#harvest field scene

[taevisionceo]

TAEVision Design Applications Machinery Agriculture Farm Farms Farming Forest Harvest Field Scene HeavyDuty Equipment Tractor 🚜 NewHolland T7 Series ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos

Data 437 - Apr 06, 2023

#TAEVision #engineering #3d #mechanicaldesign #machinery #agriculture #farm #farms #farming #forest #harvest field scene #HeavyDuty Equipment #tractor #NewHolland #NewHolland T7 Series #T7 Series #NEW HOLLAND

[bokatan]

Mercy 🔮

[ future scene ask ] @fuzzydreamin

I keep playing around with this post-game idea for Mercy where she stays in the Commonwealth, rather than wandering off like she normally does after a few months, & having her set up some sort of clinic for specialized services. She'd obviously offer standard medical care(albeit more ghoul-centric than other Commonwealth medical providers), medical supplies, chems, and she'd get into medical implants and probably some induced mutations as well.

I also think it'd be fun to let her play around with syringers at some point, and letting her make new experimental darts and maybe even offering those for sale when she decides they're consistent enough. She'd drag Reed, and potentially a few others, into doing field trials for those since her vision and long distance aim aren't the greatest.

I'm including a few screenshots here since I've been exploring potential locations where she could set up shop like this, and of course she's going to have all kinds of herbs and whatnot growing in the surrounding area/greenhouse/etc so she has a reliable source of supplies. These are from the Coastal Cottage build where I made this sick ass fungi cave under the house

#me? answering asks 800000 years after getting them? unheard of #god. this is so much not a scene it's SO incredibly vague and ???? #can you tell this is a VERY rough idea that i'm still working out? lmao #i just really want to let her play around with syringers and also meet her goal of using FEV in a legitimately beneficial manner #she goes out with Reed to do field trials and gives him some unlabeled darts all >:3 and he's like. well fuck. #mercy tag #fo4 screenshots #my screenshots #for context she wants to shift the whole FEV thing back towards medical cures and not super mutants/centaurs/etc #the induced mutations i had in mind are like. rad resistance. improved night vision. enhanced stats. etc etc #you get what i mean. like small changes to add perk abilities. nothing wild or extreme #i'm like 95% sure she just fuckin adopts Curie post-game. Curie's still a robot since Reed doesn't do the synth thing #fun fact about this cave build: everything there is harvestable. there's a mr handy clipping through a rock in one screenshot #because i didn't even see him down there until after i took screenshots. he's stuck down there idk how to get him out lmao

[fittreeinternational]

From Farm to Plate : Our Export,Elevating your culinary exprience.

FitTree International

#agriculture #fittreeinternational #Export to global #From Farm to Plate our Export #Agrowithus #Farm-to-Table Delight: A bountiful harvest scene with farmers working in the fields under the golden sun #followed by the milling process and packaging of the freshly processed food #finally culminating in a mouthwatering spread of dishes served on a dining table.

[elysieeh]

Bulgarian Music in Studio Ghibli films

”Myth has it that Orpheus was born in what is now Bulgaria. It seemed to be fact, not myth, that his daughters are still singing there”

These words were written by the New York Times in the remote 1963 — the year in which the largest Bulgarian folk ensemble crossed the Iron Curtain to conquer an entire continent with its cosmic art.

The 1975 release of Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares, a compilation album of modern arrangements of Bulgarian folk songs, further popularized Bulgarian music, and in 1977, a vinyl record featuring the folk song “Izlel ye Delyo Haydutin” (Eng: Come out rebel Delyo) began its journey aboard the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 spacecrafts.

From this point on popularity from the West spread to the East, and Bulgarian folk music made it to the entertainment industry, including legendary Japanese anime films, like the cult cyberpunk “Ghost in the Shell” or the heartwarming Studio Ghibli features.

In this short article I write about two occasions of Bulgarian music playing in Studio Ghibli’s films.

The record that inspired the creation of “Only Yesterday”

“Only Yesterday” is a 1991 Japanese animated drama film written and directed by Isao Takahata, based on the 1982 manga of the same title by Hotaru Okamoto and Yuko Tone. Set in rural Japan, the film draws parallels with the peasant lifestyle present in Eastern Europe.

The original work is a compilation of short stories about 11-year-old Taeko’s daily life in 1966. Director Takahata had a hard time making it into a movie since the manga, told in the form of a memoir, has no plot to hold a feature. Together with producer Toshio Suzuki, they came up with the solution of bringing the narrator of the story, adult Taeko, into the movie. But there is a curious anecdote about how this idea came to mind.

Taeko picks safflower as the Bulgarian song “Malka moma dvori mete” plays in the background. © Studio Ghibli

In a 2021 interview with students from Sofia University St. Kliment Ohridski, producer Suzuki recounts how a record of Bulgarian songs performed by the children choir “Bodra Smyana”, introduced to him by director Takahata, inspired the creation of the movie. Moved by the cosmic voices of the children, they decided to make “Only Yesterday” a musical. He also recalls what a tiring process it was to acquire the rights to the music, but if you’ve seen the movie, I am sure you will agree that it was worth it; the haunting, beautiful songs with the pastoral images of farmers picking flowers contribute to one of the greatest scenes created in cinema.

Producer Suzuki showing the record that inspired the creation of ”Only Yesterday”. Source: Studio Ghibli’s Twitter

In “Only Yesterday”, we can hear two songs from the album Bulgarian Polyphony I by Philip Koutev Ensemble. The upbeat “Dilmano Dilbero” [Eng. beautiful Dilmana] sets a happy mood as the protagonist gets changed and ready to go on the field. As the scene shifts and Taeko starts narrating a sad story about the girls in the past picking safflower with their bare hands, the song and mood shift as well.

While the first song has a fast rhythm, with lyrics about pepper planting that can also be interpreted figuratively, the second one, “Malka Moma Dvori Mete” [Eng., a little girl sweeps the yard], is a ballad about a young girl who is forced into marriage but has never known true love.

Both compositions sing about life-cycle events like marriage and the regular coming of the harvests, with lyrics perfectly fitting the setting and plot of the movie, which makes me wonder if the filmmakers chose them by chance or if they had someone translate the words.

Bulgarian Cosmic Voices Enchanting Howl

“Howl’s Moving Castle” is a 2004 Japanese animated fantasy film written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, loosely based on the 1986 novel of the same name by British author Diana Wynne Jones. Set in a fictional kingdom the movie draws inspiration from various places in Europe. One of them being Bulgaria.

The story focuses on a young girl, named Sophie, magically transformed into an old woman, and a self-confident but emotionally unstable young wizard, Howl, living in a magical moving castle.

A sketch of a Star Child. Source: The Art of Howl’s Moving Castle

If you’ve seen the movie, you surely remember the scene when Madame Suliman ambushes Howl and tries to strip him of his magic powers. Star Children encircle him and his companions; their shadows grow big, dark and intimidating. They start dancing and chanting unintelligible magic words and are almost successful in their devilish act.

This scene, together with the music played in the background, have been a favourite of many fans of the film. Some even recount it giving them nightmares when they were children.

Star Children encircle Howl in an attempt to strip him of his magic powers. © Studio Ghibli

It turns out, however, that these aren’t any incantations, but the lyrics of a folk song. In Bulgarian. And a love song! Contrary to popular belief, the lyrics have nothing to do with magic and are actually about a boy taking his sweetheart, Dona, to the market to buy her new clothes. The excerpt used in the movie is very short and a bit altered from the original, but the words used go like this: Trendafilcheto, kalafercheto, Done mamino, translated as “the rose, the costmary, my darling Dona”.

I am planing a follow up article where I will post the translated lyrics together with a brief explanation on how they are related to the movies.

If you want to comment on or add something, I would love to hear!

Source

#studio ghibli #only yesterday #howls moving castle #Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares #bulgarian folklore #bulgaria #toshio suzuki #hayao miyazaki #isao takahata #bulgarian music in ghibli films #the boy and the heron #スタジオジブリ #ブルガリア #おもひでぽろぽろ #ハウルの動く城 #宮崎駿 #高畑勲 #鈴木敏夫 #bulgarian music

[poisonlove]

lorraine smut? but lorraine is the one giving and is dominant

I try it :(

Shut up | Lorraine day

+18

Under the relentless Texas sun, each day on Uncle Howard's farm became a challenge. The high temperature turned every drop of sweat into a tribute to hard work, while the arid ground beneath my feet made every step a struggle against the toughness of the earth.

On that farm, under Uncle Howard's stern yet understanding gaze, I worked to earn a few bucks. It was my ticket to a different future, far from the arid plains of Texas. New York represented my ambition, the place where I hoped to forge my fortune. So, with sweat on my forehead as a constant companion, I toiled in the hope of one day crossing the horizon to new opportunities.

"How are you doing, y/n?" someone suddenly asks.

I stopped feeding the chickens, turning to see Uncle Howard looking at me seriously. "I'm done..." I reply with a small smile, tossing a handful of corn into the chicken coop.

"Good, because you need to plow the soil for the harvest," he quickly says before leaving the farm.

"I know, J." I glance at my horse, watching me with curiosity from its enclosure. "It's more acidic than usual," I sigh wearily.

I walk over to J, placing my hand on his mane, making him neigh with happiness. "See you later," I mumble distractedly before patting his back and moving away from the farm. The sun beats against my face, and I try to shield myself by raising a hand over my eyes. The heat of the day begins to make itself felt.

The abrupt noise of a vehicle stopping on the ground catches my attention. I turn slowly to see who has arrived, curious to discover what could disrupt the tranquility of the day on Uncle Howard's farm.

A red van appears in my field of vision, and with confusion, I see who's inside. A guy in a white shirt and a cowboy hat jumps out, smiling widely. I furrow my brows as I watch him help a girl down, offering her his hand. Four more guys emerge from the back of the van, their figures still unclear under the blinding sun. My curiosity grows, trying to discern who they are and what has brought them so suddenly to our farm.

"Hey! You!" I shout, determined to capture their attention.

The cowboy guy looks at me with confusion, but his open smile doesn't seem worried at all. "This is a private residence," I assert seriously, scrutinizing the others out of the corner of my eye.

"Calm down, beauty." The cowboy guy takes off his sunglasses, smiling even more. "I'm Wayne," he says, grinning. I raise an eyebrow, confused.

"I don't care who you are, just go away," I say venomously, noticing how one of his friends sizes me up and down.

"Calm down, sweetheart." A blonde approaches slowly, smiling seductively. "We rented this place," she adds, biting her lower lip with a seductive manner. "If you're interested, you can shoot some scenes with us," she timidly suggests.

"Scenes?" I look closely at the group, noticing a camera in the hands of a guy with glasses. The way they flirt... the realization makes me blush violently.

"Bobby, that doesn't seem appropriate," another female voice intervenes. My eyes scan with curiosity over the figure of a girl behind the guy with glasses. I am surprised to see a beautiful girl with brown eyes, a dazzling smile, and an innocent aura. She seemed almost embarrassed.

"Always the same party pooper," the blonde murmurs weakly.

"I'm R.J.," says the guy with glasses, embarrassed. "She's Lorraine, my girlfriend," he adds with a smile. I blink slightly, incredulous that such a charming girl is with RJ.

"I know, I had the same reaction," the other guy in the group, Jackson, intervenes, smiling genuinely.

"Maxine," says the girl next to the cowboy, smiling shyly.

My eyes linger on Lorraine, admiring her beauty with brown eyes and the innocent smile that seemed to contrast with the situation. Her presence, somehow, added a touch of mystery to the whole situation. The tension in the air thickens as I try to understand the reason for this unexpected intrusion into Uncle Howard's quiet farm.

My heart was pounding as I watched the scene. Howard arrives with a rifle in hand, a stern look aimed at RJ.

"What's going on here?" the old man asks venomously, keeping the rifle pointed at RJ.

"Hey, calm down." Wayne raises his hands and moves slowly toward my uncle. "I'm Wayne; we talked on the phone about renting this place," the guy says determinedly.

My uncle analyzes his words before lowering the rifle. "All right... then follow me," he says calmly. "Y/n, you keep doing your work and then go feed the cows," he adds, turning and walking away.

As the six friends follow my uncle, Lorraine turns and looks at me with curiosity, giving me a shy smile. The tension in the air dissipates, but her mysterious presence and attentive gaze leave an indelible mark on my ordinary day on the farm.

(…)

"Can you explain why you don't want to eat?" I ask with exasperation to the cow.

I was so exhausted that I desperately wanted to sleep, but Mrs. Cow here didn't want to eat. It might be something minor, I know, but if the cow doesn't eat tomorrow, we won't have milk, and my uncle will be angry.

"Please... can't you see how good it is?" I smile nervously as I shake a handful of hay in my hands. I sigh as Mary looks at me with boredom.

"You know... I think she's not hungry," someone intervenes playfully.

I turn towards the farm entrance and smile, seeing Lorraine walking towards my direction. There's something about her that irresistibly attracts me, and I don't know what it is – maybe it's the fact that she's extremely sexy and innocent at the same time.

"Oh... hi," my cheeks flush, and I lean against the fence of the pen. "Hi," Lorraine says with a small smile on her lips.

With the corner of my eye, I see the girl leaning next to me.

"And the others?" I ask curiously, and Lorraine lights a cigarette, pulling and inhaling the smoke with her eyes closed. "We've finished shooting; now they're either drinking or doing their thing... well, except for R.J.," she says indifferently, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"You know..." I start as I watch the other cows walking slowly, "I would have never thought that someone like you would do an adult film," I say embarrassedly, blushing faintly.

Lorraine looks at me with blushing cheeks and drops the cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with the tip of her foot.

"I actually knew nothing... about these films," she begins with a low tone, smiling shyly. "And what do you mean by someone like you?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

I open my mouth trying to say something that isn't stupid, and Lorraine takes the hay from my hands.

"I mean... you have such an innocent aura..." I start embarrassingly. Lorraine smiles sweetly at the cow, which slowly approaches the fence, sniffing what she has in her hands. "Let's say you look like the perfect cover of a church girl," I say curiously as I watch Mary start chewing on the hay Lorraine gave her.

"Mary!" I say with a falsely mournful tone, and Lorraine chuckles softly.

"Anyway, I came to help my boyfriend R.J.," she says smiling at Mary. I raise my eyebrows at her comment. "I see," I say timidly.

"And anyway, I could handle shooting a scene," she says with confidence. "I didn't say that," I respond amused and move away from the fence. I put my hands in my jeans' pockets and walk near some hay, sitting on it.

"Because I've already done something with R.J.," she says, raising her chin with superiority. Lorraine follows suit and sits beside me, settling into the hay.

"You don't seem very satisfied," I notice, and I start playing with some hay, wanting to keep my fingers busy. "Let's say it's something that gives more pleasure to him than to me," Lorraine shrugs nonchalantly, and I look at her out of the corner of my eye.

"He's a nice person; he helped me settle into university..." Lorraine confesses, lying down in the hay, looking at the ceiling.

I follow her example and turn towards her direction, seeing how some strands of hair are mixed with the hay. Her eyes sparkle, and she looks at me with curiosity. "But you don't love him, right?" I finish her sentence, and she nods slowly.

"I don't want to hurt him..." she continues, and I remain silent at her response. "Anyway, I think you could find someone who can make you enjoy," I say absentmindedly, and Lorraine smiles sweetly, giving me a light push on the side. "And are you talking about yourself?" she says playfully, and I look at her without blinking.

Lorraine stops smiling, seeing my seriousness, and leans towards my face, making my heartbeat faster. "I need someone who can endure my desire," she says in a low voice, expressing her lust.

Her eyes lock with mine, and the sparks between us intensify.

Our lips meet with desire, a palpable tension in the air. I delicately entwine my fingers around her neck, gently pulling her towards me. Initially, Lorraine stiffens, but as seconds pass, I feel her hesitation melt away. Her lips, initially shy, respond to the mutual need, creating a fusion of intensely charged emotions. The kiss becomes a silent dialogue, a blend of desires and feelings expressed through the intimate touch of our mouths.

The brunette straddles my legs and leans towards my neck, kissing it with lust. "Raine..." I say with ragged breath, and the girl moves away to look at me attentively.

Her eyes are hooded, and her lips are semi-open due to heavy breathing, her hair tousled and infused with hay.

Without saying anything, I kiss Lorraine and take her hand, making her glide along my body, slipping it directly between my underwear. Lorraine sighs loudly against my mouth, feeling the moisture between my folds, and intensifies the kiss.

"Don't hold back..." I say breathlessly. "Quench this fire," I say, smiling widely. My mouth opens wide as I feel two fingers inside me, and I spread my legs instinctively. Lorraine settles between my legs and looks at me serenely. "You're really... wet," she murmurs with a husky voice, going deeper with her fingers.

I moan in response.

Lorraine bites into my neck and begins to penetrate me at her leisure, increasing and decreasing the speed according to her desires. "No... not like this," she says breathlessly, quickly pulling away from my body.

My eyes look at the girl with confusion before smiling, seeing how she takes off her panties with the dress. I sigh loudly seeing her curves, her small breasts compensated by the magnificence of her body, soft and smooth skin.

"Calm down" I say chuckling weakly, feeling Lorraine forcefully removing my pants, exposing my warm center.

"Shut up," she says agitatedly, "I'm so frustrated..." she mutters through her teeth. My eyes watch Lorraine's movements carefully, seeing her opening my legs and searching for a better position for both of us.

Both of us release a moan as our sensitive centers rub against each other, our fluids mixing as if they were one.

"To hell with everything..." she says weakly, sighing loudly as she starts moving her hips back and forth. My hands end up on the sides of her body; the nails scratch her back with every movement.

"Mmmh..." Lorraine moans loudly, increasing the speed of her hips. The moans become louder, and the sound of our bodies in symbiosis increases at the same pace. "Raine, I..." I mumble absentmindedly, closing my eyes for a moment.

The pleasure, placing a hand around my neck, "Look at me, damn it," she says through her teeth, moaning and moving faster and faster. "Raine, I..." I mumble almost crying for pleasure, and the brunette releases the grip on my neck, opening her mouth in ecstasy and letting herself be carried away by the orgasm she just reached.

The sight made me come forcefully.

Lorraine slumps against my body, trying to catch her breath. "Is that all?" I ask with a smile on my lips. "Is this the level of endurance?" I inquire with curiosity, and Lorraine licks her lips with mischief.

"Oh no, we've just begun," she says with a husky voice, and I smile nervously, concerned about her words.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega smut #lorraine day x reader #lorraine day x you #Lorraine day smut

[stemmmm]

Stem's Thoughts on Harvest Moon 64

(that other title's too long so i'm cutting it down now)

Harvest Moon 64 opens on a scene of your character walking around the street, speaking to everyone in the village who’s come to the event. You quickly piece together that this event in question is actually your grandfather’s funeral, the same grandfather who’s farm you’re about to take over. This little scene beautifully sets up both the tone of the game, and immediately shows the player that this iteration is far more focused on the story and characters. HM64 tells a story about the lives of many people in a small, dying town. It is a story about life, and it is a story about death.

A short disclaimer before we dig in: I played this game before the idea to write these essays cropped up, and have not replayed it since then, so this will be mostly vibes. I will try to do my research to make sure I’m not straight up lying though. (Also all of the images in this one are from google because I don't have a means of getting images from my N64 other than photographing the tv screen and I'm not doing that.)

What’s new!

HM64, also called Harvest Moon 2 by HMGB2 and nothing else I’ve ever seen, is the direct sequel to HM SNES. It’s not a sequel in the usual way sequels are, where you’re continuing where you left off with the same character, but in that every main character is the descendant of their equivalent in the previous game. It’s not important to the story, in fact if you don’t already know this, you probably wouldn’t notice anything past some similarities. I played this game before I tried out SNES and it still took me a minute, plus having it directly pointed out to me to get it. Maybe I’m oblivious, who knows. 

Gameplay-wise, this iteration is home of a few series firsts: For one, your house can be upgraded to have a kitchen! You can't cook though, only collect recipes. You can also get a greenhouse where you can grow crops year-round. Sheep are introduced as barn animals that produce wool. You receive a fishing rod you can use whenever you want, but as far as I understand, the timing is nigh impossible unless you’re playing on a CRT (I am not, and never managed to catch a single fish). There’s a mine you can access in winter for something to do while you can’t grow crops (there are fall crops, but not winter) where you can find about two key items and garbage otherwise. Tool upgrades are no longer done by magic, but by leveling them up through use! Which I think is very neat and feels very natural, like you’ve just become more proficient with them as a farmer through practice. Characters can now come to visit you on the farm at random times, for either special story events or just to say hi! Your farmer can get sick from working too hard in bad weather, just like your animals, and there’s now medicine for that, just like your animals. And there’s inventory menus that I'll discuss at better length later.

What’s the same is… Most things in a basic sense. You’re on a farm with a dog, planting crops, raising livestock. You can make friends with folks in town by talking to them and giving them gifts. The livestock mechanics, as far as I could see and as far as I’ve been able to understand from online forums, are exactly the same as they were in SNES, the exception being there’s no wild beasts that can kill your animals but they’ll still get sick if they aren’t fenced overnight– and they’re not going to eat any grass unless they’re out overnight anyways.

As for your farm, you’re set up with the usual: a small house, a barn, coop, and fodder silo, a wood bin to store debris cleared off your farm, and a big messy field that you have to clean up before you can properly use it. It starts with three new additions though; a doghouse, a bowl that you can feed your dog with by putting edible items in there, and a mailbox that you’ll occasionally receive letters and notices in! They’re small additions, but very, very charming. The one thing that’s been removed is the toolshed, now replaced by a tiny toolbox by your house.

The world outside your farm is like an enhanced version of the SNES map. Imagine the town and forest now have one or two extra sections tacked onto them, one in the town for some extra housing, and a couple in the forest to let you explore the mountain more and get you deeper into the woods. The mountain still has a cave in it (this time with Harvest Sprites, who have been removed from your farm) and a summit you can climb to for certain events, but it has been upgraded with little wild animals that wander around and can be picked up and shown to people for a few friendship points, if they like the animal. (This applies to your dog too, there’s a well known exploit to max out Karen’s friendship in one day by repeatedly showing it to her in the bar where time is stopped.) The crossroads zone is also expanded by having three new areas you can travel to– the ranch that you buy animals at, a vineyard that’s more of a story-area, and a beach that mostly comes into play for a couple of summer festivals! 

On the visual side, this game is the series’ first venture into the new frontier of 3d graphics… kind of. The artstyle is made of isometric 3D models that are rendered into flat sprites and then projected onto the TV as if that’s not what’s happening. The game even lets you turn your farm around in 3D to face different directions, but it’s locked to only let you play in specific angles. Changing the direction made me forget where everything was and get lost on my own tiny farm, so I never touched that mechanic.

Due to the dramatic artstyle shift– not only being in 3D but also presented at a 45 degree angle, the game becomes a fair bit harder to play than either of its 2D predecessors. The controls are just a little clunky, and the bizarre shape of the N64 controller really doesn’t help. This makes the tedium of farming a little irritating to do, since it requires pretty precise inputs done over and over for every extra thing you’re trying to grow. Fortunately, you're not on the hook to ship everything before 5PM comes around like in SNES, so you get to move a little bit slower. The fickle farming experience also gets a little help from the new inventory menu that can be accessed anywhere and any time. It has multiple inventory slots for both tools and items, each type having a dedicated section so there’s no need to prioritize carrying tools versus turnips. Unfortunately, this actually ends up being a little more cumbersome than useful, as the menu takes a little longer than is comfortable to open and is pretty clunky to use. I mostly avoided it unless I was bringing gifts to people. But the addition of an inventory opens up the opportunity for something else which defines this entire game...

Key items– a set of unique, unsellable items –are most frequently found in random, secret places around the farm and town, and they give you a reason to scour every inch of the place. They can also be given to you by NPCs when you gain relationships with them, which is convenient because their entire purpose is to help you get even better relationships with each of them, and maybe even unlock little stories with characters. For example, there’s a music box you can dig up in your field that can be given to any of the girls for a decently sized relationship bump. There’s also an old weathervane in the shape of a chicken that you can find in the little mine. If you give it to Rick, he’ll tell you that it was a precious thing that belonged to his grandmother as a cute scene to deepen the town’s lore and connect it to the first game. Key items quickly become the most important and sought after things in the game because they act as a vessel to deliver that which the game is all about: stories.

Lots of people in a little town

The narrative premise is exceedingly simple: you need to fix up your grandfather’s ruined farm and make a new life for yourself in this town within a certain amount of time, just like its predecessors. Except, this game is a lot bigger than either of them, and it didn’t fill all the extra space with new things to grow on your farm. In my entry on the SNES game, I mentioned that the introspective style of writing turned the repetitive farming gameplay into something more like meditation on things going on in the town. This game takes that idea and runs with it! The town in this game may only be slightly bigger than it was before, but it has a lot more people in it, and every single one of them has a lot more to say, more to do, more festivals to go to, and more story events to take part in. There's even a new photo album that fills in with images for reaching special events or succeeding at certain festivals! Your given goal may be to successfully revitalize your farm, but that rapidly stops being the reason why you want to play. Farming is only a means to further the narrative of the town.

Story events are no longer a reward for reaching the highest heart level with a girl, but instead something that happens naturally in the world as you make better friends with people, or if you just happen to be in the right place at the right time. The world doesn’t only consist of you living it and things happening to you. Instead, you end up being a fly on the wall to other people’s conversations and life events, and you get to see how those events change the people around you. People will begin to say different things, go different places, live different lives without your input at all– often much better lives, as everyone in the town is pretty deeply troubled, whether they seem like it or not.

There’s an added depth, too. While the characters in this series have always been defined by their conflicts (in the first game, every big cutscene with each girl was exclusively about their major life conflicts), this game takes it further in multiple ways. Characters have conflicts with their families: you as the player have a conflict with your parents who can take you home if you fail to farm well, Lillia and Basil have conflict over their marriage and the fact that Basil leaves for half the year, and Karen’s family situation is…. A lot. Then, there are characters at conflict with things much more nebulous, like the Mayor who tells you that the town is going to die out but he can’t find any way to save it, or like the young boy Kent who wants to be a farmer just like you, but through a series of events is forced to learn that life isn’t so simple, people can’t just do whatever they would like, and it takes very hard work to get to do the things you dream of. And then there are conflicts that aren’t even necessarily conflicts unless they run into your long-term plans.

Instead of only having a bunch of girls in town who exist only as your prospective marriage candidates, there are also five boys in the town who will marry those girls instead of you, if given the chance. Like in SNES, there are 5 levels of hearts that the girls can have for you. Unlike SNES, each one of these hearts has a corresponding event you can have with the girl where there’s a chance of her liking you more afterwards, if you say the right things. In addition to that though, there are just as many events coming from the other side of the story, rival events that trigger if you happen to be good friends with the boys.

My favorite story by far is that of Harris the mailman who falls in love with the librarian, Maria, from just seeing her handwriting on the outside of all the letters that she would write. I frequently saw him in the bar at the end of the day and he would tell me the woes of his love, saying that he just needed to work up the courage to finally speak to her. Then one day, I happened to be outside of the library when he and Maria met face to face and she handed over a letter addressed to him. No longer did he sit in the bar forlorn every night, instead all he would do was excitedly tell me about Maria, and then when I visited the library, Maria would tell me about Harris!

While I’m on the subject of these characters, I think it’s worth going in a little more depth on who these people are past the grandchildren of the characters from the last game. See, you may be familiar with names like Karen and Kai and Gray, etc., etc. from a little recently remade game called Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town, which is a modern version of Friends of Mineral Town on the GameBoy Advance, which is a port of Back to Nature on the PlayStation. These are not those characters. At all. While the basic elements of these characters are intact– Popuri is cute and childish, Ann is a workaholic, Maria is shy and a little oblivious –nothing else is the same. They all work different jobs and marry different people than they are paired with in later entries, and in my humble opinion, it all works WAY better in this game, probably because of the fact that these characters were designed for this specific context!

As an example, Popuri’s exasperated mother, Lillia, runs the flower shop and Popuri was named by her father, Basil, who loves plants. She’s childish and sweet and loves flowers, but can also be a complete brat. She eventually marries Gray, Ann’s brother, who lives on the ranch run by his father, Doug, who struggles to understand his children. Gray is an angry young man who seems to have a particular dislike for you, but you don’t learn why until you discover he was a promising young jockey until he got a bad injury and had to give up the sport.

Am I gushing a bit and letting the game design part fall to the wayside? Sure probably, but I can only gush because the game does a brilliant job of making a cast of characters who, while simple on their own, have interconnected lives that come together to give every one of them so much more depth than they would have otherwise. It all builds a narrative, and while narrative design is definitely something different than game design on its own, this game is far more about the narrative so it’s impossible to not focus on.

The problems

The trouble with these events is that I nearly missed the chance to see that letter be exchanged. You have some control over the progression of the events, because you have to be decent friends with the boys in order for them to trigger at all, but unlike the girls who have a handy visual signal of how much they like you, the boys have no such thing, so you can’t really know if a new event is ready to fire off. There’s no way of knowing where or when they’ll happen either unless you look it up, and even then you have to get lucky because sometimes they just don’t trigger when you want them to. I had a lovely moment in my game where I managed to accidentally catch a cold from working too hard in the snow and lost a day to being bedridden, followed by the New Years celebration which takes a day away from you, then followed by Kai and Karen’s wedding– something that I had missed multiple events for and therefore had no idea was coming, which also took a day from me. After that three day chain of no work, I think I was extremely lucky my animals didn’t get sick and die. 

This chain of events led directly to me never speaking to Gray again, even though he was the boy I was most interested in, because I wanted to marry Popuri and there was too much risk of him getting to her before I could. The reason why I didn’t go into more detail about the relationship between those two when I was talking about them earlier is because I straight up don’t know it, I couldn’t risk giving them a chance to get together.

The thing is, even if I hadn’t forced Gray and Popuri’s cutscenes to stop, I still wouldn’t actually know what their relationship is like, because I have not beaten this game. I know what the ending entails and I can reasonably expect I probably would not have gotten an excellent one, but I’m sure it still would have been fine. I stopped playing the game entirely before I even managed to get married. Why? Because I couldn’t get any of Popuri’s heart events to trigger. I had her hearts maxed out and had a blue feather ready to go in my pocket, so I could turn on the game and marry her right away anytime I wanted to. But I wanted to trigger the little events, even if they’re just a couple seconds of some pixels talking to me on a screen. They’re cute. And it made me sad that I couldn’t see them for some imperceptible reason. So I stopped playing and didn’t pick the game back up.

I don’t remember how close I was to the end of the game, I know I was at least in year 2, but I don’t even remember how much longer the game is after that. Probably a good amount. I had definitely gotten most of the events you could get at this point, since multiple other characters had gotten married, and the farming wasn’t something I really enjoyed so I can’t say I wasn’t at least a little bored by this point, but I wasn’t frustrated with the general mechanics of the game. The days were long enough, but not too long, that I had just enough time to go anywhere I wanted and do what I needed before night came. I could still talk to characters and go to festivals and play minigames. But I didn’t want to, because the game wasn’t doing what it seemed like it was supposed to for some arbitrary reason and that frustrated me enough to make me stop. When the fun of a game is found more in experiencing special events rather than anything else, the player feels cheated out of their good time when those events are too hard to find or can be missed outright, and that’s exactly what I experienced.

Parting Thoughts

The ending, according to what I've read, is very similar to the SNES endings, in that you’ll get different results based on all of the different things you’ve done. Whether you’re married, how many crops you shipped, how many animals you have, how well liked you are by the town… I imagine it’s not quite the victory lap that SNES’s ending was with its little cutscenes, since apparently all you get are comments on how well you performed by various people in the town, but it still seems nice and rewarding! At least like more of a reward than whatever the hell GB1 was trying to do. It seems like a perfectly good ending that it would be nice to see myself someday.

Despite all my troubles with this game, I believe HM64 is still the best one out there– at least that I’ve played yet. The events are plentiful and the content is meaty. The repetitive day to day dialogue still has the simple breath of life that SNES did, that manages to make the most out of a small amount. Don’t get me wrong, this game came out in 1999, I’m giving it a lot of praise but the characters still repeat the same line to you every day, and they still freeze in place until you leave the room. It’s revolutionary, but this is comparing it to a game on the literal Super Nintendo. Absolutely pick up this game to try it out, but keep those expectations tempered. That said, I never picked up this game nor knew a thing about it until I was well into my 20’s, but the moment I started playing, it hit me with a wave of nostalgia as if I’d known this game my whole life. At least to me, the look and feel of the game were like coming home to a childhood I never had.

 Will I pick up this game again with the intent to beat it? Maybe! Hard to say for sure when I’m trying to play decades worth of games and write about them at a comprehensive level. What I do know is that this is exactly what I want more farming games to be. It��s a game that has thoughts about life, and about death, both good and bad. And I think this is the perfect context to share those thoughts.

#hm posting #harvest moon #story of seasons #harvest moon 64 #hm64 #m.txt

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Propaganda :

Robert Martin: The thing I LOVE about this version of the character is that despite barely having a line, you can tell not only that he loves Harriet, but that he's intelligent and compassionate and notices things. Which explains in some ways the interest and sympathy Mr Knightley has for him.

We have the first time we see him, meeting Harriet and Emma, before he proposes:

(Look at how happy this man is at seeing her!!!)

Now this is the look he gives Emma when he sees her after the rejection (the day Harriet goes to visit the Miss Martins):

He knows, and we now know that he knows.

And that's such an interesting take on the character? That he also realizes that it is Emma's influence and what that can mean for Harriet in the long run? And he can really do nothing about it?

And then comes this little scene this adaptation adds, after Box Hill, of Jane walking through the fields and crying her heart out. Robert Martin sees her:

At the "harvest celebration", Emma makes the gesture of going to Harriet and requesting an introduction to Mr. Martin. Look how happy these two look:

This is the face of a man who has not forgotten.

IDK. There's something about this whole journey (in a 1 hour 45 minute movie in which he speaks a total 2 lines) that gets me, and makes him my favourite Mr. Martin ever, even if I like the others too.

Mr Tilney: ...

#round two #hotjaneaustenmenpoll #henry tilney #robert martin #mr tilney #emma 1996 #northanger abbey #alastair petrie #jj feild

[sundry-whovengerslocked]

Snow and Dirty Rain (Merlin)

Richard Silken, "Snow and Dirty Rain" // BBC Merlin

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

-

and we've got a part three! with merthur this time! and significantly less angst!

I tried to make this one a bit like a duet, if you pay attention you can see that the words are closer to one of the boys vs the other, rather than spread across the pictures like I usually do.

Gaius, Hunith, and Leon will be in the next part, I promise. I've got it all sorted out.

-

the first one is arthur and merlin in ealdor. I was gonna do the "there is no more rope!" scene for the literal climbing out the window, but I figured the more metaphorical rebellion against uther was better.

peep the poetry with the scene about poetry! haha

I chose the labyrinth of gedref for that catalog line because I wanted to include it, and also I found it fit because they were trying to bring back the food/harvest - like dawn to a field

also that kingdom line was too perfect to not use for Ygraine's sigil! I'm so happy I got to fit it in!

#bbc merlin #richard siken #merthur #labyrinth of gedref #ygraine pendragon #ygraine's sigil #arthur's sigil #merlin #poetry #original post #arthur #arthur pendragon #ealdor #the battle for ealdor #snow and dirty rain #excalibur #the most powerful sorcerer #merlin emrys #the once and future king #two sides of the same coin

[taevisionceo]

TAEVision 3D Design Applications Machinery Agriculture Farm Farms Farming Forest NewHolland Harvest Field Scene (01) Tractor New Holland 5500 TurboSuper Engine Type 8000 55 HP ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos

Data 476 - Jun 03, 2022

#TAEVision #engineering #3d #mechanicaldesign #machinery #agriculture #farm #farms #farming #forest #NewHolland #harvest field scene #HarvestField #tractor #NEW HOLLAND 5500 TurboSuper Engine Type 8000 #NEWHOLLAND 5500

[delopsia]

If Outer Range's characters truly are loosely based on the Greek Gods, then Royal is Chronos, Cecelia is Rhea, Rhett is Zeus, and Maria is Hera.

Let me explain.

The moment Outer Range's season one starts, we open up with a stormy shot of Royal and his horse, Tilly, riding in a dark field with Trevor's body.

Voiced over the shot is Royal speaking to the audience, "You know anything about a Greek god called Chronos? He carried a sickle. He used it to cut a hole. A tear in the cosmos, between heaven and earth, to separate this world from the next. To separate the known from the unknown."

Immediately, we establish a link to Greek Mythology, and this is repeated later in the episode when Autumn catches Royal throwing Trevor into the hole. Through season one, we learn that Royal has used the hole to time travel on three occasions.

To escape the shame of accidentally killing his father

When Autumn pushes him into the hole

And when he jumped back in after the hole transported him three years into the future.

Through this, it's somewhat implied that Royal is Chronos. He doesn't carry a sickle yet, but he is deeply linked to this hole; he's the only one aware of its presence aside from Wayne. The hole is consistently there when he needs it. To escape his father's death. To hide Trevor's body. To show him what will happen in three years, if he does not change fate. And it deliberately returns him to the exact time period he just left.

But that isn't the only thing.

I've seen a lot of debate on whether Cronus, God of the Harvest, and Chronos, God of Time, are the same entity. For this interpretation, I'm arguing that Royal is based on both because he shares characteristics of both of them. For simplicity's sake, I'm just going to keep saying "Chronos" since that's how they spell it in the show's official subtitles.

Royal is depicted as a cattle rancher; he's a harvester of some fashion. In art, Chronus is often depicted with a gray beard, and I find it fun that Royal happens to share this feature. Is it exact? No, but its a detail in common.

Now here's where I get to the big thing. When Royal was nine and jumped through the hole, it brought him to "present time" as we'll call it, where he was taken in by the Abbott's as their own, and lived along side Cecelia, who he later married. Technically speaking, Cecelia was Royal's adoptive sister.

What did Chronos do? He married his sister, Rhea, the goddess of the Earth. Establishing Royal as Chronos and Cecelia as Rhea.

Now that I've laid that groundwork let me get to something nifty.

Rhett is Zeus.

Here is a photo shared by Amazon Prime on their Instagram.

This photo originates from the S1E2 scene when Royal reveals what happened after Autumn pushed him into the hole (refresher: he traveled roughly three years into the future). As pictured below, it's the same outfit.

You're probably wondering what the hell an outfit is supposed to tell us. Well, I'll show you. The belt buckle.

Here's his S1 buckle compared to the one in the future.

S1:

Future:

We can assume that this is the buckle Rhett earns during episode 8, after he wins the Amelia County Rodeo Finals. It's a huge tradition that bull riders win buckles, and they wear these literal trophies with pride. With how Rhett has been chasing this dream for a decade, we can assume he's going to wear the ever-living hell out of that buckle.

But do you see that on his buckle? That, my friend, is a lightning bolt.

Who is the God of Lightning? Zeus. The lightning bolt (or thunderbolt) was his most iconic weapon.

But we can't draw from that, no no no. I have something else.

In S1E1, we are introduced to the fact that Rhett sleeps around a lot, a trait Zeus is infamous for. Who haven't they slept with? Until his childhood crush, Maria comes back into town, and he's still just as crazy about her, despite her never reciprocating his advances (until now) and telling him (in Spanish) that she doesn't usually go out with men like him.

Similarly, Zeus was enchanted by Hera, the Goddess of Marriage. (Haha, get it, Maria...Marriage...similar words...I'll stop) but she didn't want a damn thing to do with him. But as the story goes, both Maria and Hera come around and agree to be with them.

Which establishes Rhett as Zeus and Maria as Hera.

Edit: I remembered another detail, Zeus and Rhett are both the youngest sons!

I don't have a solid standing on this portion, but Perry reminds me a bit of Poseidon.

Poseidon was angry with Odysseus for blinding his son, Polyphemus. While Perry doesn't have a son, he does have a daughter, Amy. Who was "blinded" by her past and became Autumn. It's a stretch, but I wanted to share the thought lmao.

This...does partially concern me about how Rhett's relationship with Maria may be depicted in season two, but you know what? I am ✨brilliant✨at sticking my head in the sand.

#i gotta get this out of my drafts im sorry #del's tin hat thoughts #outer range #rhett abbott

[probablyasocialecologist]

For Fain, the Bible is more than a source of feel-good inspiration. It boasts a sharp economic justice edge, leaving no doubt that God takes sides in the perennial struggle between the haves and have-nots. He insisted that the UAW’s is a “righteous fight” and commented, “There’s one more piece of scripture I like,” citing Matthew 19:23–24, in which Jesus declares, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.” Fain went on to offer a hard-nosed interpretation, mapping the gospel’s stark contrast between the Kingdom of God and hell onto the inequitable landscape of the modern United States: Why is it easier to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God? I have to believe that answer, at least in part, is because in the Kingdom of God no one hoards all the wealth while everybody else suffers and starves. In the Kingdom of God no one puts themselves in a position of total domination over the entire community. In the Kingdom of God no one forces others to perform endless, backbreaking work just to feed their families or put a roof over their heads. That world is not the Kingdom of God. That world is hell. Living paycheck to paycheck, scraping to get by? That’s hell. Choosing between medicine and rent is hell. Working seven days a week for twelve hours a day, for months on end, is hell. Having your plant close down and your family scattered across the country is hell. Being made to work during a pandemic and not knowing if you might get sick and die, or spread the disease to your family, is hell. And enough is enough.

[...]

As anyone acquainted with the longer histories of Christianity and labor knows, there’s no paradox here. When Fain quotes scripture in the service of the UAW’s fight, he is tapping into a deeply pro-labor vein of Christianity, one that we haven’t heard much about in recent years but in its heyday helped galvanize powerful working-class movements. For countless workers throughout American history, traditional faith and labor militancy have gone hand in hand. In this wider context, Fain emerges on the national scene not as a paradox but as the latest in a long line of labor prophets who have stoked the flames of egalitarian faith and held big business’s feet to the fire. From the labor movement’s earliest days, workers insisted that they organized because the Bible told them so. Union-friendly newspapers brimmed with scriptural quotations. The Gospel of Luke supplied some perennial favorites: “Woe unto you that are rich! For ye have received your consolation” (6:24) and “the laborer is worthy of his hire” (10:7). Perhaps none was as scintillating as the fifth chapter of the Epistle of James, which reads, “Come now, you rich people, weep and wail for the miseries that are coming to you. Your riches have rotted. . . . Listen! The wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts” (5:1-2a, 4).

#uaw #united auto workers #shawn fain #christian socialism

[usedtobeguest123]

...He raised his eyebrows in surprise at that. Favorite people? Was he included on that list? Julieta just smiled and turned back to the dishes. It took Bruno a moment, but he also slowly resumed his duties, finding he couldn't put away the little smile on his own face that had arrived at the thought that he might be someone's favorite.

I drew from my fic La Traes again for @encantober-official Day 2 - siblings. This scene is a little exchange that happens between the triplets--the OG siblings. You can find the whole thing below the cut.

“You need to get out of the house, hermanito,” Julieta had said to him gently one evening after dinner as they washed dishes together. “It’s…been a while, sí?”

“Eso se queda corto,” Pepa had mumbled as she dumped some more dishes into the soapy water, earning a glare from both of her siblings. [ That's an understatement.] She widened her eyes at them as if to say What? Am I wrong?

“I’m just saying ,” Julieta continued, pointedly moving past Pepa’s comment, “that it might do you some good, to have a little more change of scenery.”

“I-I think I’m doing just fine,” he replied a bit defensively. And he did. He went for walks with Dolores around the perimeter of Casita, down to the river where it ran past the southwest edge of the grassy lawn. Sometimes he’d wander out back behind the house, napping in the afternoon sun before it disappeared behind the mountainous wall that guarded the back of their home. Compared to the previous ten years, he was a veritable expeditionist now. 

“Of course you are,” Pepa said, putting an arm around his shoulders. He hunched them in response, glancing at her suspiciously. 

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah! You’ve made it to the edge of the grass! That’s like, what, un kilómetro cuadrado, yeah? A completely normal amount of space for a person to exist in.” 

[One square kilometer.] Bruno’s frown deepened. “You’re mocking me.” 

Pepa winked at him. 

“A-alright, alright,” he said, waving his hands in the air beside his head in surrender. “I’ll, uh, I'll go to the banana fields tomorrow. As long as it’s not a harvest day,” he added, pointing a finger at Julieta, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him. “Or an irrigation day. Or you know…a-a day with other, um, other people there.” 

The busyness of rebuilding Casita last year had given him enough social interaction outside his immediate family to last him quite a while…a very long while. Thankfully, he’d been able to largely lose himself in the organized chaos of it all, and Mirabel had been particularly helpful, working as a liaison between him and anyone he’d had to interact with, smoothing the awkwardness away with her easy conversation and joyful presence. And he had managed to largely ignore the curious stares that came from, well, from pretty much everyone until the novelty of his return had worn off. Well…at least he had pretended to ignore them. 

“I don’t want to pressure you, arenoso,” Julieta said gently, putting a slightly soapy hand on his shoulder. “I just don’t want…”

…don’t want you to get lost again. She’d let her sentence trail off, but the unspoken ending hung awkwardly in the air anyway. They’d both turned back to their dishes, with Pepa standing stiffly beside them, hugging a freshly dried plate to her stomach. The cloud above her head darkened just a little. Bruno winced down at the soapy water as the silence surrounding them grew painful.

“H-hey, maybe you can spend the day with Antonio tomorrow?" Pepa offered nervously, popping the tension like a soap bubble. "He needs a…a break …from routine, too."

Bruno and Julieta looked at their sister with matching frowns, both narrowing their eyebrows in concern. It would have been comical or even sweet to see the same expression mirrored between her two siblings again…if she didn’t feel the weight of the very same concern pulling down the corners of her own mouth. 

Antonio had been struggling to find a place for himself in the Madrigal visits to town. Before his gift, he might have shyly clung to Mirabel’s skirts or played in the dirt while Pepa rained on the fields, never quite brave enough to venture out to play with the other children on his own, refusing to speak to the adults that smiled down at him. Pepa worried about his shyness.

But now a different problem had presented itself. Antonio was now more than happy to engage with anyone and everyone, possessing a newfound courage with his animal friends by his side, but his animal friends were also decidedly wild, and even Antonio could not control every move they made. Just last week, some monkeys that had trailed him into the town had wandered away and found some storage crates of fruit, working together to drop them from the roof of a nearby house until the crates smashed open and spilled out a feast that was then fit only for them. The owner of the crates had not been happy.

Most of the jungle animals had largely maintained a healthy, fearful distance from the bustling, busy streets of the Encanto for the fifty years it had occupied the valley, but Antonio’s warmth and friendship seemed to have blurred that boundary, and Abuela was struggling to find a balance between loving encouragement and civic order. And when Abuela struggled with something, all the Madrigals struggled with her, in one way or another. 

“...Mamá suggested that maybe Antonio might spend some time in the forest paths, playing with his gift,” Pepa explained, putting away the plate so she could pull at her braid. A knowing glance between all three siblings conveyed the underlying meaning of the word play—learn to get it under control. “Félix was going to take him, but you two get along so well, Bruno. Maybe you could spend some time with him, and you both could enjoy the fresh air. You know. Bonding?”

Bruno blew out an exaggerated breath, his cheeks puffing and his shoulders dropping dramatically. He pulled his mouth to the side and looked at Pepa with an expression of reluctant concession. How could he say no to a whole day with his sobrino? He loved the kid. And the very fact that Abuela had been the one to suggest the break from town…well. He knew what that felt like. No matter how nicely she put it, how lovingly she intended it, he knew it would feel like a punishment to Antonio. That thought…well that thought broke his heart a little. 

“...F-fine,” he mustered in response. “We’ll go for a walk in the–- ” he swallowed dryly“ –- i-in the forest.” 

A bit of sunlight broke through from behind the cloud above Pepa’s head, and Bruno couldn’t help but flash a small, crooked smile up at it. She pulled him sideways by his collar and planted a kiss on his cheek, which he winced at but accepted gratefully. Julieta nudged him with her hip. 

“There you go! That will be fun,” she said happily, clearly convinced this was a fantastic solution for all parties. Bruno was not so sure. “Take Mirabel with you, too, if you want. You know she’d love to join her two favorite people for the day.” 

Bruno had raised his eyebrows in surprise at that. Favorite people? Was he included in that list? Julieta had just smiled and turned back to the dishes. It had taken Bruno a moment, but he also slowly resumed his duties, finding he couldn’t put away the little smile on his own face that had arrived at the thought that he might be someone’s favorite. 

So here he was now, sharing a picnic blanket with a sloth and a capybara—among other crawling, flittering things—nursing a bruised ego after having been tackled by a six year old on a jaguar, all because he was a pushover who couldn’t say no to time with his sobrinos. 

Caray. The things I get myself into…

--La Traes, Chapter 1

#Encantober #siblings #encanto #I tried not to spend too much time on this one so please excuse the sloppy background 😁 Just imagine they are in the kitchen... #pepa madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #madrigal triplets #my art #my writing #la traes #Bruno from Before

[written-in-flowers]

At First Glance: (Otto x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Fem!OC

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 11k

Summary: Let's go back to the beginning of our Rosebud and her Hightower. Ser Otto is slotted to marry the young Tyrell girl, expecting resentment and disgust. However, his young bride proves him wrong quickly and erotically.

Tags: arranged marriage, old/young relationship (consensual), pool sex, poolside sex, public sex, oral (m. and f. giving/receiving), teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, breast worship, facials (kind of), tongue fucking, first time, a bit of coaxing on both parts but it's all consensual.

Masterlist!

***

They’d traveled for nearly two months before they finally saw it in the distance. Sitting high on a verdant hill, the Manderly river flowing nearby, was Highgarden. Seat of House Tyrell, it was a stone castle full of life, laughter, and light. White stones made up the high walls circulating the castle up top, each layer growing in height. Fields of golden roses stretched across the land, the fresh air flowing through to blow their sweet fragrance. The scene of natural beauty was such a stark contrast to the wretched, crowded, infested King’s Landing far away. Being near Highgarden put one in a completely different world, and Otto could see the appeal. How could someone want to live in King’s Landing or Oldtown when they had the flowers and entertainment of Highgarden? 

Otto thought about this as the wheelhouse pushed through the land towards the castle beyond. The Harvest Moon Festival was the biggest event in all of The Reach; the occasion was made twice as special due to The King’s progress happening to travel right through. Lord Gareth Tyrell responded to his raven with enthusiasm, as he looked forward to hosting The King’s party as well as seeing his childhood friend, Otto. House Tyrell were wardens of The Reach; House Hightower reigned in Oldtown, sacred place of The Citadel, The Starry Sept, and a notable trading port. The two great houses often mingled together through trade and politics. His older brother, Hobert, told him he’d recently drawn up new terms for House Tyrell to keep their families’ trade agreement going. The best way to seal this deal is through marriage. Hobert already married off his daughter and two sons. Otto had Alicent, who married King Viserys and was now queen; his son, Gwayne, was married with children as well. Hobert, having a living wife, turned his eyes to Otto. 

Widowed several years ago, he never considered finding another wife. No woman he met compared to Leyla, who’d been the light of his life. Being two-and-fifty, he told Hobert he’s too old to remarry; he had no desire. Hobert doubled down and reminded him of the importance. He thought he’d get some say in how his life went on after Leyla. But, he knew that his family must go on, and trade relations must remain on good terms. But still, it was madness. Gareth must be surely suffering from a bout of desperation, and will change his mind as he is so prone to doing. The offer might’ve been made on a whim; another fanciful idea his old friend made and will regret upon Otto’s arrival. Yet, for now, he must settle with the idea of marriage once more. 

Hobert told him he and Gareth can discuss dowry and dates when he’s chosen his bride. From what Otto recalled, Gareth and his wife, Jalissa, have six children: three boys and three girls. The youngest girl is only an infant, hardly fit to marry. The second eldest is one-and-ten, Aemond’s age and still not fit for a man like him. That left his eldest daughter, who was three-and-twenty. Lady Y/N Tyrell, “The Rose of Highgarden”, “Flower of The Reach”, “The Golden Flower”. Tales of your beauty and grace ran from Highgarden to Oldtown, and from Oltown to King’s Landing. You’d never been seen at court, but this was mainly your father’s doing. Gareth was very protective of his first-born daughter; Otto heard he turned down offers from younger suitors for the pettiest of reasons. He must admit he was surprised when Gareth wrote to Hobert about a possible marriage pact. He’d written a raven for Otto as well. He’d extolled his daughter’s obvious surface beauty, but her virtues and talents as well. 

‘Y/N is my most precious flower. I’d only entrust her to the noblest of men.’ 

You’ll be disappointed, no doubt. Perhaps when he and Gareth spoke in private, he could convince him to make a match with another Hightower or related member. Marriage might not be needed at all. They’ve made such agreements without it before now. He couldn’t marry again. Not because of the ceremonies or feasts or events beforehand, but because then you will carry the surname ‘Hightower’. You’d be ‘Lady Hightower’. Leyla was Lady Hightower. Lady Leyla Hightower. He pictured her even now as the wheelhouse passed through the final gate into Highgarden. He remembered the slender beauty with ginger curls and large brown eyes, who cheered for him the loudest and held his hand through the difficult times. It made his heart ache. Even if you are beautiful, there is no guarantee he’d like you or that you two had anything in common. 

The wheelhouse stopped when they reached the stone roundabout in front of the doors of Highgarden. On the walls, he saw crawling vines of roses and small flowers going up from the ground; more of them bloomed in the bushes lining the courtyard and the large fountain in the middle. He saw armored guards in silver with green cloaks standing by the steps, and a long green and gold carpet leading from door to bottom step. Right in front of the entrance, he spotted Gareth. A large man with dark brown hair, his mustache had grown thicker since Otto last saw him and gray hairs now mixed with the brown. Beside him stood Lady Jalissa, a willowy woman with auburn hair braided down her back, holding an infant swaddled in a green blanket. The children who remained at home stood alongside them: heir to Highgarden, Matthos, stood a tall as his father, a man grown with his own family; the twins, Loras and Horas, who were Aegon’s age of six-and-ten; Elise, the second eldest daughter who wore a dress of pale pink and gold with her thick hair braided, and the eldest daughter, you. His stomach churned as he forced himself to ignore you. 

His nerves tried overcoming him as the wheelhouse stopped in front of the party. No, he wouldn’t let himself be anxious. Otto took a deep breath and stepped out of the wheelhouse. The warm breeze coming through didn’t feel unpleasant; it felt quite relaxing. How can an old man like him take you away from such a beautiful home? You must hate him for it. 

“Otto!” Gareth held out his arms to Otto, and beamed brightly. Otto stepped forward and the two men embraced, laughing and patting one another on the back. “You look well, Otto. You look well,” he commented, “I just finished writing a letter to Hobert. He’s been badgering me about the damn trade routes! He tells me bandits and outlaws have been stopping his export cargo.”

“He mentioned the same to me as well. Let’s hope our alliance might help things.” Hobert often scolded his younger brother about not caring more about trade between Highgarden and Oldtown. He looked down the line to Jalissa and the infant in her arms. “Lady Jalissa,” he smiled at her, kissing the back of one of her hands, “You look lovely as ever.”

“Highgarden welcomes you, Otto,” she beamed back. “I’d like you to meet our newest Tyrell: Adeline.”

“How charming,” he said, tickling the baby’s chin and watching her smile. “She looks like you.”

“Thank the Gods,” Gareth added, “If she looked anything like me, I’d have a hard time marrying her off.” The three friends laughed before he said, “Speaking of marrying off…Ser Hightower, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Radiant. That was the only word he could find to describe you. Everything about you was soft and gentle. It shined. You shined. Pretty eyes blinked up at him shyly, and your soft lips curled into a smile. Your dress was a painted gold vest with short sleeves, with a scarf underneath to cover your chest. The skirt was a fine light blue fabric that hung to your feet. His eyes spent time taking in all your features. For once, rumors spoke truthfully. The Rose of Highgarden was the epitome of beauty. 

“Ser Hightower,” you said in a soft spoken voice, curtsying for him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“And you, Lady Y/N.” 

Leyla didn’t speak softly or show signs of shyness when they met. She’d been bold and out-spoken. She made a statement simply by the way she stood. You took charge in a different way. Gareth and Jalissa introduced their children. Seeing young Elise, he knew Gareth will propose a match between the king’s household and his own. Gareth never missed an opportunity to make alliances or connections to other great houses. He finally led them all inside the castle. Tapestries, fine art, and sculptures decorated every hall. He saw the vines from outside creeping through windows and onto the inner walls. Any earthy scent the rooms might have was blown away by the fresh air coming in through the wide corridors. Gareth started giving instructions to a castle guard, while Jalissa came into step beside Otto. 

“How are you, Otto?” she asked. 

“I’ve been well.”

“No, I mean right now,” she said. “Being betrothed after Leyla…it must be troubling you.”

He caught sight of you ahead of him. You glided as if walking on clouds above the sky. He spotted the golden rose pin keeping your hair back. “Your daughter’s so young, Jalissa,” he said quietly. “She should be marrying someone closer to her age. I can name five young men who’d be better suitors.”

“And my lord husband will find a reason why each one is not worthy of our Y/N,” she replied. “It has been an absolute struggle securing a marriage for her. He always had one reason or another: ‘the boy is too brash’ ‘the boy is too dim-witted’ ‘the boy is a brute’.” She sighed defeatedly, “When Hobert mentioned marriage, he jumped at the chance.” She glanced over at him, “He trusts you; he always has.”

“I’m old enough to be her father. She must be repulsed by the idea of marrying me.”

“Trust me,” she chortled, “My Y/N is overjoyed to be marrying you.”

“Of course, I’m a Hightower of Oldtown. It offers her protection, wealth and security for the rest of her life.”

“That is not the only reason she’s happy about it.”

Otto felt there was more in the statement than Jalissa said out loud. He looked back over to you as they walked into the Grand Hall, the central hub of Highgarden. Otto expected melancholy or a hidden fury in them, but instead he saw a subtle joy. You talk animatedly to Elise, the both of you giggling together before you looked over at him. You gave another sweet smile that melted hearts before bashfully looking away. No, that’s absurd. Jalissa meant to ease any doubts and worries he might have; maybe to keep him from running away, but she should know by now. 

He never runs from his duties. 

A spread of food and drink had been put out for the guests, no doubt to let them rest as their belongings were taken to their apartments. He spoke with the other lords of the Reach who’d come for the festival and his nuptials, reconnecting and greeting old friends from home. But, his eyes occasionally casted over towards you. You stood with other noble ladies, no doubt gossiping and chatting amongst yourselves. He couldn’t overcome the look you’d given him. Otto wouldn’t lie. The thought of you desiring him sounded appealing. He liked imagining such a beautiful creature wanting him, aching for him. He briefly pictured you coming to him, sneaking into his chambers and asking for him rather than him sending a maid to collect you for him. The odds of that were unlikely. Very. 

****

You’d heard many things about Ser Otto Hightower, your father’s childhood friend. You heard your father recount stories about him and Ser Otto, and your mother often spoke kindly of him. They both told you he’d make a good husband; he’d treat you honorably and keep you comfortably for the rest of your days. You heard other people say he was methodical and ambitious, which you could understand. Your own father can be the same way at times. You supposed all men are ambitious, in truth, but that did not intrigue you. 

“He’s so…old, though,” said Maera, one of your ladies-in-waiting. She and your other companions stood in a circle on the other side of the room. You saw the disgust on her face as she looked over at Otto. “He could be your father.”

“My father says his family is wealthy and pious,” you told her, trying to find a reason to excuse your compliance. “He seems kind enough.”

And handsome, though you’d never say so out loud. Ser Otto Hightower carried a refined, regal aura that made him stand out. The boys brought forward as suitors bumbled about, tried too hard to impress you, or spoke about your beauty endlessly with no substance. Ser Otto hardly said a word to you since meeting apart from his greeting, but you’d seen the recognition in his eyes. Your eyes looked over his tall stature, the light brown in his beard and the ginger in his auburn hair. It gave him a more respectable appearance. You did not know much about him besides what your parents told you, and you considered approaching him first. Yet, the thought tightened nerves in your stomach. What would you say to him? How would the conversation go? What if, like all the others, he saw you as an object to possess? You knew you’d be miserable if the latter was true. So many men seeking your hand saw you as a trophy to be won. You’d be a pretty, shiny jewel they can flaunt at balls and feasts. Your father, thankfully, hated every man who stepped through the door with your name on his lips. 

Except Ser Otto. 

You watched him speaking jovially with other lords of The Reach. Many people came from all around the region to attend the Harvest Moon Festival; many came for your upcoming wedding, which was at week's end. Several of your friends and relatives worked tirelessly on their gowns for the ball at the end of the week. Your seamstress recently finished the last draft of her designs for you, bringing your vision of a dress of maple leaves in orange, yellow, and red to life, and started sewing. Tonight, your father plans to host a welcoming feast for all the noble houses attending, and you have your gowns lined up for the entire week. You’d made sure they were eye-catching, pretty and slightly provocative. Men Ser Otto’s age tended to like pretty girls who flaunted their bodies. Your mother told you he was an honorable man, who wouldn’t want a wife who shows so much skin, so you held back into a more subtle gown. Still, you hoped Ser Otto approached you tonight. 

That little voice in the back of your head hoped he did more than talk. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Elise, your younger sister, bounced over to you. In her hands, she held several flower crowns of different colors. She already wore her crown of pink carnations and baby’s breath on her head. “Mother wishes for the ladies to wear these tonight!” she held them out for your friends to grab, “And she said you get to wear this one.”

Your flower crown had gold roses woven into green leaves and feathers. Looking over to where your mother stood, a wet nurse holding your baby sister, you both locked eyes. She gave you a knowing smile, then nodded her head towards your father and Ser Otto. You returned with a nervous look, and shook your head. She gave a visible sigh, as if to say “alright, but you must speak with him eventually”. You would. Just not now. Especially not with your friends so closely watching. 

“I heard his wife died some time ago,” said Cornelia, holding her own crown of blue and white flowers. “She fell ill from a fever and passed away. Maybe he’ll be so distraught over his wife still, he won’t pay you much mind. My mother says the only time I’d need to see my husband is at the bedding and on formal occasions. Perhaps the same will be for you.”

“I hope not.”

“What?” said Maera incredulously. 

“I’d always hoped to have a loving marriage,” you admitted, playing with the crown in your hands. “A husband who adores and loves me like in the stories.”

“Life isn’t a fairytale, Y/N,” she replied, drinking from her wine cup. “My mother says women in this realm are dealt bad cards, and we must adapt to them or else we lose. My father promised me to August Tarly,” she said the name with disdain, “Once he’s been knighted.”

“Seeing how August Tarly wields a sword, I can’t imagine that’ll be any time soon,” you said. 

"I'm not counting the days, is all I can say."

You looked back at Ser Otto, who happened to catch you at the same time. Warmth filled your cheeks, you smiled and turned away. You hoped he was as kind as your mother said. If not that, then at least civil and decent towards you. A part of you worried you may spoil everything and Ser Otto chooses not to marry you. He might not be fully over his wife’s death, and find another way to avoid marriage. You'd thought about sneaking away until you spotted Ser Otto heading into the gardens from afar. 

"I will see you all tonight," you told the women, and swiftly moved through the crowd without an explanation.

You stayed by the stone archway leading into the vast gardens beyond. Other guests stayed spread out through the blossoming flowers and fountains, and you saw him talking to Lord Tarly, shaking hands and smiling. You never knew how to tell your friends about your taste in men. They all swooned over the handsome, young knights and lords who came through Highgarden, each of them fighting for the man’s attention. You, however, found yourself admiring men much older than you. Older men were more experienced in life and love. Now, you didn’t fall in love with the wrinkled, elderly men who sat in chairs and walked about on sticks. You liked men like Otto, middle-aged and still fit. You hoped your father would fight for the marriage if Otto should suggest another form of alliance. You’d love nothing more than to be his wife. 

Otto eventually left the company of Lord Tarly and his men, and walked towards the garden maze. Having grown up within the walls of Highgarden, you knew the garden maze like the back of your hand. Waiting until he’d disappeared through the archway, you stealthily followed him inside. The tall hedges made narrow paths going in all directions, each path leading the wanderer into groves of fruits and flowers, small sitting areas, or bathing pools. Perhaps he may get lost, and you can happen to have come upon him? You were merely enjoying your family’s gardens, and found him? 

‘Oh, forgive me, Ser. I thought I was alone…What? You’ve gotten turned around in the maze? Ha, that’s alright. Everyone does. Come, I will lead you back to the party…” You entertained yourself with the idea of coming upon Ser Otto in the citrus groves. Oranges, peaches, and apricots growing on trees, and their sweet smell hanging in the air. You moved along the trodden path Ser Otto had taken, hearing footsteps nearby and sensing it might be him. “What was that, Ser? Where is my chaperone? Well, Septa Gaunt’s ankles often swell when standing too long, so I left her sitting by one of the fountains…Why yes, I am happy to be marrying you. I promise I will be a good wife to you and mother to our children…No, Ser, I would not be opposed to you kissing me right now…I wore this gown just for you. I hope you like it…Oh, you wish for me to remove-”

“-It seems I am not the only one who enjoys the infamous Tyrell garden maze.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning around, you saw Otto standing in the entryway to the small courtyard you’d walked into. Benches on either side of the small space, a fountain of The Maiden holding her arms out as birds zoomed around her stood in the center. It was one of your favorites. Made of bronze, it shone in the morning sunlight, and the water spewed from her hands like crystals into the pond around her. The daydream running in your mind immediately dissipated when you caught sight of him. A deep heat rushed up your neck and burned your cheeks. 

“Oh, um, Ser Otto, my…you, um, uh, gave me a fright…” you sounded so childish. ‘Gave me a fright’. You could’ve kicked yourself right then and there. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” he replied, “That was not my intention.” He spotted the fountain behind you, “Ha, it seems your mother’s statue is still here.”

“Ha, uh yes. It is.” 

“I remember when your father commissioned this. It’d been after he married your mother,” he told you, coming up to your side. “He told me she was The Maiden in flesh, and wanted to dedicate a statue to preserve her beauty for eternity. He’s always been the hopeless romantic, your father,” he snorted. 

“You, um, see quite close to him and my mother,” you said, grabbing at topics to discuss. “He said he’d been fostered at The Hightower in Oldtown?” 

“Yes, he was,” he nodded. “He came to us after our fathers decided to renew Hightower and Tyrell ties. Fosterage was a lot more common back then. Your father and I became fast friends, training and being educated together. I suppose my father really did it because I never had many friends my own age. My brother was much older than me by that time, and I had no other siblings. I grew to truly cherish your father,” he said to you. “And him in return to me. I suppose that’s why he’s so adamant that I be your husband.”

“Our families truly are intertwined,” you said, watching the clear water spill from the statue's ring of flowers underneath. “My father says a marriage between our house and yours will be beneficial to both parties. He says the trade routes aren’t very safe these days, and House Hightower can provide more men to guard them.”

“We can…” you heard his voice trailing off before he said, “Lady YN, I considered asking your father to call off our engagement.”

The words sunk your heart into the acidic pits of your stomach. You looked over to him, and said, “Ser?” 

“I’m an old man, my lady,” he replied, not really looking at you. “A woman your age should be matched with someone younger and fitter than I. I already have children and grandchildren of my own. You cannot possibly wish to marry someone as old as me. I know your father wants the best for you, and I assure you that is not me.”

“But, Ser…” the fact that he thought he wasn’t a suitable husband for you shattered your hopes and dreams. Your mother always said you hoped far too high. You played with the belt around your waist, and said, “I do wish to marry you.”

He huffed in a laugh, “There is no need for flattery, my lady. There is nobody around to hear you.”

“I am not trying to flatter you, Ser. I mean it,” you turned completely to face him, hoping he’d see the sincerity there, “I would very much like to be your wife.” 

He faced you, hands behind his back, “And why is that? There are plenty of boys in this region who’d cut a man down to be with you. You’d certainly be a good match for my grandson, Prince Aegon, were he not already betrothed.”

“I don’t want a boy. I want a man,” you stated, cringing at how foolish it sounded out loud. “What I mean to say is that the boys that have come forward are all simple-minded, brutish, and only see me as a trophy.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t see you that way, hm?” he stepped closer to you, his body a foot away from yours. It left you breathless for a moment, and a slew of scenarios ran through your mind. 

“Because we’ve been standing in this yard alone and you haven’t tried to touch or kiss me,” you said, letting the idea settle into his mind. “My mother has told me many great things about you: how you were Hand of the King, all the good things you did for the kingdom, and that you’re an honorable and pious man. And besides,” you moved to him until you were inches from each other, smiling softly, “I quite like older men. They’re much more experienced in life and…marriage.” 

You heard him let out a soft sigh, his eyes scanning over your features up close. Gently, he brushed your arm, the simple touch igniting something inside you, “So, you are not opposed to this match?”

“No, Ser,” you shook your head. You pressed even closer, your body right against his, and circled the geometric patterns bordering his doublet. “I look forward to it greatly.” 

You saw a slight pink tinge cover his cheeks. He continued looking over your face before landing on your lips, “You…truly are The Rose of Highgarden…”

“Thank you, Ser,” you giggled. “I, um, hope this was not too forward,” you moved away from him suddenly, realizing what you’d done. “I don’t…I promise I am not usually this way-”

“-Do not apologize,” he insisted, bringing you back gently by the elbow. “Do you truly…Certainly you could not truly wish to marry an old man like me? I am old enough to be your father.” 

“Ser, you are not so old,” you assured him. You realized you quite enjoyed being close to him this way. “Old is for men like my grandfather, who walk around with a cane and cannot remember what day it is. I’m sure there are many things you can still do.”

‘Such as me…’ you nearly said, but decided that was indeed far too forward. He laughed at your words, and replied, “I’m not so sure of that, my lady. I have not done certain things in a very long time.”

“Perhaps once we’re married, we could-”

“-Y/N! Y/N, darling, where are you?” 

Your mother’s voice came from somewhere near the hedges, and you both jumped apart. Soon, Lady Jalissa came around the corner, and smiled in relief. “Ah, there you are,” she said, coming to your side, “I have been looking for you. The King has just arrived.” Suddenly, she noticed Otto beside you. She looked between you and then Otto, and realized what she’d done. Rather than scowl, she smiled knowingly. “Her chaperone is not present, Otto,” she teased, taking your hand, “You know better.”

“Perhaps her chaperone will be more mindful of her wanderings in the future,” Otto said, also sneering. “The King has arrived, you said?”

“Yes, him, the Queen, and the children. I’m sure Alicent will be pleased to see her father.” 

It was then that you remembered. You’d only just remembered: Queen Alicent is Ser Otto’s daughter. A pang of nervousness hit you as your mother guided you back through the maze, chatting with Otto about the Queen and him seeing The King again. You’d be related to The Queen, who was a few years older than you. What if she did not approve of this union? What if Otto took her opinion seriously and did discuss other alliance options with your father? You walked into the main hall again with your mother, gulping anxiously as you spotted the crowd parting for the newest guests. 

The King’s party consisted of his Kingsguard, men in white cloaks and golden armor. He walked with a cane, his white hair thinning on his head and his left sleeve dangling from the shoulder. He was around Otto’s age, yet looked so much older than the last time he visited Highgarden. Queen Alicent walked behind him with her ladies-in-waiting, wearing a green gown and a golden circlet in her auburn curls. She looked regal, the way a queen should look. She too was much, much younger than her husband. How could Otto object to your betrothal, yet fully accept his daughter marrying a man his age? Because that man was The King, of course. Behind her were Otto’s grandchildren: Prince Aegon, a tall boy with thick silver hair, who looked around the room in disinterest; Princess Helaena, a slender girl with hair just like her brother’s, shyly walking beside him as everyone looked on, and finally Prince Aemond, short and slight with silver curls down to his shoulders. The only one missing was Prince Daeron, the youngest who was a squire and cupbearer in Oldtown for Otto’s brother. Should you marry Otto, you’d be part of their family. You wouldn’t be royalty, but you’d be related to them. Since Otto is no longer Hand of the King, he no longer lives in King’s Landing. 

Perhaps that might be a good thing. 

Your father walked alongside King Viserys, the both talking cordially despite the slow steps. Everyone got along well with your father. While he may be a bit pompous at times, his jovial spirit rippled through crowds around him. It made him the perfect host. Your mother appeared with you at the center of the room, your siblings standing with her. When King Viserys approached, you all bowed. Then, your father introduced his household to him and Queen Alicent. 

Your nerves tripled when she approached you. You hoped maybe she did not know about the betrothal, but when her eyes widened slightly, you knew the truth. 

“You’re Lady Y/N?” she asked, trying to hide her disbelief. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” you nodded, curtsying. 

Alicent’s eyes flitted to her father who stood nearby behind you, then back to you. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

She hates you. “And you, Your Grace.” 

A sickness entered your stomach, and you thought you might vomit. She disapproves. She’s not only Otto’s daughter, but the Queen. She might demand your father choose another suitor; she could convince her father to decline the offer. You turned to your mother, who took your hand in hers and squeezed reassuringly. No amount of hand-holding could hold off the dread. You almost did not acknowledge Prince Aegon, who gave you a swift once-over, then walked away unimpressed. Princess Helaena timidly nodded, and you smiled kindly at her. It was Prince Aemond who stood stock-still in front of you. 

“Um, uh, hmmm,” he stammered, “Hello, Lady Y/N.” 

“Prince Aemond,” you curtsied once again. 

He stared up into your face, since he was much shorter being only twelve. The sudden fear that Queen Alicent might suggest a marriage between House Tyrell and The Crown came to you. It wouldn’t be the first time a Targaryen-Tyrell marriage alliance would be proposed. Yet, at the time it’d been King Viserys’s brother, Prince Daemon, who’d suggested it. This time it’d be The Queen. What if your father saw the benefits in this match and called off your betrothal to Otto? You tried thinking the opposite. Aemond is much younger than you. You’re twenty-three. He’s twelve. 

Your father called for the royal family to be shown to their chambers for the week. You saw Alicent walk with her father after them, and you excused yourself to your own chambers for the day. 

***

“She’s a child, Father.”

“She’s a grown woman, Alicent.”

“She might as well be a child compared to you.”

Otto found his daughter’s reaction quite amusing. Standing in her quarters at Highgarden, the servants finished setting down Alicent’s possessions and left the father and daughter alone. It’d been so long since Otto laid eyes on Alicent. The last they’d seen one another, Aegon and Helaena were still infants. He’d embraced her the moment the servants left, taking in the scent of flowers in her hair and the warmth of her. Seeing her now in the sunlight, she reminded him of Leyla. He’d planned on asking her about Lord Lionel, his sucessor who'd perished in a fire, leaving the position open once more. But, she had other concerns. 

“I cannot believe you are agreeing to this union,” she said, hands crossed in front of her and displeasure on her face. “You’d told me you did not wish to remarry after Mother passed. Now, here you are, engaged to a girl twice your junior.”

“It is for political reasons alone,” he said. “House Tyrell needs men, and House Hightower is willing to offer them. Gareth has a daughter who needs marrying, and he has insisted it be me.”

“Why?”

“We are close friends and allies. He trusts me to look after his daughter.”

She scoffed, shaking her head, “Oh, look after her, you will, Father.”

“Alicent,” he said firmly, as if scolding her. 

“You cannot convince me it is not for her youth and looks that you wish to marry her,” she retorted. “I’ve heard the things people say about that girl.”

“What do they say?” Alicent did not answer at first. He pressed her, “Alicent, is there something about her that you know that I do not?”

She stayed silent for a moment more before answering, “That she is lovely.” It almost annoyed her to say it. “They say she is lovely, gracious, kind, and talented. Ladies who’ve met her speak very highly of her.” She plopped down onto a chair, “Her beauty is said to rival the most beautiful girls at court. It appears the rumors are true.” She’d moved her fingers to pick at her nails, but she quickly stopped herself. Otto then discovered the real reason she disapproved, “You said you loved Mother. You said you’d never want for another woman after she died. You’d told me so yourself when I asked you. I never imagined you marrying someone else, especially one so young.” 

He smiled softly, and came to sit beside her. “I did love your mother, Alicent. I still do, even if she is no longer with us. But, this union will benefit both our families.”

“Is there no other option?” she nearly snapped. “Perhaps Uncle Hobert could foster the little girl or one of the sons at Oldtown. Daeron would do well to be around children his age. Maybe the little girl could be betrothed to Aemond instead. They’re close in age. A match to the crown will benefit him more, would it not?”

It would. “I will confess I considered the same thing,” he said. “But, it is Y/N Gareth wishes to marry off, not Elise. I will not lie to you, my daughter,” he looked at her, “Gareth is not very fond of House Targaryen.”

“Really?” she asked, intrigued. 

He poured them both wine from a pitcher nearby, and said, “Lord Gareth is a strong believer in The Seven. He does not approve of the Targaryen’s queer customs of marrying within their own families. He says he cannot trust a family who use their dragons as a means to put themselves above other men. It would take much more than simple military gain to propose a match.” He took a sip from his cup, then said, “And yes…Lady Y/N is beautiful, and Jalissa assures me she will make a good wife.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, “That poor girl. I can’t imagine her being very fond of the idea.”

“She claims differently.” He instantly regretted saying this when she looked over at him with wide eyes. 

“Father?” 

“I spoke with her in the garden,” he admitted, “And she told me she’s partial to…older men.”

Alicent stifled a laugh with her wine. “Surely, her father must’ve convinced her to say it.”

For some reason, Otto got the impression that you were not as obedient a daughter as Alicent. He recalled how close you’d stood to him, touching his doublet lightly and pure sincerity in your eyes. When he touched you, a flame sparked within him. He’d been tempted to kiss you right then, but his own morals restricted him. He liked to believe you’d said it to ease any worries. Yet, he liked the idea of you desiring him even more. You’d walked so willingly into his embrace, your bosom centimeters from his chest, and your body heat radiating onto him. For a moment, he remembered the bathing pools of Highgarden, and the idea of taking you there. Even if he did not wed you…

Gods, he’d still love to undress you. 

The innocence you’d shown clearly shrouded something lustful within you. People at Highgarden tended to live much more loosely than those in King’s Landing. He liked the idea that you might be one of those people. 

“-Father? Father, are you listening?” Alicent’s voice broke into his thoughts. 

“Yes,” he lied, coughing and looking at her. 

She didn’t believe him. “I said, have you heard what’s happened to Lord Lionel and Ser Harwin?”

Otto sat up straight and took a drink, hoping the coolness might soothe the fires inside him. “Oh yes, a terrible thing. Very tragic. I understand it was a fire that broke out in Harrenhal?”

“Yes, it took them both," she said. He noticed other words lingering inside her. She did not look at him, and focused on her wine. Her mother once did the same whenever she withheld information from him. "The King…is looking for a new Hand."

Otto paused, "Is he?"

"He is. I have taken the position for the time being, but I put forward your name." She then broke, "I have no allies at court, Father. Viserys continuously favors Rhaenyra and her sons over mine. He remains entirely blind to their plain features, and their obvious birth illlegitimacy. Whenever I broch the subject, he gives me a weak answer." Her deep brown eyes pleaded with him, "Father, I cannot go against them on my own. I need you."

He hesitated. As Hand of the King, he'd have significantly more power. A second son to a noble house, he inherited very little compared to his brother. When he became Hand, he became a person of worth. He had power and influence throughout the realm. If he were still Hand, he wouldn't need to remarry. Hobert might've chosen another option. Otto recalled his days as Hand of the King, first to the last king and then to Viserys. He'd spoken with the King's voice when he fell too ill; he sat on the council and had The King’s ear. He'd be with his daughter and grandchildren again. They'd have a person in their corner, concerned with their futures and their lives. If Rhaenyra became queen, the realm would be flown into war and chaos. 

If her bastard boys became kings after, it'd ruin the kingdom further. 

"Have you managed to convince him?" He asked her. 

"I have mentioned it to him a few times," she said. "He may consider rebuilding the bridges he burned dismissing you from court."

"I only spoke the truth," Otto said. "It is not my fault he is willfully blind to her misdeeds. I tell him his daughter went into a brothel with Prince Daemon, and was seen coming out after him. He dismisses me instead of accepting the truth."

He also remembered Viserys telling him that he'd plotted to put his daughter forward as a queen. Well, he had, but he never admitted that. Should he be Hand again, he can push for Aegon to be named heir instead of Rhaenyra. If he was Hand, he could keep Prince Daemon from being on the throne. If he was Hand again, people will understand why you wish to marry him. 

"I will wait for him to approach me," as he knows Viserys will. "I have plenty to occupy me for the moment." Such as you and your beautiful eyes. 

"He's been quite sentimental these days," she told him. "His declining health has made him even more so."

"I can imagine. The King has always been fickle with his commands. He banishes Daemon and then allows him back at court to only banish him again. He dismisses me as Hand, and then brings me back. It's only a matter of time."

She looked over at him, then said, "What will you do about Lady Y/N? You cannot seriously wish to marry her."

"I will. I must."

And wished to, though he kept this to himself. "I will leave you to settle in," he said, standing up from his seat. "I have yet to see my own quarters."

"I suspect they'll be close to Lady Y/N's," she said with disdain. "I know how these Tyrell's work. Her mother will no doubt have placed you close, so her daughter may tempt you in the dark."

He chuckled. She had not even spoken to you, and she already accused you of a plot. He kissed her hands, then left her chambers. He made his way to the rooms Gareth and Jalissa always kept for him. A spacious suite with an adjacent sitting area in front of a fire. A floral tapestry of a young maiden with flowing hair dancing in a silk chemise was added to the room. He couldn't help noting the maiden's similarities to you. Otto smirked. Alicent was not completely wrong. Jalissa can be as cunning as him when she wishes. 

Otto spent the rest of his day with his grandchildren and daughter. He did not see you again until later that night at the welcoming feast. As he walked in, the herald announcing his arrival, he spotted you sitting with your sister and companions. Each girl wore a circlet of different flowers, matching ribbons falling down the back. Yours was the only golden one, roses woven into vines and feathers. It matched the gold flowers embroidered into the baby blue gown you wore. You stood out amongst the ladies around you, not only because of your obvious beauty, but because you sat in the middle. You'd laughed at something your sister said, and his heart couldn't help but flutter. He took seats with his household on your side of the room, glad to have you out of his eyeline. Otherwise, he'd be unable to look anywhere else. 

"Evening, Ser Otto," The King approached him, and he stood up at once. 

"Good Evening, Your Grace," he bowed. "I pray you have been well."

"I wish I could say so," he chuckled. "I heard you're marrying the Tyrell girl on week's end?"

"Her father has proposed that to me," he nodded. "There is a situation with bandits on the routes from here to Oldtown, and her father has offered a marriage pact." 

"You're a lucky man then," he said, "She's lovely. Ha, I know Daemon would be envious of you were he here." 

"Thank you, Your Grace. I was sorry to hear about Lord Lionel and his son," he added. "It's such a shame. He was a good Hand."

"Not as good as you were," Viserys noted. 

"I appreciate that, Your Grace." 

"Perhaps," he limped closer to Otto, "We may sit down some time soon? Make amends and rebuild the bridge we burned so long ago."

"I would be open to that," he said. 

This pleased Viserys, who nodded and hobbled away to his seat on the high table. Otto watched him leave, more concerned than satisfied. Viserys is already missing a limb due to infection, and now he is becoming weaker. His days are numbered, and this means that Rhaenyra may soon take the throne. With her came Prince Daemon, who'd turn the Red Keep into a brothel and wouldn't hesitate to have his head on the executioner's block. Him being Hand again will ensure the right person ends up on the throne. Not to mention, people may not question his bride-to-be on her choice of husband. Any girl in your position would be a fool to not want the Hand of the King. 

Glancing across the hall, he took in your beauty once more. He couldn’t help noticing the low cut neckline of your gown, his eyes gluing themselves to it. The look might be considered scandalous at court, but here in your father’s home, many women wore similar dresses. He suspected due to the warm weather, but Jalissa’s mischievous smile came to the forefront of his mind. Otto could not help imagining those mounds in his hands, hard nipples on his tongue while you squirm with pleasure. He took a drink to wash down these thoughts. When you sensed someone watching you, you turned in his direction. Unsure what else to do, he raised his cup and you did the same. The Seven took their time when creating you, putting all the love and beauty in the world into your form. He walked towards your parents, hoping striking a conversation might distract him from your gaze. 

“Doesn’t YN look lovely tonight, Otto?” Jalissa asked him, looking in your direction. 

“She does,” he said. “She certainly inherited her mother’s looks.” 

“You flatter me,” she tsked, smiling at him. 

“I only speak the truth,” he insisted. He then moved on to the most concerning topic: “Your daughter told me she isn’t bothered by our arrangement,” he said. “When I told her that I considered ending it, she insisted that she approved of our match.” He glanced over at her, “Was this your doing, Jalissa?”

“Not entirely,” she admitted freely. “I may have slipped your name into the list of suitors, but I told her she may decline it, if she wished. She said she did not.”

“She mentioned she preferred men of a certain age…”

Jalissa's humored smile gave everything away. “YN has always shown a certain interest in older men.” She stepped closer to him, “I only wish for my daughter’s happiness, Otto. If I can find a way to give her even a crumb of it, I will do what it takes. Surely that is how you feel for your children?”

“That is what we all wish for them, Jalissa, but do you not worry what it might look like for her? A woman as young as her with a man of my age?”

“People will talk whether she marries a young man or an old one,” she shrugged indifferently. “Why the inquiry? Do you not find my daughter pleasing?”

“Oh, um, well…” his cheeks tinged pink at the question. “Your daughter is-”

“-You may speak freely with me,” she giggled at his flustered reaction. “Unless you’d rather tell my husband instead? He’ll be overjoyed at the idea.”

“Your daughter is beautiful, there is no doubt,” he said, finding you in the crowd again. This time he caught you looking at him. You gave a shy, embarrassed smile when his eyes met yours, but you did not look away. It took his breath away. “She is utterly enchanting.” 

“She’s even more enchanting up close,” she nudged him before walking away from him. 

This he knew. Otto watched Jalissa disappear into the crowd, leaving him awkwardly standing alone. His body burned from being under your gaze. He couldn't recall the last time a woman gave him so much attention. Normally, Otto did not struggle to maintain his composure. He could remain calm and collected regardless of the subject or person. Yet, your stare alone made him shift and gulp thickly. You are only a girl. Nothing malicious or threatening. But, he still took deep breaths as he made his way over to you. 

“Evening, Lady YN,” he gave a curt bow, immediately scrambling for what to say. Underneath the candlelights above, you looked positively glowing. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, ser,” you beamed. “I spoke with Her Grace when she arrived…” 

His stomach twisted, “Forgive anything she might have said. She may be our queen, but she’s my daughter as well. I hope she wasn’t too harsh.”

“Actually, it’d been quite the opposite,” you said. “She said she looked forward to the union of our houses, and to my joining your family.”

Undoubtedly pleasantries expected of a queen and daughter of an old man like him. He gazed around the room to see his daughter on the dais, chatting with Jalissa and being a proper guest. Alicent means well, and likely harbors resentment at him but he anticipated that. He only hoped Alicent wouldn’t be outwardly vicious towards you; none of this was your doing. It was your father’s and his brother’s idea. But, seeing you this close up and recalling your gentle touch, he might be warming up to it himself. 

“Would you care for a dance, my lady?” he asked, turning back to you. His body yearned to be close to you again. 

“I’d love to,” you smiled at him, immediately leaving your seat to join him. 

You took his arm and he walked you to the sea of dancers in the middle of the hall. Immediately, you both went into step together. Otto couldn’t recall the last time he’d danced at a banquet, so he did miss a step or two, but that exhilarating feeling he once felt returned. 

“Has it been long since you danced, ser?” you questioned, a small tease in your voice but nothing malicious. 

“I will admit yes,” he chuckled embarrassed. “Not since my lady wife passed. She loved dancing. So, forgive me if I have two-left feet.”

“You’re simply out of practice,” you took his hands at the appropriate moment, gazing into his eyes flirtatiously, “I can help you become reacquainted with it, if you like. I know you have plenty of things to teach me, I’d like to return the favor.”

The implication, however subtle, made him shudder. He loved and hated how easily this nymph effected him. You were The Maiden personified, in his eyes. 

“I’d like that,” he said quietly, the both of you standing in the middle of the floor. “I hear you’re a splendid dancer. When I’m tutored, I only learn from the best.”

You giggled, and then the lesson began. Nimble and light on your feet, you easily moved about the floor with him at every song. You made it fun and delightful. Otto almost forgot who he was and the people watching the two of you as you repeatedly came close together. Your electric energy pulled him in and kept a firm grip on him the entire time. Hearing from Jalissa that you might truly harbor favor for him only made his desires burn hotter. He did his best to keep himself from touching you too long or glancing at your body, but he’ll admit he snuck his peeks. 

“-I found Septon Rowley’s writings about the Seven intriguing,” you said as both walked into the garden. 

You’d both decided to take some air in the garden outside the hall after dancing. The lanterns hanging around the lush garden gave dim lighting to the cobbled paths around the vast landscape. He also noticed how much quieter and empty they were. The idea of being fully alone with you again stirred disquiet in his gut. Truly, he should’ve warned your septa, but the idea of the aged woman hovering nearby bothered him. He isn’t a green boy who cannot control himself. He is a grown man who can withhold his desires regardless of how badly they wished to be released. 

“He talks about them as if they’re people and not gods,” you continued. “He made them sound more human, even if some septons believe his work to lean more into storytelling than facts.”

“Septon Rowley is known to be a bit fanciful with his writing. He said he intended it to be read to children, but I found myself enjoying it as well,” he replied. “Your father mentioned you’re quite versed in scriptures?”

“I wouldn’t say versed, since I can only recite the more common phrases, but I did take a liking to it in my youth. My septa and my mother used to read them to us during sewing circles or after dinner. When they read them, it didn’t sound like a religious practice, but more for entertainment,” you said, “And I do pray in the sept every morning after I break my fast.”

“Do you?”

You giggled, “You believe I do not?”

“I’ve never known your mother or father to impress prayers upon their children before,” he said. “Your mother has loved the arts and your father prefers hunting over praying.”

“It’s true that they never did,” you nodded, “But I find it soothing in a way. The sept is truly the only place where I’m alone.”

“Oh?”

“I’m always surrounded by my ladies-in-waiting, my family, the servants…In the sept, I can kneel down on a bench in front of a statue with candles and sit. It’s become more of a special hideout than a sept.”

“I know the sept here in Highgarden is a rival to it, but The Starry Sept in Oldtown is glorious,” he told you. 

“The Starry Sept was beautiful when I was there last” you said, the both of you reaching a secluded section of the garden. 

He realized you’d both walked into one of the bathing pools of Highgarden. A square pool with clear water was dotted with lily pads and flowers, this particular pool sat in the middle of an orange grove surrounded by thick stone walls. You each took seats on a bench near the water. 

“It was so ancient,” you said, “And so many important things have happened there. It was a bit intimidating to me. There’d also been far too many people there for my taste. Also, my mother and sister went with me since they didn’t want me straying off alone.”

He gulped when he noticed the angle you sat put your bosom right in front of him. Otto knew he should not look. He did not bring you here to ravage you. He truly wished to know you; to see your true nature absent any wandering eyes. Yet, could anyone blame him? It was as if you meant to bring him here to tease him. 

“The sept in Hightower is a bit smaller, but,” he said, “Much more private than the Starry Sept.”

You glanced over to him, and he knew he’d been caught. A lump caught in his throat when you shifted closer to him. “Like this place here?” you suggested. 

“A bit,” he nodded, “Yes.” 

He knew he was doomed when your thigh pressed against his own. You’re simply teasing him. Your mother must have put you up to this, which wouldn’t surprise him. They want this marriage pact to go smoothly, and you showing interest in him would assure it does. It’s the sort of thing he’d done when he steered his daughter to Viserys. But, something about the way your fingers timidly danced over his thigh told him otherwise. When he forced himself to meet your eyes, he saw sincerity in them as you spoke. 

“Books about The Faith aren’t the only ones I like,” you said, voice dropping low and sultry. It drew him to you like a siren’s song. “My mother has a collection of books from Essos and she taught me how to read them.”

Heat burned in Otto’s cheeks, and tightened his stomach. He knew exactly what sort of books came out of the Free Cities. While most were educational texts about the various people and cultures, he’d read a fair few erotic tales written by pillowhouse owners or their courtesans. The picture of you in nothing but your chemise, legs parted as you pleasured yourself to one came to him immediately. 

“Did she? Jalissa should know better…”

“She only wished to educate me in things outside of a lady’s instruction,” you told him. “I’m not as naive as some of my companions might be, if I’m putting modesty aside. I knew I’d be married one day and,” you rested your hand on his inner thigh and whispered in his ear, “I want to be able to please my husband however he likes.” 

“My lady…this is…”

“If you wish for me to stop,” you pulled away from him, “Then my apologies. I…I should not have been so-”

“-What sort of things did you read, my lady?” he asked a bit too eagerly. “I’ve read a few tales myself.”

“Have you?” you asked in disbelief. “My father always painted you as a stout believer.”

“I do hold strongly to my faith and values but, YN, I am a man.” It was his turn to lean in close, “My favorite was written by a Lysene courtesan who shared beds with kings and princes. She claimed she ruled entire cities by using her body to sway her lovers. I found it quite clever of her to bring a man to such deep pleasure he throws away his ideals for her.” 

“Lady Harresha of the Red House?” you asked, a bit eager yourself. 

“The same,” he nodded. 

“I particularly enjoyed her stories about the lover she took in the house’s bathing pool,” you said, putting your hand back on his thigh. This time, he did not shy away. “The things she wrote about him doing to her sounded so sinful and delightful. The way she talked about his tongue tracing her sex made me imagine my own lover doing it to me.” 

Hearing such vulgar words coming from your mouth burned his loins. “She was said to taste as sweet as strawberries,” he said, taking the bait, “But I bet the Rose of Highgarden would taste like peaches.” 

“Ser…” you said in a bated breath. 

“I think we’ve moved far past formalities, YN,” he breathed, his hand gently creeping over yours. “You can call me ‘Otto’.” 

He thought you might shy away now; perhaps you’ll believe you’d bitten off more than you could chew. But, instead you guided your hand right over his groin. He bit the inside of his cheek when your soft, warm hand cupped his growing bulge. Slow and light, your fingers traced the faint outline. Seeing your breasts so close to him now, he reached out for one which caused you to gasp in surprise. Through the thin layers of your dress and chemise, he realized you didn’t wear a corset. Your hard nipple brushed against his palm as he gave a light squeeze, and he couldn’t help grazing over it. 

“I read one about a Pentoshi trade prince and a woman whom he declared had the most beautiful breasts in the world,” he said, pinching your nipple through your gown. “I’m beginning to believe I’ve found a pair to rival them.” 

You leaned into him, brushing your lips with his as you asked, “Would you like to find out? In a week’s time, they will be yours after all. You should see if you’ll like what you’re getting.”

“I know I will.”

It started with a few brief pecks before you deepened the kiss. His tongue slid between your lips and over your own, rolling around it smoothly as he continued groping your chest. Your lips worked so easily with his that sensuality laced every kiss. He felt alive again. Kissing your sweet lips revived a deep-seated arousal that hadn’t stirred for some time. Your hand rubbing his cock over his breeches had him moaning into your mouth as he cupped your cheek. Every small brush of your fingers on his tip stoked the fires inside him more. 

Soon, his hands left the front to snake around the back. His fingers deftly worked the lacings of your gown while yours unbuttoned his jerkin. He didn’t need to fill you tonight. There’d be time for that much later, but for now he’d be content seeing and touching your body. The two of you stood as he slid your dress off your shoulders, leaving you in only your chemise and stockings. Otto groaned at the sight of your breasts in front of him. The brief thought that someone might walk in and see the two of you crossed his mind, but the feeling of your hands untying his breeches brought him back to you. Quickly removing boots and slippers, you each stripped down to your underclothes, which only fanned the flames growing between you. 

“You look beautiful,” he growled into your neck, peppering the crook with soft kisses that tickled your flesh. “Far more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Am I?”

“Truly,” he kissed you again, tongues slipping together briefly. 

He wasn’t so old and wrinkled that he considered himself unappealing, but he didn’t imagine you enjoying the sight of him too much. However, you proved him wrong as you traced your fingers down his chest and stomach to his pelvic bone. “I haven’t seen many men nude, ser, but yours definitely arouses me. Particularly after I see this,” you gripped the muscle sticking up to your stomach, smiling as he groaned deeply. “Come into the water with me just like in Lady Harresha’s story.” 

“Gladly, my lady.”

He kissed down your body to your thighs where he untied and slipped off your stockings. The moment you removed the last bits of clothing, Otto thought he might die. Your sex stood several inches from his face, a patch of hair above two soft folds that he saw himself licking and sucking to his heart’s content. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he looked on it, the thumbs pressing into the muscles as he reached the inner sides. Your soft whimpers added more fuel to his ever growing fires. Restraining himself, he guided you over to the steps of the pool, where he watched your body slink into the cool waters. 

Once there, he brought you into his embrace again. One hand on his shoulder, you wasted no time in taking him in your hand. You gave hos pulsating length gentle strokes, content to watch him kiss down your chest to your breasts. They truly were beautiful. Soft mounds with hard nipples that fit perfectly in his mouth, he grasped both as he suckled each one. The creases on the peaks constricted at his tongue, them being one of the most sensitive spots on your body. He moaned at the combination of your tits in his hands and you stroking his cock. When he felt you grip his shaft tightly, he sensed you might need his tongue elsewhere. First, he’d use his hand. Sliding one from your chest to the apex of your thighs, you trembled as his fingers slipped easily over your sex. He groaned softly as he felt a distinct wetness between the folds, and the hard nub that ran against his middle finger. 

“Otto…” you whined, gripping his shoulder as you tried staying still for him. 

You cried out when his fingers gently started rubbing around your clit. He chuckled softly at you squirming in his grasp, eager for more but not wishing to be demanding. 

“Let me have a closer look at you,” he said, capturing your lips to kiss you once more. “I want to see you.”

“Only see me?”

“For the moment, sweetling.” 

He guided you to the top step, where you eagerly spread your thighs to show him your sex above the low surface of water. Timidly, you mimicked his touches seconds before as you kept your eyes on him. His own eyes landed on your center, watching your hand slowly open your folds for him. He envisioned himself plunging hilt-deep into your tightness, ravaging you the way you richly deserved every night. He wrapped his hand around his tip and started gradually jerking from base to head every time. Otto groaned at the light trembles going through his body once you spread the lips for him.

“Do you like it?” you asked shyly, biting your lower lip as you traced your clit in front of him. 

“I love it,” he said, jaw dropping at the faint glistening he saw between them. “Do you often touch yourself like this?” he moved closer to touch your inner thigh, hooking one arm around it. 

“I do,” you nodded, clit tucked between two fingers as you slid them up and down. 

“While you read your naughty tales?”

“Yes. I get so aroused and wet,” you emphasized this by pushing your folds apart for him, “From reading about the things the characters do in the stories. Like the Lorathi slave who fucked her way to be the concubine of a Pentoshi prince.” You slowly continued touching yourself as you said, “How she pleasured a merchant with her mouth for passage across the river, letting his son fuck her from behind while she did it. I loved the part about her with a Norvoshi soldier, riding his large cock in order to gain access to his master. I can’t wait to feel one inside me,” you slid a finger inside your pussy, pushing it to the knuckle. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” 

“Tell me more,” he groaned, hooking his arms around both your thighs now. “Tell me more while I taste you.” 

Holding you in his grasp, he kept you in place as he gave your sex long, flat licks. He tasted hints of your essence on his tongue, which had his cock throbbing in the water. He kept his pace steady, starting at the bottom before reaching the hard clit at the top and then repeating it. You leaned back into the edge behind you, your hands falling into his hair and feeling the strands between your fingers. 

“I climaxed hardest to the part when she finally meets the man at the end of her journey,” you panted. “Reading about how she sat on his face and rode his tongue left me wishing I had a husband who’d let me do that too. I came once, and kept going just to imagine it all over again.” 

You filthy girl. Otto never thought he’d find someone as dirty as himself. He growled into your pussy as he thought of you giving yourself multiple orgasms out of pure desire. When he swirled his tongue around your clit, your breaths became ragged and whiny that encouraged him to continue. Your sex tasted sweet, as intoxicating to him as wine, and he licked up any trickle that leaked from you. You tentatively grinded yourself into his mouth, moaning as he ran his tongue over the outer lips. 

“How often?” he asked you, rolling his tongue around once more. 

“Every night.”

“You fib.”

“I don’t,” you giggled breathily, grinding your hips into his face. He allowed it to hear the moan cut off your laugh. “You should hide in my bedchamber tonight. You’ll see it for yourself.” 

“Do not tempt me,” he said, sucking on your throbbing clit. “I will if pressed.”

“And that will only make me want your cock more.” 

“YN….” 

“Otto…please…”

“Please?” he taunted between licks before sucking tenderly. 

“Put your tongue inside,” you whimpered, pinching one of your nipples. “Like the man in the story. I want to feel a part of you inside me at least once.”

Otto planted himself in front of you and slipped his tongue inside your virginal sex. He let his moans vibrate in your entrance each time he darted in and out of you. This new sensation had you wriggling in his arms. He tightened his grip on you and started tongue fucking you faster, reaching as far as he can each time. He allowed you to grab hold of his hair once more to keep him in place as you used him. You soon started shuddering, your walls contracting around his tongue and thighs shaking in his arms. Thick waves of cum spilled over his tongue and he swallowed every bit he could; the juices became smeared on his chin and nose, drowning him in your scent and taste. Even when he removed his tongue, Otto continued sucking your wet sex until you squealed from the sensitivity. 

“Sit up for me,” he ordered, standing up in front of you. 

You did not need guidance in what happened next. Otto’s jaw fell in a low moan when you stuck out your tongue and licked him from bottom to top. Your hot tongue tickled the underside of his length, flicking just beneath the sensitive head before giving it a light suck. Droplets of precum spilled out as you kissed and licked him; he thought you might avoid it due to the taste, but you surprised him once again. You traced the slit of the head to the leaking hole, running your tongue around it before sucking it softly. A small hum of approval told him you enjoyed it.

“And here I thought I’d have a timid little virgin on my hands,” he said, one hand on his hip and the other on your head as you took him fully in your mouth. “I might think you’ve…you’ve done this before.”

“I assure you, ser,” you said, pecking his tip with your lips, “I have not. I only take instructions from reading well.”

“Did your Lorathi slave write about sucking cock too?”

“Often and with great detail.”

You proved this to him soon enough. Otto found himself struggling to stay put as you stroked and sucked his cock. Your warm mouth felt like heaven. Your wet tongue slid over the throbbing vein each time, while your cheeks hollowed tightly around his girth. He’d marry you on the morrow if he could; he’d marry you right after you finish him if you wanted. Much like the whores in your Essos fairytales, you’d bewitched him with your mouth and tongue. With a cradle of his balls in your hand, light squeezes and gentle touches had him thrusting into your throat. The sounds of your choking gasps sent him over the edge. He thought you’d pull away, and you did but only to open your mouth wide for him. Jerking him in the same pace as before, you locked eyes with him as thick white droplets fell on your tongue. 

Not even his Leyla would've done such acts. 

His orgasm hit him before he could control himself. He moaned your name louder than he intended, unable to stop himself from spilling over your lips. When you saw them getting away from you, you latched your mouth to the squirting head and this drove him even wilder. Even as his relief came, his desire for you continued burning. You stroked him until nothing else was left; you licked until he stopped twitching. When you finished, you dared to appear timid and shy once more. He bent down to latch his lips to yours, not caring what flavors he might find but only wanting your kiss. 

Neither of you left the pool right away. Basking in the afterglow of the moment, you stayed contently in his arms on the soft grass as you both continued talking. He felt at ease in your company now. He supposed having worked out his initial desires, he could enjoy the woman underneath the seductive veil. If this first meeting brought about such tension, he couldn’t imagine your wedding night. As you both eventually dried off and dressed, he thought about a life with you. He knew you’d love Oldtown and the Hightower. You’d be surrounded by his family who will undoubtedly accept and grow to love you. 

He knew he was starting to.

***

A/N: Hello sweet ottogasms lmao I had this sitting around in my drafts for a looonnggg time and recently got into the swing of writing this duo again <3

#house of the dragon #hotd #otto hightower #otto x reader #otto x fem reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfictions #rhys ifans

[words-with-wren]

@chrumblr-whumblr Day Four: Watching while a loved one is hurt

Fandom: Endeavour. Post 4x04 Harvest. I watched the episode like a week ago and Forgot Details and haven't rewatched it to fact check anything so if something doesn't line up with canon oh well ignore that. I just love Morse and Miss Frazil's friendship SO MUCH i wanted to explore it a little. (May cannibalism this scene if i ever get around to writing my 'joan says yes' au)

word count: 1,563

___

Dorothea wasn’t sure when it had happened, exactly, but somewhere through the years her acquaintance with Morse had shifted from a respectful professional relationship to genuine friendship. It was a development that hadn’t been entirely intentional, but there was something about the young man that made her think he hadn’t had much friendship in his life. There was a hungriness about him, a desperate desire to be loved that she was sure he didn’t admit even to himself. 

She found him almost on accident, the day after everything at the Bramford power plant had been wrapped up. He was sitting at the bar of the pub, nursing a pint and staring morosely at an untouched crossword in front of him. Dorothea took him in for a long moment, seeing the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion in the way he sat, leaned over the bar. He was staring at nothing, eyes dull and half glazed over, clearly lost in thought. 

He looked positively worn out, and Dorothea felt her heart clench at the sight of him. He was so brilliant, so young and full of energy. Had a brain so fast and wonderful, but life had beaten him down so quickly. He didn't share much, but Dorothea had years of investigative journalism behind her--she could read between the lines, could pick out a story in the shapes left behind by absence. Not for the first time she thought he was a man too used to caring and not used to being cared for. 

To break the ice, she cleared her throat and sat down at the stool beside him. He started, torn out of his thoughts and the lost expression on his face shifted into a small smile. 

“Miss Frazil,” he greeted, shifting his newspaper aside to give her room. She smiled back at him, placing her handbag on the bar. “Can I get you a drink?” 

“I'm alright, thank you Morse,” Dorothea answered. She eyed the mostly empty glass in his hands, wondering how many he'd finished before she had arrived. Best not to bring more alcohol into the equation--heaven knows he could drink enough without encouragement. 

She started with work, knowing he would close himself off immediately if she pushed too hard too quickly. 

“You were at the plant, were you not?” she asked. A wary expression crossed Morse's face, but he seemed to relax a little nonetheless. She thought back to their last conversation, when she had dropped him off by an empty field. He'd opened up then, just a little. Bared himself just enough to show his hurt, but not quite enough for her to do anything about it. “Anything you can tell me?” 

The request pulled a small smile from him, something Dorothea was grateful to see. He rolled his pint between his hands and shook his head, turning to look at her. There was a cut along his hairline she noted--that hadn't been there last she saw him. 

“I'm afraid not,” he said. He still seemed distant, mind on other things. Not fully engaging in their usual dance as they tried to tease information out of the other. 

“The official story is a fire,” she said. His hand drifted to the cut. He nodded. 

“Best to leave it at that,” he said. She waited, long years of experience telling her the best way to get information out of someone was to wait. Let him tell her in his own time. 

Though it wasn't really what had happened at the plant she wanted to know. Not right now, at least. Like as not, it wasn't going to be anything she could publish anyway. 

What she really wanted to know was what was bothering him. It was more than this current case, more even than his flat being burgled earlier in the week. She knew him well enough to see it in the way he sat, the line of his shoulders, the shadows in his eyes. 

“Off the record, sabotage,” he said finally. This time he did press his hand to the cut on his forehead. “Some plot by Bagley, planning to leak radiation into the nearby area to prove just how dangerous nuclear energy is.”

Now that would be a juicy story. The part of Dorothea that was pure journalist wanted to dig deeper into it, chase the story, share it with the world. But from the way Morse was hunched, from the sensitivity of the situation, she knew that this would be another story by the wayside. Another time societal requirements won over the truth. 

Sometimes she felt a little bitter about that. But she told herself to keep looking forward, finding the next story, uncovering the next truth. 

“And you stopped it,” she said and he nodded, his attention still wandering. “You alright?” 

It was an innocent enough question, one she knew wouldn't shut him down immediately. There were a lot of ways to answer that, and Morse could choose how much he shared. 

“I'll live,” he said. She wasn't surprised by the answer; it was a dismissal, his way of saying he didn't want to talk. Not quite fully a lie, not quite fully vulnerable. 

He infuriated her, sometimes. He was so clearly in need of someone looking out for him, but he was so stubborn he refused to accept help, let alone ask for it. 

Sometimes she wanted to force him to stop, put him up in her small apartment for a week so she could put some meat on his bones and light in his eyes. Drive it into his stubborn skull that people cared and he didn't have to go at life alone. 

“Really?” she asked gently. 

He let out a long breath and emptied the last of his beer. 

“Still don’t feel entirely safe at home,” he admitted. “Feels too empty.” 

She nodded sympathetically. She knew a little about feeling vulnerable in a place that was supposed to be safe--it had been a few months since her kidnapping by Leyton-Asprey, and she still felt uneasy being alone in her office. Coming home to find his space invaded so violently had clearly shaken Morse and she couldn’t find fault in that. 

But he was using it as a shield, holding up the reasonable excuse so she didn’t dig any deeper, uncover the actual source of his hurt. Always hiding himself, was Morse. And Dorothea hated not knowing the truth. 

She let the silence sit for another moment, pondering her next course of action. It was always a delicate balance with Morse, finding the line between getting him to open up to her without shutting down fully. He needed to come at his own pace, but he needed to know she wanted to know. She wanted to share whatever his hurt was, help him in whatever way she could. 

She thought maybe he didn’t have many people he could feel safe opening up to, and she didn’t want to break the trust they had built over the years. 

“There was a girl.” 

His words came as a surprise, and it took Dorothea a second to process them. He spoke them softly, a mix of hurt and bitterness mingling in his voice. 

She thought back to that last conversation in the car on the country road. He’d denied a girl then, a scoffing almost-bitter voice proclaiming he didn’t have anyone. She’d thought it was a laden admission at the time, and now she felt a little vindication. 

It wasn’t sweet vindication. Not seeing how he was hunched into himself, not seeing the heaviness in his eyes. Heartbreak, she realised. Not something new to him, she concluded. 

“Ah,” she said softly. Morse stared into his empty pint glass. 

“She… had some trouble,” he said finally, looking anywhere but at Dorothea. “I couldn’t help her. She didn’t let me help her.” 

‘Sounds familiar,” Dorothea thought, expression soft and understanding as she looked at Morse. 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, not knowing how else to help. She was glad he had let her in, glad he had shared at least something. Gently, she reached across the bar to squeeze his forearm. 

He started, looking down at her hand and then back up at her, seeming unsure what to do with the unexpected touch. Again, Dorothea couldn’t help but feel he had been so starved of everything a persons should have--love, intimacy, friendship. The knowledge that people care. 

For just a moment, he let her in fully. She saw the despair behind his eyes, the grief and loss. The hurt that informed every part of his life, walls and barriers and scars built up after a childhood starved of love and an adulthood seeing the worst of humanity. 

Then he shifted, pulling his arm away and looked back down at the newspaper in front of him. The moment was over, the walls were back up. Once again, he locked her out and was alone in his hurt. 

Dorothea knew there was nothing she could do for him except just wait until the next time he was brave enough to be vulnerable. For now, maybe that would be enough. 

“I’ll buy you a drink,” she said, sensing the companionship would be of more use than anything else right now. He flickered a small, forced smile in her direction and picked up a pen to start filling out the crossword. 

#wren writes #endeavour #endeavour morse #itv endeavour #dorothea frazil #endeavour fanfiction #chrumblr whumblr challenge #UGUHGHUG these two #i LOVE their friendship #i LOVE that shes one of the few people he opens up to #eating it #i DO need to rewatch harvest to make sure this lines up fjdhfjd #the scene with morse and miss frazil in the car means so much to me #holding them carefully #anyway took liberties with this prompt #because hurt isnt just physical hehe #and i think the people who care about morse are used to seeing him hurt #or at least seeing him try to hide the hurt

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Robert Martin 1996 (ITV, Alistair Petrie) propaganda:

The thing I LOVE about this version of the character is that despite barely having a line, you can tell not only that he loves Harriet, but that he's intelligent and compassionate and notices things. Which explains in some ways the interest and sympathy Mr Knightley has for him.

We have the first time we see him, meeting Harriet and Emma, before he proposes:

(Look at how happy this man is at seeing her!!!)

Now this is the look he gives Emma when he sees her after the rejection (the day Harriet goes to visit the Miss Martins):

He knows, and we now know that he knows.

And that's such an interesting take on the character? That he also realizes that it is Emma's influence and what that can mean for Harriet in the long run? And he can really do nothing about it?

And then comes this little scene this adaptation adds, after Box Hill, of Jane walking through the fields and crying her heart out. Robert Martin sees her:

It's just a little scene that ties in two people Emma has harmed without thinking much of it at all. There's compassion there, and sympathy.

Then comes the end! The harvest! Mr Knightley and Robert Martin both have now their "romantic harvest and greet each other. They are clearly friends:

At the "harvest celebration", Emma makes the gesture of going to Harriet and requesting an introduction to Mr. Martin. Look how happy these two look:

But then he sees her coming:

This is the face of a man who has not forgotten.

IDK. There's something about this whole journey (in a 1 hour 45 minute movie in which he speaks a total 2 lines) that gets me, and makes him my favorite Mr. Martin ever, even if I like the others too.

Also he emotionally destroyed me in Cranford (2007)

Also Samantha Morton is a treasure.

Robert Martin (2022) Vs Robert Martin (1996)

#propaganda #robert martin #Emma 1996 #I can't believe I didn't realise he was Major Gordon in Cranford!!!!

[sainamoonshine]

More The Locked Tomb speculation

So I’m not really the smartest when it comes to analysis and meta, and this book series keeps kneecapping me with stuff I didn’t see coming. But there is one (1) theory I’ve been working on since HtN, and this new book just gave me more ammunition. Now, I don’t actually know what the conclusion of that theory is, mind you. But I can sure as heck see the steps that might make the shape of it.

Some facts and speculations about John Gaius and Necromancy. (I’d make a cut but I STILL don’t know how to do it on mobile. Sorry!)

I don’t buy that Necromancy just ‘happened’ to John because he was super special and the Earth loved him lots. It would be the most ‘a wizard did it’ thing in this entire series where the magic system is well defined and thorough.

At the beginning of Nona the Ninth, in the dream, when John mentions their project getting potentially shut down, he says that M- and A- could have found work in that field again, but not him. He was ‘irradiated’ and would never be allowed to work on anything similar ever again. As others have already pointed out, he is clearly leaving out something in his telling of the story. There was an inciting incident that he’s not telling us about that destroyed his reputation somehow

Notice how he also mentions that C- was assigned to them to supervise something about checks and balances but she became ‘on their side’. When they hear about the project shutting down, M- panics about what they’re going to do with all their corpses test subjects (despite how later on in the story John hurriedly assures us they were acquired legally.) There is concern about disposal. Very much implied the bodies are radioactive now. I’m getting some vibes that maybe all the rules of ethics might not have been followed.

Also when the details of their project go public, ‘everyone has an opinion about it’

We know that to give birth to a necromancer, you must: be on one of the Nine Houses, or surrounded by Nine House dirt (as in the case of Judith’s birth.) We also know how Harrow’s parents ensured that she would be a necromancer by killing 200 children at the time of her conception and harvesting the necromantic bloom. Therefore, we can assume that you can only be born a necromancer if you are surrounded by enough ambient thanergy, either at conception or at birth.

When Harrow tells Gideon about this in the pool scene of GtN, she says that the power generated from the infants alone would have been enough to destroy the planet. Infants ‘always do [generate a lot of thanergy upon death] for some reason’

When Harrow confesses the sins of her parents to John in HtN, he is quick to reassure her that she is forgiven and also very insistent that no one else needs to know. No, really Harrow, do not tell anybody about this. Suspicious behavior much?

Let us remember that John Gaius, Necrolord Prime, chose a crown of baby finger bones to represent his divinity.

But let’s go back to his story in NtN for a moment… in the very first chapter, he tells us that the cryo process was entirely working! Except the maternity issue, which was still not totally ironed out. Said ‘issue’ doesn’t apparently warrant more explanation until he’s arguing with the billionaires who want to leave earth almost an entire year later.

The reason the billionaires give include that the cryo process isn’t moral, that there is an 8% mortality rate, and that they haven’t fixed maternity. Apparently earlier in the project their funders hadn’t cared about maternity or mortality rate, and John tells us that ‘we were the ones who argued them down to 8% and asked for more time’. But, funnily enough, then John takes pain to specify that it was M- who had first rejected the high death risk and for more time to fix the maternity issue. I wonder if John himself would have been fine with the cryo being deployed as it was way back then? I wonder if he resented M- for delaying things?

But that’s not the point of this post. Where I’m going with all this is… they were allegedly working on corpses. Where the fuck did they get the data to know that the cryo process would kill unborn babies? How did they test for that? Animal testing???

Anyway. I don’t have anything more and I know this is not coherent but it sure points at something. Nothing is these books is there for no reason. The maternity issue is relevant, and I think something that they tried, some test they did, might have resulted in John becoming a necromancer.

#the locked tomb speculation #john gaius #nona the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb