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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

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where you want your gift, girl? | Joel Miller

Summary | It’s your birthday and Joel, knowing it’s not your favourite celebration, is keen to show you that it‘s not always going to be a bad day, not if he can help it.

Warnings | birthdays, allusions to strained parental relationships, food & alcohol consumption, smoking of (1) cigarette, no/pre-outbreak AU, gift giving, explicit smut, rough sex, choking/breath play, brief spit play, oral sex (F Receiving), safe unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, cumplay, literally just filth tbh, no use of y/n.

Word Count | 4.2K

Authors Note | Honestly? It’s my birthday today and all I want is for Joel Miller to fucking rail me to celebrate - we can’t have everything we want I suppose, so we’ll have to deal with writing our fantasies instead! Happy Birthday to me - Enjoy!

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You’d never really enjoyed birthdays. Other people’s, sure. The opportunity to treat your friends and make other people happy was something you’d always loved, but when it was you as the centre of attention, you almost hated it. The way people would train their eyes on you as you opened their gifts, the anxiety that you felt not knowing what it would be and whether you’d have to pretend it was the best thing in the world when you could think of a million things you needed above what they’d given you. It always made you feel ungrateful. Birthdays aren’t as exciting as you get older either, just another reminder of how far behind the rest of your friends you are, how little you seemed to have accomplished next to them in the same amount of years.

It was no different this year, not really. Your mother had phoned you before you’d gone to work, asked if you received the card she’d sent in the post that had the customary $100 stuffed into it, before chiding you for not doing as you said you would last time you spoke and find a new job, something more challenging, related to that degree you’d spent all her money on. You sigh and hang up the phone before she can say anything else, a mumbled sorry that you were running late but thank you for the card.

The only saving grace for your birthday this year was the fact it was a Friday, so you didn’t have to worry about drinking too much beer and having to go to work the next morning with a hangover. To their credit, your work colleagues had been quite nice to you - they’d pooled together to get you a gift card for you to spend on whatever you’d like, and Sandra from accounts had made you a birthday cake – red velvet because it was your favourite. Once everyone had eaten a slice, she put a Tupperware on your desk with two more generous slices in it, winking at you before walking away.

“For your handsome boyfriend.” She’d said, giggling as she walked away.

There was another saving grace for your birthday, you supposed. Joel Miller. Who had burst into your life in a whirlwind eight months ago when his beautiful daughter had spilled her hot chocolate all over your crisp new shirt in her hurry to get to the table so she could drink it. He’d been the most apologetic you ever thought you’d seen a man, helping you to wipe the worst of it off with napkins whilst Sarah profusely apologised next to you. You’d put a comforting hand on her shoulder, told her it was okay, and that you understood entirely, you’d have been as excited as her to drink hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Joel had insisted on paying for your dry cleaning, something you’re pretty sure only ever happened in films, and when you’d phoned him to tell him it really had been a minimal amount, he’d asked to take you to dinner instead, and the rest really was history.

He’s phoning you now, his name popping up on the front screen of your phone, you smile as you answer it.

“Hello, handsome.” You greet.

“Good afternoon,” His southern drawl hits your ears, “Happy birthday, my darlin’ girl.”

God, he makes you so happy, “Thank you, cowboy.”

“You want me to pick you up and take you for dinner?” He asks, “Tommy is gonna look after Sarah tonight, so I’m all yours, whatever you wanna do.”

You think for a second, sure, dinner out is a nice idea, but it’s been a long week, and you think what you want most is to be at home with him, “You think you could grill me a steak and let me drink beer on your couch instead?” You ask, slightly embarrassed that this is all you want for your birthday.

“If that’s what you want, darlin’, then I’ll grill you the best steak of your life,” He chuckles, and then you can hear him cover the phone and speak to Sarah, who must be just back from school, “Sarah wants to speak to you real quick.”

He passes the phone and it’s Sarah’s sweet voice that greets you next, “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, honey,” You smile, “You looking forward to some time with your Uncle Tommy?”

“He’s gonna take me to the movies,” You can hear the grin on her face, “I already heard dad telling him not to feed me too much candy, but he never listens,” You chuckle, “I got you a present,” She speaks again, “I gave it to dad so you can open it later.”

“Ahhh you sweet girl,” You coo, “I’m sure I’ll love it,” You reassure, “And I’ll be there tomorrow so I can thank you in person.”

“Alright,” She replies, “Dad wants the phone back, but have a nice birthday with him!”

You say goodbye to her, and then Joel tells you he’ll be waiting for you when you finish to bring you home. It’s only two hours until the end of the day, but you struggle to focus on the emails you’ve got to answer – you get through as few as is acceptable before the end of the day, logging out at exactly 5:30pm, box of cake clutched in your hand, handbag slung over your shoulder as you head out.

Joel is leaning against the side of his truck, arms crossed over his chest so his biceps are bulging in the flannel he’s wearing, he’s also got one of his ankles crossed over the over. He looks so casual but as devastatingly handsome as he always is. He slips an arm around your waist when you’re close enough, pushing his palm into your lower back to press your body to his, dipping down to press his lips to yours. He’s gentle with it, opening his mouth against yours so he can slip his tongue into your mouth, letting his tongue meld with your own, kissing you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Get a room, you two!” It’s Sandra from accounts.

Joel pulls away just enough to laugh against your lips, pressing his to yours once more before pulling away properly, opening the car door for you to get in, pressing a light swat of his hand to your ass as you hoist yourself up into the truck.

Once he’s slipped into the driver's side and settled one of his hands on your upper thigh, he starts the drive from the city out to his house. It’s a quiet drive, Joel’s humming along to whatever is playing on the radio, you’re occupied with looking out the window. This is what you love about Joel, that he’ll sit in silence, won’t feel the need to make you talk, it makes you feel comfortable, knowing that he’s there when you need him, but he’s not going to force you to speak when you don’t want to.

He’s pulled into the drive in no time, picking up the grocery bags from the backseat. You try and peak inside to see what he’s bought; you’re hoping he’s got the ingredients to make those mashed potatoes you like, and mushrooms that he’ll cook on the grill too.

When he opens the door, you’re almost overwhelmed by the sight that greets you. There are gold and black balloons littering the floor, with one bigger helium balloon, weighted down so it doesn’t float along the ceiling, set in the corner with big ‘happy birthday’ lettering written on it. There’s a birthday banner pinned to the wall, and a selection of wrapped gifts on the coffee table. You have a sneaking suspicion that most of this is Sarah’s doing.

You giggle a little as Joel presses himself against your back, kissing at your neck, “How much of this was Sarah?” You ask, following him through to the kitchen.

“She blew up all those balloons before she went to bed last night, and she did all the wrapping, but the banner and the big balloon, that was all me, baby.”

You press your lips to his cheek, smiling as he starts unloading the grocery bags. Two ribeye steaks, and just like you wanted, mushrooms to grill, and potatoes to mash. He leaves you in charge of watching the potatoes whilst he grills the rest of the food outside. Whilst it’s resting, he mashes the potatoes with enough butter to clog your arteries, but when you sit at the table, and those potatoes are in your mouth, you can’t find it in you to care - it’s your birthday after all.

“Everythin’ alright, baby?” He asks, cutting into his steak.

“It’s perfect,” You grin, spearing a grilled mushroom onto your fork, “Better than sitting in a stuffy restaurant anyway.”

You finish your food in relative silence. Joel insists on doing the dishes even if he did most of the cooking, before he’s leading you back to the living room.

Joel sits you down on the couch, treading as carefully as he can through the trail of balloons to get you a fresh beer. He kneels down on the floor between you and the coffee table, taking a glug of his beer, before reaching across the table for the first gift, setting it in your lap.

“That one is from Sarah,” He explains, “She made me promise you would open it first.”

“Rules are rules,” You shrug with a chuckle, carefully tearing open the wrapping paper.

When you pull the paper from the material it was wrapped in you feel overwhelmed. It’s the exact same blouse that Sarah had tipped her hot chocolate over, just in black instead of white. The shirt had been a write off from the start, the chocolate leaving a stain that even the dry cleaner couldn’t get out.

“She saved her pocket money for months to buy this,” He murmurs, pinching the silky fabric between his fingers, “Said if it was what brought us together, she wanted you to be able to wear it.”

You can feel tears prickling at your eyes as you fold the material up carefully, “She’s such a special girl, Joel.” You whisper, watching as Joel leans back over the table to pick up another gift.

“This one’s from Tommy.” He murmurs, handing you the largest box on the table.

You rip the paper off and open the box, revealing an actual cowboy hat. You laugh, because Tommy has always said in order to properly fit in, you’d need a cowboy hat. Joel reaches into the box, pulling the brown Stetson out of its box, placing it on your head.

“Suits you, cowgirl,” He growls, leaning under the brim of the hat to kiss you, nibbling your bottom lip as he pulls away, “Keep it on.” He demands when you go to take it off.

“He didn’t need to get me a gift,” You mutter as Joel moves the two final gifts towards you, “And it’s a proper Stetson, this must have cost a fortune.”

“Not that it matters, because everyone in this household thinks the world of you, but he thrifted it, mainly because you’ve rubbed off on him and he thinks getting a pair of Levi’s for half price because someone doesn’t want them anymore is the best thing since sliced bread.”

You tilt the hat on your head a little so you can see under the brim, as he hands you an envelope this time, “These are from me.”

You open the envelope and pull out a postcard with a from New Orleans. You turn the card over, Joel’s handwriting scrawled on the back.

“Pack a bag baby, and let me take you away.”

“Are you for real?!” You exclaim, “You’re going to take me to New Orleans?!”

“Course I am, darlin’ girl,” He grins, “I know you’ve always wanted to go, and we’ve never been away together.”

“Are you even real?” You ask, wiping your tears away, because you’re overwhelmed, no-one has ever been so thoughtful.

“Last time I checked I was,” He chuckles, taking the postcard from your hands, replacing it with the last gift, a small box, “Go on, last one.”

You take it from his hand, tearing the paper off it to reveal a small box. You open it, and sat inside is a silver necklace, a silver hoop, entwined with a smaller hoop. You’d recognise this anywhere. You’d spotted it in the window of the jewellery shop downtown. You’d spend so long looking at it in the window before deciding you couldn’t afford it, yet here it is, in your hands.

“Joel,” You breathe, running your fingers over the delicate silver, “This is too much.”

He presses a single finger to your lips to shut you up, holding his hand out for the box, taking the necklace out as he pushes himself up onto the couch, putting the delicate chain across your neck, “Do you like it?” He asks from behind you, mouth right at your ear, breath hot on your skin.

You turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling your hat fall off your head as he returns the embrace, “I love it Joel,” You murmur into the skin of his neck, “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’ girl.”

You spend the rest of the evening curled up on the couch together. You eat the slices of cake that Sandra had sent you home with, drink more beer, Joel even sits with his guitar outside, playing some of your favourite songs whilst you smoke a cigarette. When the sun has fully set and you’ve let out a particularly loud yawn, Joel closes up the house, takes hold of your hand, and takes you to bed.

You’re led against the sheets, getting yourself comfortable, when Joel comes back from the bathroom, leaning against the door with his thumb resting on his belt. He’s lookin at you with those deep, coffee-coloured orbs as you turn onto your side, propping your head up on your palm to look at him.

“How do you want it, baby?” He smirks, taking slow steps towards the bed.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, because that is a very good question. Do you want him to be soft and slow like he had been that first time? So concerned he was going to hurt you with his size and strength that he refused to go any harder or faster than was strictly necessary? Or the time he made love to you after you’d looked after Sarah when he had to work late. When he’d walked into his house and found you painting her nails for her, watching a film that he’d never had sat through, his heart bursting with so much love that he had to push it all into you, whispering promises into your ear as he did so. No, you think, that’s not what you want right now.

“I want you to fuck me, cowboy,” You rasp, “Hard.”

He’s stood at the foot of the bed now, eyes dark with lust, “Well, what the birthday girl wants,” He murmurs softly, wide, warm palm clasping around your ankle, “The birthday girl gets.”

He tugs at your ankle, pulling you down the bed in one swoop, your legs dangling over the edge as his fingers work the button of your work trousers loose. You lift your hips up so he can drag them, and your underwear off your body, before he tugs you into a sitting position to work your blouse over your head. Your palms cup his face as you kiss him, your lips giving attention to his plush bottom lip as his hands reach behind you and work the clasp of your bra undone, dragging that off your body so you’re finally bared naked to him.

He pulls back, trails his eyes over your naked body, before placing his hand on your chest, right between your breasts, pushing you back down onto the bed. He trails his hands down the expanse of your sides, coming to the meat of your thighs as he settles his face between them. Normally this is where he’d tease you, use that mouth to trail soft kisses up and down the inside of your thighs, stopping to nip at the soft skin every once in a while, but he surprises you tonight.

Joel uses the flat of his tongue to lick a single stripe up the seam of your pussy. Then, he takes his hands, puts them on the backs of your thighs to push your legs back towards you, spreading them open further, baring the entirety of your spread, aching cunt to his face, before that tongue of his is diving into you, licking the slick that has been slowly gathering there from you, groaning at your taste. He drags his tongue up to your clit, using the tip of it to lightly flick at your clit, which has a quiet whimper leaving your lips as you tangle your fingers in his soft curls to keep his head anchored right where it is.

You’ve never really known a man quite as enthusiastic about eating your pussy as Joel Miller. The way he groans into your cunt as he laps at you, the way his fingers dig bruises into your skin as he holds your legs open for him, it all adds to the way he has your teetering on the edge of your first orgasm of the night in minutes. You’re bucking your hips into his face, chasing that burst of pleasure you know is so close to you.

You can hear the obscene sounds from him, the way he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolls his tongue over it before letting it go with a pop, or the way he literally slurps the slick from your entrance. It’s when he slips two of his fingers inside your slick cunt that you’re really done for – fingers stretching you open, a poor substitute for what’s to come, but it’s good none-the-less.

All of a sudden, that fiery burst of pleasure is setting your skin alight. Your body is arching off the bed, pushing your cunt further into Joel’s face as he sucks your clit through your orgasm. You can feel yourself clenching around his fingers as you let out as high-pitched shriek of his name as your body wracks with pleasurable aftershocks. You lie there, warm and pliant as Joel stands once he’s worked you through your orgasm. He takes off his shirt, and you marvel at that body, the one you get to enjoy, broad and strong for his work, but soft around the middle, just like you love. He’s looking you directly in the eye as he undoes the button on his jeans, belt from earlier seemingly lost in the bathroom before. You’re smirking as he drags his jeans and boxers down his legs, stepping out of them, stood before you in all his God damn glory.

He is, quite possibly, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Especially when he’s got his cock gripped in his fist, pumping himself as you spread your legs for him, pushing yourself up the bed so he can settle between your thighs.

You can feel the throbbing length of him slipping between your soaked folds as he finds a position, he’s comfortable with. You’re the one that reaches down between you and lines his cock up with your aching core, but it’s all Joel when he thrusts himself inside you, right to the hilt, in one go. He’s leaning forward, head rested in the crook of your neck, your name hissed out into your ear as he adjusts to the tight clench of your cunt. Your nails are already digging into the meat of his biceps when he drags himself out of you, before slamming back in.

He revels in the way his rough thrusts make your tits bounce, dipping his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, gently nipping at the puckered bud with his teeth before soothing it with the pad of his tongue. He laves the same attention to the other, never once letting up the pace of his hips.

“This what you wanted, darlin’ girl?” He chokes out, looking down at you writhing in pleasure beneath him.

“More.” You gasp, hand reaching to grab at his wrist which is planted by the side of your head, propping him up.

He puts most of his weight on his other hand, letting you drag his other palm to the delicate column of your throat, where the sheer size of his hand covers it in its entirety. He rests it there for a moment, continuing to pound his cock into your pussy, but then he’s adding pressure to the side of your throat, giving you that delicious dizzy feeling to your brain, before he’s releasing the pressure. You’re grinning up at him, moaning his name as his hips continue to slam into your own.

“Like that, don’t ya?” He asks, “God you look so fuckin’ good with my hand around your throat, pretty girl.”

“Always fuck me so good, Joel,” You cry out when he shifts his position slightly, cock brushing that sweet spot inside you, “Do it again.”

So he does, he squeezes his fingers around your throat again, your mouth dropping open as a crazed giggle leaves your mouth. You wish you could step outside your body right now and watch, watch what the two of you look like – his hand around your throat, the way he’s pounding into you so hard you’re sure you’ll be sore in the morning.

You’re both breathing heavily as he trails the hand that was around your throat to grip at your jaw. He squishes your cheeks together, pursing your lips as his mouth claims your own, growling into you as his tongue licks at yours. He’s so fucking overwhelming right now, thick cock splitting you in two, strong body laid across your own, mouth on yours, and it’s still not enough. You want to peel his skin off and climb inside him, let him consume you whole.

Joel pulls back, hand still on your jaw.

“You my pretty girl, huh?” He asks, and you can only nod, his hand stopping you from talking, “Belong to me, right?”

His hand goes back down to grip your throat, gently though, with no pressure, so you can talk to him now.

“All yours Joel,” You purr at him, “Only ever gonna be yours.”

“Open your mouth,” He demands, using his hand to gently shake you, so you do, “Stick your tongue out.”

You do just that, staring straight into his eyes as he leans down, ever so slightly, and spits into your mouth. It’s warm, wet and utterly filthy, and you think it’s the entire reason that you can feel your slick dripping down onto his sheets now. Joel doesn’t even give you the time to swallow, chasing the saliva he’s just put into your mouth with his tongue, giving you the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever received.

“Fuck,” He spits out, pulling back from your mouth, “Ain’t gonna last much longer, darlin’ girl,” He confesses, those rough thrusts slowing ever so slightly, “Put your hand on your clit for me, let’s do this one together.”

Your hand slinks between your bodies, seeking out that sensitive bud, still reeling from the orgasm he pulled from you, it doesn’t take much work from your fingers to have you teetering on the edge, but you want to do this together, you have to hold on for him.

“Where d’ya want it?” Joel chokes out as your pussy flutters around him.

“Inside,” Comes your begging plea to him, “Come inside me, Joel.”

Your work your fingers across your clit a few more times before you’re coming around his cock, the nails of your free hand digging half-moon shapes into the meat of his shoulder. He manages three, maybe four more thrusts before he’s stilling inside of you, grunting out your name as the white-hot spurt of his spend fills your aching cunt. He fills you up so perfectly, holding himself there for a moment before he lets out a slightly pained sound, pulling himself out of your pussy.

He sits back on his knees, watching the white trickle of him cum seep from your spent hole. He takes one of his fingers, scooping his cum on it before bringing it to your lips, where you suck it into your mouth, running your tongue over it to catch every bit of the taste of him. He falls forward, forehead pressed to your own, kissing your lips softly, before he moves to lie on his side of the bed.

You push yourself up into a sitting position, leaning over to kiss him softly, mumbling that you’ll be back in a minute as you pad to the bathroom to clean up. When you come back to his room, he’s already under the covers, your side pushed back and waiting for you, so you clamber in, seeking out his torso under the covers so you can wrap your arm around him. He pulls you flush to his body, slick and warm from sweat, but you don’t care.

His arm is draped across your shoulder, his fingers tracing slow and soft across your skin, as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Happy birthday, darlin’ girl.” He whispers to you as he turns out the light.

“Best birthday ever,” You mumble softly against his chest as you let your heavy eyes closed, “All because of you, cowboy.”

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marigoldenblooms · 23 days

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Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, canon-level violence, use of medieval weapons, body horror description in transformation, magic use, slight dissociation/self harm, restraint, fluff (for five seconds), R is a simp, so is W, N is not here to play, etc.

A/N: I’ve been working on this next chapter ever since the previous. Chapter two is coming along quickly as well! I want to keep a bit of a backlog for my longer fics, so updates will be as frequent as I can manage. The name established in this chapter for R will be used sparingly, but I loved what Missmonsters2 did with Between the Lines when I read it months ago, and thought it’d be pertinent until nicknames/pet names are established (and for as long as I can avoid conversation where names are necessary).

R’s monster form brought to you by bearded vulture inspiration! Feel free to imagine your own version of avian horror to your heart’s content. Enjoy, y’all!

Word Count: 3.1k - Read Length: 11 minutes, 18 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~ The healer’s home was nothing short of overwhelming.

Multi-colored knick-knacks were strewn on every surface, perched below gatherings of drying, braided flowers which hung from the rafters. Beneath your feet, woven rugs of alternating sizes dotted the cabin’s cool wooden floors, like islands between a chilled sea of timber. The front door lead further into a sitting room, offering glimpses into a small, quaint looking kitchen, adorned with a single well-worn table and chair. Within that same place, a large pot was held still on the counter by wisps of scarlet magic, another more opaque plume coaxing a wooden spoon to stir whatever was inside.

Paintings hung along every wall, although you could never get a full glance at one, as though they’d subtly shift and change muses whenever you’d look away. The sound of a shutting door would heighten your senses enough to break from the scenery, turning on your heels to face the home’s owner once again. She’d pry at you with a half-smile, and you’d solidify your gaze at the floor before her eyes could have the chance to meet yours.

“What brings you to my home?” She’d question evenly, her words a pleasing rasp- smooth molasses which could easily cloud your senses if you allowed her to. You’d see her form move to the side of you in your peripheral, yet you’d remain still, your stare continuing to bore a hole into her carpet.

Wordlessly, you’d tug at your shawled sleeve to show the back of your arm. Running along the skin’s expanse were thin ridges, pin feathers prickling beneath taut flesh. A light down speckled your skin in odd patches, consolidated mostly on your neck and shoulders for now. Your hair had begun to fleck and grow waxy and silkish, akin to dense ostrich feathers, tousled from your trek to her abode. You’d watch the ground as her shadow would shift around you, a curious tsk showcasing her intrigue.

You wouldn’t see her raised expression, eyebrows furrowed as she’d take your wrist without warning, raising it up so she could see the indentation better in the light. She’d drop your arm as soon as she’d grabbed it, falling limply to your side, and her smooth voice would threaten to carry you off again. “Fascinating..your affliction isn’t something I’ve seen recently.”

“Can you help?” You’d mumble, the few phrases coming to you sounding choked from lack of use, and you could hear the healer’s grunt at your lackluster response. You’d swallow thickly, trying to find the words to explain all that you were, but none arrived. She’d circle around you once more, and before you could flinch away, would capture your chin between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it to make you look at her- green irises narrowing as you’d shut yours, unwilling to look her in the eye. You’d half expect her grip to be cold like the Matron’s, but her touch’s pleasant warmth was something you almost missed as she’d let go of you, the shuffle of her arms crossing heightened behind your closed eyelids.

“I can’t help a patient I can’t trust,” She’d muse with a teasing lilt, rolling her r’s in a way that made your chest flutter. Was this another symptom of your molt? It had been a long time since you’d been with another and the thought made your heart ache, albeit not more than your bones. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The scoff that came in response to her was almost too easy, opening your eyes after directing your head to the floor again, “Because I am no threat to you.” “And why would I assume that?” She’d retort immediately, and you’d glare into the ground. Why was talking so easy for her? Why couldn’t she understand that you weren’t like her? You’d raise your arm aloft again, the skin burning now as you’d twist the plumage under your flesh for her view. The rage that had been festering in you for days unlocked a torrent of your words, finally finding purchase in your mouth- frustration evident in how each phrase was ripped from your throat. Your larynx would be useless beyond a breathing tool soon, so you better use it now. Your nails clawed at your arms, doubling into yourself, “Because you are human and I am not, healer- is that not something you’re able to understand-?!”

“Relax for me-” she’d grit, and you’d feel your stomach plummet at her words. Something in them begged obedience, and for a second you felt as though you were back in your nightmare. You’d twitch, glance immediately circling the ceiling as something would restrain you- thin tendrils of crimson magic, keeping your arms from flaring out at your sides. As if seeing your frustration, your panic, the healer’s sorcery would calm, soothing both your body and your mind into an unnatural lull. “You’re…using-” you’d begin, yet words would evade you once again, no longer fueled by anger. There was only a different feeling- regret, and uncomfortable stone in your stomach that you shied away from, wanting to cower from its weight. You didn’t like yelling at this woman, even as she cradled you with her witchcraft.

You’d feel her heat again, warm hands placing tentative touches to your shoulders, slowly coaxing your glance to hers. “I’m sorry,” she’d breathe, shallow as you’d feel her palms shake against you, “I didn’t want you… to hurt yourself-” Her irises, blooming with clouds of red, would drain into green as you’d feel her magic loosen around your body like unraveling ropes. You wouldn’t shy away from her this time, panting as her gaze would share her soul with you. She, too, held that stone in her gut. Perhaps she didn’t fear you.

You’d part as her back would stiffen, adding a few feet between the two of you. “What is your name?” She’d ask, and you saw the way her head tilted since you looked at her face. Your words came easier now that you were less tense, muscles losing their rigidity, and yet you didn’t have an answer for her. You still pried into her windows, eyes flicking across the expanse of her garden from the view you could get from her living room, but it was a start. “I met your gaze, healer..I’ve done my part, you first.”

You’d see the way her nose crinkled at your response, flecks of mirth illuminating her expression, a grin finding its place there, “Talking now, are we? I’m Wanda.” “I’m..Margo.” In truth, you hadn’t had a name in years, the few decades you’d been alive focused more on survival than memory, especially when your molts made it difficult to discern who you really were- humanoid or avian. You’d forgotten your birth name ages ago, and it was a blessing that your words left your mouth as cleanly as they did. She’d tut at your response, taking it in as satisfactory, “Sure…Margo. Would you like to sit down?”

Wanda would guide you to her kitchen table without much fanfare, settling you on her single chair. With a focused look and a wave of her hand, however- a duplicate would reveal itself from a cloud of scarlet mist. “Your magic is red?” You’d inquire, tilting your head as you’d seen her do, “It’s a violent color. Why is that?”

“Do you really want to toe that line?” Her phrase were humorous, yet you swear a flash of indignation peppered her visage. You were not going to mess with that line, whatever she meant by that. “No, Wanda.” She smiled at that, her name seemingly pleasing in your mouth. You felt the flutter in your chest again, heart drumming a little faster against your shifting ribcage. If this was a sign of your incoming succession, then you had to finish this fast- to return before you transformed in Wanda’s house. And yet, why was the feeling almost pleasant?

“You said you haven’t seen my ‘affliction’ in a while,” You’d recount, finding her term for your molt unremarkable. You’d offer her a glimpse of your arm again, hesitating to touch the quills beneath. It was always tender before a lunation, and you didn’t want to aggravate the transformation further, “It doesn’t normally happen so soon. In hours before the new moon, maybe- not over days.”

“And what happens after those hours?” She’d coax your arm down with a gentle wave, seeing how your movements grew stiff as your skeleton hollowed out. You shrug, “I transform.” Wanda’s expression would sour, yet curiosity prickled underneath. Why did she look at you like that? “Can you help me? You said you're familiar with my kind.”

“..In truth, I’ve never met someone like you,” She’d murmur, expression bashful, and if the circumstances were different you would’ve taken it as a compliment. Instead, spiked embers of dread seared in your stomach, heart beginning to thrum in your ears. She didn’t know. Could she even help you? Her voice would raise a little louder, “However, if you tell me about yourself, perhaps I could figure it out.” With a twirl of her fingers, two cups of..something floated towards the table. Her gaze was an offer, “Thirsty?”

You’d nod, your throat suddenly dry. The drink was smooth and warm, with a bite of something fresh and crisp. It was much better than your rainwater. Gulping more of it down, you notice how she’d smile at your eagerness, careful not to spill as you’d raise the cup from its saucer. “Cider,” she’d mention, motioning to her mug, “Where are you from?” “My cavern is far from here. About half a day’s walk.” Wanda’s eyebrows would raise. “Cavern? You live in a cave?” Her interest was a delight, and you wanted to keep it for as long as you could. You didn’t answer her question, instead throwing one back at her, “Why do you live far from your town?”

“Bellmoor?” Amusement would blanket Wanda’s expression, snorting as she’d shake her head, twisting in her chair so she could lean forward towards you, “Because I like my peace and quiet. I assume the same for you, Птичка?”

“What does that mean?” You’d ask, and she’d tut again. “Now now, that can be your next question, but it’s my turn.” She’d scrunch her nose at your grumbling acquiesce, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. You liked this game. Wanda rested her hands on her table, and your eyes were caught on the shimmer of her rings as she’d speak, “Can you control your transformation?” That one was easy. “Fuckin’ wish I could...” Wanda’s brows would reach her hairline at your curse, but you wouldn’t give her time to comment as yours would stream from your maw, though it’d stop early, “No Aegypius can. What does..”

“‘Птичка’ mean?” She’d grin, rasping her knuckles on the wooden grain at each syllable, “Little bird, birdie, you have feathers underneath your skin, yes?” You’d send her a taunting look, one that she met in equal measure. You’d smile back at her, “Is that your question?”

Wanda would balk, gotten so caught up in teasing you that her words just tumbled out with no direction. You’d see her cheeks grow pink, clearing her throat with a stuttered breath, and you swear she felt like you did when you felt that flutter. “No, it isn’t-” She’d respond smoothly, but you caught how her eyes shimmered, and you took another sip of cider. You knew why when her words made your mind double-take, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

You almost spit out your drink, coughing on it as you’d sputter, blush alighting your face. You felt it warm and you tried to hide it away, your flustered reaction seemingly pleasing Wanda. She certainly didn’t know what that meant to you, “I..you want me to stay with you- I’m going to molt tonight, Wanda.”

“And if I am to help your transformation, then I must see it in person,” She’d respond, never losing her smile. It soothed you, that richness in her tone and that calm in her expression, and you’d feel a new pull in your heart. One you hated.

Your instincts wanted you to ruin her. Wanted her vulnerable as she was, to splinter her bones into shards you didn’t even have to chew.

To take advantage of her weakness, your hunger eating you alive unless you picked her clean, consumed-

You’d swallow, a shaky breath leaving you. Wanda had blinked, and your voice acted quicker than your mind would comprehend, “I don’t want it helped, Wanda. I want it gone.” You’d feel your skin itch at that, and a cold dread filled your gut, like the Matron’s chill held you once again. Your words were a whisper. “But I don’t think my body will let me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay. Do you have anything that helps you calm down?” She’d ask, leaning forward with a gentle lilt. Her hand would’ve come across the table, offering her palm to yours. It was calloused, warm skin juxtaposed with smooth metal, and you took it in yours gratefully. You were starting to really like her company.

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

The hours would’ve floated by you, a subtle bliss filling you as you and Wanda would’ve enjoyed the rest of your evening together. You could feel your body shift by the hour, and yet a part of you didn’t care if you were with her. You’d show her your chains, mentioning their unknown inscription and how they’d keep your form….distracted. You would be kept in the barn once the moonless night had begun, the sky within a period of tranquil dusk. She ghosted her hand across the rim of your shackles, and you were surprised they didn’t burn her like they did you. An Aegypius trait, you supposed.

Wanda had made you stew using that pot from earlier, while you hovered in the vicinity, chopping up carrot and onion into more manageable pieces. The meal was finished after it had boiled for a long time, and it was only when you sat down to enjoy it with her that a blink of movement would catch your eye. The bay windows curved in a beautiful shape that let the last vestiges of light in, and you’d register the sight of silver metal piercing into the glass before you heard it smash.

A figure leapt through its shattered remains, thick cloak blanketing their form to protect them from the glass. Their armor and longsword was polished beautifully, and they would be regal if it wasn’t for their war shout and barred teeth. You could see their face beneath their hood, just before the glint of their weapon as it’d slice down towards your chest.

You’d dodge, rushing backwards until your back hit the other end of the wall. As the longsword would finish its downward arc, Wanda’s magic would cradle its blade, her hands outstretched and bent as if trying to push it up. Her voice was strangled and thin, heard between the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, “run, Margo- go!”

Turning to bolt, you’d hear the clatter of boots against wood as a rougher hand would grab you by the scruff of your neck. Writhing in their hold, you’d shove your elbow into the ribs of your attacker, before grabbing their hand from your nape to sink your teeth into it. “Fuck, you гриф-” The knight’s heavy breath was audible from behind your back. You’d bite harder, feeling their skin break beneath your jaw as you’d thrash, trying to cleave flesh off. They’d tear their hand from you, kicking your legs with a force that sent you barreling down.

Your head would hit the hardwood floor, and you could hear the ringing in your ears as you’d look up, vision swimming as everything looked double. Your hooded attacker brandished their longsword with two hands above you, although it looked like they had four. Before they could stab the blade downward, Wanda’s hand would lurch out to their neck- pressing the kitchen knife into their throat as her other palm would scratch towards the knight’s eyes, the pair barreling backwards which left you an outside view that made your pupils retract into pinpricks.

The sky was dark, illuminated with bright swaths of stars. Tears pricked at your eyes. The few treetops you saw couldn’t even reach its height, blanketing the world in an awaiting gloom. You knew the moon was out there, but you couldn’t see it. Your mind reeled, thoughts growing famished as you’d stare into its expanse. You licked your lips. The sky offered you reprieve, and who were you to deny its feast?

The wheezing pop of bone into stronger sockets would startle Wanda and her assailant into a tense standoff, your witch pinning the stranger to the floorboards while the knight tried in vain to grasp at their longsword that had been kicked many feet away. Your breath heaved with strength you hadn’t felt before, seizing as the voice that came from you was no more than a guttural hiss. Your skull would reshape, mouth widening into a curved beak, hooking into serrated edges, while your skull would become angular, bird like. Anything but human, you were no longer recognizable. Feathers would blanket the creature’s shifting musculature, tearing from roughened skin as they’d fan into shape. Its arms and legs grow as its fingers would lengthen, bat-like wings creaking before they’d be covered in plumage; ivory white on it’s neck and shoulders, cascading into darker blacks and blues elsewhere. The monster’s feathers wouldn’t remain unpigmented for long, as they’d begin to warm on its skin- sparks flying from where they touched, growing into a burnt umber. The beast would groan as its wings crashed to the floor- bipedalism was no longer an option, the force cracking the wooden boards. Horns would thunder from shaking its monstrous head, the beast’s eyes blinking into pale gold with a crimson ring surrounding them. A black line of feathers ran down the side of its face and to its gaping maw, tufted at its chin. Its feathers had heated into shades of orange, flecked with flame- while cyan speckled where its temperature had reached an apex.

Silence would still the room, the shaky inhale of breath marking the presence of living beings in it’s fray. The demon would blink again, a gnashing sound emanating from inside its cavernous beak. It’d then raise itself on its haunches, spread its twelve meter wingspan (shattering the walls in its wake), and echo a deafening, reverberating call into the night.

The hunt had truly begun. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

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markantonys · 7 months

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i already made a joke post about it but genuinely, the whole "wot s1 sucked, which was 100% the show's fault and not the source material's, but now s2 is so much better! shocking! who could've seen that coming!" narrative is SO annoying

like, the eye of the world is boring as shit! it's generic as shit! of COURSE an entire season based on it is not going to be the most groundbreaking or thrilling fantasy television you've ever seen in your life! how on EARTH can the readers who've been saying for decades that the books don't start to hit their stride until book 2 or 3 or 4 fail to grasp the correlation with season 2 being better than season 1? but even so, s1 alone IS more groundbreaking and thrilling than book 1 alone, because the showrunners knew that book 1 is boring and generic as shit and did their absolute damnedest to pull in as many unique elements from later books as they could conceivably fit in this early on.

second, s1 had to do a HUGE amount of heavy lifting in terms of setting up characters, relationships, lore, and worldbuilding. s1 did all this groundwork so that s2 could have the payoff you're enjoying so much, s1 constructed the basic building blocks so that s2 could explore the more advanced concepts you're gushing over. s1 ran so that s2 could soar! put some respect on its name!

third, stakes tend to get higher, characters to get deeper, and plotlines to get more exciting as you go along in a story. this is how stories work. why are you shocked that s1 only built the basic foundation of the story and s2 has the space to grow and deepen that story? that's how stories work, that's how TV works, and that's most certainly how the WOT books work.

fourth, practical constraints s1 had that s2 had less of

budget: s1 was starting from scratch, whereas s2 had more budget to spare since some things could be reused from s1 AND it got a bigger budget than s1 in the first place.

experience: second seasons almost universally tend to be better than pilot seasons, simply because everyone involved in making the show has gotten into the groove and solidified how they want to do this thing. this is how television works.

covid: it should go without saying that s1 would have been One Million Times more difficult and expensive to make than s2 due to covid stuff. whatever effect we may think covid had on s1, the true effect was probably astronomically higher than what we imagine. the majority of "looks too cheap" "looks too empty" complaints likely come down to this (notice that most of those complaints are about episodes 6-8 and not the early episodes; 6 was filmed pre-covid, yes, but i wouldn't be surprised if some covid-related restrictions were starting to rear their heads before production was officially shut down).

the worst part is the people who end their above-mentioned take with "they must have listened to audience criticism of s1 and made changes accordingly." [moiraine voice] the arrogance. s2 had already been written and filming was WELL underway (if not finished or close to finished?) by the time s1 even started airing. if you're impressed by what a great season they've delivered, the credit for that lies entirely with the people who made the show, not your stupid ass.

#justice for s1!! 'every single viewer found it boring and a disappointment' your experiences are not universal!!!#will i deny that s2 is better quality in just about every respect? certainly not #but s1 did a damn good job with the job it was supposed to do even if that job is not as ~exciting~ as s2's job #and THE big difference is that THE SOURCE MATERIAL FOR S2 IS BETTER!!!!!#WHY are any readers shocked that a TGH&TDR-based season is better than an EOTW-based season. make it make sense #wot

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always-andromeda · 8 months

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 3268

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ I’ve loved this man literally since I was thirteen…so it’s inevitable that I’d be writing something absolutely fucking filthy for him in my twenties…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), gaps in age and power, mutual masturbation, little bit of panty sniffing, a singular use of Y/N (I'm sorry, I hate it too but it was necessary), usage of pet names (sweetheart), general manipulation, slight praise kink, obvious disclaimer: the dynamic in this fic is just that, fictional, and should not be practiced in real life!! let me know if any other warnings are needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

You’d rarely had luck receiving any sort of grace from your professors. Sure, there were a select few that only wanted to see you succeed. However, more often than not you seemed to encounter sadists who decided to take their kinks out on exhausted college students. But you were convinced that Professor Winchester wouldn’t be like that.

For starters, he’d always been challenging but never malicious. Despite the fact that you’d registered for his Norse Mythology course with the assumption that it would be easy college credits, you quickly learned that his assignments were difficult. Every week there seemed to be about a hundred pages worth of reading, frequent essays, and an emphasis on class discussion.

Oh, did he love those class discussions. While most were less than enthusiastic to contribute to lengthy examinations of Eddic poetry at eight in the morning, Professor Winchester seemed to be none the wiser of this.

He was always squinting over his thin wire framed glasses, surveying the class. He’d stand at his desk, brushing his long hair behind his ear while looking over papers. When he’d listen he’d purse his lips and tilt his head, expression rife with genuine interest. In all of these moments, he was the most gorgeous. But more than that, you were fascinated with his mind.

Professor Winchester knew this material like the back of his hand; was able to pull references and quotes from various pieces of literature at the drop of a hat. He was the only professor who could ever give notes that were actually helpful on essays and he’d always been generous with handing out extra credit assignments. Which is what you aimed to obtain on this visit to his office.

You looked through the glass of his office door and saw him inside, working diligently at a dark oak wood desk. Taking a deep breath, you turned the doorknob and entered.

The hinges squeezed but Winchester seemed so fixated on whatever was before him that he only raised a finger, indicating for you to wait. So you did. Awkwardly. You rocked slightly on your heels, your stomach starting to twist in time with the movement. God, he looked like a dream lit by the stained glass banker's lamp as he graded papers.

In another world you could see him coming home from a long day, his body warm behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Smelling like black coffee and pencil shavings, you'd adoringly close your eyes, taking in his scent and ask him how his day went. He'd hum in contentment when resting his chin on your head; you're his rock, his soulmate, the reason he stays sane despite dealing with probably hundreds of students and the frustrating dance of academic bureaucracy.

It's a fantasy that broke the second Winchester glanced up and said with a hint of surprise, "Miss L/N! Come in, have a seat," he nodded towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

Relieved that he can pick you out among the sea of students from his classroom, you move forward until you reach the chair. You set your bag down on the floor and settle into the worn leather of the seat as Winchester eyes you expectantly.

"What can I do for you this afternoon?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Actually, I was hoping that you could help me out with something."

"Oh, what might that be?" he furrowed his brow.

"Um..." you started. "I'm sure you noticed that I didn't do too hot on the last exam."

"Ah, I did," he said simply.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, actually." Winchester opened up one of his desk drawers and sorted through some files before pulling out a packet you recognized as the exam you'd taken the week before. "You seem so engaged in class discussion and you've been doing well on everything else. This...this felt rushed. What happened?"

The soft expression of concern on his face only increased your shame. In all honesty, you'd wasted half the exam time away staring at him. He'd worn a red sweater over a cream colored button up that day. Then he'd rolled up the sleeves before handing out the exam papers. It felt stupid to admit that you'd been distracted by his goddamn forearms.

But you had been. You couldn't resist watching him as he'd circled the room, keeping an eye out for cheating. With his arms folded behind his back, you got the best look at the back of him. His long legs clad in khaki. Strong, tanned forearms corded with prominent veins. Shoulder blades pushed back confidently as he walked. Everything about his solid stature had your mind far, far away.

You'd been good at making sure your daydreams wouldn't get the better of you. But this time, before you knew it, Winchester was glancing down at his watch and announcing that you had fifteen minutes left for exam time. You had no choice but to rush through the rest of it, writing down answers that hardly even made sense just to fill in blanks.

Now those answers laid before you, condemning you to a low D– that dragged down your entire grade.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Professor. I thought I studied enough but I guess not."

Though you'd attempted to laugh off his concern, Winchester obviously wasn't budging. "But these are rookie mistakes. Number fifteen for example. Where do the gods live?"

"Easy. Asgard."

"Right, but here you marked down the answer for Valhalla," he slid the paper around so you could look at the question.

Sure enough, there it was, your frantic pencil marks filling in the bubble for the incorrect answer. Damn.

"And that's just on the multiple choice questions," Winchester continued, flipping through the pages. "You barely followed any of the directions for the long answer questions. Your response to the short essay portion was a paragraph too short. And it was too unfocused."

Unfocused is right, Professor Winchester.

"I hate to say it...but I was a little disappointed."

The sting of tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. So you cleared your throat and blinked them back quickly. Voice trembling, you answered quickly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I wasn't on my game and I thought I'd pay you a visit so I could plead my case. I'm willing to do any kind of extra credit assignment. I don't care how much work it is. I'll do anything to fix my grade because I really want to do well in your class and–"

Winchester raised a hand, urging you to stop. Then he spoke, "Listen, I can see how badly you want this. So I'm going to make sure you get it. Just...let me think."

With that, Winchester rose from his seat and began to gather the papers that littered the surface of his desk. He stacked them neatly before opening a different drawer and laying them inside. After he closed the drawer, he made his way around the desk. You tried not to look at him as he made his way around the room, especially not when you felt his hand brush against the back of your chair. But you couldn't not notice when he drew the shade on his door's window and closed the blinds to his window, leaving the room dim save for the yellow light of his desk lamp.

Once he'd made his round, he returned to his chair and rolled back, leaving a massive gap between himself and the edge of his desk.

Then he did something else you didn't expect.

He patted the wood and said, "Come. Sit on my desk. Let me look at you."

You almost wavered on the direction when he cleared his throat expectantly. That brought you to your feet and compelled you to settle waveringly before him.

With his lips in a tight line, Winchester studied you. He tilted his head every few seconds, letting his eye flicker from your uncertain expression to your body. You sat up a little straighter in an attempt to satisfy his observation of you.

You weren't quite sure what he was doing, but it made you nervous; made you vulnerable in a way you weren't used to.

"I may have one extra credit opportunity that I can offer. Special. Just for you."

"Yeah? What do you want me to do?"

"Well, you can start by spreading your legs."

Your eyes went wide. "Professor Winchester, you're not–"

He cut you off quickly, "First, after office hours, you may call me Sam. Second, I'm not going to touch you. I'm simply asking you to give me a– a presentation," he decided.

"What kind of presentation?" you asked.

Your feigned innocence made the man chuckle softly. "The kind of presentation I'm sure you give in your dormitory bedroom every night."

There wasn't an ounce of jesting on his face, but still you played dumb. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Sam." His name felt foreign yet familiar on your tongue. Probably because you'd whispered it many times before in the exact scenario he'd described.

"I'd hoped you'd tell me the truth about why you were so distracted during your exam. But since you haven't been forthcoming, I guess I have to spell it out for you, haven't I?"

You swallowed hard and blinked nervously.

"You thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" he chuckles again. "It's hard not to notice when one of your students, especially one so beautiful, is practically drooling all over their table."

The scraps of flattery were evidently working on you as Sam smiled when you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as your skin got all warm and tingly. So he kept going.

"Besides, you're too intelligent to do this terribly on something you should've aced. Maybe you wanted to fail it. You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to waste your time, I was just–"

"You weren't wasting my time. Wasting your time is continuing this pointless back and forth when you could instead be proving yourself."

"Proving myself?"

"Yes. Spread those legs...and earn your grade," he ordered.

Breathing in and out slowly, you did what you were asked. The knots in your stomach told you this was wrong. But the smile of approval that slowly grew on Sam's lips said that this was exactly what you both needed.

You'd never been more embarrassed to be wearing a skirt. One the fabric pooled around your hips, it only framed the damp patch on your underwear. Perhaps part of you had wanted something like this to happen. Because your pussy was already pulsing after simply being observed behind the cotton curtain that soaked up her anticipation.

"Very good," Sam breathed out.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

"Just...play with her. Show me what you like to do to make her happy."

You nodded, then pursed your lips as you thought. If you were going to present to him...you might as well go all out. So you shifted each of your thighs around, pulling down your underwear until your bare ass was planted on the desk and the garment was caught on one of your ankles. You lifted your left and held it out gently, the panty hanging in the air a little below Sam's face.

"Take them," you said. "Visual aid."

He smirked lazily at the offering before pulling them over your shoe, being careful not to actually touch you. Sam balled them up before bringing them to his nose and slowly breathing in the scent. You could tell he enjoyed it thoroughly as he let out a deep sigh from within his chest.

"With how wet these are...it's good to know you were prepared even for a surprise presentation. I knew there was a reason you're my favorite."

His words went straight to your cunt as a few drops of slick leaked from your hole and landed on the dark wood beneath you.

"Go on," Sam urged, gaze flickering to the drops of you on his desk. "She's waiting. And so am I."

You began to treat yourself with the same level of care as you did when you were alone. One of your hands reached up your shirt and you cupped one of your tits. You kneaded the flesh for a few seconds before focusing on the nipple, pinching it until it pebbled and poked through your shirt. The action made your breathing turn ragged.

You finally let your other hand travel south, bringing warmth to the soft skin of your thighs. Wanting better access to yourself, you pulled your leg up, resting a foot on the desk itself. Then you reclined back and let your fingers roam where they wanted.

Using two fingers, you spread your outer lips, only exposing yourself to Sam’s scrutiny even further. The cool air hitting your most vulnerable part, you shivered as goosebumps erupted across your skin. You looked up at him, gauging his approval of your performance.

“You’re doing so well already, keep going,” he encouraged, hardly concealing the arousal that clung thickly to his tone.

You took the praise with pride. It emboldened you enough to slip your two fingers between your folds to gather up some of the slick. You couldn’t help but feel mortified as you involuntarily gasped when your digits brushed slightly against your clit.

Sam let a quick puff of air out his nose. “Sensitive?”

“Mhmmm,” you whined.

“Bet you can’t even touch that pretty clit directly without crying, huh?”

You nodded.

“Then be gentle. I want you to last for me.”

You took that to mean that he didn’t want you touching yourself there yet. So instead you switched to focusing on your entrance. It wasn’t often that you went straight for penetration. Rarely did it bring the kind of relief you craved.

But you had the feeling that Sam would want to see it; to see your fingers filling yourself up and stretching you out.

With your fingers practically pruning already, you pushed one in ever so slowly. It took a second to adjust to the slight pressure, but still you began to carefully pump. The slick squelch only intensified when you slipped another one in and sped up your movements.

Though the pressure increased and built up tension in your belly, you could already tell it wasn’t going to go anywhere. You bucked your hips pathetically against your own hand, trying to get deep enough to hit your g-spot. But no matter how far you tried to probe, it was useless. Your fingers simply weren’t long enough.

Your eyes went wind, catching sight of something that most likely could reach that spot inside you. While you’d been fucking yourself, your professor had undone the button and the zipper on his pants and slipped himself out. There he sat, your panties in his hand and wrapped around the thick length of his cock. The angry red tip poked up and out of the fabric with each slow thrust. And you could already tell based on how long his strokes were that you’d most likely be able to feel him poking against your belly from inside you. The idea made you moan and throw your head back.

Sam swiftly reprimanded you, “Ah, remember your eye contact. I want you to look at me.”

Shame spread over your body. What the fuck was going on? Were you really fingering yourself on his desk right next to papers that he was surely going to return to students? Was Sam really fisting his own cock with your underwear? And were you actually enjoying this?

“Sweetheart,” Sam’s self control faltered slightly with the name. But it grabbed your attention nonetheless. “I need you to look at me. Let me look into your eyes when you make yourself come on my desk, alright?”

This was about more than fixing your grade. This was about pleasing him…by pleasing yourself. And as you returned his look, you were all in.

Under his watchful, half lidded, hazel eye you allowed yourself to focus on your aching clit which laid in wait like a pearl beneath the hood of skin covering it. Carefully, you pulled that hood back before lightly spreading some of your slick with a finger. You let the skin settle back in place over the sensitive nub before going straight to work.

You began to rub slow circles on the hood and finally properly moaned. It took only a few seconds for the muscle memory of your nightly ritual to kick in as the pleasure started to mount. Finally, all of that pressure in your core had some actual weight to it; a weight that was already beginning to roll in shallow waves over your whole being.

"There you go, sweetheart. Let me hear you loud and clear. Don't wanna miss a single sound from you," Sam groaned and you caught how the grip he had on himself tightened, how his pace quickened.

While rolling your hips against your hand, you pulled up a side of your shirt, exposing even more of yourself to him. Now he could easily see one of your tits rise and fall with your staggered breaths. He could see how the ball of fat dimpled under your fingertips as you squeezed and pulled at your hardened nipple.

Both sources of simulation had you whimpering breathlessly, "Sam, I-I'm so close– Let me come, please?"

Sam glared and asked through gritted teeth, "That's not my name. What do you call me in class?"

"Professor?"

Sam nodded darkly.

You took the cue quickly and begged helplessly, "Please, professor, please let me come–" you were cut off by the sound of your pleasure starting to push you over the edge.

Sam left you teetering, staring right over the border of this boundary. That boundary being an ethical nightmare that you had no clue how you'd navigate. But you wanted to be good for him; you craved his approval.

And thankfully, Sam gave it as he groaned, "There you go, good girl. You can come, you've got permission."

With that, you arched off the desk and burst with glorious clarity. A thin stream of your arousal drooled from your entrance as you rubbed yourself through the enormous implosions and the small aftershocks that followed. Your head was heavy with the fog of pleasure and you wanted to hang it back, give it a break.

But still, you were determined to keep your eyes on him, even as you pulled your fingers away from your trembling cunt and stuck them in your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the wrinkled digits, soaking up every bit of yourself that you could.

Any sort of professionalism Sam had been trying to maintain up until that point shattered completely when he rolled his chair forwards. Closer to you now, you looked down into his soft eyes and watched how his normally objective stare went personal; emotional. He looked at you with the kind of admiration that made your heart flutter with pride.

He took his hand, placed it on your knee, and spread your legs further. His touch was so light, so soft that you could help feeling electricity dance along your spine.

"I thought you said you wouldn't touch me?" you whispered, only a hint of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

Choosing his words as carefully as ever, he explained, "That was before I decided that you needed some of my...guidance."

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic

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fatehbaz · 3 months

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what does your username mean?

Cat ghost.

As child. Would go to library, to look at books about creatures, with a pen and notepad. Or sit before a television watching "nature" documentary stuff, with a pen and notepad. Was fixated on habitats. The context. Did not like to isolate an individual creature from the wider ecological community. This led to interest in geography, distribution range maps. Was aware that, in popular perception, some creatures were strongly associated with a particular place. "Lion is an African animal. Tiger is an Asian animal." Allegedly. And other stereotypes (many of them, I would later come to learn, due to chauvinism, exoticism, Orientalism, colonialism, etc.). Came across a kind of large textbook on wild cats. Saw the historical distribution maps. Only a few centuries ago, tigers were in Anatolia, the Caucasus, near the shores of the Black Sea. Was intrigued. From the middle of the twentieth century onward, the lion and cheetah were so closely associated with Africa, where like over 99% of their range was located. And yet. There remains a small remnant population of nearly-extinct Asiatic lions far away within India''s borders. And there remains a small remnant population of nearly-extinct Asiatic cheetahs within Iran's borders. And all that space, in between, where both cats were now extinct. Only 100 years ago, tiger, lion, leopard, and cheetah all lived generally near each other, still, in eastern Anatolia, near Mesopotamia, etc. And now, only a few dozen wild native cheetah remain on the entire continent of Asia.

"Cheetah". The word for this cat is from South Asia. Through Hindi, from Sanskrit.

"What happened?" I read on. Cheetahs were present within the national borders of what is now India, along with tigers, lions, and leopards. By the 1500s, there was a tradition in South Asia, where some in the Mughal aristocracy enjoyed using cheetahs as companions in sport hunting. The cats would be captured in the wild, and then trained, and then brought along on royal hunts. The cat was the star athlete, goaded into chasing down prey, for the entertainment of the hunting party. There are elaborate paintings, commissioned by Mughal courts and some now displayed in collections of European museums, depicting trained cheetah hunts. It has since been popularly said that Akbar was particularly fond of cheetahs. (Akbar the Great was the "emperor" who is credited often for consolidating Mughal state power across India, solidifying regional power by building administrative systems/structures in India ["forging an empire out of fiefdoms"] that would later eventually be manipulated and overtaken by the British Empire. According to some tellings of the historical narrative.)

Accurate or not, it was said that at any one time, Akbar possessed one thousand cheetahs. A vast royal menagerie. The names of several of the most celebrated cheetahs are still known. In some stories, when he was still young, Akbar was presented with a gift. His very first cheetah: Fatehbaz.

This disturbed me. A child, reading this book, I was upset by the idea of such a vast menagerie of wild animals. Large wild animals, with great need for food, space, enrichment. I was upset by the exploitation of captive wild animals as displays of aristocratic wealth, not just in the Mughal state(s), but also those menageires and exhibitions elsewhere, both earlier and later in time: the royal hunts of Assyrian kings, the Roman arenas, Charlemagne's elephants, European circuses.

So, as a child, I imagined that Fatehbaz resisted the captivity. Like in a daydream, a fantasy. I imagined a royal menagerie breaking free from restraint. I imagined elephants and rhinos and tigers and lions and leopards and jackals and crocodiles. I imagined the beasts attacking an emperor's court. But there are now less than one hundred cheetahs which survive in the wild in Asia. And when Mughal statecraft gave way to European statecraft, when Britain moved into South Asia, the bounty hunting specifically targeted big cats. And, meanwhile, the cats were confronted indirectly with habitat destruction, commodity crop monocultures, industrial-scale resource extraction. So I came to imagine the ghosts of cats. The ghost of a cheetah like Fatehbaz on the Indus plain. The ghost of a jaguar in the Sonoran desert. The ghost of a lion on the Mediterranean coast. The ghost of a tiger on the Amu Darya shore beyond Bukhara, where even the Aral Sea itself has vanished.

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saetoru · 2 years

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MESSY — DILUC RAGNVINDR.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ diluc + cum eating - diluc can’t fight his urges to let things get messy with you

♱ kinktober ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

♱ pairing ⋮ diluc ragnvindr x reader

♱ length ⋮ 1.1k words

♱ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, blow jobs, cum eating, mentions of male masturbation, slight throat fucking

♱ notes ⋮ HE IS ALL MY MIND CONSISTS OF ATM ty bby gray @asunnygray for this brainrot ily <3

diluc is a respectful man—he’s polite and proper, however stiff as he might seem. he holds doors open for people in the distance and he offers a polite nod to every greeting he gets as he walks through mondstadt, and maybe that’s why he’s as hesitant as he is to let himself think of you so lewdly.

but it’s rather difficult not to right now—now that you’re in between his legs, his thick, hard cock sprung free and weeping from the tip with pre cum that you swipe away with your tongue. he hisses, fists the bed sheets under his hands until his knuckles are white, watches with wide eyes as you kiss the head of his length so sweetly. your hand wraps around the fat tip, smearing the pre cum that leaks from his slit along the rest of his length as you stroke him slowly. he’s perfect—big enough that the thick girth makes your hand look smaller than it really is, and the flush of his reddened tip makes your eyes haze with lust.

“so pretty,” you hum, giggling at the way blush dusts over his cheeks almost instantly, eyes not leaving his face as it breaks with pleasure when you wrap your lips around his girth. you moan around him at the taste of him on your tongue, the vibrations making him let out a surprised grunt as his head falls back with a low groan.

“f-fuck,” he curses—he never likes using such colorful language in general, and especially not around you. but the words fall off his lips before he can help it, the way your tongue glides along his vein and swirls around his tip too dizzying to keep up any semblance of composure.

to his credit, diluc tries—he really does. he tries not to think about you when he wakes up to the stiff morning wood aching between his legs, he tries not to imagine this exact image of you kneeling before him with his cock on your tongue, and he tries not to imagine how fucking into your throat would feel instead of his fist. diluc is a respectful man—but sometimes, he can’t help himself when his mind wanders to you as he strokes himself while the sun rises, when sweat clings to his forehead and soft whines tumble past his parted lips, when your name is uttered brokenly between hitched breaths and chokes groans, when his back arches off the mattress and his balls tighten with every thick rope of cum.

no matter how hard he fights his own mind, it’s a losing battle, and he can’t quite stop himself from thinking of you.

“just like that,” he can’t help but moan softly, hips bucking up into your mouth, panting harshly as you glide your tongue along his slit. he’s hot and heavy in your mouth, cock throbbing to release down your throat as you take him so well. “f-fuck, feels good…so good,” he pants.

you swallow around him, look up at him with teary eyes and swollen lips just like in his fantasies, bobbing your head in a sloppy rhythm as you take him as far as you can, hand pumping the rest of what you can’t fit. your hands move down to gently squeeze at his balls, pulling a low groan from him as his eyes flutter shut and his hand falls to the top of your head.

“c-close, so close, love,” he says desperately, hips fucking up into your mouth, all self control behind him as he chases his orgasm. it’s lewd, the sound of his cock burying into your mouth, his low grunts of pleasure and your choked moans around his length, the messy smear of spit and pre cum dribbling past your lips and down your chin. it’s so incredibly dirty, but diluc can’t help but like it—love it even.

the way you let him fuck your throat feels far better than his fist, and the sight of you in front of him is not done even an ounce of justice in his imagination—he doesn’t think he’ll be able to let this time be the last time, no matter how hard he fights the urge.

“cum for me, ‘luc,” you urge, “wanna taste you,” your words are just as filthy as your actions, and with a few more swallows around his aching length, he feels the coil in his belly snap, voice cracking as he cries out your name with a loud groan.

“cumming…i-i’m…fuck, ‘m cumming,” he mumbles through breathy pants, “good, feels so good—m-make me feel so good,” he babbles, and ever the gentleman, he tries to pull you off of him, tries to angle his hips so his release doesn’t soil you with the mess. but you’re determined—you grab him and pump his length, stroking him quick with a steady rhythm as you guide him through his high.

his face breaks—sweat collecting on his forehead, strands of stray hair clinging to the damp skin as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth parts with strangled cries as the pleasure crashes over him in waves. you stroke him through his orgasm, feeling his cock twitch with every hot rope of cum that paints across your face, coating your cheeks, your lips, dripping down to roll along the skin of your tits. it’s downright vulgar, and he doesn’t even get a proper chance to feel guilty when you press another kiss to the head of his cock, wrapping your lips around him once more and sucking off the small bead of cum left at the tip.

“‘luc you’re so pretty when you cum,” you pout, a string of saliva connecting between your lip and his member as you pull away. you trail a finger along the vein under his length, making him gasp softly as his hips buck under the sensitivity, collecting the smeared cum that coats him. you bring your finger to your mouth, licking and sucking on the digit, making his cock twitch back to life at the sight as he groans. “want more, wanna see you do it again. please?”

this was never in his fantasies—this was never what he imagined. this is so much more than what he could hope for, and with blush-dusted cheeks and a stiff and painful erection between his legs again, he pulls you from your knees to climb onto his lap, hands finding your hips with a tight, desperate grip.

“it’s only fair i get to witness the same from you,” he mumbles against your mouth as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, “wouldn’t you agree?”

#[ tee’s kinktober 22 👻 ]#teepods.writings #thirstee!#thirsts.#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc ragnivindr smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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alaezasmystery235 · 1 year

Text

PILE 1 -> PILE 2 -> PILE 3 -> PILE 4

↛ Paid Readings ↛Pick a Cards

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 ; 𝗚𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗕𝗶𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗮.𝗸.𝗮 𝗪𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆

rules, disclaimer and notes ☆

⋆·˚ 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 ⋆·˚ ----- This reading was made for entertainment purposes only. this is obviously a general reading so takes what resonates and leave when it doesn't, you don't need to force your energy to read this and leave such a bad comment just to say it doesn't resonates with you at all because the answer is very obvious!

⋆·˚ 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 ⋆·˚ ----- All of the pictures are collected and downloaded from 'pinterest' i don't own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners however edits goes and belong to me only @alaezasmystery . I use the editor tools canva and kapwing for the header and divider. Extra credit to @daninixx for giving permission to use her rules and disclaimer.

ＰＩＬＥ 1

First court marriage then there will be big luxurious wedding party . It's a royal wedding !!!! You'll look like a powerful person . That's your day and you're just not ready to share it with anyone . Your Future Spouse can be famous or has fame to their name . Many people will make posts of your wedding photo viral in social media .

Extra information :- owl , Tik tok , China , Sushi , Pens and highlighter , Baby cradle , Red hair , Green and black eyes , 5 ' 6 - 6 ' 0 in height , garters , stockings , statement jewelry , diamond bracelet / heirloom , summer and June .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 2

Big fantasy wedding ceremony . There will be a huge celebration in your wedding . You'll look so gorgeous and luxurious on that day . You're manifesting a successful huge ceremony . I'm seeing many expensive gifts being given to you . A presence of child / children will be there too. Maybe you'll own a pet by then whom you treat like your own child.

Extra information :- Swan , Sunflower , mesh net , Zari works , minimal jewelleries , boots , blonde highlights , peach and white colours , grandparents , 2211 , 1818 , Name starting with R , S , W , U , 2009 , 1998 , 25 .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 3

Cute destination wedding is going here. Small amount of people are going to join your wedding . It's like a magical sacred union of two matured person. This wedding is going to be so intimate and exquisite. I'm seeing nature is included in your theme . Like beach , waterfall or ocean is present by your side. You'll look like an angel straight out of a fairytale .

Extra information :- Candles , fairy lights , cars , potluck , hotpot , 444 , piano , fluffy dresses , braids , ace of spades , Middle of the night by Elley Duhé , tulips , Netherlands , old photos , X , D , G , H , Ticket .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 4

Okay this is giving me destination wedding vibe !! It maybe a small wedding but this is going to take place in different place than yours . I'm seeing a very vintage vibe from here . You'll be radiating so much that day. A sense of pride is in the air. People will be talking about this for a while . Many of your family members will be shocked to see that you're finally getting married .

Extra information :- Old money , Manor , Dolce & Gabbana , Jesper , Finland , Bees , Long drives , 26 , 30 , 4+ years age gap , Teacher - Student vibes , Seashell , Mirror , Buddha .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

#pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a photo #tarot readings #free tarot reading #tarot reading #tarot community #free tarot #general tarot reading #channeled message #future spouse #future partner #alaezasmystery

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theprissythumbelina · 3 months

Text

So you want to write about horses.

Specifically, you want to write about horses in your medieval-inspired fantasy novel, rpg, or daydream fantasy. Knights in shinning armor on noble steeds, damsels in distress(or not!) on fine prancing mount, or an evil sorcerer cackling on a fierce charger above your poor tandem MCs.

Whatever it is you're imagining, a medieval horse appears. But you know nothing about horses. I can help.

(If you would like to begin with my first basic Basics post, start here)

^ When thinking knight, you're probably imagining a horse like this.

Preface: When talking about fiction, there is always a question of historical accuracy. That is wholly up to you. But you will at least, after reading this, know more of the historical fact involving horses, and certainly know about some of the more commonly-complained about fallacies involving horses in media.

Now, the above still is from the film Ladyhawke (1985), which is often credited for popularizing the Friesian breed in the United States. I can almost guarantee you have see a Friesian in a film or on TV. The recent series Shadow and Bone had a central character ride a Friesian in one episode. They epitomize the romantic nobility and grace of knights. Except they don't.

The horse you see above came into existence in 1879, primarily as a harness and agricultural use horse. Horses known as Friesian horses have existed since the 11th century, but those horses were completely different from the breed created in the 19th century. The modern Friesian is a trotting breed, made to pull carriages and look beautiful doing it. They have a long back, short neck, and due to inbreeding, a host of nasty genetic problems including dwarfism, aortic rupture, hydrocephalus, and megaesophagus.

However, breeds that trace ancestry back to beyond the middle ages do exist, and they have been breed to look much the same for generations. Introducing:

The Barb/Berber Horse

^Kinda just looks like A Horse™

The Barb comes from North Africa, and was spread into Europe through the Muslim conquest of Spain, where the breed mixed with the native Andalusian breed to create the Spanish Jennet, which is possibly the most widely successful horse breed in all of history. The Jennet is currently extinct*, but due to its durability, it was the horse used by the Spanish AND the British to invade the Americas, and descendants of the Jennet survive in local breeds from Argentina to Canada.

*a revitalization breed does exist of the same name

The Andalusian/Lusitano/Pure Raza Espanol

^The true Fabio of horses, known for thick flowing locks and sweet dispositions

Possibly the horse that most strongly resembles the ancient knighly horse, this noble creature used to be the preferred horse of film, before the Friesian rise in popularity. Horses of Spanish bloodlines are Andalusian, horses of Portuguese bloodlines are Lusitano, but the characteristics of both breeds are nearly identical. They are also known for a fancy 'high stepping' movement, in which they raise their knees higher than other breeds naturally.

The Arabian

^Note the narrow, 'dished' face and raised tail, breed characteristics

The ancient horse of the desert, made famous through books such as The Black Stallion, King of the Wind, and films such as Hildago. These horses are known for their stamina and intelligence, and were traditionally used as war horses by the desert tribes of the Arabian Peninsula. The Arabian has descendants in almost all modern breeds, as it is used to add strength and stamina to the original stock, despite being a relatively small horse. During the Napoleonic wars, this horse became the prized war horse of Europe as well, with Napoleon himself preferring to ride Arabians into battle.

The Mongolian Horse

^Thick head, thick body, this horse is made to survive winter on the steppes

Introduced to Europe from the Hunnic invasions that ended the rule of Rome, the Mongolian horse is made to survive, thrive, and run in harsh cold weather. This horse allowed Ghengis Khan and his soldiers to conqure one of the largest empires to ever exist, from Korea to Poland. This compact horse would have mixed with the native stock of Russian, Eastern European, and Germanic tribes to help create the ancient northern horses, resulting in a thicker breed of horse in the north, and a lighter breed of horse in the south of Europe. Modern-day pony breeds such as the Exmoor, Fjord, Icelandic, and other have been found to have genetic ties to the Mongolian horse.

These horses do not exactly look like the modern image of knights on massive horses, but it is useful to remember that 1. people back then were a lot smaller and 2. horses back then were a lot smaller. Of course, there were hundreds of other local breeds during the middle ages, but many have been modernized and become today's sport, work, or pleasure horses.

During the middle ages, horses were not actually defined by breed. They were defined by the work the horse was suited and trained to preform. There were five main types of medieval horses.

The Destrier

Also called The Great Horse for its size, strength, and price, this horse was the renown mount of knights and kings in battle. These horses were highly trained for battle, and could be taught to do such things as striking out at soldiers in front, kicking at soldiers from the back, and even leaping all four feet in the air to protect it's rider. They would wear the most armor, and these horses would likely be closest in appearance to the modern Andalusian.

^Ornate heavy armor on a model horse. This armor was made for a horse not much more than 15hh, what today would be a small horse.

The Courser/The Charger

A lighter horse than the destrier, the courser is also a warhorse, highly trained and well-bred, but a little less expensive. A knight might not be able to afford a destrier, especially as a minor knight, but every knight should have a courser. The Spanish Jennet is the epitome of the medieval courser, and in fact was the horse used by Richard II. According to Shakespeare, the horse's name was White Surrey, although other sources claim the horse was Roan Barbary, and was a Barb or Berber horse*.

*Bought from Spain and likely a cross of Spanish and African blood, so a Jennet. But Jennet was also a classification of a horse type in those days, so, sources are muddled.

The Rouncey

The 'average' horse of the time, this horse was used mainly for riding, but could sometimes be ridden into battle if trained properly, and were the preferred horse for lower-class fighters such as archers or men-at-arms. As it described a riding horse, these horses came in all shapes and sizes, from all lineages, and in all colors. In peacetime they could be used to draw carriages or work fields. A proud and expensive destrier would never be caught pulling a plow.

The Palfrey

A highly-bred, highly trained horse, this horse is a high quality riding horse known for a specific gait, called an ambling gait. This horse had a special pattern of moving its feet that gave the rider a considerably more comfortable ride than the traditional 4 gaited horse. After the middle ages, these horses almost disappeared, only to be recovered in the Americas in the form of 'gaited' horses such as the Paso Fino, the Rocky Mountain Horse, the Missouri Foxtrotter, and the Tennessee Walking Horse. The Icelandic horse has also retained the special Tölt gait that may* be the exact gait of medieval ambling horses.

*may, I am not a gaited horse expert.

The Packhorse

This describes any kind of horse, usually a rouncey, that is used not for riding but to carry supplies. Packhorses could also be mules, donkeys, and ponies, so long as they could carry weight for long miles. These were supply horses, carrying food, weapons, tents, whatever else may be needed.

Knights, Horses, and the Battlefield

^ What an incredible creature of power and nobility. The man is fine too, I guess.

Now, if you have seen the above scene, you have probably seen The Hollow Crown, a historical drama with a few late Medieval battle scenes. In these scenes, knight clashes against knight in a furious charge, leading to pitched battles on horseback. I'm not going to say that never happened, but by and large cavalry was directed against infantry, not other cavalry, or used to conduct maneuvers requiring speed and surprise, such as a charge, a circling maneuver, a bluff retreat and most importantly, to chase down routing enemy soldiers. A knight on horseback was most effective in close quarters against unmounted and surprised soldiers. Lances were the primary weapon, allowing a mounted warrior length to spear and batter down at enemies, and a sword was secondary, as it had a shorter length, and would be used if a mounted warrior was surrounded by infantry or in battle against another knight. Throughout the medieval period, horses sometimes were removed from the fight all together due to unfavorable land, and kept in reserve to either help the army flee or to chase down the fleeing enemy.

Hungry for more?

There are many sources out there to learn more about the medieval period and knights in particular. I would highly recommend that you not look at Medieval Times sources, if only because better sources are out there. I enjoy the videos produce by Jason Kingsley CBE (Yes, that Jason Kingsley CBE) on his Modern History TV YouTube Channel, and find them to be accurate as far as I'm aware.

^ Jason Kingsley and his horse Warlord, in costume. I've sent marriage proposals but I've not yet received a reply.

That's all for this post. I'll have more when I feel like it, and send me questions if you want to know more about specific things or need a writing question answered

Reblogs welcome and encouraged

@jacqueswriteblrlibrary for wider reach

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thedivineart · 1 year

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PICK A CARD: ADMIRING YOU FROM AFAR; THE UNKNOWN ONE [ self related series #01 ]

in this pac reading were going to take a look/ know who is secretly admiring you, images that used are not mine and i'm only saved this images from pinterest so credits to the rightful owner.

♡︎ M A S T E R L I S T ♡︎

ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗʷᵒ ᵗʰʳᵉᵉ

𓇽 P A I D S E R V I C E S 𓇽

PILE ONE

i see that mostly who pick this pile, their secret admirer are 18 to 32 of ages and this individual is someone who is mature than you or simply just older than you. a very calm, well expeirenced and wise individual they are, they are serious person who is ambitious in life and quiet powerful person they are maybe somewhat popular in school, work, or in your surroundings-someone who have quiet influencial around others. I see here that there will be something might happen in this winter time. Also this person is a sexual appetite but is a cold person, who doesn't seems to know how to show their emotion and they have dark haired -doesnt matter if dye or not or this person have sexual fantasies about you. I think some people here who pick this pile already know who is this individual or you have hint who are they. Yeah, this individual is somewhat famous too in where society they belong, i feel they been admiring you for a very long time but may fear of acceptance, they also have romantic feelings for you. They has a hobby of writing maybe a book or jounals or fixing their schedule or something related to those things, a creative person with soft features or round face and admiring you brings small amount of joy inside of them. They might be your friend or friends of your friend or they are friendly person or someone who you familiar with like heard their name before but don't actually see who are they. They are a private or typically lonely person like they like to be lonely most of the time, they are also tall or can be taller than you as well being intellegent and well diciplined individual. They may also came from high status family or in their surroundings their alot of influencial people.

PICK A CARD READINGS

PILE TWO

this pile got the happiest energy, i do feel that this person loves to laugh or smile often, they may also loves to joke around or make others smile. they might be also popular maybe in school, or work, or in neighborhood since this individual is too friendly in others, they may have dark hair- dye or not and very good looking/pretty people. I'm also sensing that this person may laugh out of nowhere cause s/he remember something funny in his/her mind, they also good at cheering and uplifting people- a naturally gift from them, they may also love attention but in a good way like i said joking around, making others comfortable. If you knew this person, you never see them having a sad face cause it's like they always have smile on their faces. They seems always in public eye, they know alot of people and people know them too and there is also people who envy and called this person a 'attention seeker' which probably far from it's truth. This pile got all positive cards, so this person is always positive in their life as well caring/generous to their time or anything that they can give, mostly who choose this pile this is your 'soulmate', they may came from quiet well-off family and water is very significant to them maybe its their zodiac sign or simply just loves water like the beaches or fountain etc. Even though they are good looking people or not, still people who surround them find them really attractive and idk what makes them nervous sometimes maybe when you are near? and they naturally experience ups and downs in life like a normal human being or they are well balance individual.

PICK A CARD READINGS

PILE THREE

it seems this person loves to write letter or they are one of the people who you chat online or irl, they are type of people who is always curious to anything or everything, naturally an active individual who maybe join in some activities in daily life such as sport etc. also they good at communication and knows how to balance every conversation or they give light and open aura for any communication they been through. Though they experience some difficulties in life that turns to a real life lesson to them, they still manage to stand up for the sake of their supreme goals and also you can feel the sadness around this individual maybe the reason why is that they suffer alot from so much burdens into their life. They are also someone who quick temper, aggressive or an authoritive person, mostly prone to vindictiveness or lies or they are someone who suffer in mental illnesses. Okay, i know there's alot of negative energy for this person-well that's their energy as of now, this pile is so opposite of pile two but i do sense that this person they are good person, they care for their family or friends, they also responsible and actibe individual. They also have the characteristics of be able to adapt things easily or to any situation occur in their present time, they may probably taller than you or naturally taller or have long legs, they also someone who value their reputation, hobbies and their everyday affairs.

PICK A CARD READINGS

A R T E M I S

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calisources · 2 months

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𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 : here are a list of 55 female names, 55 male names and 55 a song of ice and fire valyrian names and last names. You can do variations to the names and eveything because, you know fantasy, but I chose those that I thought sounded good. If this list is good, I found a generator for more fantasy names centered in ASOIAF for different kingdoms and lands. you don't have to give credit but please like or reblog if you find useful.

Male Names.

Kallias, meaning beauty.

Dimitri, earth lover.

Teivel, the devil.

Kaiser, Emperor or ruler.

Harvey, Strong warrior.

Lysander, liberator.

Erel, angel and messenger.

Asael, made by god.

Laurent, the bright one.

Perseus, avenger, destroyer.

Chrysander, golden protector.

Zale, strength of the sea.

Cahir, warrior, battle man.

Magnus, great and powerful.

Nikolai, people of victory.

Kian, king.

Damien, to tame.

Micah, who resembles God.

Kaemon, joyful.

Arsenio, strong, potent.

Lucius, light or genius.

Loan, light.

Calix, very handsome.

Rowan, brilliant red.

Egan, little fire.

Adonis, lord.

Declan, full of goodness.

Arzhel, bear prince.

Thaddeus, courageous heart.

Alastor, vengeance.

Carden, wool carder.

Leone, lion.

Osian, little dear.

Ezekiel, strength of god.

Zion, highest point.

Asher, blessed.

Kratos, strength, might.

Zadkiel, righteousness of god.

Arwan, king of the other world.

Malakai, messenger.

Acheron, river of sorrow.

Elijah, the lord is my god.

Jace, lord of salvation.

Killian, little warrior.

Cyrus, the sun.

Deimos, personification of fear.

Bryson, child of a noble.

Conan, little wolf or little hound.

Maverick, independent one.

Lennone, keen.

Anteros, god of required love and defender of unrequired.

Denarius, silver coin.

Lorcan, little fierce one.

Ariston, excellent.

Vortigern, high overlord.

Female Names.

Naima, tranquil.

Freya, noble woman.

Alora, beautiful dream.

Danyi, sweet.

Juniper, evergreen.

Arcadia, adventurous.

Cora, virtuous.

Rosela, rose in italian.

Rhea, river.

Kyra, sun.

Solasta, shining, light.

Evangeline, messenger of good news.

Narcissa, flower.

Nyssa, new beginning.

Nyx, night.

Elodie, great fortune.

Gemena, intelligent.

Elis, god’s promise.

Irene, peace.

Samira, wind.

Melantha, dark flower.

Odeliah, praise god.

Aleyah, noble, elevated.

Sariah, princess of the lord.

Ilaria, happy and cheerful.

Odessa, long journey.

Jezebel, pure.

Brielle, heroine of god.

Emersyn, brave, powerful.

Marilla, shining sea.

Braelyn, meadow.

Enora, honor.

Sereia, mermaid.

Seraphina, fiery ones.

Kaena, praise.

Zenaida, of zeus, eternal life.

Isadora, gift of Isis.

Faera, bringer of gifts.

Fayra, gift of god.

Lilibet, pledge to god.

Orlaith, golden princess, sovereign.

Thalassa, sea or ocean.

Visha, deadly poison.

Sora, sky.

Leysa, defender of man.

Cassiel, angel of saturday.

Calia, beautiful person.

Aloisia, famous warrior.

Isleen, vision.

Elowen, elm tree.

Davina, beloved.

Elysia, from the blessed isles.

Gwenna, blessed ring.

Mairween, blessed rebellion.

Esmeray, dark moon.

ASOIAF Valyrian names.

Daenar Tarreos

Baesenyx Barreos

Jaererys Laeraellis

Tyraerion Laenaenor

Jacaegar Laeneneos

Gaedar Aglaeris

Raenor Gonnalys

Rhaegon Maentigar

Vimar Arnalys

Vahaegaron Nargyreon

Laegor Naeltigar

Aeron Taeltheon

Maerya Barnaris

Alyhna Caeneneos

Vysenera Naeltaris

Daessa Baelnaris

Baessa Rahmaereon

Haelera Veltheos

Saerena Arinarys

Alaenna Lenyreos

Elaessa Narnareon

Jaelanya Galgyreon

Vhaenys Dortalor

Saerera Raeldaerys

Visegon Goniar

Jaedor Gaelennis

Malaelor Maentheos

Rahaelon Baeltigar

Maerion Laergaris

Visegon Qargaeron

Vahaeron Arreos

Gaelyx Arlaeris

Garaevon Calnalys

Naelara Dalreos

Eraerla Raenlaeris

Daenenera Maenanyon

Haerys Narnalys

Hera Aergaris

Vysessa Qarareon

Elaerya Aerlaeris

Maeharys Malreos

Tahaenyx Rahiar

Aeganar Gaelralis

Balaevar Lendaerys

Daegar Valanyon

Gaegar Nohaellis

Matagor Vellaeris

Rahaemon Laendaerys

Daelon Aeraeris

Aerena Mallaeron

Daenelys Callaeris

Renaera Raelennis

Daenelys Dortheos

Raevor Daerlaeron

Bamera Caenennis

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

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moontrinemars · 1 year

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TENTH LORD IN RAHU NAKSHATRAS

Thanks for your patience in waiting for the next part of the series - I'm glad you guys are interested. As always, recorded for my own benefit, published for yours. General disclaimer is in my bio. Credit to KRSchannel for inspiring this post.

Find your 10th lord here, and find your 10th lord’s nakshatra here.

The 10th house rules our life’s honor. It represents the services we perform for society as well as the reputation we earn as a result. It is associated with the father and the career because traditionally, this is where both our standing in society and the role we performed in society would come from - inherited through the father’s family line. However, in our contemporary world, this isn’t always the case, which is why it’s important to know the grander themes at play.

The three Rahu-ruled nakshatras are Ardra, Swati, and Shatabhisha.

Rahu, or the North Node, is a non-planet object that represents our aspirations, our delusions, and our karmic trajectory. It is uncharted territory, where we are forced to experiment and step beyond our assigned role in life. Like its twin, the North Node is spiritually powerful, yet deceptive - but in this case, the deception lies in the allure of imagined possibilities. This is the dream of being a rockstar you have as a kid, and the fantasies of becoming a billionaire you have as a young adult. It is audacious, brash, impulsive and intoxicating. Hence, it both repulses, due to the fear of the fall from imagined heights, and attracts, for the glory it represents.

DO YOU HAVE YOUR 10TH LORD IN A RAHU-RULED NAKSHATRA? THAT MEANS YOU…

Drew Barrymore, Amy Winehouse, and Megan Thee Stallion all have their tenth lords in Rahu ruled nakshatras. Drew's is in Ardra, Amy's is in Swati, and Megan's is in Shatabhisha.

… find engaging in public life will result in severity, intensity, and extremes.

This placement corresponds to magnetic public personalities and whirlwind professional lives that are constantly shifting. Those with Rahu-ruled 10th lords will find themselves constantly questioned or provoked as to whether they have earned their place, or rather whether they have a right to claim those earnings. They are likable and charismatic, but may not seem perfectly in place. Their unique character distinguishes them from the rest of the office or public, setting them apart regardless of whether they are actually all that different from their peers. At work and in public service, they find themselves compelled to address the elephant in the room, as in, sidling up and calling it by name and offering it a cigarette because how rude of everyone else to pretend it isn't even there. To be less metaphorical - these natives will point out what everyone's trying to ignore, and then demand everybody consider why they were trying to ignore it in the first place.

As for fame, Rahu is so empowered in this day and age, that its influence is very intimately correlated to fame. While this used to be much more short term fame, and still largely is, it is not quite as exclusively short term due to the power of the Rahu-ruled internet and media in the age of information. However, any long term fame is likely to be distinctly correlated to being a symbol of the Rahu age, rather than overall human history, at least if there is no or too little Sun energy to balance it out. The most potent of Rahu fame will also be distinctly tied to tragedy or scandal - especially in a way directly tied to the native's ascension to higher station or notoriety. This isn't a hard rule, but those with Rahu, Mercury, or malefic dominated charts should be very, very wary. This placement also guarantees a sort of cult status for famous natives. Fans of these individuals are more than just fans - they are devotees. And critics? Haters? They'll be just as brutal and harsh as fans are reverent.

MORE ON THE SPECIFICS OF ARDRA, SWATI, AND SHATABHISHA BELOW!

IF ARDRA RULES THE TENTH LORD, YOU…

Mia Farrow, Harrison Ford, and Princess Diana all have their tenth lords in Ardra. Others with this placement are Jean Paul Sartre, Josephine Baker, Kathy Bates, Julie Newmar, Penelope Cruz, Eva Gabor, James Dean, William Randolph Hearst, Chris Evans, Keke Palmer, Lucy Hale, and Princess Margret.

Push boundaries, deconstruct and change your workspace.

Have to change careers due to circumstances beyond control.

Have a persona characterized by emotional intensity, being unconventional or an outcast, or having a tumultuous life.

Get emotional at work and are sentimental about public life.

Receive more public attention for your tragedies and terrors than anything else about you.

AND YOU MAY FIND…

Nobody expects you to be a member of the profession you are.

Honesty, and directly addressing problems will solve your work problems and boost your public image.

Starting projects is difficult and may result in breakdowns.

Chaos follows wherever you go in public and in your profession.

When the public is in a crisis, you can maintain a cool head.

ARDRA is the Star of Sorrow. Industries and career types favored are those involving electronics, software, numbers, sound, visual effects, virtual reality, writing, science fiction, psychology, radar, radiation, games, logic, sales, accuracy in aim, humanitarianism, teaching, publicity, drugs, athletics, medicine, and diplomacy.

IF SWATI RULES THE TENTH LORD, YOU…

Bjork, Jim Morrison, and Ruby Dee all have their tenth lords in Swati. Others with this placement are Julie Andrews, Billie Piper, Zac Efron, James Pitcairn-Knowles, Sonny Osbourne, Jerry Seinfeld, Ron Howard, Ellen Pompeo, Russell Wilson, Empress Carlota of Mexico, Sarah Silverman, and Meg Ryan.

Communicate distinctively and impulsively in public.

Maintain balance well at the cost of feeling scattered or restless.

Feel most in control when you're deep in the middle of a project.

Are known for a popular but unique taste, or as a symbol of the the eclectic in the mainstream.

Procrastinate, cultivating a tendency to go wherever the wind takes you in regards to projects.

AND YOU MAY FIND…

Aggression is poorly received by the public and does not come naturally to you in professional settings anyways.

You undergo sudden mental oscillations as a result of your relationship to public.

Legal troubles given public attention or settled in public spaces will typically go in your favor - depending on circumstances.

You worry about the boundary between private and public as it is easy for you to let this border dissolve, and it will impact you negatively if things get too mixed.

There is a delicacy to you in public that may not align with how you feel you are at your core or with how you present in private and domestic settings.

SWATI is the Self-Going Star. Industries and career types favored are those involving business, sport, breath, speech, bureaucracy, transport, software, service, flight, education, law, negotiation, sales, stock, trade, vocal and wind sourced music, and drugs.

IF SHATABHISHA RULES THE TENTH LORD…

Yoko Ono, Prince, and Elizabeth Taylor all have their tenth lords in Shatabhisha. Others with this placement are Alice Cooper, Anais Mitchell, Elle Fanning, Billie Holliday, Orlando Bloom, Zooey Deschannel, Ava Gardner, Burt Reynolds, Dr. Dre, Dakota Fanning, Ke$ha, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Michelangelo, and Frank Sinatra.

Have a love-hate relationship with being given attention and thus have a reputation for being mysterious, reclusive, and closed off.

Act as a force for revolution, liberation, and justice in public.

Weather difficulties with grace, effort, and sincerity.

May use mystic symbolism and aesthetics to promote yourself.

Find intoxicants, indulgence, and corruption enabled in the field.

AND YOU MAY FIND…

There is always more going on beneath the surface and your dirty laundry inevitably is aired in public and exploited.

Great fame or recognition may be in your future, but you must be wary of fame giving way to infamy.

Distance and the ability to withdraw from the public is important for you to feel in control and still in possession of yourself.

You are extremely powerful particularly in the age of information, and you will find that virtual and media ventures are very profitable, or at least felt with extreme significance.

Counter culture, underground social scenes, and alternative movements appeal to you or there is a relationship of influence between them and you.

SHATABHISHA is the Hundred Stars. Industries and career types favored are those involving science, trends, innovation, mapping, medicine, intoxicants, art, fuel, exploration, investigation, research, music, clerical work, psychology, depths, waste, and organization.

HOPE THIS WAS HELPFUL. AMOUNT OF REQUESTS MEANS WE'RE GOING OUT OF ORDER, BUT WE WILL ABSOLUTELY RETURN TO THE OTHERS LATER. FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE WITH QUESTIONS, THOUGHTS, OR IDEAS. PART 5 WILL FOCUS ON SATURN-RULED 10TH LORD NAKSHATRAS NEXT! ♡

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