#woven grove

[yourstrulybluelover]

Midnight Rendezvous

Title: Midnight Rendezvous

Pairings: Lo’ak (25) x Navi Reader (24)

Warnings: MDNI

Contains: sexual tension, forced, dom Lo’ak, fingering, p in v

It's been 3 months since you’ve joined the Na’vi tribe. All possible thanks to Norm and the other scientists once they completed your avatar. You were now one of the people, one with nature, one with Pandora. The challenges and adventures that come every passing day brought purpose to your once useless life. Similar to Jake, your human body was mangled, restricting movement in your right arm and leg, all due to a reckless night on Earth. However, your scientific background was notably impressive, so once you were accepted into the Avatar program you decided to live a life with no regrets.

You fell in love with your slim avatar’s body. Once you were part of the tribe they stripped you of your human like clothing and adorned your body with beautifully woven pieces with crystal like beadings that were enough to cover you but not enough to hide fully hide your heavy chest and curvy hips. You thought you gotten used to clothing till the Sully brothers stopped in to check on you. You suddenly felt the urge to cover your chest and sit on the ground preventing them from seeing what they were more than accustomed to seeing with the other members of the tribe. You allowed your long black braided hair to cascade over your bosom once they entered your cot, still sitting on the ground you beckoned them into your new home.

They were one of the best trainers, without them you would not have made it through the ordeal of becoming Na’vi. Neteyam would spend hours after Eclipse teaching you the uses and strategies of weapons while Lo’ak was responsible for you becoming one of the best hunters. The time spent with them was memorable, they helped you with obtaining samples for the lab, while you taught them more about the human world. The more time spent with the brothers the more you realized why every female Na’vi was fascinated with them.

“Hey y/n, looking good, blue suits you.” Neteyam chuckled.

His words knock you out of your trance as you flashed a smile towards him. He has always been kind and gentle towards you. Despite his kindness, you found yourself more drawn to his younger brother who  

“Thanks Nete, what are the plans for tonight?” you winked “got some other girl to tend to?”

“Nah, we’re going to a party, you should come.” He replied , flashing a mischievous grin.

You decided to embrace the new found life and take on your adventurous and outgoing side. The brothers did mention that the elders had no idea about these bonfire parties. You figured it would be the best approach to grove in with Na’vi’s your age. Mustering up one breath of courage you sprung up from your hammock and began to began to dress, wiping with a wash cloth and adorning your body with another beaded top and more revealing loincloth you head out the door. Making your way through the forest was not as difficult as you anticipated. Your feet thread onto the soft grass. You stopped momentarily. Was that music? You persisted pass the vines and lianas, peering through the gaps.

You gasped. In the middle of a clearing surrounded by trees draped with bioluminescent flowers and vines were Metkayina youth, naked. The bonfire in the middle provided sufficient light to see, but dim enough to still foster privacy. The music came from an old radio box Norm gave the clan, the ground covered with what appeared to be wooled blankets. Na’vi men were on the floor, on top of them were women, their bodies intertwined. In their hands appeared to be chalices , more than likely containing fermented fruit strong enough to make one fall under the alcoholic influence. On the other side were more Na’vi men and women chatting, undressing, laughing and even a few were moaning. The sight had you both dumbfounded but also awakened your inquisitive side. The mess of bodies were enough to turn you on as your eyes took in the rhythms and sounds of pleasure escaping the group.

“Looks fun doesn’t it?”

Your breath hitched. Caught off guard you stumbled, your back hitting into a familiar chest.

“Lo-ak, you startled me.”

“Didn’t think you’d come.” He said his voice low.

“Didn’t realize it was that kind of party.” You laughed nervously, your face barely visible with the flickers of the flame’s shadow dancing across your body every so slightly. You were too busy feeling embarrassed to notice the stares of the youngest Sully brother on you.

“Ah y/n you’re here.” Neteyam called out as he walked towards the duo.

You reached out to punch him in the shoulder. “You skwang!’ you yelled, “you tricked me.”

“Nah y/n I’m trying to hook you up, my bro Azal asked me to invite you.”

“You could have given me a heads up that I’d be at a sex party.” You hissed. “Since when was Azal even interested in me?”

“You don’t have to partake, it’s a place where we can be free. You could just watch y/n,but if you’re not comfortable I can follow you home. Azal always had eyes for you y/n, you know he is one of the bulkier ones, a really excellent hunter.”

“Not interested Nete he is too cocky for me, and it’s fine, I’ll just dine and enjoy the show.” You sighed nonchalantly.

Taken aback at your openness and willingness Neteyam smirked. “Alright! Right this way Just at least greet Azal!” his arm on your upper back he guided you through the curtain of vines. You peered over your shoulder to see Lo’ak following, his gaze dark and jaw clenched.

“Fineee”

The party was intense in particular sections and more relaxed in others, the point was that everyone and everything was in view. There was a make shift area where homemade fruit wine was served, it reminded you of a human bar. Aside from the jazz like music and sinful moans filling your ears were the boring stories of Azal and his hunting streak. A mere attempt to impress you with his self-absorbed stories. Your eyes scanned the area to only lock eyes with Lo’ak, a particular female Na’vi kissing his neck while he sipped on his drink. You quickly averted your eyes to see Neteyam deep in conversation with a group of female Na’vis, a seductive grin plastered across his face. You huffed when Azal finally left you to get you another beverage, taking this as your chance you scurried off to the end permitter of the party, the moans were getting louder as more Na’vis began to partake. You took one last peak in an effort to catch the last glimpse of Lo’ak when you felt a heavy palm on your hip.

“Where you going y/n?”

“Lo’ak you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me.” You turn around to see his braids towering his face, his eyes hooded, lips agape. Something about his expression was intense, almost intoxicating. His palm remained on your hip,the other hand reaching out to remove a twig from your hair.You clear your throat in an attempt to break the tension.

“I’m tired Lo, think I’ve seen enough.” You said almost bitterly with the image of Lo’ak with the other female Na’vi.

“I haven’t.” He whispered, as he lowered his mouth to graze the top of your ear. You felt a sudden knot in your stomach, as a familiar wetness grew between your legs. Lo’ak trailed his fingers to the straps of your beaded top, slipping it off one of your shoulders.

“Lo-“

“I know you want this just  as badly as me.” His face mere inches away from yours as his hand rubs your arm soothingly. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away.”

The moans in the group grew louder and suddenly you wish he would be the cause of the sinful moans escaping your lips. Your silence makes him step back. In one swift moment, you grab his arm pulling him towards you as you crash your lips onto his.

Lo’ak grabbed the back of your neck, as his mouth dominates yours, he pushes your back towards the bark of a tree. Your breathing is uneven as you fumble to remove your beaded clothing and his loincloth. Your eagerness catches him off guard as you stood before him clearly deprived of sexual pleasures. With one rapid motion, he picks you up with one arm, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, his hardened member pressing on you. You gasped as you looked down.

You’ve never seen anything bigger, you were no stranger to human sex, but Na’vi sex was definitely outside your area of expertise. His mouth began to plant kisses on your neck, you threw your head back as you succumbed to the desire. Your hands moving to grope your nipples, and you roll them between your fingers. The horny mess before him only turned him on more.

“Dam mama,you don’t even know how bad I been wanting this.”

You moaned as you feel his fingers enter your pulsating hole, dripping as you feel him scissors his fingers to stretch you out. You begin to wine on his fingers, drowning in pleasure, your moans grow louder. His mouth finds yours again as he tongue fucks your mouth. He picks up the pace expertly moving in an up and forward motion. You clench his large digits as you fought your way into his mouth, pulling him more into you. He pulls away, his eyes pouring with lust as you arch your back, exposing your supple breasts. His fingers move faster and harder, within seconds your juices were spraying as you screamed his name, unaware that nearby fiesta heard.

“I want you in me now.” You pleaded drool running down your mouth, your eyes heavy. Your hands reach to pumphis  hard cock.

“Music to my ears y/n.” He groaned, “bend over for me.”

You willingly obliged by turning to face the tree, bent over, head bracing the bark, you reached behind to pull apart your ass cheeks to revel your gaping holes. “Fuck me Lo.” You cried, your voice barely audible as the party ensued.

He gasped, his palm reaching to smack your ass. Without warning you feel his mushroom tip press on your opening you move one hand to the tree for support the other finding your clit. As he pushed past your entrance you feel him stretch you to capacity, your eyes widen at the feeling almost like you were about to split in half. You turned back to face him, his expression darker as he fully plunges into you. You scream from the sudden pain and pleasure.

“Take this cock in that tight hole. “He reaches forward to grab your breast as he paced.

You gasp at his size, your moans getting louder as the pain is replaced with intense pleasure.

=“YYeeessss Lo’akkk just like that, fill meee uuupp.” Meeting his rhythm you bounced back onto his cock while rubbing your cloth, your eyes shut tight as you tried to focus over the horny mess before you. You looked up to see Neteyam among the other naked bodies, his dick being sucked by a female Na’vi as he fingers her. Your attention suddenly averted to Lo’ak who begins to pick up the pace slamming harder and harder as you squelch. Dirty monas escape your pretty lips, your eyes ertun to the party to find Neteyam now staring. You gulp.

Can he hear me? CAN HE SEE ME? You thought to yourself but suddenly find your self on your back against the forest floor. Lo’ak towering you. He renters you throwing your ankles over his shoulder.

“I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum.”

You held his stare as you reach to pull your legs towards you, revealing yourself more to him. You feel his boner growing harder inside of you. He picks up the pace, now slapping your clit. You hum in pleasure. You look down to see the bulge move in your stomach, he rubs your clit faster hitting upwards to find your sweet spot. The familiar feeling began to build soon your back arched as you begged him to fuck you senseless, to fill your lustful desires, to appease your cravings.

“Cum for me y/n.”

“Im gonna cummm.” You eyes water, mouth agape as you reach you high, causing you to convulse spewing your jucies once more. You scream your nails digging into his forearms as you become undone before him, he pulls out within three strokes spilling his hot seed on your face. Your smile suddenly vanishes when you realize in the near distance Neteyam's silhouette grows closer.

 “My turn brother.”

#avatar fanfiction #avatar smut #avatar way of water #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak smut #loak sully #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #loak x y/n #jake sully #lo’ak smut #lo'ak sully #long reads #new post #metkayina #neteyam x na'vi!reader #loak x you #lo'ak x fem!reader

[themotherofhorses]

Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.  

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.  

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.  

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”  

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.  

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #dad!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[kingofthe-egirls]

SUN GOD AU: LUFFY x Y/N (part 2)

part 1

originally requested by @braini-wiz

(cw: food mention/eating, holding hands, reader is a sun priestess that can't see sun god luffy, sorta spoilers post wano, slight gear 5 silliness, smut is still yet to come)

(a/n: sorry it's all plot)

words: 1.4k

Sun god Nika holds your hand all the way to the city’s shopping district. He stamps along next to you, his sandaled feet (you assume) leaving imprints in the sandy roads.

“Still can’t see me?” He asks curiously, squeezing at your hand. His palm is warm and strong around yours. His hand is so much bigger.

You squint your eyes, trying to make out the shape of his form next to you. “Still can’t see ya,” you confirm. “Is that strange?”

He shifts; you can hear the rustling of his clothes as he moves. He whines, as if he’s thinking of something he can’t quite place. Like a word he’s forgetting but can almost taste. “Sorta? Usually priestesses can see me right away.”

You stare down as dust kicks up around your feet. “Sorry,” you say.

Your voice is quiet, shy.

Ashamed.

Luffy tugs on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, slowing his pace. The sunshine filters blue through the shadow of olive trees, as you trudge downhill towards the city. The sun temple sits atop a rocky incline, facing over the sea.

Grassy tufts of shrubbery line the walkway, with an olive grove foresting the western side.

You stare at the shoreline, sapphirine and gold as it sparkles beneath the setting sun. The olives are still unripe: small and caterpillar green.

This city has always hated you.

You shake your head.

“Sorry I can’t be a better priestess,” you say, adrift. Your feet scuff the ground as you walk. It’s something you’ve always known: that you don’t have any spiritual gifts. Or any gifts at all, really.

Luffy stops, tugging at your hand.

You stumble, but gasp as you feel his strong hand steady you by the stomach. His palm presses flat against your abdomen; his fist curls in the soft fabric of your chiton.

Your blood runs hot beneath his touch. And maybe that’s not just because he’s the sun god, but you push that thought away for later.

“Stop that,” he says, voice suddenly low and serious. His breath is steamy, hot on your face as you suppose he leans closer. You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting against stinging tears.

“S-stop what, master?”

He scoffs. “First off,” his index finger pokes your forehead. Your eyes spring open, staring at the space in front of you with a frown. “Stop calling me master. And second,” he squeezes your shoulder, his hand leaving your stomach. It feels cold without him. But then he’s leaning in even closer, the weight and press and heat of this man who's also a god standing in front of you, smiling at you (for you hear it in his voice) is all just so much.

“Stop saying you’re no good.”

You blink.

That’s not what you thought he was going to say.

“Excuse me?”

He starts walking again, the soft pat-pats of his sandals scuffing down the hilly sand. He stretches out, his limb's elastic space roping between you, before suddenly you’re shooting through the air and crash landing into his invisible embrace.

“What the fuck—?!”

He snickers, straight into your face, before smooching your cheek once again. But this time, you don’t feel fear. You feel brave.

You stop breathing for a second, holding air in your lungs as you lift your fingers to where you think his face might be. You feel squishy skin (cheeks?) and then the slope of his smile. Your fingers brush against his teeth, and you grin. “You smile wide,” you say, staring at nothing but feeling his smile.

“Shishishi!”

He snickers in answer, and starts trotting back down the hill towards the city. His steps turn to leaps, turn to bounds, and then you’re screaming in delight as you fly through the air. He sets you down once you reach the city gates.

****

Sighing, you set down the woven basket of goods you’d shopped for at the marketplace. You’d bargained with butchers for the best prices, the freshest goods, and the most succulent cuts of meat. Sun god Luffy seems to be pleased.

He hovers over your shoulder, somehow suspended in midair.

“Shishishi,” he snickers, poking at the paper-wrapped packages. “Let’s eat!”

You swat his hands away as the paper folds beneath his divine touch. Except you don’t know where his hands are, so it turns into you just swatting the air above the basket with two hands and a scowl on your face. You stamp your foot.

“Stop that! We have to cook it, first.”

He sighs, all dramatic, while a slide whistle sounds as he presumably sinks to the floor. You snort. “You’re silly,” you decide, stepping around the sounds of his pouts and whines. You heft the basket onto your hip, and start heading down the stone hallway to your kitchen.

It’s a simple space, all whitewashed and clean as you place the basket atop the wooden counter space. You drizzle the counter in olive oil, and start unwrapping the meat.

****

It’s a little while, before the food is ready to eat.

Sun god Nika has been busying himself by poking all around your living space. He’s knocked over seven candles, three sconces, and at least one marble statue (of himself).

The cracked-off head now sits on the altar, haphazard and ridiculous atop the golden offering dish.

You sigh, wiping your hands on a dish rag. The meat is sizzling, spiced and greasy as it pops in the skillet you’ve set over the hearth’s flames.

“S’ready yeeeet?” Luffy whines out, sinking to his knees again as he tugs on your dress. The pink chiffon crinkles under sightless fists.

“Stop acting like a baby,” you complain, swatting your hands through the air again to try and disconnect his hold from your skirt. “But yes, it’s ready.”

Luffy yelps in delight, the floorboards squeaking under his feet as he speeds to the stove. He grabs a steak—it lifts by itself—and devours it in one gulp. You watch it disappear.

“So good!!!”

He cheers, before starting to devour the next piece of meat. You smile, despite yourself, and reach for a piece yourself.

****

Later, when you’re both full and happy, you sit outside the temple’s back entrance, watching white stars pinprick through the violet sky.

“S’beautiful,” he sighs, reclining on the grassy hill next to you.

You tear a handful of soft emerald blades between your hands.

“So…stupid.”

You admit without thinking.

Luffy stops, the sound of his breathing paused as the air stills. “What makes ya say that?” He asks.

You sprinkle the torn up grass back onto the ground. You stare at the stains it leaves behind on your fingers. “It’s so restrictive,” you confess, “I wanted to become a sailor, but women aren’t supposed to do that,” you scrunch your face in disgust. Luffy stays quiet as he listens to you vent. He’s the only one who’s listened to you speak in a long, long while.

Priestess life is lonely.

“So I started training as a priestess instead,” you prop your chin in both hands, curling forward over your crossed legs. Your leather sandals are scuffed, at the soles. “Since no one wanted to marry me,” you sigh, “This was my only other option. Unless, of course,” you smile wryly, “I wanted to be a prostitute. At least that way I could own land.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Stupid.”

“That's what I said!” You say, exasperated as you lift your hands just to drop them back onto your lap. Silence stretches between you, until another spark of courage shoots through your belly. Slowly, you reach an arm over to where Luffy’s voice has been coming from. You can see the dip in the grass where he sits. Your hand alights upon his knee. “Sun god temple isn’t so bad, though.”

“What’s…not so bad about it?” He asks hopefully, a slight rasp in his heavenly voice. You shrug, snaking your fingers through his own.

“I get to spend most of my time alone,” you say, “So I can sort of do whatever I want. Except leave.”

Luffy stays silent for a moment.

“Wanna come with me?”

Stillness.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He squeezes your hand, his divinity warm and safe beside you.

“I said, d’ya wanna come with me?”

You stare at the space where your hand rests a foot above the grass. “Come with you…where?”

He squeezes, once.

“Heaven!”

****

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy comfort #luffy fluff #sun god au #gear 5 spoilers #op spoilers

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 20)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut, Torture

Words: 1,889

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the separation between Robert and you became agonizingly long. The weight of the situation bore down heavy on both your hearts, as you tirelessly navigated through the treacherous waters of uncertainty and danger.

Albeit the fact that you had been moved to more pleasant prison just two days after you had been arrested by Pash, you were still confined to a secure facility which, luckily for you, had medical care.

In this facility, the months dragged on, a never-ending cycle of uncertainty and despair.

While you were away from him, Robert felt as if he were living in a purgatory, caught between his duty and his love for you. The revelation that Kitty Oppenheimer, his own wife, had betrayed him like this was a bitter blow. It shattered any semblance of trust he had left, leaving him feeling betrayed and empty.

It was her who leaked secret information to an agent of the soviet union and the investigation into Kitty's actions revealed a web of secrets and lies that she had woven meticulously.

She had leaked information and tried to divert the blame onto you in order to get rid of you and this, itself, was a dangerous game that she was playing.

It was a twisted and cruel act, one that Robert never thought he would witness from someone he had once loved. The fallout from Kitty's betrayal only complicated matters further. The authorities were now wary of potential moles within the project, questioning everyone's loyalty and motives and despite her partial admission, the investigation into your past continued.

With Kitty’s actions, it seemed that no one was above suspicion, including Robert himself. Every step he took was scrutinised, his every move monitored while he led the project. Desperate to protect you and ensure your safety, Robert used his influence where he could. He pulled strings, called in favours, and pleaded with higher-ups to expedite the investigation so that you could reunite. But bureaucracy moves at its own pace, and justice seemed painfully slow.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Robert could only imagine what you were going through, locked away in a military facility, while the world passed you by.

His heart ached at the thought of you being subjected to the harsh realities of prison life, especially with a child on the way. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each passing day marked by a dull ache of longing and a gnawing fear of the unknown.

Robert grappled with his own guilt, feeling responsible for the situation that had befallen you. He questioned every decision he had made, wondering if there was something he could have done differently to protect you.

As the months went by, Robert found solace in his work. He threw himself into research and experimentation, channelling his frustrations and fears into the pursuit of scientific breakthroughs. He pushed the boundaries of his own knowledge, hoping that some great discovery would alleviate the pain of his separation from you.

***

Unable to see each other or communicate directly as visitors were strictly prohibited at the facility, the only solace came in the form of letters.

General Groves became the messenger, reading your heartfelt words and delivering them to each of you personally.

Every letter was a lifeline, a fragile thread connecting your hearts in the midst of an unpredictable and unforgiving world. Through ink-stained pages, you shared your hopes, fears, and struggles, desperate to hold onto the love that had been abruptly torn from your grasp.

The letters were filled with a mix of joy and sorrow, as you recounted each day's events, except those related directly to the development of the gadget.

You described the unbearable loneliness and longing for each other's embrace, the difficulty of trying to remain strong amidst the harsh conditions. But amidst the darkness, there were glimpses of hope as you spoke of the unwavering belief that one day, you would be reunited.

Robert, ever the optimist, wrote poetry to cheer you up and you poured your heart onto the pages, documenting the challenges you faced, both physically and emotionally while being confined.

The uncertainty of your fate weighed heavily on you, but you refused to succumb to despair. Instead, you clung to the memories of your time together, allowing them to fuel your determination to overcome the adversities you faced.

General Groves, touched by the depth of your love and resilience, took it upon himself to ensure the safe passage of each letter. He knew the importance of this lifeline, recognising that their words held the power to inspire and sustain you. With each delivery, General Groves witnessed the unwavering devotion that bound you together.

Your love, tested by distance, confinement, and uncertainty, remained steadfast, growing stronger with each passing day. These letters became a testament to the power of love in the face of adversity, a bond that refused to be broken. And so, the months crawled by, punctuated by the arrival of each letter. They became the rays of hope that pierced through the darkness, reminding you that love could endure even in the bleakest of times. Every word, every sentiment, forged a connection that transcended the physical divide, drawing you closer together even in your separation.

***

Then, one day, General Groves attended Los Alamos without a letter in his hand, informing Robert that he had something much more exciting to give to him.

Handing him a photograph, he said “Congratulations Robert! You have a healthy baby boy.”

With trembling hands, Robert took the photograph from General Groves. As his eyes settled on the image, his heart skipped a beat. There, captured in a moment frozen in time, was a tiny bundle of joy cradled in your arms. The weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders as he gazed at his son for the very first time. Tears welled up in Robert's eyes, a mixture of relief, longing, and overwhelming joy. It had been a year of unimaginable anguish and uncertainty, but seeing the radiant smile on your face as you held their child close, he knew that everything he had fought for had been worth it.

“He is perfect,” Robert declared tearfully, unable to take his eyes off the photo. In that instant, all the heartache faded into insignificance compared to the overpowering sense of pride and love surging through him. This new life embodied the essence of your undying commitment to each other, standing tall against the forces that sought to rip them apart.

Looking anxiously, Robert said, "This baby will change things and all our sacrifices won't go to waste."

"No, they won't Robert," the General said before he nodded resolutely, acknowledging the weight of responsibility resting on Robert's shoulders as well as his own.

"Please, can I see him. He is my son," Robert asked, his voice cracking, but General Groves told him that this was not an option due to security reasons.

Heartbroken yet understanding, Robert swallowed back tears and thanked the General for the photograph.

"I understand, General," he managed to say, his voice hoarse with grief and happiness mixed. 

"When you see her next, can you give her my letter and tell her that she is doing amazing and that I am proud of her?" His voice breaking slightly, he added, "Tell her how brave she is. How beautiful she looks holding our little miracle. Tell her I miss her dearly. And let her know...let her know..."

His voice trailed off as Robert realized he couldn't quite put into words exactly what he wanted to express about his feelings toward you, about their relationship, about their shared experiences - especially after learning about your bravery in giving birth under such difficult circumstances.

"I suggest you write it down, Robert. I will be here until noon," said General Groves, sensing Robert's struggle to articulate his feelings. "Take your time," he told him with a pat on the shoulder. 

Grateful for the supportive presence, Robert nodded and quickly retrieved paper and pen from his office. Sitting down, he began scribbling feverishly, trying to find the right words to convey his thoughts and emotions towards you.

In a few moments, he finished composing the most honest and vulnerable message he had ever written and it was this very honest and raw letter of his that brought tears to your face. 

*** The Letter ***

My Dearest [Your Name],

Words cannot express the overwhelming emotions coursing through my veins as I hold this photograph of our beautiful baby boy. Seeing his innocent face has cast a brilliant light upon the darkest corners of my weary soul. In this single image, I find solace, hope, and an abundance of joy that courses through my every fiber.

I stand here, with tears streaming down my face, in awe of the miracle you have brought into this world. Our son, our precious creation, is a testament to the strength and resilience of our love. He is a beacon of hope, a symbol of our undying commitment to one another and to a brighter future.

I cannot help but think of the sacrifices you have made, the hardships you have endured, and the relentless determination that has guided you through this tumultuous journey.

Our love has endured the trials, the uncertainty, and the immense pressure placed upon us. And now, in this moment, the weight of the world seems insignificant compared to the boundless love radiating from this tiny bundle of life.

As I gaze upon this photograph, I am filled with an indescribable pride for what we have created together. Our love, our bond, has transcended distance, sacrifices, and the devastating impact of this war.

Please tell our son, when the time comes, that his father loves him more than words can convey. Tell him about the countless lives that will reap the benefits of our sacrifices. Whisper to him our story, a tale of resilience, bravery, and the unwavering love that binds us all together.

And to you, my love, I want to express something that words alone could never encapsulate. Your indomitable spirit, your unwavering courage, and your unyielding love have sustained me through the darkest of days. In you, I have found my anchor, my refuge, and my reason.

Please know that you are an extraordinary woman, my love. Your bravery, your strength, and your unwavering spirit during the pregnancy and birth have left me in awe. The thought of you going through such a monumental moment without anyone by your side breaks my heart, but it also fills me with immense pride. You are my rock, my source of inspiration, and the embodiment of everything that is beautiful in this world. Our son is fortunate to have you as his mother, and your love and guidance will shape him into an incredible human being.

When the time comes for us to be reunited, know that I will hold you tightly, for I have missed your touch more than words can express. Until then, my heart stays with you, my love.

Yours, forever and always,

Robert

Tags:

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #j robert oppenheimer #robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer movie #oppenheimer 2023 #oppenheimer #kitty oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x you #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert oppenheimer smut

[sangoziethesimp]

Naughty fox | YAE MIKO X FEM READER

MEN and MINORS DNI

Your girlfriend, Yae Miko doing her usual thing but you came to the shrine. You just wanted to visit the pretty lady, now why are you sweating and panting? Why is there also a fox chasing you? Oh well.

In the serene village of Inazuma, where ancient traditions harmonized with the tranquility of nature, stood the sacred shrine presided over by the esteemed Yae Miko. The day unfolded with the sun casting a warm embrace upon the landscape, its gentle rays painting a golden sheen upon the intricate wooden structures that adorned the shrine grounds. Yae Miko, draped in her ceremonial attire, moved with an ethereal grace, her serene countenance illuminated by a mischievous glint in her eyes as she observed the arrival of Y/N, her beloved and spirited partner whose presence often infused the village with a vibrant energy.

The shrine maiden’s heart stirred with the desire for playful diversion amidst the tranquility that enveloped Inazuma. With a playful yet cunning spirit akin to that of a fox, Yae Miko decided to weave a bit of mischief into the otherwise serene day, eager to engage in a playful escapade with her beloved.

Her nimble fingers traced invisible patterns as she invoked her innate powers, transforming seamlessly into her enchanting fox form. Her fur shimmered in the dappling sunlight, a radiant display of russet and gold as she stealthily trailed Y/N. The soft padding of her tiny paws against the earth echoed the whispering breeze, her movements as nimble and graceful as the woodland creatures she emulated. Unbeknownst to Y/N, the shrine maiden was now the epitome of a playful fox, reveling in the anticipation of her impromptu prank on her beloved.

Y/N, caught up in the serene beauty of the village, strolled through the tranquil paths, enchanted by the tranquility of Inazuma’s natural beauty. It was amidst this idyllic scene that Yae Miko, in her fox form, saw the perfect opportunity for mischief. With a swift motion, she approached Y/N and lightly nipped at her ankle, a mischievous glint dancing in her fox-like eyes.

"What in the world...?" Y/N gasped, her surprise evident as she spun around in search of the unseen prankster.

Giggling softly in her fox form, Yae Miko continued her playful pursuit, darting among the foliage, occasionally brushing against Y/N or causing a cascade of leaves to flutter around her. Y/N's laughter filled the tranquil groves, a symphony that harmonized with the playful chuckles of the mischievous fox.

"Alright, who's playing tricks with me?" Y/N laughed, thoroughly enjoying the mysterious interplay of amusement in the serene setting.

The spirited chase persisted, Yae Miko embodying the playful nature of a fox while Y/N reveled in the unexpected joy of the impromptu game. With each playful interaction, Y/N's laughter echoed through the serene groves, blending seamlessly with the rustling leaves and the soft padding of Yae Miko's fox-like steps.

As the playful pursuit continued, Yae Miko relished the spirited joy of her fox-like nature, cherishing every moment spent in the company of her beloved. Each fleeting moment of mischief woven into the tranquility of Inazuma felt like a delightful interlude in the tapestry of their day.

After a sequence of delightful moments, unable to contain her laughter any longer, Yae Miko transformed back into her elegant human form, revealing herself to the astonished yet amused Y/N.

"Surprise, it was me all along," Yae Miko announced with a delighted grin, her fox-like personality shining through her mischievous gaze.

Y/N blinked in astonishment before bursting into laughter. "Yae Miko, you sly fox! That was clever!"

"I couldn't resist a bit of playful fun," Yae Miko confessed, her laughter resonating with the spirited joy of her fox-like nature.

Their bond grew even stronger from that day forward, marked by the memory of a mischievous prank that led to an enduring romance, their laughter echoing through the tranquil groves of Inazuma, a testament to the delightful whimsy of their shared adventure as loving partners.

As the day progressed, the routine chores seemed to wane in excitement for the mischievous shrine maiden. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she noticed the arrival of Y/N, an adventurous soul whose presence never failed to bring a sense of joy to the tranquil village.

"Time for a little fun," Yae Miko whispered to herself, her thoughts already brimming with playful schemes.

Embracing her innate ability, Yae Miko transformed into her diminutive and enchanting fox form, her fur shimmering in the dappling sunlight. With silent steps, she stealthily trailed Y/N, the fox's paws navigating the verdant paths with an almost ethereal grace. Y/N, completely unaware of Yae Miko's transformative powers, wandered through the tranquil groves, admiring the beauty of the landscape.

Seizing the opportune moment, Yae Miko, in her fox form, approached Y/N and, with a playful glint in her eyes, lightly nipped at Y/N's ankle, eliciting a surprised yelp from the unsuspecting adventurer.

"What in the world?" Y/N exclaimed, turning around in search of the unseen culprit.

Giggling softly, Yae Miko continued her playful pursuit, darting between bushes, occasionally rustling leaves, or lightly tugging at the hem of Y/N's clothing. The playful antics continued, accompanied by Y/N's infectious laughter echoing through the tranquil groves.

"Who's playing tricks on me?" Y/N chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the mystery and unexpected amusement.

The mischievous chase continued, the playful fox relishing every moment of the impromptu game, while Y/N found delight in the thrill of the unexpected mischief.

Finally, unable to contain her laughter any longer, Yae Miko transformed back into her ethereal human form, revealing herself to the bewildered yet amused Y/N.

"Surprise, it was me all along," Yae Miko declared, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/N's eyes widened in astonishment before erupting into joyful laughter. "Yae Miko, you sneaky fox! I had no idea!"

"I couldn't resist a bit of playful fun," Yae Miko confessed with a warm smile, relishing in the shared joy between them.

From that day forward, the bond between Yae Miko and Y/N flourished, marked by the memory of a mischievous prank that led to an enduring friendship, their laughter echoing through the tranquil groves of Inazuma.

#sangowrites #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin yae #yae miko x reader #yae miko x you #yae miko x y/n #yae miko #fluff #genshin fluff #genshin inazuma

[pursuitseternal]

Dream “In the Monster’s Shadow:” nsfw update for Ascended Astarion x Shadowheart

Astarion x Shadowheart | E | 2.5K dream smut

Summary: In her cell that is a far cry from a cell, Shadowheart finds relief from her isolation in sleep. Memories of their past… dark and twisted indulgent dreams of desires that can’t be… it’s a reprieve, until she wakes. And she’s not alone.

CW: smutty books, memories from “act 1,” dark dreams of indulging her suppressed desires, male receiving oral, inappropriate use of Detect Thoughs while sleeping, voyeurism if you squint… cliffhanger of sorts.

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 3…

🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤

Slowly. Time passed so slowly. For all his threats of earning her keep, luxuries seemed to just appear before she even needed them. A feather bed… a screen to bathe behind… and clothes. Clothes so soft, silks and velvets and woven material she had never before seen or touched.

All of it skin tight or flowing and glowing in rich jewel tones.

All of it sensuous.

Save for the fact he never gave her any small clothes, no underwear or lacing to bind her breasts. But, as she laid in her bed, wrapped in a gown so soft she felt naked, about to open a new book that apparated on her end table… she didn’t know if she could call herself a prisoner.

She wouldn’t call this torture.

Except for the lingering ghost of that feeling of warm and wet licking up the back of her thigh. She shivered as her hand stayed on the crimson cover of that book. Whatever this was, it wasn’t maltreatment. It wasn’t the soulless torment of a deranged villain.

A monster, yes. Still that. With his glittering fangs and taste for blood and tongue to feed…

She shivered again, ignoring the slick that gathered unwantedly at the memory of that warm wet trail up her leg. Shadowheart had no idea how long it had been since then. Truly the cruelest part of all this was the deprivation of sun and time. No windows meant no marking the days before she would see him again.

And if she didn’t just start to hate the fact that each tingle of magic as something appeared made her excited.

Hoping it was him again.

She sighed, lounging on her stomach to spare the still lingering bruises on her ass and backs of her legs. Opening the cover, she read the title… A Pleasurable Deal… and a neat script flourished beneath it:

A little something to pass the time… Quite informative, I hope it arouses your curiosity, Princess.

Sensual regards,

Your Master, Astarion

Shadowheart slammed the cover, face screwed tightly in disgust.

Her head was swimming. Probably tired, body aching and hot and sore and uncomfortable. Yes, probably tired.

Curiosity niggled at her mind, however, as she scanned the worn pages of that book. Maybe, just a peek to distract before sleep overcame her.

Somewhere towards the front, she slid a finger in and squinted in a bit of fear.

“Oh, fucks sake…” she whispered to herself. “It’s illustrated…”

One eye squinted as she… examined… the picture— a very voluptuous woman grinding on… a saddle, a man fully erect with a riding crop in hand making her…

Her cheeks grew hotter than sacred flame as she slammed the book shut and tossed it across the cell. A groan, she tried to tuck herself in, sleep tugging her under.

Even if that image was burned in her mind almost as deep as the burning in her belly…

Sleep was restless… a miasma of memory and desire and want. The visions of her cell melted to the Goblin Camp… to being flogged by Astarion, his sweet silken voice purring his praises of how well she takes the pain for him. His good girl… the sting of the beating instantly sending a gush of arousal down her bare thighs. The ghost of his warm, wet tongue lapping up every drip that seeped down over and over and over again.

Her vision went dark, more of a midnight blue, beams of moonlight pierced its shadows beneath the coverage of the glade. Somewhere near the Emerald Grove, the sounds of the Tieflings’ celebration in the distance, her mind thrummed with the recognition. Voices wafted from the treeline as she crept in the grey shade. Unseen. Unobserved. Even as she could see them…

His pale sculpted body, formed just right to make her salivate. Every ridge and rise of his stomach and chest covered in moonlight, his skin like pearl as he crossed towards her.

Always… her.

“…I’ve been waiting…” he purred in the moonlight, looking as delicious as ever.

She had been waiting too, and she would have to keep waiting, perhaps forever. For even as she watched them strip and kiss and couple, all to her disapproval, she knew sooner or later one of them would prove false.

It was the way of the world. Wasn’t it?

But watching them… it was beautiful, stealing her breath. The way his elven body bent and danced and undulated. The way he controlled every clench of his ass and every push of his knees to spread her wider. His voice was sex itself, little purrs of pleasure and little growls of ecstacy as he fed from her neck.

Slut, she grumbled disapprovingly. Giving him everything all at once… pfft.

For a moment, she was sure her lungs would burst and her heart had stopped. Swallowing a noise in her throat as she forced herself to leave as silently as she had approached.

They wouldn’t notice anyway. But as she watched… as the memory overwhelmed her, she felt every motion she observed, every brush of his hands, every piercing pain of his fangs in her skin, every pounding fuck between her legs.

Her dream swirled… the memories of that night from the past faded to darkness and canvas and the faint smell of camp. Colored fabric stretched around as she stood inside. A body at her feet.

Pale. Unmoving. Bloodless. Dead. His love.

At last she was done, her heart twisted. Only a matter of time.

That's what you get for being his, she chided and sneered in her dreams.

His… the one who stood panting naked over her, licking his bloodied fingers of one hand, the other pumping slowly over his rock-hard cock. “I knew you would come…” he purred into her swirling senses. “Seems I’ve been satisfied in one way… but left aching in others.”

“I…” she heard her voice from a distance, as if she floated, observing this vision unfold. Punishment for her arousal and jealousy… all those things she should let go of. All those things that came rushing back to choke her when it came to the vampire.

“You came here to help, didn’t you?” his voice challenged her, confident. Stirring. His bare feet stepped over her corpse, and he closed in on her.

Cutting her off from that slit of night behind the entrance.

Leaving her nowhere to go.

Nothing else to do but glance between how he sucked his fingers clean, how he pleasured himself as she watched. “It won’t take long to… heal me, little cleric. You’ll only need a taste… and think, you won’t even need to use your precious spells,” that fucking, rakish, left brow of his quirked, crimson eyes narrowing, “you wouldn’t even need to use your hands, if you wish….”

Even Shadowheart’s dream-body shivered under that crimson gaze… unmoving.

“Come now,” he purred, bringing his cold, damp hand, wet with spittle, to brush across her gaping lips.”You can’t keep your eyes of me. You groan the loudest when you have to heal her night after night once I’m through with taking my fill. You won’t have to worry about that any longer…. Even now, your breath catches as the sheer size of me.” His thumb slipped into her mouth, the slight tang of blood from his mouth touching her own tongue.

It should have been repulsive. Should have disgusted her. But she only closed her mouth and sucked on that digit, letting his thumbnail score against the roof of her mouth.

His mouth brushed her ear, voice a rolling hum that ran down her spine. “I’ve been told I’m quite the sight from one’s knees… I’m sure you would enjoy the view…”

Gods, if she didn’t drop so hard her kneecaps cracked.

Eyes fluttered shut, tongue lolling hungrily, she attended to him. Why not… it was only her dream after all… and godsdammit if she hadn’t been left burning for days now. Salty, sticky, bitter—the soft head of his cock swept into her mouth. Those early drips of seed made her mouth water. She kept her eyes closed, better that way, even as she could feel his groans of pleasure from above her, feel the ripples of his thighs as he thrust slowly into her wet warmth. His fingers pressed into the crown of her head, keeping her from pulling too far back, his other grip still held firmly at the base of his cock.

As if he meant to control every little swirl of submission he drew from her mouth.

And submit she did, her stomach knotted tight, relishing the way he would use her… to find his relief and his pleasure and healing all at once. To give what she could.

Let him take as he saw fit. Her own touch pressed on the joint of his hips, fingertips tracing that alluring v of belly. She stopped breathing to feel his skin so warm… to suddenly realize there was a pulse down his shaft as he fucked between her lips.

“What a good little princess….” He purred, fingers digging hard into her scalp as he picked up his pace. Thrust after thrust slid on her tongue and gagged down the back of her throat. “Not so lonely and burning anymore, are you? Not so jealous now that you have my full attention…”

Her hand braced on his stomach, her own strength nothing compared to his. Not any longer.

She opened her eyes, unable to tilt her head. Unable to look up into his face high above her.

Not until he let her slide to the very tip of his cock. Not completely off, but eased enough for her to cast a glance up the planes of his pale body, to meet his glowing red gaze.

Magic stung her skin, metallic tingles filling her nose, carried on her every breath filled with the sweet musk of his arousal.

But she still felt the tug of her dreams. This couldn’t be real…. Just her mind. So she doubled down, nearly swallowing his cock whole, lips almost pressing against his pelvis. Her throat closed, his breath catching in delight and surprise. A little tickling chuckle in the back of her throat, where that twitching head clogged her mouth. She spread her lips. Just a little, just a slight bite as she dragged her teeth all… the way… down.

His pained hiss was music to her ears, the punishing pull of his fingers against her scalp made her nearly come herself.

He grunted. Pure, uncontrolled tremors spilled down his shaft as it thickened, as it twitched. Hips hitched, thrusts randomly deep and shallow as he panted out of breath. A guttural noise, and she tasted him shooting over her tongue. Swallowing, she kept her lips locked around that thick shaft. Even as his hand tried to pry her off. Even as her tongue lapped the last dregs of his cum until it dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

With a deep gasp, her eyes opened, her mouth was thick and sticky with sleep. Jolting awake, the world turned on its axis. Her skin was hot, her folds slick from her dream. She started to lift her head from the comforting warmth of her bed….

Only to see the sideways sight of his body standing at her bedside. He wasn’t even looking at her face, his eyes trained on her body sprawled beneath her sheets. His nostrils flared with every breath, gloved hands gripping into his elbows, arms folded over his chest.

Astarion turned his head, her face the last thing he settled on as he scanned her. “Pleasant dreams, little cleric?”

Gods, she could smell him still in her nose. Her tongue was thick in her mouth as if she could still swallow down the remnants of his bitter cum.

“Pleasant given the circumstances…” she groaned, sitting up and sliding away from where he crept at her bedside. “Being your prisoner after all… your own nastily little slave…”

He shrugged so coolly, even as his brows furrowed as she called herself his slave. “Well… if that’s how you see this arrangement, I’m not sure I can convince you otherwise, at least,” he grinned and leaned forward, “not yet.”

Something heavy settled right on her lap, his gloved hand setting that red bound book back on her body. “I hope you kept up with your studies… they were most enlightening, I trust.”

“I found it rather two-dimensional and uninspired, to be frank, Astarion…”

“Master,” he corrected with a snarl. “And I’m sorry if it was uninspired, perhaps your dreams filled with memories and hopes were better… I trust they didn’t… suck as much.”

Shadowheart shook her head. Of course, that sting of magic in her head. “You detected my thoughts in my sleep…”

“How else might I learn what you think of me, since you’re still just so cold, withholding… when I know you can care so deeply and hard.” He tilted his head, flashing those hungry eyes on her, “And when I say you care deeply and hard… I don’t mean care as much as I mean… suck…”

Her cheeks burned hot. Flaming as her face twisted in a look of disgust and defiance and wrath. “Never you mind what you saw, what you probably manipulated me to see.”

He shrugged again, “What kind of rogue would I be if I didn’t take advantage of an opportunity, Princess.” He rolled his shoulders, hands tugging that supple raven leather gloves that encased his hands. “Now, we will have to test your studies.” With a wave of his hands that made the ruffles of his eccentric shirt flutter, and the book flew open to that page… that illustrated page… with the saddle and the crop and the look of ecstasy plastered on the woman’s face when that riding crop met her ass.

“I hope our little adventure in your dreams has left you eager for something more… real… Maybe you'll even tell me exactly why you’re here.” He tugged her blankets from off her bed as she scrambled to pull her knees to her chest. “Or maybe, just maybe, you’ll tell your master just how much you want me…”

“Never,” she hissed.

“Have it your way… I find the hard way to be more satisfying at any rate,” he purred. Snapping his fingers, magic flooded the cell, surging over her skin. When the pain settled, Shadowheart froze, even as she was pulled to her feet by that wave of arcane power.

That strange saddle sat empty, awaiting its rider. Just like the book. And before she could let the anticipation swallow her whole as she looked at it, she heard the testing snap of leather on leather.

The crack of the riding crop in his hand as it made contact with the palm of his other.

He kept his eyes on how his hands bent and assessed the little weapon in his grip. His voice was far too smooth, too silken for the way his hands clutched hard and threatening. “Brace yourself, darling, we are just getting started…”

#ascended astarion #bdsmplay #bdsmkink #astarion x shadowheart #shadowheart x astarion #astarion smut #ascended astarion smut #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate smut #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate

[intersex-support]

Image description: [Poster with intersex inclusive progress pride flag in the background. Text reads: Every Body Free Screenings. Boston, Thursday June 22 at 7pm. AMC Boston Common (175 Tremont St). Minneapolis, Thursday June 22 at 7pm. Showplace ICON at the West End (1625 West End Blvd). Philadelphia, Thursday June 22 at 7pm. PFS East (125 Sansom St Walkway). Chicago, Monday June 26 at 7pm. AMC River East 21 (322 E Illinois St). Los Angeles, Tuesday, June 27 at 6:30 pm. AMC The Grove (189 the Grove Dr). Q&A following the screening with Academy Award nominated, Emmy winning director Julie Cohen, producer Tommy Nguyen, and participant River Gallo. New York, Wednesday June 28th at 7pm. AMC Lincoln Square (1998 Broadway). Introduction by Academy Award-nominated, Emmy-winning director Julie Cohen.]

Summary of the film:

"Every Body is a revelatory investigation of the lives of intersex people. The film tells the stories of three individuals who have moved from childhoods marked by shame, secrecy, and non-consensual surgeries to thriving adulthoods after each decided to set aside medical advice to keep their bodies a secret and instead came out as their authentic selves. Actor and screenwriter River Gallo (they/them), political consultant Alicia Roth Weigel (she/they), and Ph.D. student Sean Saifa Wall (he/him) are now leaders in a fast-growing global movement advocating for greater understanding of the intersex community and an end to unnecessary surgeries. Woven into the story is a stranger-than-fiction case of medical abuse, featuring exclusive footage from the NBC News archives, which helps explain the modern-day treatment of intersex people."

I just got back from watching an early screening of this film and it was beautiful, powerful, and meaningful in ways I did not expect! Met so many intersex people in my city and it was just really really, incredible.

Really recommend watching this film for any intersex people. This is the link to rsvp to the free screenings.

The film will also be available in theaters on June 30th.

So, so excited about this!

#actuallyintersex #intersex #intersex pride #pride month #actually intersex #intersex positivity #trans

[asha-mage]

Mat/Rand. Prince

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

There is a small grassy glade in the Waterwood, nestled between two oddly shaped boulders that at one point in history, might have been something more. The huge willows of the Waterwood, with their spreading branches and tangling winding roots flank it on all sides and make the place almost invisible, if you do not know the trick of finding the path.

Rand can no longer remember if he or Mat was the first to discover it- the first to wander into that hidden place, always a little shadowy and damp with dew, even at mid noon in summer. But he knows that it was just their place: for the two of them to lay back in the grass and reach up for the branches, to laugh and joke and share secrets together. To talk of the adventures they would have when they where big enough to no longer be told no but their families or the Wisdom, or the Women’s Circle.

It wasn’t like the pond where they would go sometimes, with Perrin and Egwene to swim in the boiling heat of summer. Or like the trips down to idle by the river with other village youths. Something unspoken held it just between them, as if sharing knowledge of it would shatter something fragile and brittle and shinning kept there, between their laughs and games of make-believe.

Once, when they where eight, Mat had made a crown. With his clumsy fingers he had woven starburst and morning glory with loose garlands from the willows, twinning them around broken branches and loose sticks until he had made a rough ring of white and gold and bright orange.

He had bowed elaborately when he was done and presented the crown to Rand with a flourish.

“My prince.” Mat had said with exaggerated deference spoiled only a little by the fox like grin on lips. Rand couldn’t help but laugh as he had taken it and placed it onto his head. He had known it would look foolish, but something had shinned in Mat’s eyes as Rand had fixed it in place, something for which Rand had no name at the time.

“And what am I prince of exactly?” Rand had teased when the crown was settled. “Where is my kingdom?”

“You are standing in it!” Mat had laughed and gestured at the glade. “Prince of the hidden grove! Lord of the Waterwood, etc etc.”

Rand had smirked back. “Master of all the castles in the air? And served by soldiers armored in gossamer steel?” He teased. “And who is my general then? A puppet made of glass?”

Mat had whooped but shaken his head, plucking up another stick to hold like a General’s rod. “No puppets for the Prince of the Morning. I am your general, leader of your loyal hawks, and dogs and foxes. All the carrion eaters, all the foul things can oppose you if they wish-“ He winked. “I will drive them all back with sword and shield and catapult. Let the beetles and the snakes, the rats and the ravens try. I will chase them all away from you, Highness.”

He had said it with such solemnity, such stiff lipped strength that Rand couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and Mat had followed suit soon after. They had ended up laying on their backs staring at the sky and joking about the campaigns they would wage, and the laws they would enact in their new realm (beginning with no bed times of course, and descending in importance from there).

At some point Mat’s hand had found it’s way into Rand’s, and stayed there, until it was to late for them to remain, and they had no choice but to head back to the village.

My general of the hawks and the dogs and the foxes. Rand thought as he watched Mat ride ahead of him. That was years ago no, more then a decade gone. All around them, the crowds of Cairhien citizens cheered and sang, trying to press in on Rand’s small party, held back by the Maidens and the Tearians alike.

And Mat rode ahead, not looking back. Afraid to even stare into Rand’s eyes for to long. Lieutenants and officers from the Band of the Red Hand surrounded him on all sides, and more soldiers marched, rank on rank ahead of them, basking in the accolades of their victory.

The Band of the Red Hand. Not the Band of the Dragon, or the Legion of Al’Thor. The Band of the Red Hand, named for a long dead army of mercenaries, and likely to be just the same.

Rand felt his eyes sweep up to the spires of the Sun Palace in the distance. He was more then any Prince now, more then any King, probably more even then long dead Artur Hawkwing. His name would be writ across history in fire, and their where thousands ready to march at his word, to die for him.

He felt the never healing wound in his side throb in dull agony.

His eyes sank back to Mat, to the sight of the nape of his neck, just visible above the collar of his coat.

And I would trade it all, to be in our grove again. I would give it all away for our castles in the air, for our army of hawks and dogs and foxes.

Better to be a prince with a flower crown, then the Dragon Reborn. Better by miles.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Book Spoilers #TFOH Spoilers #Rand al'thor #Mat Cauthon #Cauthor #Rat #WoT Fanfic #WoT On Prime #Wheel of Time on Prime #Rand x Mat #Drabble Challenge

[pebblethestone]

Flowers in the wind

Halsin x Drow Reader

Summary - sitting in a field filled with flowers and how you meet the poeple that you have made friends within months especially a druid

Masterlist

Words - 1091

A/n - no more writers block and its grate is all I have to say :) don't know if I should make more parts to this but I'll see.

⚠️Blood warning

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You walk in an open field, the grass and flowers dancing in the wind, swaying back and forth as you pluck flowers near you of all colours, putting them into a woven basket that you hold in your hand.

Being a drow and living in the under dark did have its fall at times but it was your home, but one you will never go back to after being free of the darkness that it had held.

Oh, how lovely it was to feel the sun hitting your cold skin and the fresh air, looking down at your basket to see that you had enough flowers to make what you needed you look around looking for somewhere to sit as your eyes land on a big rock laying on the ground.

Walking over to it you take a sea, setting the basket next to you as you watch the clouds move in the blue sky as they fly by.

'You had been taken by the mind fayers unknown why or how you do not remember as much as you think you should but had escaped with a githyanki called Lae'zel and a half-elf called Shadowheart after getting to the control part of the ship, not remembering what had happened after that as well.

Expected falling and being caught by some sort of magic?, after that, the rest is a blur finding Shadowheart then Lae'zel, Astarion, Gale, wyll and Karlach as you became a party. When meeting Wyll you meet people in a druid's grove, a tiefling called Zevlor had asked you to find a druid called Halsin who had been captured by the goblins.

After finding him as a bear trapped and then working with him to kill the ones leading the goblins, after that, there was a tiefling party, and being you, you decide to take a chance at talking to the wood elf to know him better.

Over time you too got closer and closer but only as friends, you wish for more but you don't want to crush the friendship that you already have.'

Looking back down from the sky to look at the basket filled with a bunch of colourful and bright flowers as you pick one up and sniff it a little It gives off a fresh smell.

Deciding to make what you were planning to as you bring the flower down to where you can see it as you take some more from the basket and then start to weave the flowers together slowly making sure not to make any mistakes along the way as you carry on.

After a while, you finish making the flower crown, looking at its thick with different colours of flowers mixed with green as you lift it to your head realizing that it's a tad too big for your head, putting it into the basket now which only holds now a few flowers left.

Moving off the rock onto the soft grass and sitting down you think about what happened when 'you had decided to go and someone caused you to be stabbed in the leg, coming back to the camp it was late, but didn't want to wake anyone up at the time.

But Halsin was already there waiting for you as he was at the campfire, he had turned his head hearing your food steps as well as your limp that you had.

“Y/n you hurt, what did you do this time?” he asked you as he took a look at your leg seeing that your trousers had blood all over them. You look down at your leg and see it.

“I've had an encounter with someone and helped them some a man who was going to harm them in return I may have been stabbed,” you say to the elf.

“Come here and let me have a look at your wound,” he says as he pats the log next to him where he is sitting, walking over to where he is and taking a seat next to him.

“May I?” he asks as you nod your head as his hand covers your wound, feeling warmth as he does his work as the wound fixes itself.

“be careful with that wound as it can still tear open if you do too much moving,” he says to you as look back up at him.

“thank you Halsin,” you say with a smile looking at the hole in your trousers that you probably fix later on, feeling the elf looking at you.'

Your ears twitch as you hear footsteps coming towards you as you look up you see the druid as he comes over to you.

“I thought I would find you here Y/n” he says as he takes a seat next to you his warm eyes watching you as you fiddle with your hands.

“Halsin, how are you on this sunny day?” you ask him.

“am doing well Y/n, and what about you?” he asks in return.

“am doing good, I have a surprise for you though, close your eyes” you say to him as you grab the flower crown from your basket and lean over to him you where tall but not as tall as he was, moving on to your knees next to him as you place the flower crown onto his head his eyes still closed.

“you can open them now” you say as you move back sitting back where you were before he opens his eyes his eyes moving you to see what you had put on his head as he looks back at you.

“May I ask what it is?” he asks curiously as he watches your smile making him smile a little.

“It's a simple flower crown, you can take it off if you don't like it,” you say as he takes the crown off and takes a look at it his smile grows and he puts it back onto his head.

“no, no I think I shall keep it on for a while, it's Beautifully made,” he says with his warm eyes meeting yours.

“Thank you, am about to head back to the camp would you like to come back with me?” you ask as Halsin stands up and holds his hand out for you.

“Yes I came here to make sure you did not get into any trouble while you were by yourself again” he says as you take his hand and he helps you up.

As the both of you start walking off to camp talking along the way.

#bg3 #x reader #tav #reader #baldur's gate 3 #halsin x reader #halsin #bg3 halsin #halsin x tav #harsin x mc #drow reader #drow

[miradelletarot]

Part 1: The Dance - The Weave and the Vines

Author's Note: I know I made a poll, but I am gonna experiment with something. Gonna start posting my chapters to my series on here and linking to Ao3 instead of just posting the link. Let's see how that goes. TAGS: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of family member death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, and some mild nudity

Summary:

Despite the looming threat of the Absolute, Sagora still has her grove on her mind. Back home, she would have performed her ritual to its members as a rite of passage. Instead, she attempts the rite before her campmates while attempting to hide the grief welling up inside her.

Gale does his best to comfort her in her time of need, but could there be something more? Words: 3,241 | Link: AO3

Sagora poked her head out of her tent, and offered a quick glance at the sky.  A full moon, indeed. She thought.

It didn’t take long for her to gather a small collection of spell components, and the antlered crown she fashioned for this such occasion. It was carefully woven with vines, thin branches, and several flowers yet to be opened. At its center, a small emerald – found on their travels – nestled within. She left her tent, and made her way to Volo with instructions for the music she needed him to play for her rite. He was the closest thing to an instrumentalist they had on hand, and she figured he would suffice for now. Anything was better than silence. They had spent a few days collaborating on the project that Volo felt more than at ease with the task requested of him.  Sagora left him to continue practicing and tuning his lute, turning her attention to other matters. Sagora’s final stop was at the campfire. She took the small bottle of moon water she collected, and her various spell components and set them down on a small cloth nearby. By now, everyone in camp started to gather. This rite isn’t something outsiders would ever see, and everyone’s curiosity hung in the air like a cloud threatening to release its storms. Even Lae’zel’s interests were piqued – an uncommon state for her to be in regarding the affairs of others, though her curiosity got the better of her. Sagora stood up from her collection of herbs and vials only to be met with a curious, yet concerned - or was it embarrassed - wizard. “Ahhh…Sagora?”

“Yes, Gale?” She turned to face him. He stammered, clearly trying to be thoughtful and eloquent, but failing abysmally. “So, uhmm. Your outfit choice is rather…ah – unique.” She looked down at her attire. While it wasn’t quite the traditional garb for this occasion, it was the closest thing she could find at the Emerald Grove trader. She wore figure-hugging leggings, and a long, flowy open top. Sagora was otherwise quite exposed despite trying to keep the thin, robe-like coverup closed until the rite began. The airy fabric left nothing to the imagination as the cool air pricked her skin. “Oh, yes, I’m sure this is…unusual. But, this is the best I could find to honor the rite. The attire – and lack thereof – are symbolic.” Gale, trying to stifle the heat rising in his cheeks, couldn’t ignore the curiosity that came naturally to him. “Symbolic? How so?” “This rite is performed in my grove when the first druid steps down…or dies .” She trailed off, trying to casually turn her gaze from him. She crouched back down to her supplies to try and look busy so Gale couldn’t see the pain in her eyes. “The attire, the fire dance, and spells cast throughout, not only represent our abilities and experience, but how we allow ourselves to be vulnerable. We bear our heart and soul to invite Silvanus’ blessing in. It strengthens our connection to the divine, and our performance demonstrates that we are willing to give of ourselves as a leader of the grove. This tradition has been practiced by all of the women in leadership since the grove’s creation.” “And this rite has to be performed by you?” Gale focused intently on his eagerness to learn, and understand. He was a gentleman after all. Sagora lowered her tone, trying her best to maintain control over her words. “Yes. I am the next in line.  Assuming the grove hasn’t presumed me dead yet.” Rising back to her feet, she walked around the fire putting distance between her and Gale. The soft glow of the flames accented her features. While reverence filled her stoic expression, Gale could sense there was a note of sadness. She should be with her grove , he thought. This must be difficult for her . * * * “Hey, Good looking!” Karlach’s joyful nature was precisely what Sagora needed in this moment. “I hope you don’t mind an audience, because this shit looks seriously fuckin’ cool.” She practically danced with excitement as she spoke.

“Oh, well, I can’t exactly command you all to go to your tents and ignore the very obvious ritual that’s about to happen.” A small giggle escaped her lips. “I don’t mind at all. I can’t promise it will be the most exciting thing you’ve ever seen, but –” Sagora cut herself off. Another wave of emotion she had to stifle. “ – it’s important .” She picked up the crown she made, and carefully placed it on her head. “I’d offer to tie your ribbons for you, Soldier, but I might catch your hair on fire.” Karlach was genuinely concerned for her friend’s well-being, but always seemed to make her words as jovial as possible. “Here, Darling. Allow me.” Astarion appeared seemingly out of nowhere. With a delicate, and effortless motion he joined the ribbons together securing the small crown to Sagora’s head. “If you’re going to put weeds in your hair the least I can do is make you look good. I couldn’t possibly watch this nonsense if you looked like a disheveled mess.”  Sagora grinned. She’s learned that it’s not like Astarion to be blatantly nice. He always had to pepper his words with sarcasm and sass…a mask he wore so casually. Sagora was finally ready, and everyone settled in to watch.  “I’ll be casting a few spells during the rite so you all may want to keep a bit of distance. If I do this right, the flowers on the crown should bloom.”  She opened the small bottle of moon-blessed water, and poured some into her hand. Setting the bottle down, she painted the water all over her face and neck. Her skin glistened momentarily before the heat of the fire evaporated the remaining moisture. Volo perched himself on a large rock nearby as he prepared for his own part of the performance. Sagora crouched down next to the fire, crossing her arms in front of her. Before lowering her head to her chest, she gave Volo a quick glance to signal that it was time to begin. Volo delicately plucked the strings of his lute. For the ridiculous man he was, he took his part quite seriously.

As the first notes began to play, she slowly and thoughtfully rose as if she was a flower in bloom. She lifted her hands to the sky, and beckoned the moon to join her in her performance with a reverent bow. Her movements flowed around the fire like water threatening to snuff the flames. The careless, flitting fabric of her top flowing like leaves in the wind. Her breasts, framed by the airy cloth, were now fully exposed to everyone – to Silvanus, her ancestors, to nature, and the merry band of misfits in camp with whom she traveled. Everyone gazed with wonder as Sagora danced, her delicate spins, leaps, and kicks almost in concert with the flames beside her. Sagora made her way to the north side of the fire. With precision, she conjured the earth beneath her. It surged higher than the nearby blaze, and stopped with a flourish. Like the wind, she floated to the East. With a few spins, she coaxed the winds to swirl around her. Her arms floated above her head directing the wind up to the sky. Now to the south, she stood tall like an old oak tree, and placed her hand over the fire. Gale watched her with a mesmerizing wonder glazing over his face. She winced as she focused her magic to her right hand to keep it from burning. Gale’s tadpole writhed, and his mind opened as a warm twinge of pain traveled to the palm of his own right hand. It jarred him away from the enthralling sensation he was once absorbed in. Did we connect ? He wasn’t sure if it was by accident or design. He looked back up towards her as the heat dissipated from his palms. She now had a small orb of fire she collected from the flames beside her. Carefully, she split the small fireball into two, focusing on the protective magic that sheathed her hands. Her dance was wild, but calculated, as the orbs turned into fiery ribbons that played around her body. With the streams of fire still in hand, and a gentle leap, she moved to the west side of the campfire. With great force, and a melodic incantation, she threw the fire into the air as rain cascaded from above, he orbs snuffing out with a hiss. Sagora was now drenched as the sudden deluge teemed from the vacant sky above her. Arms still raised, she reached behind her and arched back – her right leg lifting slightly towards the heavens – as she presented herself, once again, to the moon. She continued to ebb and flow around the fire with the music, and pirouetted near where Gale stood watching. His breath hitched as she stopped before him, breasts bare with beads of sweat trickling down her freckled skin. Sagora met his gaze, and extended her arms out wide in anticipation of yet another turn. She was focused, but silently baring her soul to Gale.

Tears . Why is she crying ? His wonder now completely replaced with concern. Sagora retreated closer to the fire, and with a final act of reverence to the moon, the rite was concluded. Now on her knees, folded in on herself, a fragrance filled the air as the buds in her crown opened up, indicating that the ritual was a success. Her campmates erupted in celebrations, but she didn’t hear it. She felt like she was underwater. The only sensations she noted were the sounds of her heart pounding, her tired breaths heaving wildly, and the hot tears that rained from her eyes. Sagora clutched the loose fabric back over her body and mourned silently. “ Thank you, Mother. ” she whispered. Sagora was too deep in her grief to notice the wizard had quietly knelt beside her. He was insightful enough to know that this was not just any ritual. She wasn’t crying from pain, or fatigue. She was mourning.

“Your mother would be very proud of you, you know.” Gale’s words were warm, delicate. Like a secret that danced on his tongue. Sagora sighed deeply. “She died days before I was taken by the illithids.” The words struggled to emerge amid the tears. “I barely got to say goodbye…”

Unsure if it was the right thing to do, Gale cautiously brought his arm around to her shoulder, and encouraged her to lean in. His touch was inviting, and her tired and cloudy mind instinctively drew her closer to him as she collapsed into his attentive embrace. She curled up into his chest like a child and wept. With a pained yet knowing glance, Astarion bowed his head and disappeared into the shadows towards his tent. Shadowheart, noticing his absence, followed his lead and silently gestured at the others to do the same. Only Gale and Sagora remained. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire, and her muffled wails as she heaved streams of tears into his robes.

* * *

Sagora awoke in her tent wrapped in her blanket. In her groggy state, she could tell the warmth coming from it was magical. The smell of eggs, bacon and fresh bread wafting in from outside her tent. She sat up, and stretched. Why do I have a shirt on? Whose shirt is this anyway? Her head pounded, pulling her away from her thoughts. She put her head in her hands to help soothe the ache when Gale’s voice resonated beyond her tent. “Sagora?” His voice was soft trying not to startle her. “Are you awake? I brought you breakfast…if you’re hungry.” His voice trailed off. Maybe I should leave her be – “Ohh…uh, come in.” The pain in her head pulsated, but she appreciated the gesture regardless. Gale emerged with a small plate filled with eggs, a couple slices of bacon, a piece of toast, and some apple slices. He set the plate down beside her so he could present her with the cup of coffee he brought in with it. “I’m sorry, there’s no cream…or sugar…but I hope this will do.” With a distressed look, Sagora thanked him for his thoughtful deed. “Hmm. One moment.” He quickly left, and returned with a small vial of bright red liquid swirling slowly inside. “Drink this...for the pain.” As he pointed to his own head in acknowledgement of her distress. Sagora expressed her gratitude with a gentle nod as she took the tiny vial from him, and gulped down its contents. Gale sat quietly for the few moments it took for the potion to take effect, and for the pain to subside.

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I, uhh, hope you don’t mind. I gave you one of my shirts.” His hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck, and heat rising in his face. Sagora blushed. Now that she wasn’t distracted by pain, she could detect the faintest smell of books and parchment from the fabric. This is one of his shirts. Clearly, he didn't have to undress her, but the thought of him tending to her as exposed as she was embarrassed her. Nevertheless, she was grateful for his thoughtful gesture. “Did you enchant my blanket?” She changed the subject, hoping to quell any continued embarrassment.

“I did. Quite silly for me to carry you in here away from the fire with no way to keep warm now, hmm?” He offered her a lazy smirk, and a soft glance trying to ease the nervous tension. Sagora felt more heat rise in her cheeks. Was it possible for her to blush more than she already had? Her face might be as red as her hair by now. 

“I don’t remember falling asleep, honestly.” The last thing she could recall was sobbing, and the smell of Gale’s robes. He smelled like a library with an indistinct trace of the salty sea, the smoke from the nearby fire overtaking the delicate scent.

“You…cried yourself to sleep.” His voice was soft, and comforting. 

“Oh. I see.” Her embarrassment set in once more as she shifted in her blanket to quickly grab a piece of bacon from her plate. She timidly broke bits of it apart hoping to distract herself from how foolish she felt. “I’m sorry…” She whispered. It wasn’t like her to feel so fragile. “ Please , don’t be. I hope I didn’t overstep your –”

“ – You didn’t.” Sagora was quick to interject. “I’m rather grateful.” Gale’s expression brightened slightly. “You were - are - very sweet, Gale.” A sheepish smile crept over her face, and a warm flush pricked her cheeks. Gale awkwardly cleared his throat again, and his heart began to race. “Oh. Uhm… Thank you .” He smiled, and glanced at her nearly untouched plate. “Well!” He declared as he quickly stood up. “You had better eat. We’ve a long day of walking ahead of us.” “Wait.” Sagora called to him as he turned to leave, and he eagerly turned back as if he half-expected her to call him over. “Would you like to join me?” She timidly pushed her hair behind her ear at the sound of her own request. Gale’s expression brightened. “ With pleasure. One moment.” He dashed out of her tent, and quickly returned with his own plate, a warm coffee, and one of his many books from his collection.

“Shall I bore you with the lovely details of Waterdeep?” He grinned, wiggling the book in his hand. Sagora chuckled. He was quite charming, if not a bit silly. “Please do, though I doubt I'll be bored.” She smiled, leaning in closer as he opened the tome. Taking advantage of their proximity, she drew in a deep, quiet breath, inviting his scent in. “It’s a fantastic city, but this book simply doesn’t do it justice.” He lazily thumbed through a few pages. “I’d love to show you sometime…if you’d like.” Sagora nodded.

“And I could take you to my grove. Uhm, If you’d like.” She smiled, and met his gaze. They were somehow closer than before as if drawn together by an invisible force. The last time they’d had a moment was when Gale showed her how to channel the Weave. She longed to be this close to him since that evening. The experience was intimate, sensual, safe . He made her feel safe...a feeling she hadn't experienced in quite a long time. “I’d love to.”

Gale’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, parting his lips slightly as he inched closer to her. Sagora felt breathless, almost intoxicated by his proximity as she drew closer to him, their foreheads now touching, and the warmth of their breaths mingling in the small space left between them. For a moment, they froze there in a still silence with nothing but the sound of their breathing tickling the air, the world outside of Sagora’s tent no longer existing. “May I kiss you ?” Gale’s request was barely a whisper. Sagora responded with a feather-light caress of her lips against his. He wrapped an arm around her, gently pulling her closer to him as he deepened their kiss. She shifted slightly to unearth part of the blanket she was still wrapped in, and with one arm she enveloped him in the enchanted warmth he created for her. Her other arm left the comfort of her blanket as she reached up to the nape of his neck, tangling her fingers through his wavy, brown hair. The sensation of her soft hands carding through his hair made him shudder. He licked the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open for him. She willingly gave in to the invitation, her breath hitching in her lungs at the intensity of his need. Gale’s tadpole squirmed as it connected to her, flashing his thoughts, feelings, and images of heat-driven breathing.  It showed her the way she tasted to him, and she desired nothing more than to reciprocate the voracity with which their tongues danced. Her belly ached with desire, and she felt the damp of her own passions begin to slick her inner thighs. She grazed her hand along his thigh, his breath hitching at her fervent touch. It took every bit of self control for Gale to keep his racing heart in check, as the orb began to emit a gentle glow, though the twinge of pain that Gale tried to ignore in the moment was a grim reminder that he needed to keep himself in check, lest he bring everyone with him to his incendiary end. “ C’mon! Let’s Gooo! ” Karlach shouted to anyone in camp who would listen. She was not one for standing around, waiting for the world to pass her by, the world outside suddenly becoming part of their reality again. Their lips parted, but they stayed close. Gale released a small, breathy chuckle, noting Karlach's impatience. “I think we had better save this for another time. Our companions might start talking.” He smirked.

A sly grin of her own appeared. “If they’re talking that means they’re leaving us alone.” Gale let out a low growl as he scooped Sagora up into his arms. She wrapped the rest of the blanket around them both, and snuggled her small frame into his warm embrace.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

#sagora x gale #oc x gale #Sagora Crefort #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #baldur's gate gale #gale romance #baldurs gate #gale x tav #ch: gale dekarios #writeblr #fanfiction #fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 romance #The Weave and the Vines #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 link #fanfic writing #fem!tav #fem!oc

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Daenera Velaryon returns to King’s Landing with the intention of bolstering her mother’s position and reminding both the Greens and nobility that Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the throne. She has a specific goal in mind: to be a constant source of annoyance to the Greens and is willing to play the political game without hesitation.

However, what catches her off guard is the way Aemond gazes at her and seems to relish in her suffering. He openly expresses his desire to bring about her downfall, her ruination.

This situation leads to a tense game of cat and mouse, with each move escalating the already high stakes. Will their precarious situation crumble as the dragons soar above, or will fate intervene?

After all, love often demands the sacrifice of duty, just as duty can sometimes lead to the demise of love. Characters: Aemond Targaryen X OC, HOTD characters.

Chapter 5: The girl who leaves, the woman who returns

AO3 - Masterlist

Daenera ventured down the graveled path of the gardens, looking as casual and unassuming as possible as she approached one of the pavilioned groves, where Lord Caswell would take his lunch. She pretended to walk past them when the Lord called out to her. 

“Princess Daenera.”

Daenera stopped, gravel hissing under heel as she turned to face the aged Lord clad in dark grays. His daughter stood from the table as well, hurrying to incline her head in a respectful curtsy. 

“Lord Caswell, how nice to see you again!” Daenera greeted with a smile, entering the pavilion to properly greet the Lord with a gentle kiss to the cheek. He gripped her hand happily, eyes wrinkling with his smile. 

“My, my, how you’ve grown,” he said, looking at her from top to toe. She had grown quite a bit since he last saw her, coming into the body of a young woman, with the swell of breasts to make whores green with envy, and childbaring hips that were a tad to the bigger side. She wasn’t the usual Targaryen wisp of a woman, with long legs and slender frame. Though over the years she had managed to lose most of her baby fat, though her cheeks seemed to hold onto some of it. 

“And you’ve grown grayer,” Daenera responded cheekily, earning a heartfelt laugh. 

“I don’t know if you remember her, but this is my youngest daughter Tris Caswell.” He motioned to the timid girl beside him, eyes a pale green, hidden beneath heavy lids and brows. She was rather plain looking and Daenera immediately took a liking to her. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Tris,” Daenera greeted. 

“You are prettier than I remember,” Tris admitted, glancing between the princess and her father, hands folded neatly in front of her. 

“So are you.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Tris had been a rather clumsy looking child, always running in the heels of her older siblings. They had needlepoint together, most of the girls had, and while Daenera didn’t take well to needlepoint outside of sewing up wounds, Tris had always mastered the skill. 

Now Tris had grown into a fine young woman, though heavy set and not exactly a great beauty, but there was always something comfortable looking about her. And Daenera quite liked things that went unnoticed. 

“Please, why don’t you join us for lunch?” Lord Caswell offered. 

“I wouldn’t wish to intrude-,”

“Oh, but it isn’t an intrusion. We’d be honored with your presence.” 

Daenera accepted and took a seat opposite Tris, with Lord Caswell at the end of the table, at Daenera’s insistence. There was a small selection of meats on the table, along with bread, fruits and vegetables. Daenera stuck with poultry and some fruit, picking at the bread. 

“It is a happy coincidence that I ran into you here, Lord Caswell. I had planned to call on you for consultation,” Daenera ventured, taking a sip of the bitter wine. 

“I would have come happily, Princess, and consulted to the best of my abilities.”

Daenera smiled. “I can’t help but to notice the many changes since I last saw King’s Landing.”

“Yes, many a thing have changed,” Lord Caswell agreed, not entirely able to disguise the heaviness in his words. He didn’t seem particularly satisfied with the changes. “I must admit, your return has turned many heads and not all of them kind. As you well know, the King has been ill for a long time letting the Hand and Queen take over such things as the Small Council.”

“I assumed as much.” With Viserys sick and unable to attend his duties as a King, his duties befals the Queen and Hand. If only Viserys had it in his willpower he would have deposed the Hand and brought his Daughter back to the capital to take over the duties of hand. It would have forced Otto and Alicent apart, as well as given Rhaenyra the opportunity to grow in her role as heir. But alas, the King was as soft of heart as he was of hand. Pliant, docile, weak. 

“Tell me, Lord Caswell, do your loyalties lie with the Hightowers and Aegon, or with Viserys' chosen and rightful heir, my mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen?” It was an abrupt question that could swing the pendulum from ally to enemy really quickly. Lord Caswell glanced around them, finding no servants, nor any others other than her own personal guard. 

“My loyalty lies with the King, princess,” Lord Caswell responded amiably. “And the King’s heir, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

“Then might I speak frankly?”

Daenera glanced at Tris, who followed the conversation quietly but attentively. Tris nodded in agreement with her father. The Lord of Bitter Bridge seems to have remained an ally, but one could never be too careful. “I know that our time away from court has given our… adversaries ample opportunity to grow their influence. I wish to know where I stand. Who is a friend and who is a foe.”

“I don’t think you can count anyone a foe per say.” It was gentle words in a world that was anything but. He didn’t wish to make an enemy of anyone, and his words made it so that what he said next didn’t count anyone out. “Many houses remember the oaths they swore all those years ago.”

“Oaths can be broken. Especially when one’s life is at risk.”

“No one’s lives is at risk, Princess, remember that,” Lord Caswell pointed out. Not yet . 

If it stood to her mother, Rhaenyra, then the succession were already drawn out and secure. Rhaenyra didn’t believe that Alicent and the Hightowers would usurp the crown and dismiss Viserys’ wish. Daenera never understood why her mother believed so. If it were a hope that she clung to, willful blindness to match Viserys’ own, or if she just refused to think that her childhood friend would do that to her. Even after years of being enemies. 

It was naive. 

And such beliefs Daenera didn’t have. Daenera didn’t trust the Hightowers, and perhaps she had been poisoned a bit from Daemon’s lessons. But when the time came and Viserys had died, the most likely outcome was a battle for the highest seat of them all. And Daenera wanted no one else on the throne but her mother. 

“Lord Merryweather,” Tris quipped, bringing attention to herself. “He wouldn’t want to break an oath. Neither would Lady Fell.”

His daughter's interjection seemed to give Caswell courage. He nodded in agreement. “Lord Beesbury has been with the King all his reign. His loyalty goes without question.”

Lord Caswell mentioned a few other Lords, Butterwell, Chambers, Rosby and Darry. While it wasn’t a lot, it was a start. 

“But you’ll find that many fear making a stance as to who they support. The castle has many eyes and ears, and you’ll find that the Hightowers own most of them.” 

“I see,” Daenera mused. 

“You must be careful with whom you trust,” Lord Caswell warned, wetting his tongue with the wine. 

“I will take your warning to heart, Lord Caswell,” Daenera thanked, eyes flickering back over to Lady Caswell. “I do hope I’ll find some friends while I’m here.”

A soft smile befell Tris’ lips and she gingerly swept a lock of brittle, hay coloured hair behind her ear. “I would like that very much.”

“Perhaps you could help me with my needlework. I fear I haven’t gotten any better.” 

“I’m sure you’re not that bad, my Lady Princess,” Tris chuckled. 

“Oh, you are in for a great surprise then. Personally I think my needlework has gotten worse.”

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?” A cold voice drawled. Tris’ eyes widened in surprise and both her and Lord Caswell got up from their chairs, to bow respectfully for the One-eyed prince. Even with just the one eye, the intensity of it was suffocating. 

Daenera remained seated, rolling her head to glance up at him, her finger playing along the rim of her chalice. “Twice in one day, One-eye. I would be careful, one might get the impression that you are following me.”

Caswell and Tris shifted nervously on their feet. They weren’t sure about the animosity between Aemond and Daenera. So they remained quiet, observing, as the two glared at one another like spiteful children. 

“Why would I waste my time with you,” Aemond responded with ice in his voice, a bored but intense expression on his face. 

Daenera pursed her lips in thought. Aemond had gotten pretty, she mused. Like a freshly polished blade, sharp and unblunted as Valyrian steel. For but a moment she wondered whether she’d cut herself on him, should he touch him. But then again, she didn’t need to touch him. All the had to do was turn that singular burning eye on her and open that pretty, sharp mouth of his and she’d get cut with his words. 

“Why are you here then, if not to stalk me?” 

He turned his gaze to Lord Caswell who fretted uncomfortably under his eye, avoiding to look at the prince. Aemond was known as an clever but intense man. Sharp wit, sharp tongue, and a cold, simmering anger that promised to blow up at any given moment. Tris Caswell also averted her gaze, unable to look at him like so many other Ladies of the Court were. 

“I was calmly traversing the gardens when I heard your voices,” Aemond explained, tone simple and as a matter of factly. “I wondered what you could possibly have to discuss with Lord Caswell so quickly after your return.”

“How amusing, I too were traversing the gardens when I stumbled upon Lord Caswell and his daughter taking their noon meal. They so kindly asked me to join them, a thing which I happily accepted,” Daenera said in the exact tone Aemond was using. “And as to what we were talking about,” Daeenra looked to her company, then back at Aemond again. “We were simply catching up.”

“‘ Catching up’ ,” Aemond repeated the words to her without a single form of conviction in his voice. “What could you possibly have to catch up about.”

“Well, I’m but a simple princess. Lady Tris and I were just about to set up a time and place for needlework.” Now the look on Aemond’s face told her he did not believe her one bit. “And I was questioning Lord Caswell about his son, Lord… Lorent? I believe?”

“Yes, Lorent,” Lord Caswell sputtered quickly. “You may join us if you wish.” 

Daenera smiled coyly at Aemond. “Yes, Prince Aemond, please join us.”

Aemond’s smirk lessened and all he did was humm before he turned on his heel, hair swishing in the wind, like silk, smooth and untangled. Daenera watched his back, noting the muscle tone beneath the black doublet and the wideness to his shoulders only maturity and training could give. 

“This meeting will reach the queen before supper,” Lord Caswell uttered, siking down into his seat again, looking wholly ruffled. 

“This meeting was going to reach the queen regardless of Aemond’s little appearance. I expect that all my meetings will find their way into Alicent’s ear.” And by extension Otto Hightowers. It’d be foolish to think anything else. Only her own bedchambers could give a slight reprieve from such things. Daenera smiled reassuringly at Caswell. “Besides, they would have to expect that I socialize while I’m here.”

On her way back from the meeting she found Helaena sitting beneath one of the apple trees, studying something green and shiny in her hand.  Daenera was hit with the nostalgic memory of her and Helaena’s adventures into the gardens, one in search of flowers while the other was busy with catching insects. It was a fond memory. 

“Tell me about it,” Daenera said, calmly hitching her dress up to step from the laid out path and up into the bed of flowers, moving over them to get to Helaena. Helaena didn’t once glance up, but continued to watch the beetle. Daenera joined Helaena on the grass. 

“It's a green scarab, also known as spring beetle. It is known for its metallic green wings that are often used as inspiration for dresses or jewelry.” The princesses voice was willowy and wistful, her head tilting to the side as the beetle crawled over the back of her hand and into the palm of her other hand. “After mating the females burrow into the ground to lay their eggs, which will hatch after only two weeks. It will live underground for a year, feeding on plants and roots, and during the winter it will burrow further down away from the cold. When fully grown, in late spring the larvae pupate for a few weeks, each within a small cavity in the soil. They emerge as adults in late spring and crawl to the surface to fly, mate, and lay eggs.”

“It’s quite beautiful,” Daenera said, eyes following the beetle, the iridescent green flecked with gold catching in the sunlight. 

“ The girl who leaves, the woman that returns, clad in black, speaking black, collecting black. From black she comes, to green she goes, green wishes she turn back to black. ” Helaena mused quietly. “ Black is black, turns green, turns back. ”

A gentle smile formed on Daenera’s lips and she rubbed Helaena on the back, kissing the girl on the shoulder. “I have missed you the most.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Helaena answered, releasing the beetle. It unfolded it’s wings and flew off in the breeze. For the first time in years Helaena looked upon her only true friend. “Your face is less chubby.”

Daenera laughed, beating Helaena’s hand away as the Princess tried to poke at her cheek. “Why thank you, Helaena.”

Only a few uptight people would ever find Helaena rude. Most found her refreshing, a kind, gentle soul. Pure of heart, pure of soul. She was a rarity in this world of ambition and treachery. Daenera liked her honesty the most. 

“Shall we walk back to the castle together?” Daenera proposed. 

“Please.” Daenera was the first one up despite the restrictions of her dress. She held out a hand for Helaena and pulled the girl to her feet with a groan. The two of them walked arm in arm back to the castle, unbeknownst to them that many and one eye were upon them.

#aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #A Vow of Blood

[iwannakissasopwithcamel]

Living Grove (Farman) - "Woven from the Lohner Forests"

Role: Scout Served With: N/A First Flight: ??? Strengths: Visibility, Firepower Weaknesses: Flammable! Inspiration: Gallic Pleaching Backer: Joe McGee

Description:

Tree sculpting is among Himmilgard’s ancient arts, one of the few that predates flight. The process involves a mixture of careful pruning, guidance structures, and sometimes magic, often over the course of generations, to create elaborate groves that have life beyond the soil.

This art has been used to make airships over the centuries, but some isolated forest communities turned it towards creating aeroplanes during the Great War, to fight off the encroaching imperialist forces. Often, they would use engines, weapons, and components from downed war machines, but the frame would be living wood.

These examples are common in Lohner, likely based on UWF Sperlings and powered by engines taken from downed Gotha Kobras. The patterns carved into them are supposed to grant magical protection and guidance.

These planes need to be tended to carefully, and differently from most. Parking them on damp grass in the sun for at least a few hours every day is highly recommended.

#flying circus #flying circus rpg #biplane #tumblr polls

[darknesseddiem]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In the heart of the ancient woodland, a frantic escape unfolds as shadows whisper of ominous fates. Reality warps, concealing a lurking malevolence. Amidst chains of torment, an eternal curse is woven, binding a soul to endless longing. In the haunted depths, a mysterious tale unfolds, shrouded in darkness and secrets, known only to the silent forest.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Heavy content, dark themes, violence, blood, murded, witchcraft.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,3k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: As I said, this series contains heavy themes and many triggers for some people, don't read if you are sensitive! Also, Thessalia it's NOT Reader, in the next chapter you will understand who she is. Spoiler: Something about reincarnation and past lives.

Thanks to @birdysaturne and @fan-girl-97 for beta read this for me, love u babes.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ali-r3n @birdysaturne @maedesculpaeusoubi

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

In the somber depths of the ancient woodland, Thessalia's heart hammered against her ribcage like a frantic prisoner, each beat echoing the rhythm of her desperate flight. The towering sentinels of the forest loomed overhead, their gnarled branches entwined like skeletal fingers grasping for her fleeting presence.

Through the labyrinth of tangled roots and shadowed thickets, she raced, her senses heightened to a feverish pitch. The air was thick with the cloying scent of decay, and the chorus of nocturnal creatures fell silent in ominous anticipation of her pursuer.

Yet, amidst the oppressive darkness, Thessalia sensed a more insidious presence lurking—a malevolent force woven into the very fabric of the forest itself. It whispered to her in sibilant tones, promising horrors beyond imagining should she dare to falter in her flight.

With every stride, the forest seemed to shift and contort, its once familiar paths twisting into nightmarish mazes designed to ensnare the unwary. And as Thessalia's strength waned and her resolve threatened to fracture, she realized that her struggle was not merely against the physical bounds of the woodland, but against an ancient evil that hungered for her soul.

For in the heart of the forest, where light dared not penetrate and shadows danced in malevolent glee, Thessalia knew that her fate hung precariously in the balance—a fragile thread stretched taut between survival and eternal damnation.

As the echo of her footfalls reverberated through the gnarled roots and whispering leaves, a palpable sense of dread hung heavy in the air, suffusing the very essence of the forest with an aura of foreboding. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the weight of impending doom pressing down upon Thessalia's trembling form like a suffocating shroud.

Then, with a sudden, bone-chilling certainty, the world around her twisted and contorted, reality itself warping under the weight of Calista's sinister power. Thessalia felt the ground beneath her feet vanish, her body lifted from the earth as if by unseen hands, and hurled unceremoniously against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak.

Pain blossomed like a crimson flower within her, every nerve ablaze with the searing agony of her impact. And there, amidst the dimly lit confines of the forest's embrace, Calista materialized—a specter of darkness and despair, her eyes ablaze with an insatiable hunger that pierced through the very fabric of Thessalia's being.

In that chilling moment, time seemed to stand still, the air heavy with the weight of impending doom. Thessalia felt as though her very essence lay bare before the vampire's piercing gaze, her soul laid bare to the whims of an ancient evil.

But within the depths of her terror, a flicker of defiance ignited—a primal spark of courage that dared to challenge the darkness. With a trembling voice, Thessalia spoke the words that echoed through the haunted groves, a whispered invocation of strength against the encroaching night.

For in that fleeting moment of defiance, amidst the shadows of the forest and the hungry gaze of the vampire, Thessalia realized that she was not alone in her struggle—that even in the darkest of nights, the light of hope still burned, a beacon against the encroaching tide of despair.

As Calista loomed over her, a predatory gleam dancing in her crimson eyes, Thessalia could not help but feel the icy tendrils of fear clutch at her heart. For in that gaze, she saw not merely her physical form laid bare, but the fragile threads of her soul stretched taut across the yawning chasm of eternity—vulnerable, exposed, and utterly at the mercy of Calista's dark power.

Amidst the somber shroud of night, the frigid voice of her sister resonated like a sinister echo in Thessalia's ears, piercing deep into her tormented soul. The weight of betrayal hung heavily over Thessalia as the broken promise reverberated in the void that stretched between them. Calista, cloaked in darkness like a nefarious shadow, loomed before her, a presence both terrifying and irresistible.

"Thess, you left me no choice." The frigid tone of her sister's voice pierced Thessalia's ears, resonating with a chilling finality. "I vowed to protect you, and yet you betrayed me. I placed my trust in you, Thessalia." Calista's words carried the weight of betrayal as she reached out, her hands gently cradling the young girl's face.

A heavy silence descended upon them, laden with the looming specter of a cruel fate. And then, the words spoken by the vampire echoed in the nocturnal ether, sealing Thessalia's fate with a somber and irrevocable sentence. Her lips curled into a merciless semblance as her cold hands touched the young girl's face, as if tracing the lines of her condemnation with the touch of an executioner.

In that moment, Thessalia knew that she stood on the precipice of oblivion, teetering between the light of salvation and the abyss of eternal darkness. And as Calista's grip tightened around her, sealing her fate with a whispered promise of torment, Thessalia's scream echoed through the haunted groves—a desperate plea for deliverance that vanished into the night, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the shadows.

In this veil of darkness, Calista pronounced the decree that would resonate throughout eternity, casting Thessalia into an abyss of pain and despair. The curse she uttered reverberated with the weight of eternity, condemning her to bear the burden of her own transgressions, a burden that could never be alleviated. Her fate was sealed on that dark night, enveloped in the relentless chains of eternal suffering.

"În această noapte întunecată, condamn spiritul Thessalia Delnegro pentru trădare. Este destinul tău să trăiești cu o povară pe care nu o poți renunța niciodată, vei provoca durere celor pe care îi iubești și nu poți face nimic în privința asta." (In this darkened night, I condemn the spirit of Thessalia Delnegro for betrayal. It is your destiny to live with a burden from which you can never rid yourself, to inflict pain upon those you love, and there is nothing you can do about it.)"

The fiery eyes of hatred and the pitiless face of Calista were the last sight Thessalia beheld before life fled her body, leaving her to wander the shadows of eternity, imprisoned in an endless cycle of pain and remorse.

On the other side of the forest, within the final tower of the castle veiled by the looming trees, Eddie languished in chains, his heart torn asunder as he was forced to bear witness to Calista's merciless slaughter of his beloved.

His anguished cries reverberated throughout the castle, echoing off the cold stone walls, yet offering no solace to his tormented soul. The pain etched upon his face seemed to eternally etch deeper into the fabric of his being, an unrelenting agony that threatened to consume him whole.

But as the tendrils of despair coiled tighter around his shattered heart, a simmering rage ignited within Eddie's breast. With each passing moment, the sorrow that once weighed him down like an anchor metamorphosed into a seething hatred, fueled by the presence of his captor.

In the depths of his gaze burned a firestorm of loathing, a tempest of fury that threatened to consume all in its path. His muscles strained against the unyielding bonds that shackled him, the sinews of his arms threatening to snap under the tremendous force he exerted in his futile attempts to break free. Yet, alas, it was all in vain, for Calista had ensorcelled the chains with dark magic before binding him, rendering them impervious to his desperate struggles.

And so, within the confines of his prison, Eddie found himself ensnared not only by physical restraints but also by the relentless grip of his own hatred—a festering wound that gnawed at his soul, driving him ever closer to the brink of madness. Each passing moment brought him closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of oblivion as he grappled with the agonizing realization that he was powerless to change his fate.

"Eddie... My dear Eddie," she intoned, her voice dripping with a sinister allure as she paced gracefully around the captive figure, a spectral waltz in the dimly lit chamber. "I bestowed upon you all, yet you chose her, a mere mortal, to hold your affections."

With an ancient tome clutched tightly in her grasp, the woman embarked upon a ritual steeped in arcane mysteries, her movements a macabre symphony that echoed through the chamber's oppressive silence.

Each incantation dripped from her lips like poison, weaving a tapestry of darkness that enveloped the room in a suffocating embrace. Shadows danced upon the walls, twisting and contorting in time with the rhythm of her words, as if driven by an unseen force.

And as the ritual reached its crescendo, the air crackled with palpable tension, a miasma of malevolence that hung heavy in the stillness. With a final flourish of her hand, the woman unleashed a surge of dark energy that coursed through the room, ensnaring Eddie in its sinister embrace.

In that moment, he felt the chains that bound him tighten with a vengeful fervor, their cold steel biting into his flesh with renewed cruelty. And as the shadows closed in around him, Eddie knew that he was truly alone—a prisoner of his own folly, condemned to languish in the depths of Calista's wrath for all eternity.

Calista's gaze fixated upon a tarnished cauldron, its metal surface reflecting the flickering flames with an otherworldly gleam. Into its depths, she cast esoteric objects, each imbued with a darkness that seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if yearning to be unleashed upon the world.

"We could have ascended together, you and I, were it not for the meddling of that wretched mortal," she hissed, her words a venomous lamentation as she traced the edge of a gleaming dagger. "You are a disappointment, Munson." And with a deft flick of her wrist, she drew a crimson line across his cheek, the metallic tang of blood staining the air with a macabre sweetness.

In the suffocating embrace of the chamber's shadows, a malevolent energy coiled and writhed, its tendrils reaching out to ensnare the very essence of Eddie's being. As Calista's incantations reverberated through the air, the boundaries between worlds grew thin, a portal to darkness yawning wide with each syllable uttered.

And in that moment of profound dread, Eddie could feel the ancient powers stirring, their hunger for chaos and destruction palpable in the oppressive atmosphere. For as the ritual unfolded, it became increasingly clear that the forces they had sought to invoke were far more malevolent than either of them could have ever imagined, and the price of their folly would be paid in blood and despair.

With each sinister chant, the veil between realms wavered, threatening to tear asunder and unleash untold horrors upon the world. And as Eddie watched in terror, he realized that he was but a pawn in Calista's dark game—a sacrificial lamb offered up to satisfy her insatiable thirst for power and vengeance.

"Îl blestem pe tine, Eddie Munson, cu nemurire," she intoned, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old malice. "Destinul tău va fi să rătăcești pentru totdeauna în căutarea singurei persoane pe care ai iubit-o vreodată, să rupi blestemul care te leagă. Totuși, ea nu te va recunoaște, nici nu va purta nicio afecțiune pentru existența ta. Te condamn, Eddie Munson, la o existență lipsită de iubire sau alinare."

("I curse thee, Eddie Munson, with immortality," she intoned, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old malice. "Your fate shall be to wander for eternity in pursuit of the sole person you have ever loved, to break the curse that binds you. Yet she shall not recognize you, nor shall she harbor any affection for your existence. I condemn you, Eddie Munson, to an existence devoid of love or solace.")

The air grew heavy with the weight of her words, each syllable a damning verdict that echoed through the chamber like a tolling bell. As the incantation reached its crescendo, a palpable sense of dread descended upon the room, shrouding Eddie in a suffocating embrace of despair.

In that moment, the boundaries between the mortal realm and the realm of the arcane wavered, the veil between life and death growing thin. And as the curse took hold, Eddie could feel the tendrils of eternity coiling around his very essence, binding him to a fate from which there could be no escape.

For in the darkness of Calista's chamber, a sinister pact had been forged—one that would haunt Eddie for all eternity, condemning him to an existence fraught with longing and despair. And as the last echoes of the curse faded into the abyss, he knew that his journey had only just begun, a solitary quest through the shadows of time in search of a love that could never be reclaimed.

The mist draped over the Maleviski forest like a shroud, casting an eerie veil over its ancient depths. In the ethereal twilight, where shadows danced with whispered secrets, only a gathering of somber ravens bore witness to the events unfolding beneath the moon's watchful gaze, their solemn caws echoing through the stillness of the night.

Beneath the cloak of mist, two lovers found themselves ensnared in the cruel machinations of fate, their hearts torn asunder by forces beyond their control. Separated by the malevolent presence that lurked within the forest's depths, they yearned for a reunion that seemed forever out of reach.

As the night wore on, the forest stirred with an unsettling energy, the very air thrumming with the palpable tension of impending doom. And amidst the swirling mists and haunting cries of the ravens, the tragic tale of these star-crossed lovers unfolded, shrouded in darkness and secrecy, with only the enigmatic forest as witness to their sorrow.

#darknesseddiemfics #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddiemunson #eddie munson x f!reader #dark!eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #vampire!eddie #eddie munson imagine #older!eddie munson

[outofangband]

@orcinusorca2236 asked me for some more Teleri world building! I am so sorry for how delayed this is

I have my first set here and there is more in the Teleri tag! All headcanons about language or words are mine!

-Tattoos and body paint are a semi common form of art and expression! Most are temporary and even more permanent tattoos will not last forever. Pigments come from a variety of sources but rocks and shells make up an large percentage. Symbols range from abstract patterns, sometimes meant to represent the ocean, wind or other natural phenomena to detailed landscapes painted right across the face or arms of an individual. I have my partial guide to Telerin symbols here

-Long hair is common for Telerin elves. One style involves simple twisting rather than braids, usually tied with a stretch of cloth or even grass. Complex styles that take time are usually for celebratory occasions. Pearls are often woven into the hair during weddings. These are from a custom shared with the Noldor and are primarily meant to play upon the light

-The weather of Alqualondë is mild with colder air sometimes coming from the ocean. Lizards and snakes can be seen basking upon the lower walls throughout most of the year. Tortoises live in gardens as a popular companion. They are sourced from the nearby countryside. The Telerin word for tortoise translates to rock turtle. A later word used by some translates to sun rock turtle.

-The Coast around Alqualondë and the surrounding lands is long. It spreads through whatever Rayati of different climates and ecosystems. In the harbors around the city, the weather is mild but the water is cool, but there are grooves, including mangroves with warmer weather and even warmer climate. There reach a little ways inland and are home to complex ecosystems. At least one is home to manatees. This grove is named for Úinen.

-There are also places on the coast with warmer water and there is another small population of Teleri who live here. The waters around Tol Eressëa are also much warmer and are home to dugongs, more reefs and other tropical and subtropical life

-The lands between the Pelóri and Alqualondë are full of open woodlands, orchards and fields and groves, and salt marshes. There are hundreds of little springs, some coming down from the mountains, some originating inland. Many trickle down to the sea.

-The walls that surround Alqualondë are covered in shells and even fossils. There are three watch towers and a number of lighthouses. Prior to the Darkening, these towers primarily functioned for observation, astronomy and cartography study, rather than defense

-Casual nudity is common among the Teleri who frequently swim and walk along the beaches with little to no clothing. There are saltwater and freshwater springs in and around Alqualondë where people go to bathe, relax and enjoy companionship. These often have simple sandstone shelters built around them

- Instruction is common with mixed age groups. Natural materials and outdoor lessons make up a lot of the learning. Lessons are conveyed through stories both real and folkloric. Telerin children are also taught swimming, boats, and water safety from a young age.

-There are many families and individuals who live on their boats on the water.

-The Teleri have an extensive collection of knowledge on toxins, secretions and substances, both potent and subtle, found in mollusks, crustaceans, fish, aquatic flora, and other marine and water creatures. These are sometimes used in medicine and even crafts.

-Fishing is usually done with woven nets and handmade spears. The malicious killing of sea birds is forbidden. Telerin fishers often find strong religious significance in their trade.

#teleri #the silmarillion #Valinor #musing and meta

[slips-of-sappho]

".... I simply want to be dead. Weeping, she left me

with many tears and said this: Oh how badly things have turned out for us. Sappho, I swear, against my will I leave you.

And I answered her: Rejoice, go and remember me. For you know how we cherished you.

But if not, I want to remind you .... and beautiful times we had.

For many crowns of violets and roses .... at my side you put on

and many woven garlands made of flowers around your soft throat.

And with sweet oil costly you anoint yourself

and on a soft bed delicate you would let loose your longing

and neither any... ... nor any holy place nor was there from which we were absent

no grove... ... no dance ... no sound ....."

~ Sappho, fragment 94 (full remaining text)

#sappho #sapphic poetry #poetry #greek poetry #queer poetry #fragment 94 #anne carson translation