#sojourner specials

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

The 15th Inspector’s using the power of the Cosmic Tinker to duplicate the BOOTH wasn’t the first time the New Series had done it, only the first time we’d seen it on screen.

When the half-human version of the 10th Inspector left with Lily to reside in the alternate universe, the full-Infinity Knight Inspector gave him the seed to grow a new BOOTH. By now, that BOOTH should be fully grown and functional.

#Inspector Spacetime #The Chuckle (special) #Sojourn's Beginning (episode) #the Inspector (character) #15th Inspector #10th Inspector #Tenth Inspector #Fifteenth Inspector #using the power of #The Tinker (character) #The Cosmic Tinker #duplicated the BOOTH #BOOTH #DARSIT #X 7 Dimensioniser #X 7 #not the first time #New Series #did it #first time seen on screen #half human Inspector #Lily Weaver (character) #parallel universe #alternate universe #gave him a seed #to grow a BOOTH #should be fully grown and functional #they could be out there together

[ftmtftm]

Feminism has always, always had a history with Racism and White Supremacy - particularly in a way that promotes fascist leaning "Protection for Me and Mine" type "activism".

There have always been several Upper Class, White, Women at the helm of Feminist movements and it is something Poor, Working Class, Women of Color have been vocally criticizing since the First Wave.

I mean, US Americans, did you not learn about Sojourner Truth? Have you not read "Ain't I A Woman?"? It is one of the most famous early accounts of the racialized nature of gender. It perfectly highlights the way the social aspects of gender have always been barred from People of Color in a way they aren't barred from White People in a firsthand historical account.

Women's Suffrage, and subsequently the First Wave of Feminism was an actively Racially Segregated movement. White Suffragettes intentionally campaigned for themselves and themselves only because they thought that campaigning for Black, Immigrant, and Indigenous Women would undermine their own movement. They did not seek liberation for women, they sought the Systemic, Institutional Power of their White Male Peers and they got it - by intentionally leaving Women of Color behind them.

This is most evident in the fact that White Women received the right to vote in 1920, but Black Women did not receive the right to vote until 1965 with the Voting Rights Act. Almost 50 years later. That is over half a lifetime. This was also only approximately 2-3 years before Radical Feminism and the Second Wave began around 1967~1968.

If you think racial segregation and racism in the Feminist Movement ended with Black Women's suffrage and completely dissipated within the two years it took for the Second Wave to pick up it's feet, you are naïve at best and actively racist yourself at worst. The Women's Liberation Movement / Radical Feminism have always been White Woman's movements riding the coattails of the Suffragette's racism.

Look at the website for the Women's Liberation Front. WoLF is one of the original Radical Feminist organizations. It was founded in the late 60's and is one of the largest Radfem organizations to date. Now. Look at their board. Look at the photos of women they choose to include across their site. Look at the women who are speaking at their events. Beyond one or two token Black Women, it is a sea of Whiteness.

You know who is a special advisor to WoLF and the founder of the group "Standing for Women"? Kellie-Jay Keen-Minshull, aka Posie Parker. Kellie-Jay is the woman who popularized "Woman means adult human female" as an anti-trans slogan. Kellie-Jay is also real good buddies with - you guessed it! Neo-Nazis and White Supremacists!

WoLF also takes money from the Alliance Defending Freedom, (ADF) a Right Wing Christian Organization, and it's members have worked directly with the Heritage Foundation, a Conservative organization founded during the Reagan Presidency.

Radical Feminism as a political movement cares about the lives and held power of White Women under the guise of "Women's Liberation" in the exact same way as their foremothers, the Suffragettes. It's a foundationally White Supremacist movement. Black Feminists, Indigenous Feminists, Immigrant Feminists, and Colonized Feminists have been talking about this for over a century but it falls on White ears so why would they listen.

#original post #long post / #anti radfem #anti radical feminism #anti terf #feminism #feminist #anti racism

[magnetothemagnificent]

A cool Dvar Torah I read:

Parshat HaChodesh, the New Moon, and Eclipses!

This Shabbat we read a special section from the Torah called Parshat Hachodesh. It is the story of the Mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, that we track, observe and celebrate the new moon each and every month. Since the day that G-d commanded Moshe regarding this Mitzvah, two weeks before the grand Exodus from Egyptian slavery, we have kept a close eye on the moon, looking out for that celestial monthly moment of rebirth that G-d showed Moshe that early evening in Egypt. In the Torah, our holidays - Passover, Sukkot, Yom Kippur etc. - are prescribed to happen on a certain day following the new moon: "the fifteenth day after the new moon", "the tenth day after the new moon" and so on. Meaning, that if we wish to celebrate these festivals, we need to keep track of the lunar cycle, even if no one else on Earth gives it a second thought. Along the way, the Jewish people have come to identify with the moon. We can empathize with the moon's ups and downs, so similar to our own history. One moment we're shining bright, the next moment we're so oppressed and persecuted that casual observers have often written us off, predicting our extinction, G-d forbid. And yet the next moment, to their disbelief, we're back, reborn out of the darkness, and growing stronger every day. It's notable that G-d interrupted the flow of events leading up to the Exodus to tell Moshe about Rosh Chodesh. Not only because it seems to be unrelated to what was happening then, but also because by giving that Mitzvah right then, it meant that it would given in Egypt, the darkest spiritual locale in the world. G-d could have waited a couple of weeks until we were out of that spiritual wasteland and told us about Rosh Chodesh in the desert. Why the rush? * Everyone's talking about the eclipse happening Monday afternoon - The Great North American Eclipse. It's a major event that will have millions of people looking up to the Heavens, an event that will not happen again in the USA until 2044. Now, solar eclipses only happen around the new moon. Monday night and Tuesday, Jews will observe Rosh Chodesh. And not just any Rosh Chodesh, but the annual Rosh Chodesh of all Rosh Chodeshes - the first Rosh Chodesh of the year. This means that Monday is the day before rebirth, the day when the moon is at its very lowest, darkest point, the moment that symbolizes the most difficult, challenging times of the Jewish People. And so it turns out that precisely in its smallest, weakest moment, the moon looms largest: it can even eclipse the mighty light of the sun. Is this not our story exactly? Is this not precisely why G-d told this to Moshe in Egypt, in our place of misery and suffering? During the last new moon of our centuries-long sojourn in Egypt, G-d shows Moshe the truth about the miracle of Jewish rebirth and eternity. In the place of our pain, before the redemption, in the midst of the uncertainty, G-d stops everything and tells us to look up at the moon, see our story in the moon's story, and discover in the moon a solid friend, an eternal gentle reminder that it will be okay, that no matter what, Am Yisrael Chai forever. And better yet, as Monday's eclipse shows, our darkest moments are when we shine brightest and loom largest, as we begin the great turnaround, the journey from darkness to light. This Monday will be the 3,336th anniversary of the day G-d showed Moshe the moon. How perfect. During these painful days of antisemitism, the sun, 400 times bigger than the moon, is eclipsed by it. Far from tottering or faltering, the Jewish People are stronger than ever. Precisely when casual observers report us missing, that's when we shine. L'Chaim, brothers and sisters. Our best days lay just ahead. So in the words of the Lecha Dodi which we'll all be singing in just a few hours: "Wake up, wake up! Your light is coming, rise and shine! Time to wake up and say your song, because G-d's glory is revealed upon you."

by Rabbi Eli Friedman, Chabad Calabasas CA

#jumblr #eclipse #solar eclipse #north american solar eclipse 2024 #judaism #if jew know jew know #rosh chodesh #rosh chodesh nissan #dvar torah

[genshin-impact-updates]

Scarlet Sand Sojourn — The web event for Genshin Impact's new character: Dehya is now available.

The desert is home to the sands.

>>Click to Take Part in Event<<

〓Event Duration〓

February 24, 2023 12:00 – March 2, 2023, 23:59 (UTC+8)

〓Eligibility〓

Adventure Rank 10 or above

〓Event Summary〓

During the event, complete Dehya's and Dunyarzad's desert outing and collect all the travel experiences on the way to receive in-game item rewards.

〓Gameplay Details〓

1. During the event, complete Dehya's and Dunyarzad's desert outing and collect all the travel experiences on the way to receive in-game item rewards.

2. Interact with special items in the scenery to collect travel experiences.

〓In-Game Rewards〓

Complete Dehya's and Dunyarzad's desert outing and collect all the travel experiences on the way to receive in-game rewards such as Primogems and Character Ascension Materials.

〓Event Notes〓

1. Please log in to the event using your HoYoverse Account and select your corresponding character in Genshin Impact to take part. This will ensure that your rewards can be sent and claimed correctly.

2. The event wallpaper is not available after the event ends. Please claim it in time.

3. After you've collected all travel experiences, the in-game rewards will be distributed via in-game mail. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the rewards in time.

4. Please note that the web event cannot be accessed during Version Update Maintenance. After Version Update Maintenance is completed, you will be able to access the web event as normal.

#genshin impact #genshin impact updates #official #genshin impact news #web events #dehya #OH MY BESTIE DUNYARZAD IS THERE #gay people. i think. #STRAIGHT UP FORGOT THE LINK. FOR LIKE TWELVE HOURS. #look at me go

[deancaspinefest]

Two Princes

Author: andimeantittosting | Artist: Jay Valq (Jayjayverse)

Posting on Thursday March 28 

When Prince Castiel of Eden discovers his father’s deepest secret, he expects a far worse punishment than an arranged marriage to Dean of Winchester, who is only recently restored to legitimacy and is second to his younger half-brother in the line of succession. Though the courtiers of Winchester are suspicious of Castiel, he and Dean become allies and fast friends, until the unthinkable happens and the young crown prince falls deathly ill.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Prince Castiel has always known he would not marry for love. As the youngest son of King Charles of Eden, it was always understood that his eventual marriage would be one chosen for him, to seal an alliance or strengthen a trading bond, something that would benefit his kingdom—or his king.

He hadn't expected his marriage to be a punishment, but that is undoubtedly what it is intended to be.

While the king has been nothing but affable in his dealings with King John of Winchester, and has made sympathetic noises to the populace at large over bidding farewell to "our" son, Castiel knows his true opinion of Winchester—barely a kingdom, rough, uncouth, and uncultured. A forced sojourn would be torture for King Charles, and he expects the same of his son.

Then, too, there is the prospective bridegroom. If Winchester is barely a kingdom, then Dean of Winchester is barely a prince. Only newly restored to legitimacy due to pressure from his mother's people and preceded in the succession by his younger half-brother, his training is almost entirely militaristic, nothing in diplomacy or the arts.

“King John is making a special exception, you know. Winchester does not normally allow marriage between two men. I imagine Prince Dean is none too pleased about it."

So, it is to be a punishment on both sides, is it? Castiel had wondered. The only question remaining is what Prince Dean could have done to offend his king.

Castiel allows himself to seem suitably daunted by his father’s doom-laden pronouncements about the uncouth hellscape of Winchester. Then, at last, he is dismissed to his chambers to prepare for the journey. In truth, he is unconcerned by most of his father’s words. His years as a knight on Eden’s borders, before the discovery that had brought him back to the capitol, had involved far more rough living than even the most unrefined palace could provide. And given what he had discovered—well, he knew the fate that could befall those who offended the king, and when he had been summoned, he had been prepared to share it. A marriage pales in comparison. The only source of trepidation is the prospect of a reluctant spouse. But Castiel is prepared to turn a blind eye where need be in order to allow the marriage to proceed smoothly.

All in all, there are far worse punishments.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Thursday March 28)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: andimeantittosting #artist: Jay Valq (Jayjayverse) #Arranged Marriage #Medieval Fantasy AU #Rescue Mission

[thydungeongal]

D&D is actually pretty good

Or how I learned to stop worrying and love the dungeon crawl

I lied. This last instalment to my post actually has enough meat in it to be two posts at least, simply because I realized that "Challenge Mode is good, actually" and "if that's unacceptable to you, here's some ideas" are incredibly broad topics, so what was supposed to be one final post will actually be at least two if not three posts.

In previous instalments I've talked about what makes D&D a game that supports Challenge Mode and an ill fit for Story Mode. Once again, you can find the previous instalments here:

1. Terminologie

2. What is it that D&D actually do?

3. Misaligned Expectations

And I'm once again tagging this as #the big damn post.

4. Challenge Mode isn't that scary really

D&D played mostly in Challenge Mode gets a bad rap because of unbelievers who think that a game should have a wider narrative arc and because it is often associated with the dungeon crawl which is reviled even among people who play the Dungeon Game. I'm here to tell you that a game played mostly in Challenge Mode can be rewarding, not only in terms of gameplay but also narratively.

The idea that a game played in Challenge Mode needs to be a dungeon crawl is first of all false. For a game to technically count as Challenge Mode the focus simply needs to be on the players overcoming challenges on their own terms inspired both by their sense of exploration and their desire to get more goodies. Goodies are nice. It very much taps into the basest desires of a D&D player: the desire to see the Numbies on the sheet Go Up, and to get Goodies. It's basically a slop-delivery mechanism in the guise of D&D, except good.

Generally there will be a separate adventuring zone that separates the game into adventure and downtime, and while the most classic example of this format is the town that acts as home base and the dungeon that needs to be explored in multiple successive sojourns, that need not be the case. The location could be a wilderness that needs to be explored, a haunted castle, an abandoned city. Heck, there may not even need to be a strict division between the downtime location and the adventure location. An urban powderkeg can be just as supportive of a Challenge Mode game as a megadungeon.

The important difference between a Challenge Mode game and a Story Mode game is that in a Challenge Mode game no special effort is made towards trying to tell a specific (often GM-authored) narrative. Characters will also need no extrinsic motivation besides the player-driven desire to play with all the toys in the sandbox. While character backstories are nice, in the context of a Challenge Mode game the exploration of a character's backstory takes the backseat.

This does not mean that a Challenge Mode needs to be bereft of narrative content. The challenge still takes place in a fictional place where the players are in charge of their avatars and that place can be made to feel real. In fact, one possibility is for the discovery of the adventure locations' history to be an important asset for the player characters: discovering historical tidbits about the location may reveal clues that open up future challenges. Players are still encouraged for engaging with the fiction.

And that's just the thing: while there is no grander narrative being told than, say, a group of adventurers exploring a grand location, overcoming its various challenges and engaging in its history, there is not only an emergent narrative (the actions the players take) as well as the fiction of the place that the players are exploring. The GM does not need to worry about keeping characters alive through contrivance to maintain narrative integrity, because even a TPK is not a failure state: it simply means creating new characters and getting back to the exploration. Since the player characters were not a special group who have been pursuing the Plot since day one, it is easier to explain them being replaced by another group. (surely the first group weren't the only ones exploring the location?)

Also, you know how you hate having to work around the schedules of half a dozen different people? Did you know that without a narrative continuity that will start to feel contrived if people make a habit of dropping out of the game you don't have to worry about that? Challenge Mode games are particularly conducive to open tables or the legendary West Marches style campaign. (essentially an open table but on a grander scale, if you want to know more check out this writeup)

Obviously this type of gaming isn't for everyone and it's good to be up front about that: some players will want the additional narrative context and characterization scenes. And it needs to be said: Challenge Mode games are not alien to characterization, but it is probably of a different type than most players expect. Players should expect to express their character within the context of the challenges, not in a separate mode of play that takes place outside of rules-mediated play.

Challenge Mode games absolutely still benefit from players putting on weird voices and pretending to be their characters, but those weird voices and characterization are now expressed in the context of a challenge game. This still leaves room for emergent narrative, including relationships. There's also no reason to rule out characterization scenes as part of the downtime, but in general the loop should lead the group back into the Adventure as soon as possible. Periods of downtime can be easily handled outside of precious time at the table.

And that's pretty much it! Challenge Mode is not, despite popular belief, devoid of narrative. That's just propaganda by Big Story that wants to sell you more Story. Playing the game of D&D to its strengths, allowing players to make informed mechanical decisions and giving players the agency to engage or disengage with challenges on their own terms can be extremely rewarding. And it shouldn't be seen as in any way inherently lesser than Story Mode. Arguably, D&D as written is much more conducive to Challenge Mode than to Story Mode.

And yeah, this definitely needed its own post. The next post is either going to be the final or penultimate one, and in it I will discuss games that I feel have better mechanical support for narrative convention than D&D, with an eye towards which elements of them may be easiest to borrow into D&D.

#the big damn post #long post

[cloudofbutterflies92]

Tagged by the lovelies @socially-awkward-skeleton and @cassietrn 💚, I decided to bring the beginning of the first chapter of my fanfiction "Fire and Gasoline", nothing special but I wanted to show it

Taglist:@chloekistune @graveyard-party666 @alypink @kaitaiga @corvosattano @onehornedbeast @themotherofhorses @alexxmason @carlosoliveiraa @dickytwister @thewanderer-000 @thedeadthree @priceseyes @sinclxirx @simonxriley @marivenah @strangefable @captastra @aceghosts @kikiharinezumi @katsigian @voidika @captmactavish

Divider by @saradika-graphics

(Yes, she is wearing a blonde wig🤭💚)

London, May 13, 2022

The stride of her heels vibrated to the calculated movements of the young blond woman as she lent herself to reach the motel reception desk.

"I have an 'appointment with Mr. Ethan Fisher" she coquettishly announced to the receptionist "at your bar for tea."

Eden was perfectly cast in the role, stealing the identity of Fisher's client, one of Williard George's best friends and backer had been a joke. All it had taken was a little sleeping pill in the woman's coffee and she was kaput, and amazingly she even looked like her.

"There you are, Anita Morgan. You can have a seat, I'll call the customer right away."

"Very kind" in a melodious voice thanked the man, walking toward the dining area of the five-star hotel.

"You should teach me one day how to play mindless Ken" Ghost's voice from the invisible earpiece sojourned to her ears. He had offered to help her mostly out of a sense of protection for his girlfriend, standing in one of the rooms in front of the 'five-star hotel where the meeting would take place, with his trusty sniper rifle.

"You are too tough to be a Ken, at best you could be Action Man" Reggie, the hacking specialist gave his opinion. Bursting out laughing would not have been the 'most appropriate option. It would have blown up the whole 'operation.

"What's the situation like? The idiot is taking longer than he should."

"At the moment he seems clean, he is no longer in the room" Ghost updated on the situation.

"I still remember when at the orphanage I stole a Barbie and an Action Man to mate them. It was funny to see the look on that little bitch child's face" Reggie however paused not hearing Ghost and Eden speak. They were flabbergasted at how Reggie was talking about it.

Eden was about to say she was doing the same but a dapper man approached her, escorted by two bodyguards. Ethan Fisher, a fairly prominent broker from Canary Wharf.

"Anita, what a good wind" the elderly man sat down ordering a green tea "I thought your husband would show up this time."

"Usual engagements, you know being a broker requires" Eden took the mirror from her clutch bag "very busy" then stared at her reflection in it, from a distance she could see the bulky figure of Ghost, focused more than ever. At the same moment one of the bodyguards placed a briefcase in front of the woman, inside was several cash and documents.

"This is the evidence, Jeffrey has his back covered. And I really hope one of these days you can come over for dinner. Or watch some horse races. Letting that horse win was the fairest choice he could have made" the man''s thunderous laughter drew all the people in the restaurant.

Eden laughed probably, with the most fake laugh she could show but she had to act didn't she?

"And my husband Arthur will be pleased to come mon ami."

After a while the meeting between the two ended, with that handshake that would be Fisher's conviction and one more piece to prove George's guilt in 'backing Makarov.

"Glad to have seen you again Anita" the man shook Eden's hand, initially in a gentle way until he made her come dangerously close to him with that tug.Just in case Simon had his trigger at hand.

"I hope you can understand that if I go down you too will end up the same way."

She could have broken his arm but decided to play the frightened woman to be believable.

"Don't worry Mr. Fisher, you have my word that nothing will happen" with that renowned confidence Eden was left by the broker and joined by Ghost, playing her bodyguard.

"Nice mask, perfect for scaring" Fisher laughed. Ghost was between punching him and wanting to throw him into the first glass window possible, fortunately, however, the encounter between the broker and Eden ended in "tarallucci e vino" a famous Italian saying that meant in the best possible way.

Together the couple went outside, crossing that area as bodyguards and bosses to keep out of sight.

"That suit gives you 'too severe an air, you look like Judy Dench in 007" blurted out Simon as they reached the BMW courtesy of C, current head of MI6. An internal investigation could only be given with their consent.

"Shush, she's hot," she murmured between her teeth smiling, looking forward to having to conclude this sham set-up.

"Glad to know you are alive."

#x: fire and gasoline #oc:eden“spectra”park #pairing: ghost & eden #call of duty oc:eden “spectra” park #call of duty oc #original character #cod mw2 #cod oc #call of duty original character #simon ghost riley #ghost x oc #ghost x female oc #ghost mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon riley #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fanfiction #cod fic #call of duty fic #ghost cod #ghost

[orthodoxadventure]

Grace is not freely given to the person who has experienced spiritual arousal, who knows and senses what life in Christ is, and who has fallen into sin again. He must give something himself first. He must still be worthy and beseech. it is not enough merely to wish; he must work on himself in order to attract spiritual arousal by grace. Such a person, in recollecting his previous sojourn in the virtuous Christian way, often desires it again, but has no power over himself. He would like to turn over a new leaf, but is unable to gain self-mastery and conquer himself. He has abandoned himself to helpless despair because he previously abandoned the gift and reproached and trodden underfoot the Son of God. . .and hath done despite unto the Spirit of Grace (Heb. 10:29). Now he is allowed to perceive that this power of grace is so great that it will not be granted immediately. Seek and labor, and learn to appreciate how difficult it is to acquire.

Such a person is in a somewhat agonizing condition: He thirsts but is not given drink, hungers but is not fed, seeks but does not find, exerts himself but does not receive. Sometimes a person is left in this condition for a very long time, to the point where he feels divine reproach, as if God had forgotten him, turned away and betrayed His promise. He feels like the earth which drinketh in the rain that cometh oft upon it. . .but. . .which beareth thorns and briers (Heb. 6:7-8). But this slow touching of grace to the heart of the seeker is only a trial. He goes through the period of trial, and thanks to his labors and agonizing search, the spirit of arousal once again descends on him as it descends on others as a gift. This course of action of salvific grace shows us two things: First, the special actions of divine grace in arousing a sinner; second, the usual way of acquiring the gift of arousing grace.

-- Saint Theophan the Recluse: Path to Salvation; A Manual of Spiritual Transformation

#Saint Theophan the Recluse #Christianity #Orthodox Christianity #God #Religion

[fayes-fics]

Endeavour

Double Bind Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Follow on to Forbidden, Benedict makes his attempt to replace Anthony.

Warnings: 18+ smut minors DNI, dom/sub relationship, dirty talk, hair pulling, bondage, biting, squirting, oral sex (m to f), slightly rough vaginal sex.

Word Count: 7.0k

Authors Note: This is a request fill for @eleanor-bradstreet to continue this series now known as Double Bind. I hope you enjoy my interpretation of your wonderful suggestion, my dear. Thank you for entrusting me with your thoughts on where this could go. There will be at least two more fics in the series after this one. Thanks to @colettebronte for giving this a check through. Enjoy <3

Benedict’s scent lingers on your sheets the following morning, and he fills your thoughts. But you daren't invite him back to your bed under Anthony’s roof—once was daring enough. Besides, your sojourn at Aubrey Hall ends later that day, with you waving out of your carriage to both of them, each likely thinking your farewell is for them alone, standing as they do in almost a line, Benedict directly behind Anthony.

Two days later, at the first event back in London, the decadent Trowbridge Ball, Anthony is notably absent, not feeling well apparently. Still, the rest of the Bridgertons are in attendance. You slip Benedict a note via your trusted friend’s brother.

Meet me on the dark walk. 

You only include your initials; too risky to include your name in case it’s intercepted, but you hope it’s enough that he will know who it’s from. 

As you slip away into the cool night air, you take a deep breath and slink unseen into the shadow of the building. You take pains to avoid being seen, and he does the same; you see his furtive approach a few minutes later before he spies you.

“Benedict,” you breathe his name from a darkened alcove of vines, and he is on you. Sweeping you into his arms, into a warm, enveloping hug. He smells just as delicious as he did that night, citrus, woodsy, breath sweetened by brandy and smoky from cigars.

“My sweet girl,” his voice is honeyed and soothing by your ear. “I am so very happy to see you.”

“I… didn’t know how to contact you discreetly…,” you admit honestly, clinging to his jacket, not wanting to let go.

“I cannot stop thinking of our night together,” he cuts in, “have you given any thought to my proposal?”

You exhale heavily at his reference to his parting request at Aubrey Hall that you leave Anthony for him, and you step back from his embrace. “I cannot make such a decision at this moment. Anthony means a lot to me; we have a special arrangement. There are… things I need, things I crave, that he offers me,” you look him square in the eye. “I wonder if you can provide those things?” you muse bluntly.

“What sort of things? His voice is laced with intrigue as he reaches out a hand to hold your wrist.

“Domination. Punishment. Harsh treatment sometimes. An escape from this world to a place where I am mindless with need,” you answer, matter-of-fact.

He looks temporarily taken aback, and his grip slackens. “I know of such things,” he confesses quietly. “If that is what you need, what you want, I shall try it. An experiment, a new sensual endeavour, if you will.”

“Very well then,” you nod brusquely. “I shall attend your bachelor lodgings on the pretence of an art lesson. My friend can be my chaperone for propriety's sake. I assume you have a back exit to your home through which she can slip away unseen?”

He looks impressed with your forethought and ingenuity. “Certainly,” he assures, drawing closer, eyes piercing yours.

“Wonderful. Then it is just the matter of which day,” you opine, allowing his hands to twine around your waist again.

“Tomorrow?” He suggests, a bit breathless, his lips skating your temple.

“Such enthusiasm,” you mutter coyly against his jaw. “Tomorrow works for me. I look forward to seeing your darker side, Mr Bridgerton,” you wink salaciously as you pull back slightly. 

It’s like a storm rolls in across his face. A hand clamps around your throat, and his eyes look uncharacteristically flinty. “It’s sir to you,” he growls, his fingers sinking into the column of your neck as he steps into the role as if he was born to play it. 

Your body is suddenly awake, a live wire, your breath shallow. “Y.. yes, sir,” you stutter.

Then, with a wink and a breathtaking smile, his hand falls away, and he is gone.

Oh, that definitely works for you.

——

The next afternoon you and your best friend bustle through the busy streets of Mayfair towards Benedict’s home.

“Are you certain of this?” she asks. “This seems like you are playing with fire, to be courting the brother of your paramour….”

“The Viscount is not my paramour,” you argue, “he is someone with whom I share a special, albeit unconventional, arrangement. To the outside world, yes, it appears we are courting, but that is a veil under which we must meet clandestinely. But we have no agreement of exclusivity, and I do not wish to be bound by the restrictive rules of society. I wish to be free to pursue my interests, which, as of now, includes Mr Bridgerton.” you shrug.

You can see your friend wanting to be supportive and empathetic, to understand your wishes, but it is clear she does not understand the dynamics of how your, or indeed any, intimate relations work.

“All I ask is that you keep this secret for me. For the purpose of the rest of the world, I am receiving art lessons from the brother of the man courting me. And you are my chaperone for the day. You are free to leave via the rear courtyard once we are in the house. And thank you again for doing this.”

She nods as you pull up to his door, and a friendly-looking older man, presumably Benedict's valet, answers. Without waiting for an introduction, your friend bids you goodbye as soon as the door is closed to the outside world. She squeezes your hand and nods to the valet, who obviously knows of this plan, leading her to the back door.

As you watch her retreating figure, you sense a pair of eyes on you. You turn and find Benedict leaning in the doorway to what you assume is his drawing room, a playful smile writ large across his face.

“Y/n,” the way it drips off his tongue, decadent and low, sets the fire in your belly.

“Mr Bridgerton…” you return in as seductive of a voice as you know how. Then you squeal in delight as he lunges for you, effortlessly picking you up bridal style, his body flexing against yours as he athletically bounds up the staircase to his bedroom.

It’s when he lets you down to your feet and turns to lock the door that the butterflies truly erupt. Just the two of you now, no interruptions or distractions—no chance of Anthony listening at the door this time. This is your chance to know the measure of the man. To see how he compares to his brother in the matters of your intimate needs, crude as it is to say.

He draws you into his solid frame and tilts your head up with a hand on your jaw. And it's just like it was at Aubrey Hall. His kiss is passionate and plundering, and you melt into him. Feeling all those things you did before. That you would let him steal you away from everything and everyone you know as long as he just keeps kissing you like this—like you are the very air that he needs to breathe.

“I hope I can be everything you need, that you desire today, my girl,” he begins as he finally breaks the kiss, spidering a finger up your arm, a crooked smile tugging at his handsome features.

“I am looking forward to it...sir.” The last word is pointed, and you roll it in your mouth like a tasty morsel.

He inhales sharply, and you are captivated by how his pupils rapidly dilate. His tongue peaks out the left corner of his mouth and swipes across his bottom lip as if he is tasting the charged atmosphere between you.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, and his voice is suddenly gruff. 

You smirk wordlessly in challenge, wanting to see how he will react to your pushback. See if he can tame you the way Anthony does so effortlessly.

His eyebrow raises at your audacity. “Are you suddenly deaf, my dear girl, or are you asking for a spanking?”

There it is.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you needle, smirking wider.

That large hand is back at your throat as it was the day before. He crowds into you. “You had better choose a word that tells me to desist right now, should you wish to continue to defy me like this,” he warns, and his rumbling voice slides over your skin like wildfire, your heartbeat racing. 

“Red will do,” you snark back as his grip tightens, the heel of his palm at your windpipe.

“Mmm, red it is,” he murmurs, his lips on your cheek. “Now do as you are told, or I will do it for you. But I will tear your frock to shreds, and then you must leave my house naked.” 

He releases his grip looking at you expectantly.

You are positively vibrating with how thrilling this is already. You hold his gaze challengingly as you undo the buttons to loosen your dress, intentionally choosing one that doesn't need a lady’s maid to remove. Confidently pushing it off your shoulders, you raise an eyebrow as you stand in your stockings and chemise.  Your stomach fizzes with anticipation that he will soon find out you chose to forgo underwear today to incite him.

“Lose this too,” he clips, tugging on your chemise. As you disrobe from it, his gaze falls heavily to your bare breasts, and he sucks in air loudly through his teeth.

“Where are your stays?” He scolds.

You shrug, and suddenly there’s a hand in your hair, pulling.

“Answer me!” he growls.

You hiss as he pulls your hair tighter, a slight burn on your roots.

“Easier access for you, sir,” you reply through gritted teeth.

“Good girl,” his mouth twisting into an approving smirk as his hand twines around your hair. 

The blunt fingernails of his other hand trail over your breasts so light it almost tickles, and your skin erupts into goosebumps, your nipples pebbling diamond hard. You suck in a deep breath and watch him through heavy lids.

 “And what about your underwear?” low and deadly. Those same fingers spider down your abdomen, over your belly and into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Same, sir,” you answer, practically panting in anticipation. 

“Mmmm, you are lucky; I like that you are so wanton,” he murmurs low, his breath hot on your cheek, fingers swirling teasingly in your pubic hair but not dipping low enough to touch where you are aching. “Now tell me, what are your favourite colours?”

You frown at the rather strange question to the point that you just answer honestly. “Green and blue.”

“Excellent,” he nods, pulling you closer by your hair until he whispers in your ear. “Go and lay on the middle of the bed, stretch your arms above your head and keep them there.”

He releases you and walks away to what appears to be his dressing room. Still slightly confused, you do as told and go lay on his bed. As you settle back into the pillows, you notice they smell like him, like yours did after that night at Aubrey Hall. You turn your head and inhale deeply. The scent memories come flooding back—his face between your legs, making you scream as Anthony sat outside the locked door. It’s so visceral, and you are already so aroused that you begin writhing slightly. Desperate to get some friction on your rapidly swelling clit, trying to rub it between your thighs, not wanting to be caught disobeying the requirement to keep your hands above your head.

“What are you doing?” the tone is intrigued. Benedict is back in the room. 

“Your smell,” you answer honestly, “it's all over your bed.”

“My scent makes you writhe like a little vixen in heat?” he mutters, almost disbelieving, stalking towards you predator-like.

“Yes sir,” you affirm, shooting him your best coquettish look, your movements a little more performative now, just for him.

“And you called me the dangerous one,” he tuts with a shake of his head as he mounts the bed gracefully, cat-like. “Well, maybe these will help you stay still, my naughty girl,” and in his hands, he shows you three cravats, one in navy blue and two in green - one mint, one teal.

“What are you planning to do with those?” you query as he crawls over your prone body.

“I'm going to tie you to this bed until you learn to stop defying me,” he warns.

“I’ll never stop,” you goad with a twisted pout, hands already grabbing the headboard, eager to be tied to it.

He pushes a knee high between your thighs, the wool of his trousers tickling your slit. “Then I’ll just have to tie you face-down and spank you; maybe then you will learn how to behave,” he states almost casually, pulling the cravats taut between his hands, so the heavy silk makes a snapping sound. 

“You wouldn't,” you challenge, wanting what he suggests more than anything. 

His stare turns at once both flinty and flirtatious. “Turn over right now,” he commands, lifting away slightly.

You raise an eyebrow but do as you are told, flipping over underneath him. As you settle on your tummy, he brackets your thighs with his knees so your legs are pressed together, then leans over you. His cock slides along the cleft of your buttocks, making your eyes widen. You have never seen it, but it feels sizable and hot pressing through the fabric of his trousers. It appears certain things do run in the family.

His body is warm over your back as he moves your left hand out wide at a diagonal, looping one end of the mint cravat around your wrist and the other around the bedpost. Then he does the same with the teal cravat on your right hand. Your arms are stretched out above your head but not uncomfortably so. There is enough slack to move but not get up—just the perfect light, restrictive hold.

On instinct, you try to push up and back into him, a little rebellion.

“Stop squirming, or I won't let you come,” he declares gruffly. 

Instantly you still. But you can't help mewling as he teasingly surges his cock over you again, covering your whole back as he lays over you. 

“What if I did this all night, just thrust my clothed cock between your delicious bottom cheeks and came that way? Not touching you where you need it most? Would that make you behave?” his mouth near your ear, his tone dripping with an entirely arousing threat.

“No sir, please don't sir,” you beg quickly, unable to bear the thought of being turned on but having no chance of relief.

“Mmm, not so insolent now, are you, my girl?” he crows. “Maybe we have found a way to make you obedient, hmmm? Will you do what I tell you now?”

“Yes sir, please let me come too,” you whine into the pillow as he thrusts again and groans.

“Trouble is my girl; your bottom is so shapely I can't seem to stop myself rutting over you,” he grunts and slides again; you feel your skin turning red with the chafe of the wool.

“Please take your trousers off; I want your skin on me,” you implore.

“If you are a very good girl, maybe,” he chimes.

You were uncertain that Benedict had it in him to tame your wild streak, to combat your willful behaviour. But he is doing wonderfully, with just the right balance of dominance and teasing. In fact, it's more playful than Anthony is, and you are finding the dynamic entirely, well, charming.

“How am I doing?” He whispers keenly, breaking character as if he can intuit where your thoughts have gone.

“Wonderful," you murmur over your shoulder, and he looks so pleased that a little warmth blooms in your chest. He is so keen to fulfil your needs; it's very sweet.

“Are you sure you are comfortable?” he checks.

“Very,” you assure. “Now tame me, Mr Bridgerton,” you challenge, and like a switch, he is back and snarls in response.

“I’ll tie your legs open, too, if you don't behave. I have a wardrobe full of cravats and all the time in the world, my girl,” he warns steelily.

“Promises, promises, sir,” you provoke.

There is a sudden, stinging slap to your left buttock, and you squeak loudly.

“Behave,” he admonishes.

You just giggle and wiggle your bottom at him in defiance.

“I have a riding crop to bring my steed into line. Are you asking for the same, my girl?”

A frisson runs down your spine; even Anthony hasn’t done that yet. You bite your lip, considering it.

“No answer to that, hmmm?” he hums with a tinge of victory.

You twist your head and allow one eye to catch his gaze, it’s a heated staredown, and the flash in his pale eyes makes you shiver under him. It’s amazing how he can seem so utterly sweet in one moment and so utterly authoritative the next.

“Just your hands are fine, sir,” you retort with a pout, and he guffaws at that.

“Not really in a position to negotiate, though, my girl, are you?” he points out. “It's funny. You say you want domination and punishment. But I think you really relish challenge and surrender,” he skewers you so accurately that you almost break out of the scene. “And my brother is too focused on the physical to realise that you want someone to spar with you with words as well. Does he talk to you?”

“Of course,” you frown.

“No, I mean, does he talk to you? Does he tell you every little thing in his head when he has you like this? Under his control?”

“I….” you pause, “I suppose not.”

“Hmm, that's his first mistake, isn't it? You don't want just the physical act. You crave to know the intangible too. You want to know what someone is thinking. The intellectual puzzle of it all,” he continues, his voice bringing you under his spell even as he barely touches you. “You know how I know this?”

“How?” you breathe.

“Because of that night, in that corridor. You were an unsatisfied woman, and you told me it was what you asked for. You asked my brother to fuck you without pleasure and send you away? If you were into the dynamic for purely physical pleasure, you would never ask for that.” His monologue is murmured against your naked back as he runs his lips and tongue over your spine and ribs, contouring every line. “You are chasing experiences, something to make you think. Something to push your boundaries. And luckily for me, you found out one other thing that night.” 

“What?” you whisper, enrapt in what he has to say as he glides lower and his teeth graze the globe of your bottom.

“I will make you come, even if you don't ask for it, particularly when you don't ask for it, as that means you probably need it even more. Same as I will decide if my hands are enough. Not you. When we are playing like this, it's my job to intuit what you need before you even know it yourself. I can see what your body tells me, even when your mouth is arguing. And if Anthony had just seen that himself and pleasured you, despite what you claimed to want, you would not have ended up with my tongue between your legs, desperate to scream my name, not his.”

You are actually panting by the time he pulls your legs apart roughly and licks a hot stripe up the inside of your thigh, making you gasp loudly, lapping up the trickle of moisture there. He groans at your taste, but it doesn't stop him from talking.

“Just as I know you are dripping down your thighs right now because of what I just said as much as what I just did,” he argues, his tone muffled as he sucks hard on your inner thigh, biting down, but you barely feel it, the endorphin high blotting your mind. 

You had no idea he was capable of this. It’s more mental than physical. He is talking you into submission—filthy words winding you into a state of panting, needy arousal.

“Fuck me,” you exhale shakily.

“Not yet,” he responds, and you actually whimper, exasperated. “There's something else you should know about me.”

“What?” it's just a needy breath.

“I won't fuck you until you are begging for my cock. I’ll never be mean to you. Im not that sort of man. But I will control you, bring you into line. If I don’t touch your little weeping cunt I can make you so mindless you’ll properly surrender, do anything I told you to. You would crawl naked on your hands and knees to me in front of strangers.”

The mental image makes you startle. Every single thing you have done with Anthony has been in private. The title of Viscount means he must maintain public decorum; he prefers to keep personal affairs private. You have certainly never done anything in public. Now Benedict is suggesting you submit to him in front of people, and the shocking thing is… you just might. 

“Now, did you forget about the third cravat?” he laughs, climbing back over your body. You had, but you don't admit it. “Hmm, your silence suggests so. Well, this one is for your eyes.” 

His voice is suddenly back at your ear as the navy silk wraps around your face. There is a tug as he secures the cravat with a knot, the world blacking out. Butterflies roar in your tummy as you realise you are now tied down and blindfolded—giving him your trust willingly.

“Bring your hips up high but keep your head on the pillow,” you can practically hear the smirk on his face as he gives the order.

You do as commanded, shuffling as best you can without your hands and sight until your hips are high off the bed.

“Excellent,” he compliments, his warm hands rubbing delicately on your bottom. “Now tell me, does Anthony spank you?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“And I assume you enjoy it?”

“Very much so,” you confirm, flexing your hips slightly, hoping he will get the hint.

A large hand spanks your left cheek. You squeak and instantly know his technique is different to Anthony’s. He keeps his hand there, grabbing your flesh, fingers pulling at and digging into your skin, elongating the sensation, like he enjoys the heat radiated from the sting he just created. “How’s that, my girl?”

“Very good sir,” you moan tacitly.

He spanks your right cheek just the same. Both hands are now grasping your flesh.

“More, sir,” you mumble, your face burrowing, his scent there sharper now you cannot see, pushing back into his hands.

He chuckles richly, and you hear him shift slightly. 

“What else does Anthony do to you that you enjoy?” he questions, pulling your cheeks apart further and sliding his clothed cock there again.

“He fucks me roughly, sir,” you answer, hoping it will finally goad him into doing the same.

“Hmmm, I will need more detail than that, my girl.”

“He takes me from behind, just how you are now, sir, and leaves handprints on my body,” you expound. “Sometimes he gags me if Im being particularly willful.”

“Are you ever not willful?” he banters, and you just know he has a cocked eyebrow.

You twist your face over your shoulder even though you can't see him. “Not often,” you volley back with a twisted pout. His responding bark of a laugh makes you giggle.

“You are just delightful,” he opines and then spanks both cheeks in quick succession, making your head drop and groan. “I would happily go and get another cravat to gag you if you wish, but I so enjoy your insolent tongue; and all your wonderful noises, it seems almost a shame.” he ponders bemused, smacking both cheeks again so hard the sound echoes up the walls.

Your curse is muttered under your breath. Benedict certainly takes his time more than Anthony does—it seems he wants to luxuriate in the experience. By now, his brother would be inside you, telling you to shut up.

“I could do this all damn night,” he confesses, as if reading your mind, his tone like velvet. 

“Just fuck me already, sir,” you whine, frustrated.

“You do know that the more you demand, the less inclined I am, you brazen little nymph,” he intones, and a hand strikes yet again. 

Your bottom is now burning. He hasn't varied hand position like Anthony, who covers your entire cheek with a tingle. Benedict is hitting the same fleshy spot repeatedly until it’s so intense, a direct line to a throb in your clit. Which he hasn't even so much as nudged yet. When he does, you will be so hyper-sensitive you know it will be a jolt you’ll feel everywhere - you relish and dread it in equal measure. 

“Begging, however, is encouraged,” he adds, interrupting your thoughts.

“Please, sir, please, please fuck me,” you change tack and realise this is what he said would happen.

“Mmmm, now that is something I love to hear,” he hums low, his voice taking on a rough edge as he surges his cock against your tailbone yet again. You hear sounds of clothing rustling and realise he is undressing slightly—somehow, it feels like a victory. He leans over your back, and warm, smooth flesh brushes your shoulder blades.

“There you go, my girl; I removed my shirt,” he compliments. “Keep it up, and I might just get naked for you.” To punctuate the end of his sentence, he pulls back upright and spanks you again.

You know you are moaning and even drooling a touch, dampening your cheek. His technique is definitely more languid and deliberate; the drawn-out tease is beguiling.

“Please, please, please fuck me, sir,” you try again, hoping it will get him to take off his remaining clothing.

Sure enough, his wrist grazes your sore bottom cheeks, working open his trousers roughly.

“Yessssss, sir, please,” you add, going all out for the performance of it all, revelling in the theatricality of the moment.

“You sound so beautiful when you beg,” he rumbles. You scream as two fingers suddenly plunge into your cunt entirely without warning. “Good christ, you are soaked.” 

You can hear the squelching noise of your body as he rocks those long fingers into you, and you keen loudly. Clit throbbing even harder as the blunt round of his fingernail scrapes along your inner walls.

“Please, sir, oh god, give me more. Give me more fingers, your cock, anything,” you babble.

With his other hand, he grabs your hair, pulling your head up like a puppet as you hiss at the prickle on your scalp.

“You will take what I give you, do you hear me?” he growls and everything in your body pulses at the utterly commanding tone.

“Yes sir, of course, sir,” you moan, those fingers inside you curling harder now, and you cry out as he finds that spot inside that makes you crazed.

“There it is. Let's see you soak this bed like the little wild thing you are,” he snarls and suddenly, the languidness of the moment is gone. His hands are urgent and rough, your hair being pulled so tight, his fingers pushing inside your cunt.

You yell, cry out and curse.

“Yes, that's it,” he urges, breathing heavily.

The whiplash moment catches you unawares, and you can't fight what your body is doing; you don't even want to. It's a dizzying sensation as he pushes you fast towards a crescendo. It's not the usual climax; he’s still not as much as touched your clit. It's different, pressure building up inside you that feels almost frightening to let go of. Your wrists tug in your bindings, and you thrash slightly, resisting the tide rising in your body.

“Don't you dare hold back,” he demands, “let it go, don't fight it, give it to me,” he sounds so on a knife edge as his fingers plunder your body that you can't do anything but obey. Your whole body shakes as you cry out, and the pressure erupts—something gushing from inside you, soaking his arm, the bed, and the back of your legs.

“Fuck that's it, yes, yes, yes,” he cries victorious as you squeal and shake and want to collapse, but he grabs your hips, so you stay upright.

You are still quaking all over when he surprised you, releasing your hair, and as your head slumps back onto the pillow, he pulls your ass cheeks wide apart and leans down to plough his tongue between your folds from behind, stubbled chin pressing your clit.

You call out loudly, feeling it in your throat.

“That’s it. Cry for me, my girl,” his tone muffled into your slit, drinking up the fluid leaking there as your body still quivers.

The most obscene noises fill the room as he laps at your body. You moan and writhe under his tongue, already overwrought, the high morphing into something else. He’s taking your body to another different high, stabbing at your clit with long, pointed tongue strokes.

“I want you to come too,” he orders, the heat of his breath making your clit pulse.

“Sirrrr,” your muted protest sound drunken, and that’s how you feel, like every bone in your body is liquid, like you can't possibly come so soon after the intense experience you just had.

“What?” his chuckle has a flinty edge to it.

“I…I can’t,” you groan.

“Don't defy me, girl,” he warns, and a hand reigns down on the back of your thigh, where it meets your bottom, and you jump, pushing your knees wider. He takes advantage of the new stance, tilts your pelvis further so your back is arched low and sinks his whole face into your slit.

You breathe out a curse at just how pressed into your body he is. Your hands tied, unable to do anything but writhe, your lashes flutter heavily against the soft silk tied over your face. Again he is right; you want challenge and surrender, and this is the moment you surrender; with a shaky breath, you bury your face and let him take you somewhere primal and instinctual. Where you are rooted in your body but also somehow floating in a haze of exhilaration.

Your clit pulses, almost painful, as he sucks it between his lips and bites down gently over and over until your thighs twitch and a white-hot burn all around where his mouth holds you captive.

He can feel the ripples emanating from your channel on his face, and he utters encouragements into your soaked flesh. You start to fracture as his whole mouth, nose, and chin engage with your body, taking you over an edge that has you gripping the headboard until your knuckles are sore from gripping and your throat feels hoarse from all the sounds he is wringing from you.

Suddenly his mouth is gone, and you want to yell in frustration that you are not yet done; you want to ride out more when he straights and, with no warning, he thrusts his cock into your palpitating channel. The invasion is almost too much—like you are being split open. The hot hits stretch of him feels so different to Anthony in a way you can't describe, but it’s everything you need at that precise moment. 

You scream. Scream so loud he probably wishes he had gagged you after all. But he doesn't seem to care, doesn't reprimand you for being so very loud, not that you could stop even if you wanted to.

“Fuckk, your cunt is so very juicy and swollen,” he grunts through gritted teeth when you quieten to just panting. He holds still buried deep inside you. “No wonder Anthony cannot resist you. You feel exceptional, my girl.”

His filthy words just make you want more; you drag your cheek groaning a litany of noises, flexing your hips, asking for movement. But he doesn't move. He just stays still, fingers banded around the crest of your hips, the hair of his thighs tickling the back of yours.

“Please move, sir,” you lament.

“Beg for it,” he instructs.

He is doing quite an exceptional job in a different way to Anthony, making you surrender to his will, turning you supplicant, pleading, frantic. He was right—you want to do this. 

“Please, sir,” you gust through gritted teeth, “please fuck me; I need to feel you moving inside me,” you state loudly, clearly, unashamed.

“Good girl,” he compliments and withdraws slowly. Then ploughs back in fast, making your breath catch, your whole body rolling to the point you grab the headboard and push back.

“Yes, that’s it; show me how much you want it,” he growls, and you yearn to please him. To be exactly what he wants.

“Give it to me, sir,” your voice jagged, needy.

“What do you want?” His tone imperious.

“You. Your cock, sir. Fuck me rough,” you breathe.

And that’s all he needs—the green light. Fingers grip hard as he sets a punishing pace. Spearing deep into your body. So far, your lungs feel squeezed as you curl and roll at the force he takes you with.

Your moan is resonant and sounds almost foreign, like it didn’t come from inside you but from some other wild, untamed place. 

He hisses his approval at your noises. He seems to like you loud and vocal, whereas Anthony often tells you to stay quiet and take it, where you have to whimper and drool around his makeshift gags. Benedict doesn’t appear to care who may hear you; it seems he is almost taking pride in the sounds he can wring from you. Hell, he wants you in public; that exhibitionist streak intrigues. Everyone in his household surely knows what is transpiring in his bedroom on this sunny late afternoon.

“Sirrrrr,” you slur as your whole body moves under his rough treatment, your knees scrabbling on the bedding, your hands gripping the headboard, your cheek pressed so deep into the bedding, you know you have crease patterns on your face.

“If you want something, girl, tell me,” he pants each word as he thrusts hard, those fingers a vice-like grip on the crest of your hipbone, leaving marks, jerking you back onto his cock as he presses forward, driving so deep.

“You are so far inside me, sir,” you comment, the feeling of being so drilled into almost blooming into an ache. But an ache that pulls on a string inside, making your eyes roll back, and your mouth fall open, chasing more, wanting it. To feel so viscerally invaded to the point it hurts, him slamming into you, hips snapping, snarling as he does so.

“Yes, I am,” he preens, “and don’t you take all of me so well,” he flatters, leaning down over your back, his skin dewy from the exertion smearing dampness onto your spine. “This is what you need, to be fucked so hard you don’t answer back, isn't it?” he snarls hot into your ear.

“Yes sir,” you answer when he clearly expects a response.

“My little defiant one is finally submissive and taking it like a good girl,” the tone is entirely smug.

You groan as he grabs the knot on the back of your blindfold, pulling you suddenly upright. The slack binding on your wrists snapping taunt, the knots tightening to the point of a faint tingle in your fingertip, your arms suspended in the air in front of you.

He shuffles forward, buried inside you, manhandling you, so you sit on his lap facing away, your legs on either side of his.

“Ride me,” he commands, “take hold of the headboard and fuck me, my girl. Show me what you can do.”

You do as told, rising off his cock, sinking back down, revelling in the new angle you can hit, the steely plunge inside that makes your eyelids flutter.

“Faster,” his orders clipped.

Your thighs begin to protest. Riding him hard as he breathes so loud right by your ear. Then a hand snakes between your legs, and fingers snag your clit. You bite your lip and moan loudly, every muscle ache worth it.

“Are you going to come for me again?” He asks, but it’s not a question. He knows the answer. He can feel the pull of your cunt inside, rippling as he strums your pulsing clit.

Suddenly there is a glancing blow on your breast from his other hand, a light finger spank that catches your nipple and makes you howl. It doesn't hurt, but it makes your nipple throb. 

“Answer me.” His voice a gravelly menace.

“Yes. Yes, sir, I'm going to come for you,” you rush out, smarting from the tingle. You crave he does the same on your other breast, but he doesn’t, his hand too preoccupied between your legs.

Leaning forward slightly, you use the headboard for leverage, and he complements as you speed up. Every fibre on your body pulling taunt as you chase that breaking point. Almost using his body and hands with little thought to his pleasure, mindlessly pursuing your own as he ordered.

He swaps hands, and that’s when you break the renewed vigour of movement too much for you to take. You slump deep onto his cock and scream his name, not the title of sir, his actual name; as you fracture, one of his arms bands around your waist, so you are held in place, the other around your neck, fingers tight over your throat.

“Yes,” he growls in your ear, sounding more animal than human, grunting as he tilts his hips to piston into your convulsing cunt twice more, then suddenly withdrawing, painting your lower back with his warm release as he traps his cock between your bodies.

There is nothing but panting breaths for a few seconds, and then a gentle touch pulls your blindfold up and away. Warm, soft lips on your neck as he reaches for the binding on your wrists and releases them. You flex your hands on instinct, rotating your wrists.

“Was my binding too tight?” His ask is meek, fingertips tracing the redness there.

“No, it was merely silk; this will fade within the hour,” you murmur, twisting to give a quick smile of assurance. 

He pulls you into him and shuffles until you can lay together, limbs entwined, recovering slowly. 

“Was that everything you wanted?” his ask is so endearing you can't help but settle into his arms a little.

“Mmm, it was wonderful,” you assure.

“So, will you be with me?” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple with a sweet kiss, the tone so hopeful.

“I can't answer you yet, Benedict,” you respond honestly, pushing up onto your elbows to touch his jaw affectionately. “I have something special with your brother; I will see him tomorrow and see where I stand. I will not make you any promises, but please know tonight was wonderful, and I wish to be with you again.” 

He looks so pleased you are satisfied and nods, seeming to accept your reasoning. You lay in his arms momentarily, then rise to get dressed.

“Will you not be spending the evening or night with me?” he inquires, his voice almost small.

“No,” you shake your head, “I never do so with Anthony either,” you add to reassure. 

He gets up from the bed, throwing on some clothing himself, his shirt open to the waist, britches held up by braces, and, in a gentlemanly manner, sees you down the stairs and to the back of his home.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he murmurs as he opens the door for you.

Stealing a glance around to see there are no witnesses from nearby windows, you press a brief kiss to his lips. But he spins you and crowds you into the doorframe, turning it into a lingering passionate moment. Opening his lips and stealing into your mouth, the taste of your arousal strong on his tongue.

“You will see me, anon; I promise,” you whisper into his cheek after you break apart. 

Before his fervent kisses can change your mind, you quickly steal down the steps without a look back, slipping unseen into the small alley behind his home and out to the street to hail a hack as the sun sets. You can sense his eyes watching you go. 

You are in a quandary. You don't know if you can pick between them now. Benedict stepped up and was exactly what you needed. But with a different edge, his approach was more mental, to Anthony’s passionate physicality. They are so different, and yet both so beguiling. It's entirely possible you need both brothers fulfilling different needs as they do. The problem is, would they ever accept that? Benedict knows about Anthony but wants you all to himself. And Anthony has no clue. You can’t conceive of how you would broach the subject with him. His penchant for jealousy can be a problem, but the possessiveness it brings out in him is undeniably attractive. Part of you hopes you can delay making a decision, greedily taking from both what you want.

This dilemma will rear its head much quicker than expected. Unbeknownst to you, Benedict's teeth have left a little mark high on your inner thigh—it's not even something you feel. But it certainly doesn't go unnoticed by a certain someone the very next day.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

[moira-mains-go-to-hell]

Overwatch Women Relationship/ General Headcannons:

These are very specific, but I find them cute.

This is super long, because it’s All. Of. Them. I was going to break them up, but then I forgot, and rolled with it.

No warnings, all sfw.

Ashe

Is very much allergic to pollen.

With that being said she has the loudest damn sneeze

Cannot cook to save her life but makes really good concoctions of stoner type food. That and she is a dip girl. Every woman from the south knows one good dip they can make and it’s been imbued in us since birth. No one else at the party has the same dip either, wonderful how it works really

Widow

Has vintage luggage she uses for long term missions

Sleeps on her back with her arms folded like she is dead just to freak you out.

Hates pressure cookers

D.va

Is really good at Pilates (she took it up instead of physical therapy after her injuries in the cinematic)

Can fold gum wrapper swans

Disassembles her blaster when she is bored just to put it back together again (she times it and keeps the times in a golf notepad)

Junker Queen

Really good at electrical engineering but has only seen YouTube lectures about it on a shitty rebuilt mac

Listens to nickelback unironically

Prefers fruity drinks, but that’s the closest you will get her to eating a god damn fruit

Kiriko

Can and will sit you down to explain the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy

Is a Jojo’s fan. Thinks it’s under appreciated.

Cannot tell you the difference between jams, jellies and preserves.

Moira

Hates chain steakhouses (outback, Texas Roadhouse, ect) Loathes the atmosphere.

Has favorite poisonous plants

Is better than you at Mario kart

Mercy

Is not good at social cues to the point she will put on the complete wrong music for a situation (think Disco Inferno while she is trying to Rez a burn victim levels of bad taste)

“Does not like coffee” but if you make it she will drink from yours

Spins her blaster when she puts it back in its holster

Pharah

Likes shows like “How I Met Your Mother” and “Rules of Engagement”

Wakes you up in the middle of the night to go with her to the dingiest convenience store to acquire the best sandwich of your life

Hates coleslaw

Brigitte

Doesn’t count her reps, only times them with specific tools (a song, a show, a podcast)

Has helped her father defy the Geneva Conventions

Thinks The Grand Canyon is made up (Torb told her as a joke when she was little and has believed it since)

Zarya

Has been to the secret Russian lab where they keep stem cells of every known disease to exist. (It’s a real thing, I think don’t quote me-)

Brings back small rocks from places she goes

Doesn’t like birds

Mei

Snow ball has a built in dance party mode specifically for when she is sad.

Doesn’t like using Amazon

Knows all of “Yakko’s World” and sings it to herself

Tracer

Tries to tip well but doesn’t know the math so she leaves way more than is needed

Has tried to convince Winston to give her a laser beam inside of the accelerator

Wears Velcro for convenience

Ana

When she is able to settle down and stop being on the move, she catches up with reality shows and calls you to tell you about them

Puts little stickers on her little healing vials to make them look friendlier… not that anyone is gonna notice

Doesn’t like to eat breakfast. Just has tea in the morning.

Symettra

Has special pads on her visor because she doesn’t like the way it sits on her face

There is a disco mode in her turrets that she will never tell a soul about

She commits to bits to get you out of trouble without even knowing the full scope of the situation.

Sombra

Sweater thief, but in the worst possible times. If she forgets hers on a mission, she takes yours and dips

Likes those little strawberry grandma candies

As good of a hacker she is, she is absolutely terrible at 1v1 combat games. Mortal Kombat, Smash, Jump Force, you name it. She isn’t winning.

Sojourn

Phone is set to military hours. You never ask her for the time

Does not nap

Makes jokes about her legs. When you compliment her she knocks on the metal and goes “Quads of steel”. She thinks it’s the funniest bit in the world

*bonus* she may be rough around the edges but she is the loudest laugher at a comedy show

#overwatch #ashe overwatch #widowmaker #widowmaker overwatch #elizabeth caledonia ashe #junker queen #junker queen x ashe #dva #d.va overwatch #d.va ow #hana song #aleksandra zaryanova #ow zarya #pharah ow #pharah #mercy ow #mercy overwatch #angela ziegler #tracer #tracer ow #lena oxton #symettra #sombra overwatch #sombra #sojourn #ow sojourn

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

If the tour guide starts telling how the Maccabees fought the grease,

it might be time to find a new agent for your interstellar package holidays.

#Inspector Spacetime #Sojourn of the Blessed (special) #Didn't Do Their Homework (trope) #Didn't Do Their Homework #tour guide #if he starts telling #how the Maccabees #fought the grease #grease monsters #it might be time #to find a new agent #interstellar package holidays

[bnwo-warrior]

HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH! Whilst black history is a subject that should be celebrated and taught year-round and not relegated to a single month, it's an opportunity for us to draw special attention to the topic.

We've provided a small selection of reading materials and charity links below to get you started. If you have any yourselves, I'd love to hear from you

Reading Materials

Origins of Black History Month: https://asalh.org/about-us/about-black-history-month/ Racial wealth gap origins: https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/08/14/magazine/racial-wealth-gap.html Learn their names - Unarmed African Americans killed by police: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_unarmed_African_Americans_killed_by_law_enforcement_officers_in_the_United_States

Sojourner Truth, prominent slave abolitionist: https://www.nps.gov/people/sojourner-truth.htm Mary Jackson, NASA's first black female engineer: https://www.nasa.gov/people/mary-w-jackson-biography/ Bayard Rustin, openly gay civil rights movement leader: https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/rustin-bayard Claudia Jones, founder of Notthing Hill Carnival and activist: https://jacobin.com/2023/02/claudia-jones-communist-theory-black-feminism-internationalism

USA Charities

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (Legal Defense): https://naacp.org/ Black Lives Matter: https://blacklivesmatter.com/ Center For Black Equity (LGBT+): https://centerforblackequity.org/ Association for the Study of African American Life and History: https://asalh.org/

UK Charities

Runnymede Trust: https://www.runnymedetrust.org/ African Rainbow Family: https://africanrainbowfamily.org/ Stephen Lawrence Day Foundation: https://stephenlawrenceday.org/

#blm #black lives matter #white lives don't matter #bnwo #black new world order #social justice #human rights #black history #black history month #black lives are important

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Karlach: you don't understand, Soldier, it's been a decade since I last experienced a friendly touch. I'm starving for it

Sivvus: a decade? Indeed. I last managed eight blessed years before my younger sister broke the streak by embracing me from behind without permission upon returning from a nine year sojourn to the Underdark of your Faerun for her research purposes. While I missed her to an adequate degree, I wish she had taken the time to bathe prior to enforcing her flesh upon mine.

Karlach: You're a special kind if bitch, aintcha Snobbus

Sivvus: *jaw flexes* quite.

#sivvus the snob #he doesnt get what Karlach is so mad about #no touch sounds great #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 oc #feywild prince #elf prince #it was a fully clothed hug but she smelled like mushrooms and sweat and he didnt appreciate it #karlach cliffgate #bg3 karlach #karlach #she does not vibe w him at all

[josefavomjaaga]

A Prussian at Napoleon's court

Friedrich Wilhelm Ernst Freiherr von Knobelsdorff was a Prussian officer and high-ranking diplomat who had been for some time ambassador in Constantinople. In 1804, he was sent as King Friedrich Wilhelm III’s special envoy from Berlin to Paris for Napoleon’s coronation ceremonies. This is a report he wrote back home, translated from Publicationen aus den k. Preussischen Staatsarchiven, Volume 29. The original is, of course, in French.

Sojourn in Fontainebleau. Knobelsdorff's report. Paris 28 November 1804 I believe it is my duty to report to Your Majesty some details of my stay at Fontainebleau, as the extraordinarily distinguished manner in which I was treated there can only be seen as a public mark that the Emperor of the French wished to bestow on a man who has the honour of being entrusted with a special commission from Your Majesty. On the morning of the 26th I received a letter from Marshal Berthier inviting me, in the name of the Emperor, to go to Fontainebleau the next day to go hunting with the sovereign; I am the only foreigner and member of the diplomatic corps to have received such an invitation.

All the others donated candles in the castle chapel in relief because they did not have to expose themselves to this mortal danger. - Okay, so Knobelsdorff did not write that. But I still bet it’s true.

I arrived at Fontainebleau at eight in the morning on the 27th and was asked to go to the château for breakfast at 9.30. My wife was invited to have breakfast with the Empress. The Grand Marshal showed me the carriage by which I would be taken to the place in the forest where the hunt was to begin, and the Master of the Horse handed me a paper containing the names of five of the Emperor's horses which would be at my disposal.

Caulaincourt also likely warned him that if on Knobelsdorff’s return the slightest harm had come to any of these five horses, Knobelsdorff would regret it for the rest of his life.

My carriage was immediately in front of the Emperor's, and Marshals Soult, Ney and General Duroc were travelling with me.

Ney and Soult together in one carriage, huh?

Knobelsdorff to Duroc: Oh, Your Excellency will also join us in the carriage?

Duroc (patting down both Soult and Ney, confiscating all sharp objects): Yepp. Somebody has to babysit these other two excellencies, you know.

They forced me to take a seat at the back, [...]

Duroc: Sit here. Don’t move. If any of these two as much as twitches, warn me!

[…] while my wife was in the Empress's carriage, who was kind enough to give her a seat between herself and Princess Joseph. On our return from the hunt, Mme de La Rochefoucauld invited us to dine with the Empress; as we sat down for dinner, the Emperor asked me to sit next to the Empress, opposite him. After dinner, two games of whist were arranged; the Emperor, who does not usually play cards, was kind enough to play with my wife, and I had the honour of playing with the Empress.

I hope Josephine was also kind enough to loose to the husband what Napoleon won through cheating from the wife.

After the game, which hardly lasted more than half an hour, the Emperor spoke in a very interesting way about his campaigns in Egypt and spoke more particularly with me about the present situation of the Ottoman Empire; at about ten o'clock in the evening the Emperor and the Empress retired, and I left the same night for Paris...

So, somewhat more seriously: This report was not put in chiffres, so it was part of the official correspondence that could easily be intercepted by the French and read in Lavalette’s Cabinet noir. That alone guaranteed that Knobelsdorff would have nothing but praise for how he was treated by this newly minted emperor and his makeshift court. But it is still interesting how friendly relations between France and Prussia had been ever since Prussia dropped out the coalition against revolutionary France, and how10 years later the Prussians would claim to be France’s arch-nemesis.

But mostly I like to see Soult and Ney in that carriage together, apparently stille quite at ease with each other and maybe even on friendly terms by 1804.

#napoleon's court #napoleon's marshals #geraud christophe michel duroc #michel ney #jean de dieu soult #paris 1804

[off-putting-otter]

Autistic Hanzo shimada hc where he has a Doberman service dog that helps keep space between him and other people and also helps apply deep pressure when he’s feeling overwhelmed (amongst other things. Service dogs do a lot!!)

Bonus if you add the hc that one of his special interests is dogs (yes I’m basing that one off the interaction between him and Sojourn. No I don’t take criticism.)

#I love him so much #overwatch #overwatch headcanons #hanzo shimada #hanzo overwatch #autistic headcanon

[nucleon-artistry]

Thaumcraft moved on from wands in Tc6, so I wanted to do some service to the various 'casting gauntlets' added by it and some of the addons to it.

Casting Gauntlet "A more modern interpretation of Auromantic manipulation tools, the Caster's gauntlet is built off of studies into the nature of vis in its natural, primal state itself, and how best to harness it without exploiting and potentially destroying the natural sources of aura. thus endangering the balance of the local environment. Initial studies into this topic came from the properties of both the sojourner's wand cap, and the amber wand core. The design of the Gauntlet includes an energized amber lens for the drawing in of vis directly from the local environment, while the ergonomic and practical 'glove' design allows for more direct manipulation of vis as if it were an object one could wield. Some would say this is like reinventing the wheel, and they could very well be right. The iron used in its construction is prone to corrosion through extended use, and personally I would not trust a thin sheet of leather to protect me from all matter of spells that these devices can sling. This is a prototype to eventually be replaced." (Do I reaaaally need to say where its from? -.-)

Silver Plated Casting Gauntlet “Building off of the original design, changing out some fittings with more arcanely aligned metals such as gold and silver provides a slight boost in efficiency, and greatly reduces wear and tear from channeling.” (Not based off of anything actually, but I feel this would be a logical next step for base thaumcraft.)

Thaumium Casting Gauntlet “The charged thaumium that makes up this gauntlet’s build has twofold uses, it both allows for a greatly more efficient channeling tool, and a great bludgeon when vis is not so available. Unfortunately, the nature of thaumium means that its channeling ability degrades with wear and tear, though fortunately not nearly as fast as thaumium wands would.” (Based on Thaumic Revelation’s addition to the CG formula. A greatly appreciated addition tbh)

Elarium Casting Gauntlet “This extremely gaudy tool can directly channel psionic energies into more vis, and it greatly improves the users mechanical ability over the tidal forces of this world. Directly applying so much elarium to oneself however can have some damaging effects on the psyche. Just like with Elarium caps, there are much better uses for the substance than this…” (Not really based on anything, I just wanted to expand the repertoire a bit. This one is more worldbuilding than game design)

Alchemist’s Casting Gauntlet “New. Improved. With 30% more alchemy. This gauntlet is perfect for a burgeoning alchemist, with its highly durable materials, heat and chemical resistant lining, as well as inbuilt pipe management tools, it is a great deal! You can even pump certain essentia into it for a variety of boosts to its efficiency, power, or the like.” (Not really based on anything, I just wanted to expand the repertoire a bit.)

Voidseer’s Casting Gauntlet “It was only logical to take the next step from Thaumium, developing a gauntlet made from both voidmetal and shadowmetal would ensure its survivability long after other gauntlets would be worn out. Its Voidmetal build also allows it to draw in aura faster and more efficiently. It even allows for further tinkering, especially with forces of pure vis harvested from the warp itself, colloquially known as Impetus.” (Based on the Voidmetal gauntlet from Thaumic Augmentation.)

NovaCorp™️ Casting Gauntlet “The latest in aural manipulation and the field of aspectual science as a whole, the Casting Gauntlet (sponsored by NovaCorp™️) will revolutionize how you go about your daily lives! By pulling Aura directly out of the local region into its internal reservoir, it will pretty much always* remain charged! Manipulate arcana! Throw fireballs! Open up t̵͎̾ë̶̡͍́̊͝ä̶̟͚́͝ř̷̦̰̔̋s̸͚̘̮̆̕ ̵̉͑̎͜i̵̡̢͑ņ̷͕͗ ̵͇̑̌͘r̸̗͎̜̎̓e̴̩͊ä̶̞͠l̷̖̓́͠i̶͖̼͈̾͌ṱ̷̰̽̓͐ͅỳ̸̜̥͛! Special thanks to our sponsors the Order of Ascension for making it possible to bring such wonderous devices to people like you.  ˢʰᶦᵖᵖᶦⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃⁿᵈˡᶦⁿᵍ ᶠᵉᵉˢ ᵐᵃʸ ᵃᵖᵖˡʸ. ᴺᵒᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴬᵘʳᵃ ˡᵉᵛᵉˡˢ ᵐᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ᵈʳᵃˢᵗᶦᶜᵃˡˡʸ ᵈᶦᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃˢᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵐᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢᵃᵍᵉ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵛᶦʳᵒⁿᵐᵉⁿᵗ. ᴺᵒᵛᵃᶜᵒʳᵖ™️ ᶦˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢᶦᵇˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵉˣᵖᵒˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠˡᵘˣ, ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍˢ ᵇᵉʸᵒⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵖʳᵉʰᵉⁿˢᶦᵒⁿ, ᵒʳ ᶠᵃˡˡᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵗᵉʳⁿᵃˡ ᵛᵒᶦᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʳᵖ. ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ ᵃ ᵈᵒᶜᵗᵒʳ ᶦᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵈᶦᶻᶻʸ, ˢᵉᵉ ᵛᶦˢᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵃᵖᵖᵃʳᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ, ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ/ᵒʳ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ, ᵇᵉᵍᶦⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳᶦᵉⁿᶜᵉ ⁿᵃᵘˢᵉᵃ, ˢᶦᶜᵏⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵛᵒᵐᶦᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ᶠˡᵘˣ, ᵒʳ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ.” (Based on a personal headcanon that the Crimson Cult have been making use of these types of gauntlets since TC4. But in AEON they aren't the CC, so /shrug)

#arcane #fantasy #gauntlet #glove #magic #magitek #scifi #thaumcraft #thaumcraft 4 #thaumcraft 6