#I think a good amount of the problems would be solved with more time to properly pace episodes and breakdown scenes

[thanks--for--listening]

my kingdom for 10-12 episode PJO seasons with hour long episodes 🧎🏽‍♀️

[waywardsalt]

dungeons in linear loz games made you feel stupid because you’d sometimes be wandering without a clue until stumbling over a little detail you’d overlooked; dungeons in totk make you feel stupid because they hardly seem to trust that you have any more than very basic problem-solving skills

[exopelagic]

I AM A CODING GENIUS

[seat-safety-switch]

One of the greatest joys in life is using your shitty old car to shut down a legitimately nice car. For any law enforcement folks reading this, I would never endorse street racing. Also, I think I heard someone shoplifting in the other room, and you should go check it out. The best kind of street racing is the street racing the other person doesn't know they're having.

Now, I've had nice cars in the past before. Once, I had a Mercury Cougar XR7 with most of its original paint. Come to think of it, I might still have it somewhere in the backyard. Hard to keep them all apart these days. Anyway, when you drive a nice car, you get this sort of ego boost every time you see a lesser vehicle. How dare you peasants not realize how inferior your base Corollae are? Only a connoisseur can truly appreciate the divine features of this fine automobile.

That kind of mentality is simply not healthy. All of us, each and every one of us, are just a few generations away from being shit-throwing apes. The fact that we managed to make a machine that gets us down the highway quickly is a total miracle, and it's not any more of one because we put a pretty logo on it and charged $20,000 extra to put precision-engineered butt manipulators in the seats. It is this problem that the very fast beater is meant to solve.

When you have a shitbox and that shitbox goes faster than a nice car, whether because of superior driving (not me) or a significant amount of horsepower (not me) or a lack of understanding of your imminent mortality (possibly me) it is a great feeling to shut down those rich folks tooling around in their "good cars." It knocks them down a peg, which keeps them from doing things like going into work and causing another housing crisis. In fact, I'm going to go out and gap some Porsches with an old rusty fire extinguisher filled with nitrous oxide right now. You should come too, so I can get a ride home after the cops bust me for shooting my engine block across four lanes of the highway.

[anim-ttrpgs]

something I don’t get about the disability metaphor is that for eureka monsters obviously it harms another person to eat them. the help a disabled person needs doesn’t actively harm or kill another person. Maybe it’s a difference in perspectives that cannot be resolved

(What I’m about to write could potentially sound very fucked up at first so I’m going to need to trust everyone to read the whole thing before forming an opinion.)

Also this message and response references these two posts.

Eureka’s stance on disabled people is that they (including myself writing this) are, or at least can often be, burdens.

Disabled people often require more resources to live than they are able to “give back,” which, in our capitalist and artificial-scarcity-based economy, is just about the worst thing a person can do.

Anti-ableism sentiment often focuses on the idea that “disabled people aren’t burdens, that they’re just as good and capable as everyone else,” but if they were, they wouldn’t be “disabled” would they? When you say stuff like that, you’re conceding that a person’s worth is determined by how capable they are at doing work, and then having to bend over backwards to justify thinking that a person without arms is just as valuable as a person with arms. Eureka is asking you to decouple a person’s value from how much net resources they can produce.

Often times also, the resources that real disabled people consume are human resources, and those human resources are very much capable of suffering for it. Nurses are overworked, around-the-clock care is absolutely physically and mentally exhausting, people who have to care for their elderly or otherwise disabled relatives on top of their regular jobs don’t get to have social lives or hobbies, etc.

To this end, we wrote the monsters in Eureka to be unquestionably people who “cause damage” to society by literally eating up human resources, because they have to to live, they have no other choice unless they want to just die. Your friend is gone from your life because he has to spend all his free time caring for his comatose wife after a freak car accident. Your friend is gone from your life because a vampire randomly ate him. Providing a metaphor isn't all the monsters are doing, they just work well through that lens.

And then Eureka forces you to look at these people as people, and make up your mind as to whether they have value and a right to prologue their own existence. We can’t force you to agree that they do, but if you think they don’t, then you’ll have to make that argument looking at an intelligent person with a life rather than a pure hypothetical or statistics on a chart.

There are some monsters in Eureka where, if the economy or societal structures were changed, they would stop being such severe drains on resources and could exist harmlessly within society, and there are some monsters where no imaginable amount of societal change would solve the problems they cause. This is true of disabled people IRL as well. Some of them would require no further assistance with living if certain things about society changed, and others would still require a massive amount of human resources.

And even when it’s not necessarily human resources, the extra resources that disabled people need also cause huge energy expenditure and create huge amounts of plastic waste, which are things that contribute to global warming and pollution, which do have significant harmful effects on everyone’s lives. Despite this, they are still “worth it” to keep around.

As for actively causing harm, that happens too. I randomly scrolled past this post after we got this message and saved it so I could link it here.

This person and their family had to cause a big stink in a restaurant just to get an accommodation that they needed, and to us reading it from their perspective, we’re obviously on their side, but I can assure you that the overworked staff at that restaurant didn’t see it that way. They saw the disabled person as an aggressive Karen whom they would never in a million years want to have to provide customer service to. The disabled person & family had to get aggressive, and ruin the staff’s day, to get what they needed. That’s actively causing harm - harm we all agreed was justified to cause - but harm nonetheless.

Plastic straws aren’t that big of a deal for global pollution, but even if they were, the point is that this person still would have needed a straw. It doesn’t line up one-to-one, because metaphors rarely do, but a vampire asking if they can drink someone’s blood, and being told No, may find themselves in much the same position. (And if you bring up that some people find vampires really sexy, you’re missing the point. “I would give them a straw if they had sex with me.” is not actually a great thing to announce about yourself.)

I can also come up with an example from my own life. I personally am very sensitive to noise and noise pollution. If there’s music playing at a public space, I usually can’t handle it. (Earplugs don’t work for other reasons I won’t get into - plus, if I just deafen myself to all sound, how can I socialize with anyone in this public space?)

If I want to exist in this space, I will have to actively cause harm to everyone there, or else stop existing in that space. I will have to go up to whoever is responsible and ask them to turn off the music, actively taking it away from everyone else who was enjoying it. I have to take action to ruin their good time if I want to exist in that space at all, and they might, very understandably, be pissed off at me for doing that. Because, like I said in this other post, the people that monsters eat do have a right to prevent themselves from being eaten by monsters. We aren't proposing that the solution is everyone has to line up to be mauled to death by monsters or else they're a bad person.

Who has a greater right to enjoy themselves in that space? That’s the kind of question that Eureka poses, and makes you consider both sides as human being rather than denoting one as just an ontologically evil villain to be destroyed.

We actually don't know of perfect solutions to all the problems presented by the existance of monsters in Eureka, we just know that "exterminate all people who are parasites and burdens to society" ain't it.

[milkyhoneybee]

Unethical magic friend who uses you to solve their problems without asking you or considering your comfort

They ran out of milk for their morning coffee? They snap their fingers and suddenly your tits are massive and leaking milk. They take what they need and don't bother changing you back until they remember hours or days later, even if you try to remind them they just wave you off saying 'sure, sure, I just need to finish working out this summoning circle' and get distracted again

Sometimes they read something in a book that gets them horny or there's something they couldn't figure out, or they just pass someone in the market who takes their fancy, so guess who's helping them recreate it? You lose track of the amount of times you've been turned into the current object of their desires-- you don't even remember what your original hair colour was at this point, though you think you're mostly the same as you were when they change you back... but, enough subtle differences over time can build up...

Not to mention the times you've ended up with tentacles or horns or fangs or a foot long tongue, genitals of every configuration, or been transformed into slime and used just for their pleasure, or, more humiliatingly, been used in some test or experiment, or used to get spell ingredients

You would leave, you think, even if it didn't usually feel so good you lose control of yourself, but you didn't realise how binding a mage's "friendship bracelets" were when you first accepted it when you became friends, and now even if you do go anywhere, they can summon you back without trouble

They just conjure you some souvenir or some kind of 'treat' if you complain, and you feel your cheeks flush with the patronising nature of it. None of your complaints are ever taken seriously

Sometimes they'll summon a demon or other creature either for information or for some task, and you've ended up being used as payment or to placate them. You start drooling and going weak at the knees whenever you smell succubus milk or incubus cum from the amount of times you've been exposed to it already-- you're honestly worried it'll become an addiction before too long...

The one time you tried to sabotage one of your friends spells, hoping they'd get a taste of their own medicine, and while at first it was satisfying seeing their look of panic when the magic went awry, it didn't last long...

When you looked at their spell book and saw they were trying to create an armour spell as strong as dragon scales, you figured out just what your interference had caused, watching those glistening sapphire scales spread along their growing, shifting limbs, long claws growing in, a tail stretching out behind them, horns and wings starting to form

Unfortunately, your friend was still conscious enough to realise it was you that had caused the issue, and they had no qualms about 'punishing' you for it

Increasingly they grew larger and stronger than you, long maw full of sharp fangs and a wicked tongue grinning as they pinned you down under one paw. The tongue that shoved itself inside you was larger than some of the cocks you'd taken before, making you squeal and writhe, body shaking when the edge of claws sent little trickles of blood down your thighs and sides. They pressed you down harder into the floor, growling like a thunderstorm and started fucking their tongue into you. Suddenly, their haunches were over your face, their serpentine body much more flexible and longer than their human one, and your eyes widened at the sight of the cock hanging heavy and flushed, pushing past the split of scales between their legs

Even trying to keep your mouth closed didn't save you, your draconic friend simply smothering you with their cock until you were forced to take a breath, and after letting you get a little air, they took the opportunity to ram their cock straight down your throat. You can't fight back at all as they fill you from both ends, feeling like a toy being hollowed out

Their cock is covered in ridges and the slick confines of your throat drag against them in a way that, from what you can still manage to piece together due to the lack of consistent air, must feel good. They even get their tail wrapped around your throat, making your watering eyes roll up as they tighten their hold

You pass out, of course

Thankfully, they must have pulled out before the lack of air completely did you in (though you have no way to tell, perhaps they could still cast necromantic magic in dragon form?) but you come to in fits and starts, finally piecing enough of yourself together when you're being held in both of their front paws, your hole stretched and leaking around their cock as they bounce you up and down its length

From the way your belly sloshes, and how sticky your legs are (not to mention the rest of you, you assume), you can guess they've already cum in you a few times while you were out cold

When the draconic mage finally finishes with you, you're left slumped over, face half laying in a puddle of cum and you don't think you'll ever not smell like it or if you'll ever taste anything else again. You don't know if you can even talk any more from having your throat so thoroughly fucked. Not to mention if your holes will recover after being stretched out and absolutely ruined on that massive dragon cock...

Of course, leaving them a dragon doesn't seem like a good idea for anyone. Once you get enough energy and brain cells to rub together, and manage to clean up a bit, you get herded over to their spell book. They eventually nudge you and manage to gesture, growl, and, at times, roughly manipulate you, until you can brew a potion to change them back

Once they're back on two legs? 'Well, that was fun, wasn't it?'

[madwomansapologist]

Please share your headcanon about gale's kinks!!!!

gale's kinks/turn ons

Navigation | More Wizard of Waterdeep | AO3

synopsis: A deep dive into what the smart wizard man think it's hot. Yes, the brain rot is that serious.

warnings: i'm sick so if this isn't good i will blame the pills. testing a new format. this is about sex, don't interact if you're a minor. remember: if you kink shame me i will get horny just to spite you.

PRAISE KINK

That's a man willing to write poetry about your body, mind and soul. His tongue has only two purposes on life, and both of them involve making you see stars. If his mouth isn't in use, he will be praising you.

And when Gale feels so good he can't even speak, isn't that a praise on itself?

But that we all know. His reaction to receiving praise is what makes me want to bite my fingers off.

Gale Dekarios knows his value as a wizard, but not as a man. His ambition isn't a consequence of his desire to pursue more, but to be more. To deserve love, he must prove his worth. As we all know, it often doesn't end in a good way.

I don't think Mystra ever wasted her precious time to assure Gale of the contrary. And when she did, it wasn't about Gale Dekarious: it was about Gale of Waterdeep, her chosen. How his control of the weave was impressive, how he could conjure any sort of images, how his illusions could fool everyone.

So when he receives praise for any other part of his life that isn't his academic pursues, a part of his brain burns. Be as intricate as his poetry or as lascive as one can be, Gale can feel his knees getting weak. Weaker.

FOOD PLAY

Not only Gale loves to cook and bake, but he loves the whole idea of being responsible for making someone stronger and healthier. Hunger is a hurtful thing, that he knows, and he don't want anyone else to deal with it.

It comes hand to hand with his praise kink. When you eat something good, you don't need to use words: your whole body shows it. He would apreciate the compliments, nonetheless.

To spoon feed you would be such a turn on. It's so intimate, such a show of trust and care, nothing but human. The way your mouth opened for the spoon, how your tongue licked it clean. Can you blame him?

After helping you eat, it would be his turn to end his hunger. You don't mind being his plate, do you? Gale promises to lick you clean. You always taste so sweet for him, what's a bit of honey to add to that?

OLFACTOPHILIA

Your scent can turn him into a fucking mess. There is something so human about it. So natural and real about it. Is just you.

After a fight, when you are covered in sweat and blood, he can't help himself. To be around you can make him drool. You fresh from your shower, smelling just as you and not as any perfume. When you spend the day laying around and is too lazy to get clean.

The amount of times his cheeks burned red because he breathed in when you walked past and a companion noticed can't be numbered.

Gale prefers to undress you rather you doing it yourself. That means he will be able to breath deep against your undies before getting them off of you.

Wanna get him as hard as a rock in mere seconds? Give him a underwear you used for a long time. Just threw it at his face and go on with your day. He will be quick to follow.

Gale loves how he can still smell you on his upper lip after going down on you. If you squirt, he will cum on his trousers. I don't make the rules.

FACE-SITTING/FACE FUCKING

Again: his mouth has only two uses. Is almost therapeutic for him. Just get on top of him, use his mouth however you want. The place in between your legs seen perfect for him to die on.

Gale Dekarios is a service top looking for a pillow princess/prince. I VOLUNTEER!

FINGERS IN MOUTH

You know that feeling of not knowing what to do next? Where to put your hands, what to do with your mouth? Since he prefers to be the one doing things, this can be a problem. A problem that can be easily solved by your pretty fingers.

It can hit even harder if he's in the process of casting something and you stop him by just putting your fingers into his mouth. Gale won't even know hot to react. Actually, he might suck them.

Ok, he might have a oral obsession. What are you, Freud?

BONDAGE

Hand to hand with that sort of anxiety about what he must do next. Make sure Gale stays put in place and use him. Remember guys, your service tops also deserve to be fucked around a bit.

Magic restrains or ropes, and make sure to do some beautiful knots. He could break free from them, but Gale won't desobey. Not after you spend so long getting him ready for you.

shadowheart turn ons/kinks

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[aroaceleovaldez]

i feel like many adhd/autistic people have very strong opinions about pants vs skirts/dresses (and vs shorts vs skirt-shorts) so here is My Oddly Specific PJO Headcanons About Their Legwear Opinions:

Percy - Shorts and short skirts kind of guy. Not a huge fan of fabric touching his legs. Type of guy to wear shorts in the middle of winter. Thinks skirt-shorts are neat. Will tolerate long pants if required but not long skirts (surprise fabric against his legs is Bad).

Annabeth - HATES skirts/dresses. Insert line from SoM about Percy not being able to imagine Annabeth caught dead in a dress here. The flowing fabric is a liability and she must be ready for combat at all hours.

Jason - Refused to wear pants until he was like 12. He was raised by wolves and then raised in New Rome; he did not wear pants as a child. Big fan of skirts/dresses but doesn't wear them as often as he'd like. BIG fan of togas/chitons. Pants are extremely hit-or-miss for him and he's very particular about it. Shorts are even more questionable.

Piper - Shorts or skirt-shorts mostly, though is fine with pants. Absolutely hates skirts/dresses do not even look at her with one she will destroy it with her mind. Loose fabric swooshing against legs bad. 100% DIY'd her own jorts though.

Leo - Least amount of loose fabric possible. too dangerous around machinery. Also he needs one billion pockets at all times or he will lose his mind. Shorts or pants only (though overalls are also very nice).

Frank - The only neutral party because he's (allegedly) neurotypical. He just doesn't have sensory problems so he doesn't care. Generally prefers pants though just cause otherwise his legs stick together like when it's hot out or chafe and that's not fun. Also has trouble finding good shorts. If those problems are solved though he's all for shorts/skirts/dresses/etc.

Hazel - Basic jeans or denim-type stuff or the frilliest skirt/dress you've ever seen with no in-between. If it's denim she will doodle on it though.

Nico - Pants only, maybe shorts, and maybe has like one or two exception skirts that he wears pants under anyways. Will tolerate togas/chitons with shorts. Generally dislikes skirts/dresses though mostly just because he grew up in the 1930s so he probably had to wear baby dresses and wearing skirts and dresses now mostly just makes him feel a little bit like a toddler. Also he doesn't like having his legs exposed. His legs will breathe through the rips in his jeans and that is all they need. Yes he is dying in the heat. Yes he has the stupidest tan lines ever don't look at him.

Reyna - Enemy of pants. She'll tolerate them but she won't be happy about it. Long skirts and maybe shorts only. If you can't fight in a long skirt/dress that's a skill issue.

Will - Shorts ONLY. Maybe a short skirt or short dress if he's having a good gender day but would not be caught dead in pants. He and Percy are standing in solidarity in their shorts in 10 degree (fahrenheit) weather shivering their legs off.

[jozor-johai]

Sometimes I think it's underrated how much of Westeros we see during wartime. Amidst all of the discourse back and forth over whether the brutality of ASOIAF has a "realistic" basis in real-life feudal history, I think the fact that we're seeing Westeros in a very atypical and specific circumstance should not go overlooked, and I think in that regard there are parts that are "realistic" to modern history, let alone feudal.

For instance, in regards to the complaints about how many women are sex workers in ASOIAF—I think that has more to say about the nature of the wartime economy.

War breaks out; as a result, the regular economy halts. This is the result of various blockades, as well as from the workforce being redirected away from production and towards standing armies—fewer farms are being maintained, and fewer still are making it across wartime boundaries. Another side effect, then, is the trouble when this economic situation interacts with the practical existence of a standing army: massive amounts of young men, either single or separated from their families, drawing disproportionately on the limited resources of the farmland around them (which is being worked at a less-efficient rate than usual to begin with).

The army—comprised of young men—creates a demand for sex that interacts with the overflowing supply of young women without stable income (since this is an incredibly patriarchal society and the men in their lives have been taken away from work for military service). Without better jobs available, and with the market right there, these women turn to sex work, which syrockets. But of course they would, and of course it seems like every smallfolk woman we meet in ASOIAF is doing it: because people have to eat and feed their families, and the fields to plow have been burned by war, and the people who would work them have either been taken for military service or killed by war. It's exceedingly likely that sex work wasn't as widespread before the war so the increase in the need for sex workers represents the failing economy—consider the overabundance of sex workers in ACOK King's Landing, which was under a trade blockade from almost all fronts.

Then, the pendulum swings back the other direction: this is an unsustainable economy and an unsustainable way to live, so there is a reactionary religious response demanding a return to the way things were before (pre-war, in effect, but never separating this from the "social ills" that war results in). The women are blamed for their behavior, despite being demanded by the men around them and made necessary by the economy, and so this reactionary response leads to a religious condemnation of the "wanton" behavior of women.

The religious response in particular gains traction because organized religion offers several very meaningful things that otherwise solve these problems. We see from Septon Meribald toting his goods that the Faith offers charity to the starving. We see with the Sparrows, and personally with Lancel how the Faith offers a sense of meaning to those disenchanted by this strife. We see from the Sparrows and the rise of the High Sparrow how the organized religion of the Faith also offers a means of returning power to the disenfranchised.

So GRRM is achieving something unnervingly realistic here, showing what happens to local economies under wartime and the lingering horror that is left behind—a scenario that is still true of modern war, even if Americans don't have to see it personally. GRRM lived through Vietnam, and the influence is obvious in how the invading American military practiced rape and forced dubiously-consensual sex work onto the local economy.

It's also realistic how organized religion gains traction in scenarios where disenfranchised peoples need sources of hope and methods of organizing to regain what little power is available to them, and how organized religion can leverage a desire for better times into moral condemnation that fuels its rise to increasing levels of de jure power. It will be interesting to see in TWOW and beyond where the trajectory of the High Sparrow leads these people (and what that says about GRRM's observations and interpretations about modern historical parallels).

[ravencantwrite]

Young Charles Xavier with anxious! Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, allusions to panic attacks, mentions of skin picking and nail-biting, overall tried to make it as fluffy as possible.

Talks to you telepathically when you're too overwhelmed to talk

The sound of people, the lights, the crowd, everything was too overwhelming tonight. But it wasn't even just that, suddenly, every problem you haven't managed to solve by the end of the week has now decided to demand an answer. Were you ever going to finish writing your papers? Are you doing a good enough job at your report? Why are you out, enjoying life when there's so much work to do? Too many questions were swirling around in your head that you couldn't answer. Too much doubt. Too much of everything.

But it wasn't just your thoughts, you were starting to react physically to all the stress and anxiety that you were feeling. It was difficult understanding if you were actually breathing, any effort at thinking was diverted to constantly remind yourself to manually breathe through your nose.

Charles knows that when this happens you're most likely not going to be able to give any coherent answers apart from single worded, 'yes' or 'no' answers. He lets you hold on to his arm, and regardless of how hard you hold on to him he doesn't let it show on his face. Instead, he uses his other hand to place his palm on your face, your hand gripping on to his wrist trying to ground yourself.

You can hear his voice trying to calm you down inside your head. "Listen to my voice love, tell me what's going on". And while your thoughts aren't any more coherent than your words he pieces everything together and somehow understands what you're trying to tell him.

Gets your lip balm and helps you avoid skin-picking and nail-biting

You're used to picking on the skin of your lips, or biting your nails whenever you're too nervous or preoccupied by your thoughts. By the end of it, you'd end up with blood running down your lips, and uneven nails and no matter how much you tried to avoid it you would unconsciously give in to these habits.

The first time Charles notices blood on your lips he's concerned. At first, he attributes it to the weather or maybe even dehydration, but when you open up to him about your skin-picking problem he becomes more observant. He keeps a lip balm with him at all times and offers it to you every time he realizes you're about to pick at your skin and tries to help you replace your urge to pick at something by either distracting you with random questions or getting you scratch cards.

As for your habit of nail biting, he decides to use a fun way for you to avoid it. He paints your nails for you with your favourite shade, taking his time with the paint brush, painting each stroke carefully so as to not paint your skin. And when you ask him if you could paint his nails too, he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face and happily lets you paint his nails.

"Now we've got matching nail colors too"

Helps you practice conversations

Talking to strangers was often uncomfortable. You got it most days but when you're very particularly anxious, or self-conscious where it's getting you to second guess everything and that's when you tend to avoid talking to people at all because of the amount of stress simply having a conversation could give you. But that's gotten you to miss out on things quite often, including even compromising on things you would have liked to do.

Charles is very careful when he approaches you about trying to practice conversations with him. He doesn't wish to make you feel any worse about it than you already do and tries his best to find the best ways to help you.

"Now, if you're anxious to talk to somebody I want you to take a deep breath, take a moment, and prepare a script on what you want to say. Can you try that with me, love?"

He's very encouraging, always giving you pointers on how you could improve. He makes sure that you know how glad he is that you're trying, and how glad he is that you were comfortable enough with him to try this.

[artbyblastweave]

Frederick Sinclair is a really interesting foil to Mr. House. I mean you start digging into this and it's just parallel after parallel after parallel. Start at the high level. House sinks inordinate amounts of resources into saving the city of Las Vegas - not the people, but the city- from nuclear destruction; as long as the stage endures, he can get anyone to wear the costumes. Sinclair sets up an entirely new "community" totally off-the-grid for the sake of protecting one woman, plasters that place with her likeness. House is a visionary with a 200-year action plan to rebuild society in his image, bootstrap space exploration, and construct an interplanetary empire; Sinclair sank everything he had into building the most secure facility possible for a woman who he knew was terminally ill anyway, just to ensure that her last few years lived in the aftermath of the nuclear apocalypse would be as comfortable as possible- there's a fundamental pessimism baked into what he was doing. Both House and Sinclair relied heavily on automated defensive systems and cutting-edge, esoteric technologies to accomplish their ends, but House built his power base on proprietary robotics and computing technology, much of which he personally designed- an outgrowth of his policy of never widening his circle any more than he absolutely has to. Sinclair, in his naive techno-optimism, outsourced his utopia, grabbing flashy third-party technologies like a kid in a candy store- opening a backdoor for the Think Tank to poison his city and ultimately getting everyone at the Gala Event killed when the holograms malfunctioned and went berserk.

Their management styles are inverse. House allows countless abuses to occur under his aegis because he subscribes to a libertarian-when-convenient philosophy where he doesn't much care what the little people do as long as he gets his cut and they don't rock the boat too much- a hands-off approach that fosters resentment amongst his subordinates, lets the White Gloves and Omertas get up to untold levels of fuckery while Freeside languishes and Benny conspires against him. Sinclair, by contrast, had a sincerely-held utopian-straight-edge safety-first micromanagement approach built into the very bones of the casino, he appeared to genuinely give a shit about the safety of the construction crew on the villa, and he was well-liked by nearly everyone who had any direct contact with him- and yet untold horrors also went down under his aegis, because his myopic focus on building the vault for Vera let Dean Domino and the Think Tank run circles around him, good intentions be damned. Their respective interpersonal dispassion and obsession are on display in how they react to betrayal. House's tone never rises above exasperation when it comes time to clean house of Benny, the Omerta Leadership and the White gloves; he treats them as problems to be solved, gears that are slightly out of alignment; By contrast, when Sinclair learns that Dean and Vera have been playing him, he channels the monomaniacal energy he previously directed towards protecting Vera towards the goal of building the perfect poetic-ironic death trap for her and Dean.

There are some other parallels in their personal lives. For one thing they both trusted a pastiche of a 40s lounge singer a lot more than they should have. They both tried to digitize, immortalize their girlfriends- and the discrepancy in how they went about it is telling. House's recreation of Jane isn't terribly robust, and in terms of House's overall project she's an afterthought. She's more a sock-puppet than a person, a sanded-down copy of a woman who died forever-and-a-half ago, forever agreeable, never saying no. Convenient. Only the most superficial visual elements preserved- an illustration of her face on a robotic chassis. Sinclair was obsessive in recreating Vera, preserving her likeness. It's all over the villa, her hologram is everywhere, her voice is everywhere. The terminal in the lightwave lab in Old World Blues reveals that he was still obsessed with getting her hologram right even after the love curdled into hate. All of it a monument to the real woman, and yet in all of it the real woman is still lost, buried under the mythologized projection. He didn't respect the real person enough to let her know that she was dying. A total failure of preservation from the opposite direction. (Except in the suites, where you can hear her very authentic dying pleas.)

You find both of them in their basements. House only looks a little better than Sinclair, but he's got much more of a voice in the narrative. He took steps to make sure he'd be around to tell you what he thinks about everything, fine-tuned the voice with which he speaks to the world, the face he presents. It matters to him that he gets to tell his own story. We find out a lot about House, from House; but for the kind of figure that he is, a shocking amount of what we learn about Sinclair comes from other people, people who knew him or wrote about him. The only image of him you can find is a downplayed element of a larger mosaic. The two documents you find that're written from his perspective have been buried for 200 years, and they're yards from his corpse. And the more recent of the two is an apology. I mean admittedly at the point where he wrote that apology Sinclair was personally turbofucked regardless. If the cloud didn't get him the holograms would have, or the radiation, or, or, or. You can read some level of ego into what he did in the face of that. But however futile it was, he died in the specific way that he did because he recognized that he'd done something awful, and he was trying everything he could think of to correct it. Somehow I find it very hard to imagine House doing either of those things- admitting fault or putting skin of his own in the game to make it right.

[theemporium]

hey cece!! would like to request a violet fluff with prompt 1 and jack hughes, if you please! 🫶🏼

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

1."I can't smile at you, I'm mad."

.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

“What look?” 

“The pouty dog eyes look you always do when you know you’re wrong.” 

Jack blinked, straightening his back a little as he cleared his throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I would never do that.” 

You shot him a look. 

“Okay, so it didn’t work this time,” he murmured before he stepped towards you, a sheepish and nervous smile on his face. “Look, I’m sorry. In my defence, I didn’t think you would find out.” 

You frowned. “How is that your defence?!” 

It was stupid, really. And maybe any other day, you wouldn’t be as pissed off as you were at that moment. But it wasn’t any other day, it was today and you just had the longest, shittest day at work and the last thing you wanted to come home to was more problems for you to solve.

The problem needing solved being none other than a plate of cookies. 

You had baked them the night before for the stupid bake sale you had that weekend. Your workplace was holding a charity bake sale event and it had been a fuck load of pettiness and determination that prompted you to volunteer to make something, after a really bitchy coworker had made a comment under her breath. 

You had spent an embarrassing amount of time finding the perfect recipe and you had used your one day off for the next nine days to bake the cookies. 

You could have sworn you mentioned the cookies to Jack. You could have sworn he had listened to you rant about the cookies for hours since you volunteered yourself for the bake sale. And yet, you had come back home to find them all gone. 

In his actual defence, he had spent all day trying to remake them once he realised what he had done. But the damage had been done and Jack could barely cook on a good day, let alone bake, and now it was a mess. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” Jack murmured, his voice sincere and honest as he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. 

“Whatever,” you murmured, nuzzling your head against his chest as you tried to fight the sniffles. But the day had been long and dreadful and this was the last straw to the weak grasp you had on your emotions today. 

“Hey, shh, no, let it out,” he murmured with one hand protectively on the back of your head. “It’s fine. We will work it out together. I promise. I got you into this mess, I will get you out.” 

You sniffled. “M’sorry, I don’t know why I am crying over fucking cookies—” 

“They were delicious cookies, to be fair,” Jack murmured as he pulled back, holding your face in his hands as he wiped away your tears. “I’d cry if I couldn’t have one either.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Stop trying to make me smile. I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.”

“But I miss your smile,” he murmured cheekily before he was serious once again. “I mean it, we are gonna make the best goddamn cookies ever and show up that coworker of yours.” 

Your lips twitched. “I guess there are perks of having a boyfriend who is more competitive than me.” 

“Hell yeah, baby,” Jack grinned. “She won’t even know what hit her when she tries those cookies on Saturday.”

.

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi friends! Just a day after this years Yule and a few days out from Christmas, regardless of what you celebrate during this winter months, we're gonna be cooking a tangy tango between two traditional english staples-

Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail from Lord of the Rings Online!

(You can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to this Yule Plum Pudding?” YOU MAY ASKPlum Pudding is not a "pudding" as us americans think of it; its closer to a fruitcake but less shit.

Cranberries

White raisins

Macerated prunes (in brandy)

Chopped candied peel

Blanched almonds

All-purpose flour

Cinnamon

Nutmeg

Cloves

Sugar

Breadcrumbs

Lemon zest

Unsalted butter

Eggs

Whole milk

Half a bottle of brandy

It also doesnt contain any capital-P plums! it actually does contain plums im so fucking stupid i never connected the dots that prunes were dried plums oh my god. But they still ued any dried fruit, and "Plum" here is just referring to any dried fruit. And what about the birth of todays wassail?

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

Cinnamon sticks

2 lemons

A bottle of sherry

The other half bottle of brandy

Wassail is very similar to apple cider drank in the fall, with a few differences like the addition of pears and different alcohol source. It was commonly drank while "wassailing" which was a Yuletide predecessor to christmas carolling. People would go door-to-door with a big bowl of wassail, play music, and give well wishes- offering drinks from the wassail in return for small gifts!

AND, “what does Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

The puddings like a fruitcake but if a fruit cake tasted good and wasnt a brick

Its thick and rich, and somehow actually tastes like plum despite that not being intended or making sense

I love the macerated prunes so much. Juicy berries to forage for. Enrichment

The icings reminiscent of buttercream but more savory than sweet

The wassail is like drinking the golden edges off the clouds at sunset

Its got a little bit of the dryness from the sherry that makes your mouth water the moment you stop drinking it

You just want to keep drinking more to sate yourself

Even without eggs its surprisingly full bodied and thick

I had to make a few substitutions from traditional elements due to either being not available or too expensive, but with a little problem-solving nothing was too hard to do.

. Used a bundt cake pan instead of a pudding tin .  Suet (animal fat) was historically used for plum pudding. I couldnt find any and used butter instead . Used golden delicious apples when called for . Used concorde pears when called for . Some wassail recipes fold in egg whites before serving, to make the drink creamier. I didnt do this, but if you do, the recommendation to drink it fresh still stands (and strongly)

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I gotta admit, I was nervous approaching this recipe. Not only because I didn't own and couldnt find a "pudding tin" without ordering online, or because the concept of steaming a pastry(?) feels foreign and odd, but also because of how old and storied this dish is. You always run into the issue with historical foods who date back to the times where oral history was the only history. The issue of people being combative that their recipe is the only true variant of the recipe, and all the others are mucking the whole thing up.

Its good to remember that like with most dishes, cooking is something that evolved and continues to evolve overtime. Unless someones trying to rewrite history and claim that ants on a log is a creme brule in which case you should run them over with a '98 Pontiac Sunfire.

Theres a few things I'd do differently when cooking again, like chopping the blanched almonds. They were a bit too big when left whole. And adding some amount of heavy cream to the icing? Maybe? To give it a fluffier/milkier feel? But the proces of cooking itself was very straightforward and I have no real complaints or modifications to make. When having leftovers of the pudding it did seem to "mature" and taste better and better the more days i kept it in the fridge, so thats something to keep in mind! But it tastes great a day after all the same.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Happy winter everyone! Congrats to another year of staying alive!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Yule Plum Pudding Ingredients:

16oz cranberries

12oz white raisins

9oz macerated prunes

4oz chopped candied peel (any fruit)

2oz blanched, chopped almonds

4oz all-purpose flour

Measure spices with your heart (cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves)

8oz granulated sugar

8oz fresh white breadcrumbs

lemon zest (one lemon)

4oz grated unsalted butter

4 eggs

8oz whole milk

Pudding Icing Ingredients:

1½oz unsalted butter

1½oz all-purpose flour

10½oz whole milk

3oz granulated sugar

2 tablespoons brandy

Yule Plum Pudding Method:

A week before making, macerate your prunes in brandy.

Mix together all the dried fruit, peel, and almonds. Sieve flour and spices together then add to the fruit mixture along with the sugar, breadcrumbs, rind, and grated butter.

Beat eggs and then blend with 8oz of milk.

Stir the egg/milk mixture to incorporate into the dry ingredients. Add prunes, and stir some more.

Put batter into a well-buttered pudding basin, with parchment paper to cover.

Get a large pot and place a kitchen towel or something similar at the bottom- then place the pudding basin on top of the towel, inside the large pot.

Fill the outer pot with water until it’s halfway up the side, cover the pot with a lid (or foil).

Steam on the stovetop at 210f for 4-6 hours depending on size of pudding basin. If the water gets too low, add a bit more.

After steaming, uncover and allow to cool to room temperature. Do not remove it from the pudding basin! Cover with fresh parchment paper and foil and store in a cool, dry place for at least a day.

(optional) to reheat; steam for 40-80 minutes, until warmed through.

Pudding Icing Method:

Place butter in a medium saucepan with the flour, pour in the milk then whisk everything vigorously together over a medium heat.

As soon as it comes to simmering point and has thickened, turn the heat to its lowest setting, stir in the sugar, and let the sauce cook for 10 minutes.

Add the brandy and stir to mix. Keep warm until required.

Wassail Ingredients:

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

4 Cinammon sticks

2 lemon

1 bottle of Sherry

½ bottle of Brandy

Wassail Method:

Core the apples and pears, leave the rest intact, and set in a baking pan. Fill the hollow centers with brown sugar.

Add about an inch of water to the pan and bake at 350f for 30 minutes, or until the fruit is soft.

Move the fruit to a large pot, add a bottle of sherry, half a bottle of brandy, lemon peel, and 4 large cinnamon sticks. (Feel free to use less booze!)

Bring the pot to a simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain before serving!

[koenigami]

tags : fem!reader, fluff, little angsty because pining wrio scared of being vulnerable a/n: happy birthday to juicy buttocks man 🩶

WRIOTHESLEY didn’t get the chance to experience copious amounts of love throughout his life. And the little that he received, he’s not sure if any of it was ever real. Whether his foster parents’ I love yous were ever uttered with sincerity, he will never know. Even if he could, he probably would not care, because the things that they made him feel were real, even if only temporarily. 

But the things that you are able to ignite inside him- they’re terrifying him. Yes, good ol’ Wriothesley being scared. Not something that you get to see quite often, right? But it’s true. Because everywhere he goes; you’re there. While taking a lazy stroll through the Fortress of Meropide to ensure its order, Wriothesley seems to look for you in every nook and crevice of it. Your smile, your eyes, the sound of your voice. In every room that he steps, he seems to find glimpses of you. It gets worse when he realises that he cannot think straight anymore. Signing documents and reading through reports, simple and almost daily tasks for him, all of a sudden feel like hard manual labour. All due to one single person invading his thoughts and not letting go of him.

It’s a day like any other when you visit him, unloading another pile of paperwork for him on his desk, yet what you don’t expect is the sudden proximity between the both of you when he suddenly stands right in front of you. Your forehead wrinkles slightly in worry, noticing his scowl and ragged breaths. “Wriothesley-” “Get out.” Your eyebrows lift questioningly. Taking a step back, you wonder what might have led to his sudden request and rude demeanour as you’ve been getting along more than well the last few weeks. So well that you thought there might actually be something between you-

Warmth envelopes your wrist once you attempt to take the staircase, vainly trying to fulfil his wish, not even wanting to question it, only for him to pull you back. “Here.” with a gentleness that you haven’t gotten the chance to witness from him before, he guides your hand up to his head, lightly tapping the pads of your fingers against his temple. “Get out of here.” It’s only now that his tired looks become more evident. Wriothesley is desperate. He can’t hire someone to solve this problem for him, there is no one who can deal with this mess inside his head and heart except himself. 

“I would, if that is what you truly wished for.” you sigh, gracing him with that soft smile of yours before letting your hand settle on his cheek. Delicately, you trace the light stubble along his jaw with your thumb and Wriothesley, for the first time in forever, feels weak. “But the issue is that you won’t let me go.” 

And Wriothesley recognises that resisting these feelings, fighting against himself; all of it is futile. Sometimes the remedy can be worse than the disease, so letting you go without confessing his devotion to you would only torment him further. Gingerly, as if assessing whether his next move would scare you off, he leans his forehead against your shoulder and buries his face into the crook of your neck. Like a child seeking warmth and comfort in its mother’s bosom. And you let him. 

Embracing him and placing a hand on the nape of his neck, playing with his messy strands of hair, you ask softly, “Does the prospect of loving me seem that unpleasant to you?”  

That’s not it. And he’s sure you know that too but are merely trying to tease him in order to lighten the situation. It’s the fear of not being good enough, not being able to love you the way you deserve it, not being able to protect you from any possible harm, or even from himself. It’s the fear of causing you pain and sorrow instead of providing you with a happily ever after. 

He gulps audibly before lifting his head to look at you again, despite the lighthearted grin that he flashes you, his face carries a desolate expression. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not a man worth-”

“You truly are a scumbag, Wriothesley. You know that?” As always, you manage to leave him speechless but despite your insult, he leans back into you when you lift one of his hands and place it on your cheek. Your silky and soft skin a contrast in comparison to his rough and scarred self. “I think I should be the one to judge whether you’re worth it or not. Don’t you think so too?”

With a defeated sigh, Wriothesley can only nod before he leans his forehead against yours. Resisting you is hard but opposing you? Impossible.  That's why he lets you see past the cool and cocky walls that he has built up since his adolescence. Like a newborn lamb on shaky legs, ready to fall and get back up again, he allows himself to indulge in this newfound situation of defencelessness.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What did you think about Jade's role in the latest book 7 chapter? I found it hilarious how between the tweel's dreams his was more chaotic. It was also funny how they brought up Jade's motion sickness since I think the only moments it's been shown was in flight class and I think in Vil's playful land vignette after a rollercoaster ride. I'm really curious about your own highlights ^~^

Honestly, I felt pretty meh about Jade’s involvement in the Octavinelle update 😅

***Book 7 part 10 spoilers below the cut!!***

His own dream segment was alright, it got a few chuckles out of me (though as expected, we didn’t really learn anything significantly new about Jade because of the shallow nature of the dream). Jade’s crybaby dream!Azul was about what I expected, but his dream!Floyd certainly wasn’t. The goofy face on his twin… It made me wonder how Jade truly sees Floyd. Does that weird face mean Jade sees his brother—who comes off as imposing to many others—as cute and harmless? Or does that mean Jade actually looks down on Floyd and thinks of him as a simpleton who likes to eat…? It’s hard to tell (personally I like the former interpretation), but it’s been fun looking at the different perspectives of the same information.

Something I find interesting is that the twins’ moments of waking mirror each other’s usual approaches to a task. Floyd usually foregoes a plan and prefers to use his fists to get the job done. However, he is slowly roused by reminiscing about his memories at NRC and the promise of being presented with a challenge. The final blow that shocks him awake is the presentation of a dream!Azul and dream!Jade who attempt to lure him deeper into the dream. Floyd doesn’t fall for it; in fact, he gets mad instead, and that fury, so biting and clear, snaps him awake. The opposite is true for Jade. He is someone who meticulously plans before acting, and would rather control the circumstances and use other roundabout methods before resorting to violence. But ironically, the master manipulator Jade is the one who falls for his own dream’s manipulations—all because he trusts himself above all else. He only wakes up because of a very strong physical force (ie Sebek’s UM) striking him. Prior to this, Jade was putting up a very good fight and the blows be was taking were not sufficient to wake fully him. So… Floyd, the brother who prefers brawns, woke up after reflecting and experiencing strong cognitive dissonance between his fake reality and bis true reality. Jade, the brother who prefers brains, woke up after being smacked the right amount. They woke up after experiencing an intense shock related to what is essentially the opposite of their preferred problem solving strategies.

I liked seeing Jade and Floyd fight! Book 7 is showing us a lot of things that were brief off-handed mentions elsewhere (like how Rook used to be in Savanaclaw, how Lilia is a war vet, etc.). The twins having violent brawls was previously brought up in Floyd’s Beach Wear vignettes, and it’s nice to be able to view the full extent of it ourselves. Floyd was NOT joking when he said they got into serious fights…

I have mixed feelings about Jade’s behavior within Azul’s dream. I’m NOT saying any of this is out of character or that all of his moments were bad. There were lots of little standouts (like Jade’s motion sickness, the passive aggressive “Azul-san”, smashing up the restaurant, and, of course, him and Floyd grabbing onto Azul and then trusting him to make it out on his own before choosing to let him go). Unfortunately, there were just as many examples of Jade wasting time and meandering, which I was a little annoyed about. The world might be done for if y’all don’t hurry it up 😭 You do NOT have the time to casually smash plant pots or to sit idly by and go “…………” while you watch Azul act like an idiot. I know you have a bigger brain than THAT, Jade. If you already knew what Azul’s weak point was, then you should be acting on it much sooner, not wasting my time like this.

I can see the reasoning for some of this to an extent. Jade is the type of person to drag things out; he wants to enjoy the show as others struggle to attain what they desire. The problem is that this segment still feels… forced or artificially drawn out simply because of the already established pattern of “well we gotta dedicate more time to the OB boy, we have so many other novel assets and scenarios to show off!!” There continues to be so little urgency while prioritizing showing off new assets or even things that seem cool in concept but may be lacking in execution because of how fast new stuff is being thrown at us. It’s just so frustrating because it creates this domino effect where the implication is that Jade doesn’t seem to be taking the situation seriously even though he, as an individual who is skilled in reading others + pinpointing their weaknesses AND as one of Azul’s close aide, should automatically clock what would reasonably wake him. But nooooo, Jade doesn’t do it right away because HEY, we need to create contrived scenarios where he, Floyd, and Azul have to use their UMs once each. Why? Because we have to follow the patterns we’ve already established in the updates before theirs! No other reason, we’re not allowed to stray from the formula! This is even worse when you think about how Jade was somehow unable to deduce that Azul would have moved the contracts to his own room… Like shouldn’t that be the FIRST place you think of, Jade????? No??? Is this an excuse so you can waste time using your Mouse mandated UM on dream!Jade to get the location??? 🤡 Okay, I guess…

The one last thing I have to note is that I’m so glad his and Floyd’s Groovies don’t show them crying. I feel like a lot of people were anticipating that because we previously had Kalim and Rook breaking down… However, it would be remiss to equate all the characters as being as emotional as those latter two are. (Lilia, Sebek, and Ortho were also limited story cards and none of them featured crying.) That’s not to say that I think the twins are incapable of expressing intense sadness, it’s that I don’t think they’d shed tears while attacking each other or Azul. Not crying doesn’t make Jade and Floyd “worse” or “less emotionally available”. It, in fact, alludes to the strength of the trio’s bond. It means they trust the others to be strong enough to take the hits, to fight back and to survive. The same thing is demonstrated when Jade and Floyd willingly let go of Azul and allow him to sink into the darkness, even wishing him well before they do. And to that, Azul just says the same to them (in a smug tone). These three trust each other, and that is why the twins don’t shed tears; how can they cry when they fully believe the ones they’ve chosen to spend their time with are strong enough to make it out on their own?

Overall, I just 💦 do not like the rigid skeleton of these dreams… (which I’ve already expressed before here!) I’m so tired of the same thing back to back, and no matter how many details they try to change to make it cool or feel unique, it always comes at the cost of pacing or, in this case, some character integrity being removed. xbjsvskwjekw Maybe I’m just more sensitive about this since I hate it when a smart character has to actively be dumbed down in order to progress the plot in a certain way. This is a much more subtler of a dumbing down than what book 2 did with Leona, but… It still doesn’t leave me feeling very good 😔 If anyone has played the first Ace Attorney game, this feels a LOT like that part in case 2 where Phoenix is too dumb to check the back of a receipt until Mia literally tells him to. The character has to actively be made stupider because the scenario calls for it, and that really rubs me the wrong way.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Injured and Perverse

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 5.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mild injury, smut, handjobs, mutual masturbation, slight innocence kink

Notes: This is literally all @dipperscavern fault for just bringing Jon up in the tags of one of her own asks. I wrote this all in one sitting so I apologize for how deranged it is. Not really important, but the dynamic between Jon and the reader is based off of my characters from Heart of the Great Wolf, and by the end you'll understand why. But knowing that fic isn't necessary to understand this. Main Series Masterlist Here

As if things hadn’t been difficult enough, now this came into his mind.

Jon just leaned against the stone wall by his window, arm holding up his right hand as it was still firmly wrapped up to the point he couldn’t move even his fingers from the position. It was his fault. A mistake when pushing himself perhaps a little too hard during training out in the yard and now it was coming to a fortnight since he had lost use of his sword hand.

Jon could count himself lucky that he was skilled enough with his left hand that most things would still be doable for the weeks he’d spend with only one. Or, that was what Maester Luwin had tried to comfort Jon with. He appreciated it at the time, but now it was a problem that only Jon had and he couldn’t figure out how to solve. And certainly he couldn’t bring it up to people.

The summer air had warmed itself up enough that it melted away what was left of the recent summer snow, meaning that not as many layers needed to be worn to stay as warm. You had been wearing much lighter dresses and in brighter colours too. Some of them must have been new, Jon didn’t recall seeing them on you before but they were beautiful. On you at least they were beautiful.

A true sight that he couldn’t get over, grey eyes growing dark following your sight across the courtyards and unable to help himself with that feeling again.

The same one he couldn’t do anything about. It had put Jon on edge, made him a bit shorter with people. A bit more temperamental, and easily frustrated by things. It could be attributed to his broken hand, which it was and most knew, but it was really one specific act he could not do that he desperately needed. You were in Winterfell, and beautiful and in breezy fabrics that framed you like some sort of goddess sent to torment him.

What should’ve been a good chance to force Jon to ease up, had only made things much more difficult to handle and worst of all, you noticed. Most noticed his mood, but you were the one who was the most concerned about it and he had a limited amount of time to come up with an excuse that he knew you’d buy without a doubt. You had told him once you were finished your duties for the night, you would come to his chambers to check up on him.

Only that time ran out quicker then he thought, and his eyes grew wide with worry when a knock was heard at his door and your sweet voice muffled through it, “Jon?” Swallowing roughly, his eyes closed for only as long as it took to say the words, a bit deeper then he meant to spit them out, telling you to come in.

You hadn’t changed from the same pretty dress you wore that day, you had finished what you were doing and came right too him. The sweetness of the gesture drove Jon utterly mad thinking about how concerned you truly were. Muttering your name, he tried to cross his arms over his chest more casually, but could not hide the clench in his jaw.

Stepping closer without thought, you looked as if you wanted to reach out to him physically. “Are you alright?” Looking back towards you with a brow raised in a more playful manner, you looked away trying to smother a smirk before returning back with something much more flat yet clever in your own eyes. “I meant specifically right now.”

Grinning look falling a bit, Jon shrugged a shoulder as his head turned mindlessly to the side away from you. “As good as I can be.” Stepping closer, you gestured to his hand asking if it was hurting more then usual and Jon felt his bones shake. Something certainly hurt more then usual but this was not a problem he could bring to you of all people.

His innocent best friend, his sweet and beautiful best friend that he had been in love with since the moment he laid his eyes on you across the courtyard. Worse off, your hands as they reached out to him more, he could only think about how small they were. In comparison to his own for sure, but certainly in contrast to what else he was thinking of. Soft and smooth, despite the hard work you put into everything you still had the dainty little hands of a highborn girl and suddenly his mind was filled with vile images of ruining that innocent look.

You didn’t however look like you believed his words. Stepping closer those small hands rested against his other arm, trying to implore you to look back at him. “Jon, you’ve been more off lately.” About to point out the obvious, you cut him off more seriously then he was going to distract the subject with. “More then normal about this. Something the past few days is bothering you and I just want to help.”

He shouldn’t have said it, he should’ve kept his mouth shut and frustrated you enough that you’d give up on the issue. But he didn’t, he said it out loud in a rough mutter. “You can’t help with this.” Asking with what, Jons jaw clenched more harshly as he turned his head to the side. Your hands still against him trying to get his attention as you said his name again. Jon only repeated your name in a warning you did not take.

Your own hand reached up to run gentle across the facial hair along his jaw trying to prompt him to look at you, but Jon only used his left hand to reach up and snatch your wrist. Your head jolting back in suprise as Jon turned with darker eyes to look at you. An apology stumbling from you, wanting to step away from his personal space if only Jon let go of your wrist. “I’m sorry, I was only-”

“You wanted to know if there was something you could do.” Nodding, he knew you were nervously biting down against your tongue to keep a straight face. Sighing, his grip loosened so that he didn’t hold you so tightly, but he did certainly keep you in his hand even as it lowered to your side. Almost toying with your fingers somewhat as he looked down to meet your eyes. “You can’t help with this, darling. It- this is something I can’t...resolve until my hands better.”

“Why?” Looking over him with narrowed confusion in your eyes, Jon said nothing but met your gaze as you tried to connect the dots. Your green eyes flickered down to his injured hand and back up as your eyes widened as your lips parted in a silent stammer. “Oh.”

Swallowing roughly, Jon felt a mixture of frustration and embarrassment come over him. This part of himself wasn’t supposed to be showed to you, you were too innocent to be privy to his perverted mind and yet as if to torture him, your eyes almost as if trying to fully put the concept together let your gaze flicker down a bit further then just his injured hand.

Rasping low, Jon still hadn’t let go of you. “I told you, you can’t help me with this.”

The degree to which you cared about Jon was immeasurable though, because in the shyest tone he’d heard on you since you were still a girl came over. A nervousness painted over your eyes and bleeding into your expression with a softness as you peered back up to his gaze. “What if I could?” Jons face twisted in almost a disbelief in what you would’ve been trying to say, as you got somehow more nervous as you continued. “What..if I helped you..you know..feel better...”

Your free hand twitched at your side as if wondering if to move yet, but Jon felt his blood freeze over before bursting into flames and enveloping him. The sheer insinuation had his cock throb already and that time he was pretty sure you looked back down again before meeting his eyes. Saying your name lowly, he let go of your hand. Jon would’ve stepped back to put space were he not leaning against the wall. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

Wringing them back together between you, you tried to look confident through the nerves. “I do. I..” Sighing deeply you tried to keep your resolve together. “I came here wanting to know if there was anything I could do to help you, and now I know a way that could help you feel better.”

Looking down with more of a frown to you, Jon wished he didn’t feel so hard looking at your nervous gaze. “No.” He was the conflicted one, because he desperately wanted what you were suggesting but to do so would tread far too close into exposing how much he felt for you, and too getting you to do something a lady shouldn’t for a man she wasn’t married too, let alone a bastard. And yet that conflict came out much more abrupt and angry then he meant towards you.

Stepping back a step, your face glazed over with something both apologetic and fearful. “I- I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have...I didn’t meant to pressure you into..” Turning away Jon knew you were about to flea from his room, so his free hand suddenly moved as his whole body did.

Pushing off the wall and grabbing at your arm, twisting you in place to get you to look up at him with a much softer gaze meeting. Saying your name, he let his free hand reach up to run somewhat along the loose strands of hair by the side of your head while letting that hand border on tenderly cupping your cheek. “I didn’t mean-” Closing his eyes to sigh out deeply, Jon wondered just how to rephrase this mess his attitude had caused. Looking back at you, your hands back to sitting together toying with the fingers on the other hand in an anxious manner. “You didn’t do anything wrong by offering, but this isn’t why I wanted you here. It’s not your duty to do those sort of things for my sake.”

Trying to push passed the embarrassment, your tone took on a bit of frustration of your own. “I didn’t offer because of that...I just..don’t like seeing you this way.” Asking specifically in what way, you yourself that time shyly tried to almost glance down to what you both were talking around and then over to nothing as you became much more flustered. “In..any way like this. I just want to do something for you...make you feel better...”

That free hand against your cheek moved much firmer now to let his thumb run over the soft skin as he leaned more down towards you with a hushed tone. “You don’t have to, you don’t ever have to do things like this for me, for any man.”

As if a wave of bravery rushed between the overwhelming shy nerves, your hands very slowly moved as your voice spoke. “I’m not doing it for any man...I’m doing it for you..”

Without any other words, the air between you was thick. Your small hands reaching out, easy as Jon stood in his minimal softer layers, you reached for the laces of his breeches right away. Never looking away as if needing to focus, Jon watched between your hands at work and your nervous eyes. One lace, then other he felt the fabric against him loosen, and so did his cock get even harder now with the freedom to do so.

Letting the hand on your cheek drop to hold at your waist, Jon knew the look in your eyes was something loud and anxious as you undid it enough to begin somewhat. Your hands shaking he muttered your name, but you shook your head. The only sounds the wind against his window and the flickering of flames somewhere behind you both, not even your breaths could yet be heard.

Ever so slowly, did you open the fabric and pull his breeches down enough to be able to freely reach your hand in. There was no going back for you once you did so, you and Jon would tread into something two friends never should engage in, let alone a bastard letting a beautiful highborn girl do, but he didn’t stop you. In fact, he knew you felt his cock twitch somewhat the moment your small hand tried to wrap around him.

Not much of your expression changed, save for a heavy swallow at what you found only through touch so far. You couldn’t even wrap your hand around his length, there was a thickness, a girth that you didn’t realize Jon had. The hand on your waist grew firm, and his eyes dark but he never looked away from you. Slowly you had to shyly use both hands to carefully pull his cock out and he could see that time your face shift even more as you realized too his length.

He knew you weren’t familiar with this part of a mans body, but you were a smart well leaned girl. You knew enough of the male form to know Jons size was larger then what would call average, in both manners and you hadn’t expected it at all. Your hands burned against his cock, both gently holding along his length more by the base but not moving yet.

Muttering your name, you slowly shook your head biting down against your lip for a split second. “I-uhm..”

Leaning down more towards you, Jons rasp was as soothing as could be, as if you weren’t standing in his chambers gently holding his hard length in your hands. “Darling, listen to me. We can stop right now if you don’t want to do this.”

Biting harder against your lip you shook your head. Barley a mutter, you tried looking up to meet his eyes but looked away from what was clearly too overwhelming. Looking into your best friends eye as you were about to get him off might be too much for your innocent self to handle. “No, I just...I’ve never done this before...”

Was a smile the right response? Jon wasn’t sure but it’s what he did anyways. A handsome look that had him try to lean down to meet your eyes more. It wasn’t a question, more of a general statement he knew the answer too already. “You’ve never seen a man like this before.” But you still answered with a shake of your head, slowly trying to move your hand a little more against his length, Jon let the hand on your waist come back up to your cheek. Not making you look up at him, but keeping a tender hold. “You’re starting well, get used to it first. You don’t have to be scared, not of me.” You nodded, a heavy weight in his heart that you knew that but all of this was so new to you.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, Jon then slunk that same hand to grab at your left one. Moving you with him, did Jon wrap your hand as much as he could get you around his cock, his larger hand hiding yours only to pull back and reveal how small they looked against his size. About to say something else with a gentle prompt, Jon cut himself off with a held back groan turned deep exhale as you suddenly moved.

Gently stoking along his length, you were slow with a light touch. Afraid to hold him too tight or move too fast as if Jon himself wasn’t rough and unkind when he was alone. You wouldn’t know that, but until right now, too you didn’t know that Jon would’ve ever wanted you anywhere near his cock. Today was a day of many new things though.

Jon let you explore at first. Getting used to the feeling of his cock heavy in your hand, running along his length trying to find a grip that was comfortable or natural, before slowly running back to the base. Barley brushing your hand up against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, you hesitated. Too you clearly hadn’t realized that was there, and Jon knew for a fact you were aware he caught how you tried to look. Instead, your small hand ran along his length down to his lip before back again.

Slow and steady pumps, but so gentle beyond what any man would take with himself. His voice near startled you, even in the notable silence between you both. “Like this.” Reaching his left to awkwardly try and move your hand more, he guided you to lift your thumb from its place. “Run it over a bit.”

Hovering over the top of his cock you hesitated, suddenly looking up to his eyes with such a trusting ask for guidance. “You mean-”

Cutting you off he nodded, pressing down against your thumb to prompt you to move, you let it run over the tip of his cock, the feeling of what of his seed had already leaked out being ran along his hip as Jon shuddered at the feeling. Before you could even get the words out, deep his voice was as Jon reassured you. “You’re going so good..”

His hand dropped to your waist again, grip much more tight and possessive. As if wanting to get you to hold him the same, and his voice rasped out as such. “Hold me tighter.” Your brows furrowed, but Jon continued. “Tighter darling. Tighter then that.” Your eyes kept looking at his, Jon keeping the gaze deep into his as he rasped. “Be rough with me, it’s alright.”

Nodding, you did tighten your grip and Jons muscles tensed everywhere at the feeling of pleasure rushing through him. Slowly did you begin to move your hand up and down Jons thick cock, and your gazes only flickering between each other and the sight between you. Trying to almost reassure yourself, so new to any of this you asked, “Is this better?”

It slipped out without any form of a filter. A growl more letting the words come up with from deep in his chest. “Fuck, you feel so good...” You flustered much more, but didn’t waver. More and more you stroked his cock, the feeling so much better then any before. Doing it to himself was nothing compared to how your hand felt against him. Holding your waist tighter Jon stepped closer to you. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Shaking your head again, Jon read the no as in no you never have, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. His forehead resting against yours, his breathing begun to pick up as his hand on your waist tightened further. “You’re perfect...”

Perfect at this act? In general? Jon meant both and couldn’t bring himself to care about what you might get from that. Firmer you held him as if the more pleasure he got, the more confident you got. Strokes more consistent, and you held him nice and tight just the way he needed. Moving back to run your thumb along his tip before letting the seed there run over your palm to ease the rawness you stroked him with.

As if knowing what to do by instinct, the more worked up you made him feel the faster you ran up and down his cock. The more black his eyes got along with yours as a wonder came to your features. Running up to your cheek he cupped the back of your neck more firmly. “Fuck..ease up..” Your eyes peering up at him in question, his tried to look soft but were overblown by a pure lust as he explained himself with a husk in his breathless voice. “If you keep squeezing my cock like that...”

But you experimented more, tighter and running along his length faster and faster Jon groaned and growled in the same breath. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum..”

The sheer wave of heat blooming through your body at his unrestrained words, you tried to go faster for him. His eyes open now as he demanded your name to look up at him, his jaw clenched and clearly so close to the edge that you didn’t even think to stop or slow down. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t, but Jon found a screaming, howling, clawing sensation dark in his chest to kiss you, but that wasn’t the agreement.

You didn’t agree to a kiss no matter how much Jon wanted to finish with his lips against yours. But keeping your eyes trained only on his as you stroked his cock, Jons cock throbbed in your hand. He should’ve told you you could move your hand away for this, but he didn’t. Some part of him staring deep into your eyes as your hand was wrapped around his cock made Jon unable to look away as he felt his end wash over him.

You never stopped too, a growling groan left his lips, a rasp unashamed of your name erupting from him as he dropped his head to rest against yours. Faster and faster you stroked him, trying to milk every single thick, hot rope of cum from him as his seed soaked your hand. And you simply let him, only watching with parted lips as he came over your hand.

Slowly starting to ease up on the pace, his cock not quite as hard as before did Jon nudge his nose against yours. Never making a further move, but running his along the length almost sweetly as the final waves of his orgasm left him. Your hand now somewhat covered in his seed. Until every last bit of his seed covered your hand, you didn’t stop moving. But not yet letting go.

As if the moment you moved, whatever this was would end and you had no idea what to do when it did, Jon didn’t either but he wasn’t ready for that yet. But Jon knew you, and knew you well. He could predict you like one of those books you would read and reread time and time again until you could recite it with your pretty eyes closed.

You would gently tuck his cock back and do his breeches back up before trying to leave and give him space. But the moment you shifted to do so, Jon did something. Something he knew was a tad obscene, if not immensely obscene and perverted, but he did it anyways. Grabbing your hand with his free one, he didn’t quite have as much movement as he’d want if his sword hand was in use, but it was enough.

Drifting it downward, Jon let his eyes drop to bring your hand and his together down, prompting you to grasp the skirt of your dress and pull it up as he did. One hand instinctively of yours reached down to hold it, but you didn’t expect what he did next.

The hand of yours now soaked, and covered in his own seed, did Jon drag downward beneath the fabric of your dress. Placing your hand down, Jon shifted around until he could press two of your fingers up against your clit. A gasp came from you as you almost jumped in his touch, but Jon gently ran his nose against yours once more to soothe you. Running along in small patterns Jon worked you up, but he knew too another thing about you. That you hadn’t ever done anything like this before yourself. You were too much of a good girl to explore your own body.

But Jon didn’t want you to leave yet. Make you feel as if he used you for your touch and kick you out to pretend everything was normal. He refused to let you feel like you were just a pleasure toy for him, when you were so much more. Even if he was far too afraid to use his words.

A gentle rasp on his lips, he was so close you felt his warm breath dance across your skin. “Stay right like that.” You nodded, your heart no doubt pounding out of your chest. But Jon pulled his hand away, and knelt down. A whine escaped you before you could stop it the moment Jons uninjured hand reached for the edge of your underwear. Looking up, you met his eyes much more nervous to his wife and asking ones.

Slowly, he begun to pull the fabric down. It strained against your other leg somewhat, but gently Jon tugged it down and town until he grabbed at your calf to raise it. “Come on, darling.” Freeing it from one leg then the other, you stood bare in his chamber. Not looking sown, Jon let is thumb run along the material only to exhale roughly at finding it. One specific spot on the fabric was wet, his thumb pressing more into the spot almost running along it the manner he’d graze it against your cheek.

Standing back up, Jon slid the fabric out of your view. Behind him he tucked it away where you couldn’t see. A pocket in his breeches he tucked them away with no shame or want to give them back. Slowly standing back up, Jon didn’t let your nervous gaze linger. Letting your touch stay against your clit, he ran over best he could to see your eyes flutter with a gentle gasp before Jon continued his own path.

Running along where he knew the wetness had come from, he exhaled sharply at feeling you already begun to soak his fingers. Your breathing picked up substantially as your hand held tight at your skirt to keep the material up. Leaning forward, Jon nudged his nose affectionately against yours, his thumb trailing along the back of your hand against your clit to press firmer, and just as you let out a small sound of need, did Jon sink a finger deep inside of you.

The sound wanting to leave you was loud, Jon leaning forward to shush you over and over. You clenched so tightly around just that, slowly dragging it along a sensitive wall you shook against him. Almost all the way out before Jon sunk it deep back inside you again. Feeling you almost soak him more and more as each time you let him push deep right to the knuckle. Rasping in your ear almost mockingly but with something so caring deep inside it’s tone, “You’ve never done anything like this before have you?” Shaking your head no, he continued. “Not even to yourself?” Again, you shook your head no. “You’re way too much of a good girl for that, I know. But it’s alright, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m the one doing all the work.”

Nodding against him you couldn’t stop clenching around him as your legs shook before he pulled almost all the way out, but then, a second finger joined. The gasp muffled as you his in his neck and dark, loose curls. Both of you could hear how soaking wet you were, each time he sunk deep inside of you. Faster and faster he went, dragging along you and occasionally pressing his thumb up to get you to run your own fingertips against your clit, only able to do so for so long before getting too overwhelmed by Jons own touch.

Your eyes glanced down and noticed though, his cock out and still half hard twitched as he sunk his fingers in and out of your soaking cunt. His own eyes closing with a deep groan as he felt your hand wrap around his thick cock once again, trying to speak but your sweet voice did so first. “Please, Jon..”

He couldn’t say no, not when you had begun running along him again. Having abandoned your clit, Jons left hand didn’t have enough mastery to do both the way his right would but you were enough with his fingers thick deep inside of you sinking in and out. More confident you stroked his cock that time, both of you suddenly meeting the others eyes.

Neither of you said a word, but nor did either of you look away. Dark and lustful Jons blazed down to your needing yet innocent ones that only made him throb in your hand more. Your lips parting as small needing sounds begun to leave, tiny over and over again noises only for Jons ears as you kept his gaze. His barley even changed, dark and almost angry as he felt you draw him another orgasm closer and closer as you begun to clench so tightly around him that he picked up the pace best he could.

Shaking in his touch, Jon felt you break. Suddenly a flow of your wetness came over his fingers and part of his hand as you still kept his gaze. Trying to keep such whines and begs only to his ears as Jon growled. His end following yours once more soaking your hand as you did his own.

Both of you with heaving breaths still looking to one another, Jon finally pulled from your tight soaking cunt. His eyes looked to how lewd it looked the way you covered his fingers and seven hells did Jon have the strongest urge to have a taste, but your eyes were nervous suddenly. Coming down from the feeling, he knew pushing you too much wasn’t the right choice. Instead only halfway turned to grab something soft against his desk you caught his hand partway back.

Making it easy to clean his hand as you did the work for him, before taking it from him. Shy as you did the same to yourself before sitting it off to the side. Not yet moving. Tilting your chin up so Jon could meet your eyes, his hand ran across your bottom lip then over to your cheek. Asking the same qestion you did, the moment you had walked in here unknowing of the debauchery about to take place. “Are you alright?”

Nodding meekly, Jon ran his thumb over your cheek some more before tilting your head down. Firmly pressing his lips to your forehead, Jon felt you begin to part from him the moment he pulled back. Only watching you gently as you made your way to his door. Calling out to you, once again wanting to ensure you weren’t upset, but you turned with a bit of a bright gaze with something hopeful behind them. “Do..” Looking away, you bit your lip before finding the right words. “Do you want me to..help you again tomorrow night? Just until you’re better?”

Jon smiled earnestly, something he was hoping you could tell from there was love as he looked at you. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

You just shyly nodded, before a small, “Goodnight, Jon.” Left your lips. Jon returned the words with something much more openly soft towards you before his door closed behind you, leaving him in the silence of his fireplace.

Looking back down to his broken hand, Jon wasn’t in the open space of his room anymore. But leaning against the wall in a corner to keep himself more upright. His uninjured hand on his cock, with more energy spent trying to alleviate that burning need in his system then normal. His left was nowhere near as satisfying as he could do with his right, and to even finish at all, Jon had to wind up getting himself off to a fantasy about you.

About his beautiful, sweet, and innocent best friend coming into his chambers and stroking his cock just to help him feel better, because he couldn’t even do it himself with any satisfaction now. Maybe though, this fantasy didn’t have a lack of merit. You’d come to visit him tomorrow night again too, just in the same world of his wanting imagination then in reality.

Jon had the feeling it was going to be a long few weeks of recovery ahead of him.