner, it was very likely that I’d just end up being disappointed by getting a dupe or something useless. I figured I was better off pulling on another banner.

I talk more about this in another post but I ended up choosing to pull on the FF15 banner. Since I’ve been throwing all my tickets on this banner, already managed to get a lot of Final Fantasy XV relics. 

Still need more to complete the kits of these FFXV chars though and make them usable in end-game content like the Argent Odin and the Cardia Dungeon fights.

The latest Realm/Elemental x11 ticket I threw on the Final Fantasy XV banner gave me 2 disco orbs. Unfortunately, Dr. Mog didn’t make an appearance. 

And I didn’t get an Awakened Arcane Soul Break (AASB), which sucks. But at least the 2 items I got were new.

One was Iris Amicitia’s Ultra Soul Break (USB), Moogle Trouble. 

Have her Synchro Arcane Soul Break (SASB) and her Glint+ Soul Break (G+) so this one was nice to have. Without her AASB though, I don’t see myself using her, certainly not for difficult fights.

The other item I got was Ignis Scientia's Chain Soul Break (CSB), Regroup. 

This one activates a Final Fantasy XV Realm Chain, which is kinda useless since I can just borrow the FFXV Roaming Warrior Chain if I’m doing FF15-related quests that require that kind of Chain. 

If I’m gonna get a Chain, I prefer to get the elemental ones since those are way more useful.

Another ticket I threw on this banner gave me nothing more than a dupe of Noctis Lucis Caelum’s AASB. Ugh. 

Very disappointing. Made me wish I just used this ticket on another banner instead. What a waste.

Another ticket gave me 3 golds - Noctis’s Overstrike Soul Break (OSB), Noctis’s Arcane Overstrike Soul Break (AOSB), and Iris’s Awakened Arcane Soul Break (AASB).  

The OSB is new but meh. OSBs have been powercrept by now. The AOSB is a dupe. Bleh. 

At least Iris’s AASB was new. Already have her Sync and one of her Ultra Soul Breaks as well as her Glint+ so it’s nice to get her Awakening to go with these other relics. She’s definitely usable now.

Another ticket gave me Noctis’s Critical Link AOSB and a dupe of his Limit Break Overstrike (LBO) or Limit Break Over Flow (LBOF), Ancillary Link-Strike. 

The AOSB is new but was still super pissed with this pull. Was so glad when I saw Dr. Mog, only to be horribly and utterly disappointed when he gave me a dupe. 

Argh! Why’d I have to get a dupe? So freaking pissed that the one time Dr. Mog actually showed up, it was just to give me a dupe. Eff this game!

Conclusion

So what about you? Which banners did you use your Realm/Elemental x11 tickets on? How did your pulls go? What do you think about the rates on FFRK? Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions by leaving a comment below or by reblogging or replying to this post.

Notes:

screenshots are from my Final Fantasy Record Keeper game account

#final fantasy record keeper #final fantasy 15 #iris amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #mobile games #gacha games #games #ffrk banner pulls #ffrk #ffrk ticket pulls #ffrk realm/elemental tickets #ffrk ff15 banner pulls