#anvil station

[ur-haruspis]

HALO: ANVIL ACCORD

March 3, 2560. The human and Sangheili crew of Anvil Station mark the seventh anniversary of the Covenant War’s end as they weigh past burdens with hope for the future.

HALO WAYPOINT | PDF DOWNLOAD | AUDIOBOOK

[queen0funova]

Hey! If you play Pokémon Black and White 2, you should go to Anville Town today (June 12th) amd talk to the guy with the hard hat looking over the turntable.

This is because there is a special train there today that will not be on the table again until October 1st! That's four months from now!

If you talk to the guy about the train, it will help you towards ine of the Medal Rally medals earned by seeing all the trains on the turntable.

Going to Anville Town ten consecutive days in a row will get you the other 10 trains, but this one only appears on February 1st, June 12th, October 1st, October 14th, and December 30th

[subwaytostardew]

Ingo and Emmet are technically celebrities back in Unova, or at least Nimbasa, it would make sense if a paparazzi or journalist or someone from the news came from Nimbasa to see and report back to the city what the twins are doing. They're nosy and you know what sells? Whether or not the celebrity is dating, it could be the husband protecting the farmer from bad publicity or them being super proud of their spouse! It's not a date per say but it'd be an interesting event give or take.

Kade and I were talking about this, but anything to do with paparazzi and publicity will probably have more to do with Elesa. We don't want to stray too far from canon, so most celebrity antics will be more to do with being associated with her.

They're technically celebrities... but not quite! They don't exactly have much star-power of their own in canon. When you disembark on the Battle Subway and talk to the other random NPCs, pretty much everyone hates them; they all say stuff about how Ingo and Emmet are suspicious or weird (I remember that vividly because it honestly made me feel a little sick and I had to put down the game for a couple of days ;;;>.>). Few can appreciate their autism. 😔

The competitive battling scene isn't particularly big in Unova (outside of Blueberry Academy but... that's pretty contained). Dedicated battlebrains like Hilda and Hilbert don't make up a significant amount of their passengers. Most passengers are just average people on their commute to work. Most people challenge the Battle Subway for the sake of it (a bit of a tourist attraction like the carnival area nearby), lose really badly, get discouraged, and never come back unless if they need to use the subway to get somewhere.

In the railfan scene, they usually aren't even special guests at train conventions! They're regular attendees who had time to befriend Cilan at their leisure. He's probably the only person who does their stamp rally!

Being a Battle Facility Head doesn't necessarily constitute celebrity status. Lenora has a perfectly normal husband and marriage with no drama whatsoever! All the Unovan Gym Leaders have other jobs and lives of their own; similarily, submas are just conductors first and foremost. It wouldn't be so absurd for a middle aged train conductor to settle down with some farmer.

They're just some guys. They're even worse in Stardew as regular old train conductors; there's no battling scene to draw in challengers and the scenery itself doesn't even have much worth visiting! It's a sad truth, but most people wouldn't notice if they went missing *cough* they will. The "main plot" for them is how their relocation cough bringing that to the spotlight had a bit of a toll on them mentally.

On a sillier note, I do like the thought that most people were interested in them (superficially). Ingo did end up winning first place in a Unova sexyman poll for being tall, dark, and handsome. Emmet's still bitter about being voted third place despite being his identical twin. The Battle Subway got busy when people were under the impression that Ingo was a edgy, brooding, gentleman but that perception was quickly turned around the second he opened his mouth. The hype died down for them after a year so now they're back to being just some guys.

Anyways... Probably the closest thing we have to a "paparazzi" event on our itinerary so far is just Cilan being submas' number one fan (one and only fan?) as usual.

▷ Station Steward Thylak

[quixot1sm]

Hear me out: N and Hilbert going back to the ferris wheel with their kid

this is very very sweet (and i most certainly will be doodling something about this at some point) but i think, when their kid's grown enough to ask why they're so sentimental about the old thing, the following conversation would be pretty funny to overhear. well this is where your father rejected me<3

[gear-station-clerk]

It's so funny when a young Bug type does an intimidation display at something they're seeing for the very first time. Yeah, little Venipede, show that paper bag blowing on the ground who's boss.

[beware-of-you-98]

Now cbd on the other hand….

[lokisgoodgirl]

Like a Queen [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Just a dirty, praise-filled railing. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Loki x Female Reader. Mirrors. Language. Established relationship. Smut. (w/c 1.2k)

"Urgh, gods..." Loki slurs as his head falls back.

A year. It's been a year. But every time you see that face lost in the pleasure only you can give it's like the first time. In the mirror at the foot of the bed, the hard angles of Loki's jawline set like an anvil. He tips his chin to the ceiling and sinks so deep, so slow, it's like he never wants it to end.

Your best lingerie clings to damp skin, the modest slit in your crotchless panties tugging against Loki's thick cock. Slow, liquid thrusts slip against your walls and slurp when he circles his hips; hands guiding your ass against him. He teases himself at the entrance while you moan his name before easing back in with a groan.

"What did I do..." he breathes as his sex-drunk face falls forward and he meets your eyes in the mirror. "What did I do to deserve this sweet, perfect cunt?"

You clench your fingers against the bedsheets, swaying on all-fours. Loki slips his cock from your pussy and slides it against your throbbing clit, still swollen and humming from the worship of his mouth.

He watches with dark fascination as you start to squirm at the halt of his movements, knuckles whitening. “Well?” he asks again with playful menace.

"I'm just made for you I guess," you sigh as his large palm skates down the ridges of your spine, settling at the base. There’s no getting any sense out of you at times like this; he should know that by now. And he does.

"You are,” he growls approvingly, rubbing the curve of your ass. “Made to take me like a Queen. Made to take my cock like a Queen; made to fuck me like a Queen.” Queen.

The word sends a thrill down your spine that blossoms new fire in your pussy and you clench tighter around the tip of his cock. Loki pushes back in just when you’re tightest. “Norns,” he gasps, half-lidded eyes smouldering down from his station.

There’s something about when he fucks you from behind that’s utterly primal. Like he’s mating you. Like you’re a bitch in heat and he’s powerless to resist the scent he craves; the urge beating through him like the drums of war.

He’s not a god in moments like this. He’s just a man that wants to shake you up and fuck you out and love you harder with every filthy, curse-laden groan from his throat. “Talk to me,” you plead as you sit back against him, inhaling the fresh sweat clinging to his hair, his cock never leaving the grip of your cunt. Where he belongs. Your fingers skate up his cheek. His heartbeat thumps between your shoulder-blades, the flat planes of his chest and stomach pressed tight to your back. Your thighs spread as he readjusts on the mattress, guiding you down to the root of him with a rumble of pleasure. Loki moves hair from one side of your neck, placing a messy kiss on the curve and pulling the flimsy strap of your lingerie between his teeth. It stings your heated skin with a tight thwack.

“You love when I talk,” he goads low and filthy in your ear. “You love when I talk, and you love when I fuck.” “Only me,” you whine. Loki chuckles darkly. “Only you, my Queen.” His thrusts make your body rise and you lose yourself in the fullness of your walls fluttering to the rhythmic lilt of his hips. Loki’s hands massage your breasts, palming upwards, pinching your pebbled nipples as he does it. “No one,” he groans as you reach between your legs and graze his balls, “no one has ever carnally eviscerated me like you can.” They tighten beneath your gentle touch, drawing lazily against the velvet skin.

“When I fuck you… all realms cease to be,' he chokes, 'Only b-burning worlds and…f-fuck, erupting galaxies when I…”

He jolts against your ass, a hiss searing between his teeth. “When I see you trussed up for me like a gift,” he pants, tugging at the flimsy lace cupping your breasts, “when I feel your pussy grip me like wax on a finger.” A wet groan erupts from your mouth into his and Loki’s fingers move to your clit, rubbing slow, wet circles just the way you like it. His kiss is hungry and dark and dangerously loving. He still tastes like your cum. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he mutters as climax tightens in your belly, tensing your thighs, “is your face when you come undone for me.” You whimper, the hand wrapped around his neck clutching at long waves of his sex-damp hair. “Yes, my beautiful queen,” he praises, unable to keep the tremble of impending orgasm from his voice as his thrusts become heavy. “Take me, use me; use my cock like no other in the nine realms can. Give me what I need.” “Not yet,” you beg and he smiles against your cheek. The mirror shows what the two of you are: sweaty and unbearably perfect together. He’s huge behind you; a colossus of muscle and lean lines and luminous skin. His dark hair hangs against your shoulders, his exquisite profile nuzzling into your neck. The god of mischief works one expert hand between your legs, the other grasping against your chest like you might vanish as his powerful thighs pump slowly beneath you. Obsessed. He’s obsessed. Another threat of orgasm rises in your centre. Loki groans loudly and his shoulders tense as you clench, feeling the thick vein running down his length throb. “I think you may take me a little too well,” he chokes as your grip on his hair tightens.

A series of feral grunts burst from Loki’s throat at the smallest increase of speed against his cock. He's ready to burst. Wetness coats the inside of your thighs, his knuckles, his mouth, your fingers. You cover the hand working against your clit, feeling his fingers while they lightly strum you over the edge. He knows your body like it's his own. “Loki,” you moan like a whore, head falling back to his shoulder.   “I’m yours,” he whispers, breath catching. The hand cupping your chest flies to your stomach and he pulls you closer with a stuttering gasp. The flat of his abdomen curls to your back: sweat sticking, curses thundering, stars bursting in front of your eyes. He erupts with a long, guttural groan that shakes the bed. The swell of his cum is immediate; squeezing against the tight throb of his mighty cock and the final, fluttering spasms of your cunt. You see it glistening in the mirror, dripping down the thick root still buried inside you and pearling at the curve of his balls. Loki’s mouth fastens to your cheek like he’s trying to eat you - and maybe he is. His pants are hot against the skin as he slides down your face, top lip dragging before his forehead comes to rest. “What did I do to deserve…?” he pants quietly as he feathers weak kisses along the angle of your jaw. You silence the impending question with a kiss, pulling him closer. “I’m your Queen,” you say with utterly feigned humility. Loki bites his lip, glancing to the mirror. His eyes drop to the sight of him still sheathed deep in your pussy, a thick spindle of cum dangling to the mattress. “You are,” he whispers lovingly in your ear, eyes nailed to yours in the reflection. "Always."

♥️x

[episims]

A collab with @tvickiesims 🤗 the season of candles is upon us, so we bring you a conversion of TS4 Candle Crafting Station – as a functional crafting station!

With this station, your sims can craft candles that give light but work differently than regular lamps, as they gradually consume as they burn and become disposable after burning out.

🛍️ Make candles: Builds creativity and arts & crafts enthusiasm. New candles are available at creativity skill levels 2, 4, and 6. Crafted candles are sellable on OFB businesses, when crafted on business lots they go to the business owner's inventory.

You can direct your sim to craft a single candle or to make many at once. At the start of crafting, you get to choose the recolor and rename the selected candle. If the sim stops crafting before finishing the candle the material cost is returned.

🕯️ Light up candles: Your sims get to enjoy candlelight, but only while the candle can burn! More expensive candles burn longer than cheaper ones. The candlelight turns slightly dimmer over time, especially just before the candle goes out completely.

If you want the candle to last longer, you can direct your sim to put it out at any point while it still burns and light it up again later 😎

The Sacred Candle that becomes available to craft at creativity level 6 isn't a part of TS4 candle crafting station, but Vickie converted it from Paranormal and we gave it a special ability; every now and then it'll boost the comfort of nearby sims. The more you have Sacred Candles burning nearby, the bigger the boost.

Download (SFS) (alternate)

Free Time and Open For Business are required. We also included a few related deco items that Vickie converted, previews and info about them are included in the archive 📦

The crafting station is located under hobbies/misc for §550. Its polycount is 2052 and the main texture is 1024x1024. The station has a Russian translation.

⚠️ All the candle files are required for the crafting station to work. The shadow file by @lordcrumps is required by all objects and is included (but as usual, you only need one).

The candles are only available through crafting so they don't appear in the catalog. Their polycounts are around 100–500, the plain ones have 128x128 textures and the patterned ones 256x256.

Credit to @deedee-sims for the woodwork bench and @nixedsims for the anvil code which were used as a starting point to make this custom station, even though most of the code got rewritten so it's not a direct clone anymore.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞

KINKTOBER WEEK TWO.

⤿ pairing(s): halbrand!sauron x fem!human!reader.

⤿ word count: 4.6K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), porn without plot, mild manipulation (it’s sauron), risk of getting caught, possessiveness, sex in a public location, fingering (fem!rec), heavy kissing, hair-pulling, scratching, begging, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, sex on a table.

⤿ note: first time writing for sauron, please be gentle! mr. tolkien, so sorry for all of the despicable things I’m gonna be writing about your characters. ❤️ thank you all for reading! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

A salt-tinged breeze stirred through the forges, a welcome gust of relief amidst the heat that sought to blaze his flesh asunder.

In the silence of dusk, Halbrand found his solace with hammer and anvil, over that of indulgence of drink at some tavern.

Númenor proved to be the respite he desperately needed, running from a shadowed past. He worked tirelessly, through lengthy days and well into the night, his mind a tumultuous tempest.

The King of the Southlands — the ruler of nothing.

It was a mantle that wholly disinterested him, and despite his numerous protests to Galadriel regarding his supposed heritage, the she-elf refused to let it stay dead and buried. He was better off here, crafting works of art — blades, armor, jewelry.

There was nothing for him now, only threads of a plan that seemed to fall by the wayside. It was easy to disappear here, to fade away into the backdrop of the oceanside kingdom, allow himself to place all his efforts on smithing.

The roaring embers of the forge sizzled as he placed the partially-finished blade inside, molding metal to his skilled hand. There was no greater joy than that of creation — making something out of nothing, a tool to be used.

Halbrand’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the roll of parchment sitting along one of the many craftsmen’s tables.

You were an envoy of Númenor, the brood of a lesser House of Men, in-service to the Guild. It was you that had uncovered records of the Southlander line and brought it to Galadriel’s attention — a clever creature, you were.

In what handful of interactions he’d had with you, you were studious and well-mannered, far too intelligent for your station. You toiled in-service to lesser beings, when your potential extended far beyond their reach.

The scroll contained the very bloodline you had presumed he hailed from, as if you were dangling the proof for all to see. He cared little for it, preoccupied with the task at-hand.

If it were his choice, he preferred to stay in Númenor, learn their customs and assimilate into their culture. Galadriel’s stubbornness had the potential to win out if he weren’t careful, and Halbrand was not the subservient sort.

In the star-riddled dusk, Halbrand decided to break in his crafting, stepping toward a basin of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the perspiration dotting his brow.

It was better at twilight, offering a solace that one might not fully understand. He rarely slept, and when he did, he was often plagued by dreams of constant rage. Halbrand let the forge simmer down, opting to work on the still-hot sword.

A gentle tap of knuckles against the door did not alert him as much as you thought it would. He stood with his back to you, brows furrowed together in concentration. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questioned.

Greeted by the stifling, ember-fueled heat of the forge, you stood in the doorway, having abandoned your Guild regalia. “Good eve,” You mustered a smile, hands twisting together. “You are a stranger to rest, it seems.”

“As are you,” Halbrand’s steely gaze flickered from the blade to you, letting the hammer swing down upon forming steel. “Is it safe for you to be wandering about at nightfall?”

His sharp inquiry brought you pause, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your dress. Númenor was perfectly safe — safer than most kingdoms of Men. “Should it not be safe?” Countering his remark, you observed the rack of newly-crafted swords.

Halbrand did not offer an answer right away, turning the blade over, striking it again with his hammer as sparks flew. “There is no such thing as true safety, my Lady. There will always be something stirring in the shadows.”

You nearly laughed at his fearmongering — he sounded akin to an old maiden, weaving her intricate tales of fright to dissuade children from wrongdoing. “That is a rather dour sentiment. Are you often paranoid?” Your tone tapered off into one of mild amusement.

A sardonic scoff escaped him, lips quirking up only slightly, yet he did not seem offended by your retort. “Merely concerned with preservation — my own, first and foremost.” He replied.

He knew why you were here, even if it was an unspoken thing that you continued to dance around. You had come as a messenger on behalf of Galadriel, to make a valiant attempt of convincing him to return to Middle-Earth.

“The Guild is impressed by your craft,” Shifting the topic, you brushed your fingers over the horse-shaped pommel, the color of ivory. “Not that I should be divulging that information.” You mused.

Perplexed, Halbrand wordlessly observed you, cerulean hues studying the creases of your dress, a shade of mauve that only seemed to enhance your beauty. There was something forlorn simmering within him, feelings not often brought to the surface.

“Is that so? It seems that they’ve finally come to their senses,” He jested, earning a pointed look from you. “It took a beating to do so.” Halbrand placed the unfinished blade beside the dying embers of the forge.

There was still mild bruising around his nose and mouth, heated transgressions that earned him the ire of Númenor. He seemed unperturbed, seizing a rag from the edge of an anvil.

“That could’ve been avoided,” You murmured, tracing a digit around the ivory head of a horse before stepping away. “You are fortunate that they did not toss you into the seas for your rancor.”

“That would be rather unfortunate, being tossed back into the ocean when I had worked tirelessly to claw my way out of it.” He quipped, moving about the forge as he hung up his tools.

A soft sigh escaped you as you shook your head, peering outside towards the night skies. “If you wish to stay in Númenor, you must cease drawing attention to yourself.”

Halbrand chuckled, the sound devoid of any mirth. It was a steely sound, more sardonic than genuine. He wiped away at the soot and grime of the forge, leaning back against the sturdy table.

“Is this amusing to you, being tossed into a cell and brawling with the locals?” The sharp bite of your inquiry could’ve been mistaken for the edge of a knife. “You are above that.”

“And if I am not?” He was equally as sharp, that of a longsword, tarnished and worn yet still able to cut with ease. Halbrand’s countenance seemed unmistakably soured by your comment.

Taken aback, you turned to face him fully, canting your head to one side. It was not mock frustration that you found in his features — it was true. “What do you mean?”

“You continue to place me upon some pedestal,” Halbrand scoffed, peering elsewhere, gazing at the hot coals of the forge. “What if I am not what you think me to be? What if I am simply a Man with not a drop of nobility to his name?”

With a furrowed brow, you folded your hands together, studying his visage. He seemed frustrated yet forlorn, as if he were remembering something — lamenting, perhaps. “Then you are a Man.”

In the time that you had gotten to know Halbrand, standing alongside Captain Elendil on the ship back to Númenor, he was something of an enigma. Charming and charismatic with a great love of disobedience, but he possessed a veiled depth.

Galadriel seemed far more preoccupied with returning to Middle-Earth and hunting Sauron, making Halbrand a ruler over considering his feelings. If he wanted to stay in Númenor, craft a new existence — you did not blame him.

“And if I am not the man that you believe I am?” Halbrand pressed, as if seeking a certain answer from you. Some sliver of his being wanted someone to tell him that they cared little about his past, what he used to be.

“Whatever you are insinuating, I care little for it. Your past does not make you — only what you do from this moment forward,” You replied, mustering a gentle smile. “You are Halbrand — that is enough for me.”

If the She-elf had it her way, she would drag him back to Middle-Earth, writhing and screaming. In his own web of schemes, it was what was necessary — but time was infinite.

There was a peculiar gleam within your eyes, one that possessed a warmth and understanding that he was vastly unaccustomed to. “Hm,” He sighed, turning the cloth over within his hand. “Thank you.”

A brief laugh tore past your lips, one that seemed to bring the tension to a momentary heel. “What, for dissuading you against further scorn by the local populace?” You mused.

Halbrand happened to chuckle at that, a warm sound that made residence within your stomach, butterflies following suit. “For understanding, for your kindness,” He replied, his tone softening. “Not many possess your tenderness.”

Growing silent, you nodded, attempting to mask the brief glimmer of surprise that fluttered across your features. You were often regarded as level-headed and sage, yet soft when it mattered most.

“I do not wish to see you thrown in a cell again, or exiled from the Guild when you clearly possess a wealth of talent,” Your motives transcended that — part of you liked Halbrand. “I would do the same for anyone in your position.”

“Would you?” Halbrand’s inquiry, whilst outwardly inquisitive, seemed tinged with something unfamiliar — something amorous. Your nerves became set ablaze, skin uncomfortably warm.

As you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, Halbrand straightened, copper-hued locks framing his rugged face. He was handsome — statuesque, clearly carved with the frame of a warrior and a smith.

“Yes,” Hoarse and pitched with the sudden swell of nervousness, you idly toyed with the sleeves of your dress. “If you are to stay in Númenor, I would hope that you only continue to thrive with your craft.”

This craft was of little interest — Halbrand knew what he wanted, starting with you. Malleable like the finest metal, as beautiful as a glittering opal socketed into that of a signet.

“Is that what you want, for me to stay in Númenor?” Seas help you — this was madness. Halbrand’s poignant question made you wonder what exactly was about to happen, gooseflesh icing your spine, prompting you to shiver.

“What I want matters little,” There was a noticeable lack of conviction within your tone, as if you were convincing yourself of that very fact. “You are free to choose your destiny.”

You were fighting against the urge, the untoward craving that began to settle within your bones. It wasn’t proper nor appropriate of you to even consider wanting Halbrand, a man whose fate seemed far more important than your own.

To ask him to stay in Númenor, abandon the Southlands — you did not have the heart. It was born of greed and desire, wanting to keep him close to your chest.

“It matters to me,” Halbrand murmured, brows creasing together as he glowered down upon you, close enough to touch. “What do you want?” The malignant force deep within him begged to bring you into his stead.

Whatever perceived darkness hungered within you, it also screamed within him, with a shadow far more powerful than your own. Greed was unbecoming of you — you were meant to serve the people of Númenor, never yourself.

Whereas Galadriel possessed a fierce heart and unending thirst for vengeance, you longed to be free — no longer under the thumb of lesser Men, to lead and to be revered.

To be loved, to be coveted.

“Do not leave,” A plea, beseeching him to stay in Númenor, to stoke whatever flame was stirring between the both of you. The intensity of his longing stare nearly made you collapse. “Stay here, in Númenor.”

A hitch formed within your throat as his calloused fingertips graced your arm, tracing over the sea of mauve gossamer that clung to your form. Halbrand took your silence as something contemplative, afraid to make your true feelings known.

Again, he pressed closer, looming above you, caging you in against the table. You could feel his heat, smell the coal and metal, taste the fantasy that swirled within your mind’s eye.

Roughened digits caressed across your throat, over your slender neck, your collarbone. His touch was like that of a fire, a burn so wonderful that you would beg for it if you had to.

“Halbrand,” Barely above a whisper, your tone seemed strained, as if fighting against all of your baser urges. A peculiar heat raked its way across your flesh before settling within the pit of your belly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Do you think that you are the only one who possesses desire?” His wanton confession made your knees buckle, lips parting just enough for a soft gasp to escape you. “When my eyes found you upon that ship, I wanted — more than I have for some time.”

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, dying then and there within your throat. There was a fire within Halbrand’s eyes, one that sought to burn you, too. You felt the small of your back dig into the table, warmth licking across your spine.

Each breath felt labored, a dizzying sensation taking hold of you, as if this were more dream than reality. Yet, Halbrand remained close to you, chest-to-chest, digits finding the swell of your hip through the sea of violet fabric.

Instead of vocalizing your festering worry, you rocked up upon your toes, pressing your lips against his own. It was disarmingly gentle, a sheepish kiss that did not waste a second in becoming heated and charged.

He reciprocated with a blinding intensity, arm hitching around your waist, calloused palm spreading out against your back. Halbrand lifted you closer, his kiss inherently greedy and covetous, as if you belonged only to him.

His mouth swirled with wildfire, tasting of smoke and a hint of Númenorian stout, stubble scratching against your soft skin. Your hands found their purchase against his chest, able to feel the taut muscle beneath.

Hardened was a good way to describe him — rugged like the uneven ridges of tanned leather, swathed in heat. He cupped your jaw with his hand, reveling in the sensation of your flesh, akin to a plane of silk.

The state of dishevelment he was in mattered little to you — the soot upon his tanned flesh, the specks of dirt, garb somewhat tattered. You could not recall the last time you had yearned for someone so terribly that it ripped your heart into two.

Each clash of your lips evoked a pang of excitement that struck at your stomach, exhilaration pumping through your veins. Halbrand was a vigorous kisser — passionate and swift, stealing the air from your very lungs.

His palm slowly caressed from the small of your back toward your derrière, strong digits melding themselves into your clothed flesh. A hitch formed within your throat, anticipation mounting as the tension began to cloud the room.

Your digits possessed a mind of their own, climbing towards the nape of his neck, threading themselves through his bronze tresses. Halbrand kissed you again — softer this time, yet not without his domineering edge.

Lips bled into one another with an outpouring of want, a long-repressed sentiment caged within both hearts. Halbrand wanted many things — yet, what he did not expect was to crawl after you like some starving beast.

Every sensible thought seemed mulled, draped in this haze that clouded your mind. As you slowly recoiled from the kiss, you keened into the rough embrace of his palm, his digits cupping your cheek.

As much as you longed to continue, the locale seemed impractical, if not somewhat reckless. If someone were to catch you, you would never hear the end of it. Even then, you did not want to let fear drive you this way.

“Must I profess my desire once more?” Halbrand murmured, warm breath fanning across your visage, tinged with smoke. There was something tantalizing and enigmatic about him, swirling with some edge of mystique.

“I wouldn’t protest,” You whispered, which earned you the beginnings of a smile. He swept your tresses aside, bearing your neck to him as he bent in to kiss the soft flesh there. “Halbrand.” A low whine escaped you.

Stubble prickled and bit at your neck, yet you reveled in it, clutching at his shoulder as he pressed heated kisses to your throat. He was not hesitant in the slightest, letting you writhe and moan, plead for him to continue.

It was then that he began to gather your dress with one hand, firmly gripping at the mauve fabric as he inched it upward. Exhilaration struck at you again, the buzz of excitement, a thrill that you hadn’t experienced before.

There was not an inkling of hesitation from you, with little sign of stopping his advances. As he guided the gossamer along your legs, one palm snaked forth, calloused digits embracing your thigh, as smooth as silk.

He held little recollection of the last time he had touched something so delicate, as if you were some splendid jewel to be cradled, coveted. Halbrand kissed his way toward the curve of your jaw, searching your visage for a reaction.

As he parted your legs with his frame alone, your breath hitched, an audible noise that he found to be delicious. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the jaws of a predator disguised as a friend.

Whatever smallclothes you wore beneath were of little consequence, giving way to that of his possessive embrace. Your hand flew back to grip the edge of the table, nails digging into splintered wood as he sought the heat between your legs.

Anticipation swelled within you, teetering on the edge of unraveling as you felt his digits ghost across your aching cunt. It was feather-light, intended to torment you — and torment it did.

“Halbrand,” A desperate gasp tore past your lips, needing him in a way that you hadn’t desired anyone else before. “Please, please touch me.” Your breathy pleas did not go unheard as he planted a kiss against your neck.

“Is that what you want?” A sultry purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, tone adopting a rather promiscuous resonance. He watched you nod several times over, fingers pushing past your petals as he touched your core.

A hand held onto his bicep for stability, the other haplessly fisting at the wood behind you. A moan emanated from you, desperate for anything he would give you.

Much to his delight, he found that you were shamelessly wet between your thighs, a nectar that refused to cease. “You are beautiful like this.” He murmured, fingers toying with your slit, eliciting another strangled moan from your lips.

Halbrand’s forehead brushed against yours, hawkish gaze absorbing the look of pleasure upon your face. He began to find a steady rhythm, worn digits sliding along the length of your cunt, letting you hold onto him as much as you pleased.

Any scrap of friction you received drove you mad, desperation climbing to new heights as your hips rocked forward into his hand. His stare became half-lidded, drinking you in with unabashed greed, longing to consume you.

Sighs of wanton passion drifted from you in droves, legs parted as he pressed his thumb to the pearl of your cunt. It was easy to evoke a reaction from you, the constant writhing, gasps and whines, the look of complete and utter bliss.

In sluggish circles, he caressed your clit, causing you to twitch again. “Halbrand,” A moan tore past your lips again, his name becoming a melody from your mouth, to be sung over and over again. “Do not stop, I beg you!”

“As you wish.” Halbrand’s voice raked hot embers over your body, reaching a salacious octave that turned your insides to molten liquid. He continued to touch your nethers, two digits sweeping toward your entrance.

An impenetrable heat swallowed your body whole, skin feeling damp with perspiration, somewhat in-part of the forge’s dissipating warmth. He continued to circle your clit, fingers lightly prodding at your cunt in an attempt to seek entry.

Rough lips fell to your neck again, gowns having slacked enough to give way to your shoulder and collarbone. You clawed at his bicep, rolling your hips again as you rocked yourself upon his digits, much to his delight.

With a brusque tug upon the collar of his tunic, your lips clamored for his, longing to feel his mouth. His kiss left you breathless, teeth scraping against your lower lip, bringing you to heel.

Heat pooled between your legs, coalescing upon Halbrand’s fingers as he teased your core, thumb working around the pearl of your cunt. A soft gasp tore through your throat, a moan escaping you into the passion of your kiss.

Again, your hips rolled into his hand, craving him in a way that resembled that of an animal; carnal, ravenous. A fire danced within his eyes, one that seemed to reflect the sentiments that festered within you.

“Give yourself to me.” Halbrand sighed, timbre trembling against the underside of your jaw before he looked upon you, unraveling from his touch. Need stirred within him, coupled with the swell of possessiveness.

He searched your countenance for any hint of hesitation, flicking his thumb across your clit once more. “Please.” You pleaded, waves of bliss rolling across your body, bringing with it a feverish heat that made you want him all the more.

Halbrand heeded your breathy plea, reaching for the leather ties of his trousers, wanting nothing more than you be inside of you. His cock twitched with amorous intent, muscles coiled, prepared to grab you.

His hand recoiled, leaving you with an aching emptiness that caused your cunt to clench pathetically around nothing. A hitch formed within your throat, words turning to ash as he lifted you onto the table.

Calloused, careworn palms kneaded into your haunches, grasping at your pliant flesh in fistfuls as he pressed his lips to your exposed shoulder. Rucking your gown up to your hips, Halbrand appraised you with a thinly-veiled lust.

There was no flesh as soft as yours, untouched — belonging to him. Anticipation churned within the pit of your stomach, lips agape as he unraveled the front of his breeches, freeing himself from its confines.

Flushed with a rush of ecstasy, Halbrand dragged you closer, hands traveling to cup your hips. He guided his length to your cunt, letting the tip of his cock linger there until he pushed forward.

“Halbrand!” You moaned, hand reaching to grasp at the nape of his neck, nails raking across his coppery tresses. The other seized his bicep, digging inward as he slowly rocked into you.

Nearly chest-to-chest, there was little room for discomfort, letting lust and urgency guide his hand. He huffed, steadying his ironclad hold upon your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to leave behind bruises.

His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.

There was something exhilarating about coupling with you, the warmth of being alive, savoring the guise of mortality. Halbrand could see the attachment brewing within your stare, the glint of affection intermingled with desire.

The still-burning coals of the forge provided enough illumination for him to see you bathed in fire — and you were breathtaking.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “Move,” You moaned. “Please.”

Inclined to obey, Halbrand let his yearning for you show, as plain as a summer’s day. He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the table.

The other squeezed incessantly at your hips, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, yet the fervor was steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.

His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of lust, a carnality that clawed at your very soul. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.

Halbrand grunted, the low noise rippling through his chest as he held your thigh, digits clamping down to keep you firmly in-place. His cock throbbed with an ache of urgency, hips snapping forward as he filled you completely.

A moan erupted from your lips yet again, nails forming crimson crescents against his bicep, occasionally lurching forward to meet his thrusts halfway. His pace became somewhat erratic as he coaxed you to lay back.

Your back hit the wooden surface of the table, the uncomfortable bite of it all softened by parts of your dress. Halbrand hunched in over you like a wolf towering above prey, palm flat beside your head.

The groan of sturdy wood beneath your entangled bodies resonated throughout the forge, the heat beginning to dissipate. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips.

It evoked another growl from his lips as the smith pounded away at you, keeping a firm and steady pace. Halbrand was rougher than some, but never enough to cause you discomfort or harm. He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you.

He kissed you again, feeling your desperation through joined lips alone, your hand grasping at his toned forearm. Arousal mounted within you, as thick as honey oozing between your thighs.

Passion bled into need, the two tangling together into some fervent amalgamation. It showed in his movements, continuing to thrust into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. You were made for him, with a heart that he found as malleable as metal.

The arch of your back signaled that your release was swiftly approaching, keening into his embrace instead as you moaned. You did little to temper your volume, mouth agape, head rolled back — you were the picture of grace, now tarnished.

His name escaped your tongue like a wayward prayer, over and over again until it was the only word you knew. As his cock hit you again, sending shockwaves throughout your body, you came undone.

Your leg squeezed at his hips, feeling his own resolve crumble at the sight of you, disheveled because of his doing. Halbrand let out a sonorous groan, body nearly blanketed over yours as his cock slapped into you again.

The warmth you provided was enough to make him stay sheathed within you, spilling himself inside of you without thinking. It only served to fuel his possessiveness, as dangerous as a growing wildfire.

Rocking himself inside of you once more, you let out a strangled whine. Through labored pants, you slowly regained composure, feeling his hot breath fan out across your visage.

Halbrand pulled himself out of you, leaving behind the visceral remnants of your lewd exploits, the sheen of it coating the inside of your thighs. He noticed your sheepish expression as you corrected your garments.

“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I would not follow.” He uttered, fingertips tucking strands of hair behind your ear. As you moved from the table, the smith reached for something within the pocket of his trousers.

“Halbrand,” You began, knowing that asking him to stay in Númenor was not fair — to either of you. Perhaps you could enjoy what comfort he brought, for the time being. “I shouldn’t ask it of you.”

“No matter what destiny entails, know that you belong to me.” There was something strangely dark within his tone, disguised as affection — you were oblivious to it. He placed something into your joined hands.

Touched by such a sentimental gesture, you flourished in the aftermath of your coupling, feeling his rough lips press against the curve of your jaw. You shivered, feeling the weight of a trinket within your palm.

Your lips sought his, the kiss lingering, enough for you to feel it burn within your very soul. There was nothing that could describe whatever it was you felt for him, felt with him.

“What is it?” You inquired, warmth raking along your spine, faces brushing against one another. Halbrand lingered pensively, a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth.

“Consider it a gift.”

[critterbitter]

SUBMAS MASTERPOST

Hello, my name is Crit (he/them.) Welcome to my SUBMAS art blog, @critterbitter! It is sfw, but please take care if you are a minor, as I’m Old. Thanks! To reach my main blog, please direct your attention to @proxycrit .

This is a masterpost of all the art and comics I’ve done for the funny train men so far. Feel free to browse and definitely feel free to comment!

(Here’s my kofi as well! If you wish to tip. If you want wips, here’s my patreon!)

All work can also be found under #myart.

Comics/Art List:

A SUBMAS spotify playlist-- Post Hisui Muppet Council

Emmet and eelektross— you and your dog get sent to feudal japan

Ingo and lady sneasler— you weigh like a bag of grapes

Emmet, meet volo

tynamo and emmet’s first meeting (they become friends instantly)

Litwick and ingo’s first meeting (they become enemies immediately)

Aftermath of training

The starters perform care on full grown men

Committing war crimes on both eel and man

Submas kids— the Snack that smiles back, litwick edition

Box shenanigans (caricatures of the children)

Emmet and litwick come to a deal

The difference in starter relationships boggles the mind

Good morning, litwick (good night, lady sneasler.)

Ingo fights his inner envy demons with the communication stick

Coat flapping

You are Beloved, Lampent. That’s all. 

A jackie at gear station

Tynamo evolution blues (this is funny)

The imposter syndrome sets in (it is no longer funny)

Library blues (elesa should be paid for carrying books)

Sassy night light

Happy eel dog

The joyful ordeal of evolution

Eelektrik boa (a gold standard!)

Lampent discovers discourse. This becomes everybody's problem.

Nimbasa trio walk and talk

Couch party (it's poll time!)

SUBMAS AU: Conventional Starters

Lampent is an umbrella, if you squint

Happy Holidays!

Eel-esa outfit (cause, you know, she dresses like an eel. Get it? Get it?)

Scheming

Master of manipulation.

They left Lampent in a Deino's Parking Lot

"These are our Exoskeletons, Elesa."

Chance meeting

Forbidden Lore Unlocked

Introducing Elesa, the New Kid from Sinnoh

Elesa and Blitzle

Outside the crowd

Volume Control

COLLAB: Forgiveness is Electric

Volume Control (Reprise)

Food Exchange

Electric starters

Homesick

Metaphorical and Literal Rat Children

Trouble starters

Snapshots: Route 3

Snapshots: Castelia City

Snapshots: Virbank Complex

Snapshots: Desert Resort

Snapshots: Route 8

Snapshots: Nimbasa City

Snapshots: Celestial Tower

Snapshots: Pinwheel Forest

Snapshots: Route 18

Snapshots: Anville Town

Snapshots: Undella Bay

Snapshots: Flocessy Ranch

Snapshots: Route 10

Snapshots: Driftveil City

Snapshots: Twist Mountain

Snapshots: Relic Passage

Snapshots: Route 6

Snapshots: Opelucid City

Snapshots: Chargestone Cave

Snapshots: Dream Yard

Snapshots: Route 1

Snapshots: Striaton City

Snapshots: Black City

WORLD BUILDING

Giratina and Arceus

[icys-junkyard]

Unova Battle Subway maps

My personal preferred map of the railways (one with blue markers, one with color coded markers)

An alternate map, taking the in-game subway map slightly more literally. (Bonus map with a few non-canon markers I added purely to help myself make sense of the seemingly pointless shapes of some of the routes)

Bonus extra map of the routes taken by Ingo, Emmet, or both of them, for those who want a more specific visual of those routes on their own. (Of course Emmet's line goes through the Pokémon World Tournament lmao)

Misc notes/thoughts under the cut

I'm not a train person, take all these musings with a grain of salt lol

Canon map note: I imagine this map only shows the large, intercity railways. Cities like Nimbasa, Castelia, etc likely have smaller, more complex subway lines all over the city like we tend to see IRL.

Canon map note 2: In an IRL setting, these rail lines are likely far less straight and angular than on these maps and could probably make a lot more sense if drawn with a freer hand and consideration for the landscape, but I tried sticking somewhat close to how it's presented in the game.

International (wi-fi) line: In the game it's the wi-fi line. In a non-game context I imagine this line is one that actually leaves Unova and goes to a neighboring region.

Subwayness: While not all of these lines are 100% underground like they might be in the cities, I like to think quite a few of them are partially or primarily in tunnels. Many lines go across water without a major bridge* on the map, or straight through harsh environments like mountains or deserts, some of which may be more convenient long term to go under rather than through. With the technology of the Pokémon universe, I imagine large stretches of underground train tunnels are entirely possible. (*Maybe there's smaller unshown bridges for the trains, but at least the line that goes right through Castelia's port to an island I'd like to believe could be underground under water)

Battle Subway: The Battle Subway itself likely only runs on these intercity lines.Assuming IRL distances rather than in game walking distances, depending on the length of the line, a lap or two could be a full days work for the bosses. Non-battle trains likely use these same tracks.

Anville Town: The branching path on the Anville line is strange, as it doesn't seem to point toward any known location. It could be pointing toward some unlabelled town or landmark, though I've seen some people posit that it stops at the Celestial or Dragonspiral towers (though they seem too far away for me to agree). My personal headcanon is that rather than the large branch shown on the original map, it's actually two branches going to Anville Town; a large alternate rail to help with rotating/moving trains going in and out of the rail yard there.

Pokémon World Tournament: Located in or very near Driftveil City, it was added in BW2 by Driftveil gym leader Clay. Considering Driftveil is a city, it could have multiple subway stations, one of which just happens to be close to the PWT. Alternatively, it could be a bit of a distance away and thus have it's own station.

PokéStar Studios: Located in or very near Virbank City. As the major intercity lines don't quite hit Virbank itself, I imagine Virbank only has one intercity station near the studio if it's within Virbank itself. That, or it has no intercity stations and one must travel the distance between Virbank and the studio to travel further.

Unity Tower: Literally this train goes through a port and right into the ocean to reach an island. This island is only accessible by boat. I'm convinced this train goes under the seafloor. That or it has a super cool Marine Tube situation where it's a subway tunnel, but the tunnel is transparent and the ocean and water pokémon can be seen out the train windows.

[smoochi-march]

Sunkissed - Aloe

Fields of Mistria | March x F Reader

Summery | A flustered March get's accused of earning his fair share of sunburns, in reality, it may be a mixture of minor burns along with his inevitable embarrassment.

Warnings & Content | Overly Fluffy!

Word Count | 2632

“…I’m convinced you have no clue what you’re doing.”

March grumbled, sat at his work desk begrudgingly with the usual scowl adorned. Brows furrowed, he’d bite his lower lip impatiently. Stealing glances towards you, his knuckles dig into his cheek while leaning over his workstation inside, the space impressively tidy. Sat with his arm propped up on the top of his desk, this position allows him to steal subtle glances in your direction without show his entire face. Seeing the blur of your figure moving on the floor in his peripheral vision,

“…and I’m convinced you have no faith in me.”

You’d argue playfully, sorting through several pieces of equipment in your bag. Tossing some odds n’ ends aside, clearly in search of something specific.

“I don’t… can I continue my work? If you haven’t noticed already, I have a routine that you’re interrupting.”

March hated waiting, how’d he end up here, to begin with? Why was it he could never argue against you? He had remained the very definition of all bark, no bite. With you specifically, and it frustrated him to no end. It was always you. You, you, you. He hated to admit it, but he was wrapped around your finger.

Before this whole situation, he had been hammering away at his station…

It was significantly brighter today where most would rush towards Mistria’s beach in their favorite swimwear. He didn’t have the time for that, no matter how much he desired to lay off the work and relax. It's not that he disliked his job, it was anything but that. Left with a stockpile of requests, the mass majority being boring small projects such as bolts and nails, that was the problem. Tools to sharpen, all basic level blacksmithing. At this point, he’s itching for a harder task, something to test his unmatched skills… all the trophies in his bedroom prove that fact is more than a self-claim.

“Good morning, March! I’m about to head out for the mines, is there any ore in specific you’d like? Copper? Iron? Silver?”

A familiar voice beamed from behind him, halting any further action as he snapped out of his previous thought process. He’d immediately recognize the voice, after all, it was you. You, you, you. How much he'd give to see that smile of yours by his side at night, not just these brief mornings before you part ways.

“Morning.”

He’d respond nonchalantly, lifting an arm to his forehead to block the incoming rays of sun from his eyes. Turning his body around, he’d noticed just how close in proximity you had been to him.

“W-What the hell?- what’re you doing?”

He’d lean back against the anvil, glaring at you as you’d suddenly lift both your hands to his cheeks. Delicate hands cradle his face sweetly, so light it could be mistaken for a pair of feathers brushing over his inflamed skin. He made several attempts to create some distance between the two of you, but you seemed insistent on whatever you had intended to do. Your eyes analyzing him closely,

“…have you been working all morning? You’re pink.”

Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, so close he could feel your breath fan against his face. Further fanning the flames beneath his skin,

“Of course I was. Is there a problem with that?”

You’d raise your chin with furrowed brows, you always were the one unafraid of their expression, huh? Those cute expressions of yours… -He'd catch himself on these thoughts, clearing his throat to focus on the initial task.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t be working outside in this heat, look… you’re burning up!”

He’d turn his head away, only for your hand to guide him back to face you once more. Glaring daggers at you only to lose that sharp gaze, faltering, he’d let out a defeated sigh. Eyes closing before shifting to relocate anywhere but in your own, when had you gotten so beautiful? Or perhaps you always have been. Either way, he’d allow you to follow through with your concerned actions, not without his grunts or grumbles of disapproval. You knew better than to trust his words, his body language giving him away.

He may end it all if a single person catches wind of this interaction,

March was used to experiencing higher elements of heat, ignorant towards the clear sign of his skin losing its battle against the sun. So caught up in his work, he now had your hands brushing over his cheeks, before lowering down his neck... trailing towards his shoulders, and lifting his arms for him to take note of his burns. Fingers tracing his biceps.

"March, look.”

…

“…Please? You're burnt.”

You'd realize your words may have been too firm, softening quickly after to smooth over any misunderstanding. He always took care of himself, his brother, and those around him. But found himself needing the help this time,

"You're making this a bigger deal than it has to be, you act like you haven't had a burn in your time working on the farm."

Sparing you a disapproving look, he'd then take in the true tenderness you held. He didn't mean to concern you, he'll have to take better care of himself to avoid you getting in a position like this again... Your eyes glimmer, only to be overcome by a passing cloud beneath the sun. Your face naturally flushed as a response to the heat, those lips of yours so close and parted ever so slightly. Drawing him in.

"Get inside, I'll be back."

Your thumbs gently caress his skin absentmindedly, hesitating to let go, he'd notice this. Hesitant to pull away as well, the couple now stare away from each other bashfully, unable to let go. They were left at a stalemate.

He's unsure exactly how long he stood there with you in silence, being the one to wear his signature frown.

"What about your trip to the mines?"

You'd raise a brow, tilting your head as you step away from him. Pivoting on your foot, ultimately hiding your expression from his gaze. He then notices how your hands clasp each other behind your back, fidgeting nervously. What caused this anxiety? Was it him? The idea of work?

"It can wait, be right back! You better be inside once I've returned, if I catch you breathing next to that anvil of yours I'll nag you all summer."

March rolled his eyes, using the spare back of his hand to feel the warmth in his cheeks, rivalling a fever. It may have started as sunburns, his sun-kissed skin rosy like the flowers you had first-ever gifted him when you situated in town.

"...you already do."

He learned to love that about you.

"Ah ha!"

You'd exclaim with a sense of accomplishment, lifting yourself and waltzing towards March who behaved like an unimpressed teenager. Eye scanning over your body, landing on the tiny bottle in your hand.

"What is that?"

This question wouldn't receive an immediate answer. Watching you squeeze the bottle, popping the cap off... a green gelatin substance now pressed against your palm.

"Aloe Vera. I bought some the other day from Balor,"

Before he could speak, you'd ask another question. He didn't hear what you said. Lost in his world the closer you got, it was pathetic. Biting back his tongue, he'd nod his head to whatever you said. Gaining a smile in return, you'd rub your hands together, spreading the Aloe in your hands. Soon reaching to grasp his face again, making him flinch at the cool temperature.

"-I thought you'd put up more of a fight, y'know. I appreciate it, March. You know... for all you do at the forge for Mistria."

Voice rendering as uncharacteristically mother-like, his eyes shut with ease. Finding pleasure in your fingers working the aloe into his skin, rubbing his cheeks in a circular motion. His face had begun to cool down in a matter of seconds,

"Don't mention it, there's no need to concern yourself over trivial matters like a slight burn."

March huffed, eyes fluttering open when he'd feel your motions stop at the bridge of his nose, upon hearing his words. He couldn't tell whether or not he enjoyed the contrast in temperature, a battle between the soothing gel against his flustered face.

"Your health is not trivial! Take that back, ...Idiot."

You'd pinch his cheek, making him hiss in pain, and smack your hand away from his face lightly.

The tingling sensation of Aloe is evident as ever on his skin, this felt strangely... intimate.

He's had Olric help him apply sunscreen when he was young where he couldn't reach, but, never a woman so generously offered to ease his pain with such a substance... he still didn't believe it was important, while allowing you the satisfaction in helping.

"Tch. Yes ma'am."

The small talk would come to a close, his eyelids weighing down. He'd feel your body shift next to him. Your hands met his broad shoulders, beginning to massage them with newly applied gel. Small groans escaped the man in response, fuck it felt good.

Your hands were like magic, his body melting at your wake, finely shaped like putty in your hands. His tension was immense, you wished nothing more than to help. Stretching out his muscles, You were no professional, but he enjoyed your actions thus far.

The silence was comfortable, time slowing with each pressure applied by your steady hands.

“This should help with your recovery, want me to leave the Aloe with you? I’m sure you could use it for future use.”

Your voice fissured a crack in the silence, bringing a smile to his face. Faint, a mere ghost of what it could be. Hidden from your sight,

“Sure.”

March would hear you hum in response, tilting her head back in an attempt to make eye contact with you. Only for those eyes to widen with your face hovering directly above his. Both party’s eyes were wide, unable to look away from the other this time. The way your hands were situated on his bare shoulders, your face hovering above his… it all felt right. Tilting his head further back, he’d raise an arm. His hand makes its way towards your cheek, hesitant, but progressive.

“…why go through all this trouble?”

March's voice held a share of his vulnerability, an expression masked behind his nonchalant attitude for far too long. Here, marks the beginning of an end. Or, so the two of you can hope. Old habits are a tough pill to swallow, to process, and to accept. To embrace.

“Trouble? I see no trouble in supporting the one I…”

You’d begin, struggling to continue your original sentence. Was this going a step too far?

“-the one you..?”

He’d inquire, no sign of his previous smile. Rubbing it off to hide beneath a mask once more, unable to express himself openly to you comfortably.

March’s attempt to lower his hand from your cheek results in failure, due to the sudden grasp of your hand on top of his. Holding it in place, your eyes shimmering like the beautiful jewels you’d donate to the museum… perhaps this is how Balor felt about those perfect jewels. March losing himself in your own,

“The one I care for, of course.”

March felt his heart flutter, observing how your body language evolved. His hand trapped against your cheek, he couldn’t help but feel a subtle blush rise to his face. The aloe stood no chance in keeping him cool at this rate,

“I- I see.”

Silence.

He couldn’t bear it much longer, unsure whether or not they had been crossing the line between comfortable silence or a tense air.

You couldn’t help but press your cheek deeper within the palm of his hand, it was large, calloused, and long due for an easy day's work. Something you were capable of granting him if only he’d allow it.

“I like you.”

What?

“Like, I like you, March.”

It was all so sudden he could hardly process all you had said. Silenced by your lips that pressed themselves against the back of his hand. It was as if his eyes were opened, he watched as all the colors surrounding them became significantly more vibrant. Hyperaware of the position you put them in, sounds around you both silenced.

The unwillingness to leave him be, despite such a common injury… the lack of materials on hand to venture through the mines in your bag. Had this been your intention all along? Did you lie about the mines, could that be why you were fidgeting before? Using it as a segue to get closer to him? He’s never experienced such a scene. Not just anybody was confessing, no, it was far greater. It was…

You.

“T-Think about it, kay’?”

You’d lend him a toothy grin, your blush rivaling his burnt cheeks. You had finally done it, you confessed to him. With all the anxiety rushing through your veins, you brush his bangs out from his eyes, feeling his thumb caress your cheek you forced him to hold. His expression was more visible than ever before, no longer safeguarded beneath his bangs, all due to how he sat on his stool, neck craned back as he looked up at you from a flipped perspective.

“…say that again?”

His voice was quiet, uncertain. However, you wrote that off as your imagination. Your eyes admire his body, the way his skin shines after your massage, the Aloe glistening with each curve of his muscle. His fluffy red hair lost some of its color while the black roots made themselves clear, he'd no doubt dye them again this coming Saturday.

“I like you, March.”

Following through with his request as you would any other time,

“…again.”

Again. He requested, and you delivered. A gentle smile permanently embedded on your face, allowing his hand to fall from your cheek.

“March, I like you-“

Willing to stroke his ego, you wrap your arms around him. Leaning against his back, your chin resting on his shoulder, not applying too much pressure. Worried you may harm him by pressing on the burns,

"If this is a joke, I swear I-”

He’d grumble, feeling you rest your head aside against his. Listening to the comforting sound of your breathing, losing the ability to speak.

“…of course not. For someone as confident as you are in your achievements, you sure are insecure. Not that I mind, I'll remind you that nobody holds a candle to you March...”

Following your words with proof of your legitimacy, you’d sneak your way closer to his body, your breath brushing against his cheek sending a shiver down his spine. You begin pressing your lips against his sun-kissed cheek, a featherlike attack directed toward his heart.

"...Y-you aren't so bad yourself. I guess... no, you're actually... never mind, forget it. Quit it, we'll never hear the end of it if somebody walks in on us."

He'd find the strength to press a hand against your face, forcing your lips off his body, tensing up as you'd soon follow his words up with a hushed whisper in his ear.

"-Can we take this to your bedroom then? If the idea of getting caught is all that concerns you..."

You'd ask genuinely, laughing as he'd struggle to look in your direction. Feeling as if you'd tighten your embrace around him, returning your nose back in the crook of his neck.

"...shut up."

Neither of you would say a word afterward, basking in each other's presence. Receiving that long anticipated, and oh-so comfortable silence. Satisfied with his reaction to your kiss, you sigh one last time. Replaying the events in your head.

He loves you. You’re convinced.

[morganas-pendragons]

holly | celebrimbor

3 pieces in one weekend is alot for me lol

tag: @celebrimbormylove @erebusbabylon @pentaghasm @thesolarangel @celebrimborsapron

prompt: gifts from the forge

You have been wondering about how to ask this again for weeks. You've had desires to learn more about the forge since your earliest days in Eregion, and Celebrimbor always seems to have an excuse to prevent it.

Your inherently stubborn nature is what prompts you to ask him again, this time with the other Gwaith-I-Mírdain present. Mirdania gives you two thumbs up from behind her station as you approach.

"Lord Celebrimbor?" You call over the ringing of hammers against anvils. "Might I have a moment?"

Celebrimbor looks up from his sketches and smiles. You're so taken with him already, but particularly when he's like this, and even more so when there's lead smudged all over his hands from his sketches.

"I did not see you arrive. What are you up to today, dearest?" He asks.

"I'm coming to ask you a question.." You hesitate. "I would really like to learn how to forge. I have an idea, if you're willing to help me craft it."

Celebrimbor's smile wavers slightly. His main reasoning is that he simply does not wish to see you hurt, but all of his smiths have started in your position. The hopeful smile and the way your eyes shine with curiosity...

He sighs. "Very well. Only under my watch, and you must do as I say. Understood?"

You nod eagerly. Finally.

"Absolutely. You have my word. When do we start?"

"Let's start with you telling me more about your idea."

You are many, many things. Subtle? Not one of them. Mirdania snorts as you lean impossibly closer to Celebrimbr, eagerly talking on about your idea of crafting two holly pins.

It had been her input that had given you the courage.

"A holly leaf??" Celebrimbor asks. "That's an excellent project for a beginner! As it happens, there's gold being prepared for another project and I'm sure there's enough to spare. Come."

You follow Celebrimbor throughout the forge as you both gather the necessary components for crafting these leaves. You allow him to talk most of the way, explaining the mechanics of the forge and how he will be guiding your hands.

You wink at Mirdania as you catch her eye. Perfect. This is what you want.

By the time all of the supplies are gathered and ready, it is only the three of you left in the forge. The others have returned home for the evening. Mirdania bids you both a good evening and mouths, ''good luck!" before she too disappears.

After she departs, Celebrimbor peers over his shoulder at his last remaining companion. "I would understand if you want to continue this in the morning," He begins. "I don't want to keep you from something important."

You flash a pointed, though playful look. "You are important to me, you insufferable elf," You tease. "For you, I have all the time in the world." You stand just in front of him and, after throwing on a smith's apron and gloves, reach for the hammer you know is used to shape the metals. "My hands are yours."

Celebrimbor smiles and steps into your space, chest pressed to your back.

"First you must place the mold.."

"Mhm." You keep your eyes solely focused on his hands. If you get too distracted by how this is the closest he's been to you thus far, you're going to embarrass yourself. "Like that?"

"Carefully," He chides. "I don't want you to burn yourself." You can tell he's been doing this for centuries, as his movements are all slow and precise. "And now to pour the gold..."

He's so warm. So warm, and strong, and safe. You don't recall anyone else who has ever made you feel like this.

You surrender yourself to his guidance, absorbing what little time you will have to feel him like this before he shies away again. You'd let Celebrimbor imprint himself on your soul if he asked it.

Once poured, he guides you to move to the mold so the two of you can watch the metal cool. He watches you out of the corner of his eye. You are so trusting, so pliant, so soft.

Two holly pins are starting to take shape beneath them. They're meant to be worn across cloaks, as was your intention because you're aware that's the only way you can get him to wear it.

You lean into his arms around you as the metal cools. It really is quite a fascinating thing to witness.

Celebrimbor presses his chin into your shoulder. "Do you wish to add any detailing or color?" He asks quietly, relishing the feeling of your body so close to his.

"Green," You whisper, desperately trying not to close your eyes because he's now gotten closer and you can feel all of him. "For Eregion."

Celebrimbor smiles as though he already knows your answer. His affections for you have bloomed, budding from a timid bulb into a flowering plant that continues to bloom under your careful cultivation. He knows he loves you. He knows you: your weaknesses and fears and desires and aches.

He is still trying to allow you to know him. He wants to, yes, but it proves difficult. This may be a start.

"If I didn't know better," Celebrimbor teases lowly in your ear. The rasp in his voice is enough to make you shiver. 'I'd say you were trying to flatter the Lord of Eregion."

"You gave me a home," You reply simply. It is the easiest answer you've ever given. "Two of them. You, as the person, and Eregion as the place." Scarlet dusts his cheeks as he hides his face in your shoulder. "Of course, I am trying to flatter you, you ridiculous smith."

You peer at him through your peripheral and wink.

Oh, I am done for.

It is only then in the glow of the forge that Celebrimbor is struck by how beautiful you are.

"May I kiss you, dear?" He whispers in your ear.

It is not often that you are caught off guard. This time you are. You turn around in his embrace and wrap your arms around your neck as you nod. "I would love nothing more, meleth nin." You reply.

Without giving himself the opportunity to second guess this decision, Celebrimbor takes this risk and presses his lips to yours, one hand deftly cradling the back of your neck while the other rests at the small of your back.

All coherent thoughts go flying out the window as you curl your fingers against his chest. This is what you've wanted for weeks now, for Celebrimbor to realize that you want him to touch you as much as you touch him. You want him to let him know you the way you know him. There's already been so much vulnerability, so many nights of whispered confessions hidden in the dark and tears wiped away with the pads of your thumbs, yet he still hesitates to take that final leap.

Until now.

When you pull away, a whimper breaks at the back of your throat, and your fingers have moved to tangle in a mess of dark blonde curls.

Letting you pull away is one of the hardest things Celebrimbor has ever done. All he wishes to do now that he's taken that leap is to pull you back and cover you in his kisses, to worship you like the being of divinity you are, to sweep you off your feet with the heart of the hopeless romantic he knows he is.

"You are ethereal," Celebrimbor breathes against your lips as he rests his forehead against your own. "Unlike anyone I have ever known. I am sorry it has taken me so long to communicate that."

You could say so many things to him in that moment about how much you love him. About how Celebrimbor has become your sole reason for continued breathing, about how his passions and desires and yearning for life have given you a renewed purpose.

You do neither. Not yet.

"Help me finish our pins," You say softly, lightly tugging on his hair as you continue to play with it. He suppresses the groan rumbling in his chest as heavy-lidded hazel eyes meet yours. "And then I will allow myself to echo that same sentimentality to you."

Rationality overcomes him once again. Celebrimbor clears his throat, cheeks reddening. "Right." He coughs into his arm, scratching at the back of his neck as you part just enough to turn back around in his embrace. "The pins. Let us place the adornments."

"I promise they have a purpose. Help me finish them, and then we can talk."

You remain back to chest as two gold holly leaf pins begin to take shape beneath you - adorned with green embellishments that spiral and shatter against gold jewels carefully placed along the length of each pin.

When they cool, you grab the first with careful fingers and turn around, his fingers drumming absently against your hips as you fasten it against his robes. Celebrimbor stares down at the pin in amazement. “You intended this to be for me?” He asks softly.

You press your fingertips against your lips before reaching for your own and reaching out to lay it in his hand. “Will you pin this into my hair?” You ask. He nods, pulling you closer to carefully tuck the holly pin into the hair you have that remains tied up. Celebrimbor exhales softly as his fingers drag against the expanse of your neck. You are so soft. “I told you I’d talk after we concluded. Here’s what I have to say to you.”

You take both of his hands and press them against your hips firmly. Your own fingers drag across his cheeks, tracing the lines of the crows feet around his eyes and the reddening skin that blooms under your touch.

His breathing hitches when you reach his lips. Against the light of the fire, Celebrimbor is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He’s always so open, so wanting, always quietly craving more of a thing he thinks he can’t have. He has such a deeply personal connection to the world around him and appreciates even the smallest of things that most people would look over and ignore.

You lean inward to kiss him. He responds in kind, a long and slow kiss that slowly grows into one that has you pressed against Mirdania’s work station and his hands on either side of you to cage you in. Celebrimbor has gradually grown more confident in this area, and it often shows when he physically responds to the little sounds you make in response to the depths of his kisses.

You whine softly as he parts for just long enough to venture down your neck, right to your pulse of your right shoulder. “You are my peace,” You whisper, eyes fluttering as you flex your hands in the fabric of his robes. “My hearts safe keeping, my home, my desires and wants and everything I have ever wished for. You are everything good I have sought for so long, Celebrimbor. I wish you’d see it.”

You shiver as his tongue works against the muscle of your shoulder where a red mark blooms, and he only stops when he realizes that there is a tattoo on your skin just beneath your collarbone.

It is a holly leaf.

Celebrimbor has never seen skin markings on anyone, let alone an Elf. It is highly irregular. Nevertheless, he nuzzles your collarbone before laying a featherlight kiss thereupon.

“Where did this come from?” He asks, fascinated by the intricacies of the design and how it stands out against your skin. “It is identical to the pins, and to the holly leaf that is associated with Eregion.”

“I’ve had it all my life.” You remark. “It only gained its color when I met you. No one else knows about it.”

Celebrimbor has no idea what that means, but he is grateful to be knowledgeable of your secret as he pulls away to look at you properly. Your eyes are wide, lips swollen and hair nearly untucked from the pin he’s placed within it. You’re beautiful.

He wants you forever.

I’m going to marry you one day.

"I am going to get better at this," The words are out before he can take them back, and you stare up at him starstruck as his hands again find your face. "Better at communicating the depths of my affection for you. I no longer wish to hide it for fear of insecurities or old haunts coming back to taunt me. These things that say I am not good enough for you," You open your mouth to argue, but Celebrimbor simply places his fingers upon your lips and blushes when you kiss his fingertips. "You have shown me a different truth amidst all of the turmoil and deception that has plagued my life. If I am to keep to any oath, it will be an oath to you, melda."

Tears burn your eyes as you nod and allow him to pull you into a hug. The hour is late, and you are tired, which prompts you to ask the one question you never thought he'd say yes to.

"I do not wish to return home," You say quietly. "May I stay in your chambers with you tonight?"

He does not answer, just simply takes your hand and leads you through the hallways you have rarely stepped into since the tower was completed. You watch each door pass you by before he stops in front of the last one, which is the furthest away and out of sight of curious eyes. Then, he opens the door and allows you inside.

While you take in the sight of Celebrimbor's bedroom - and how nervous it should make you to be in it - he steps away to find something comfortable for you to wear and comes up with a dark-colored shift he'd had made for you months prior that was intended to be a gift.

"Here, darling. This should do it." Celebrimbor calls, turning toward you, only to find that you are already lying in his bed with your body turned toward the door and your hand tucked under your cheek. The comfort you find in him knows no bounds. "Sweet, sweet girl."

He changes his own robes into his nightclothes and slips into bed, wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you closer to him so he can bury his face in your hair.

Rest, Celebrimbor. Allow yourself this. Be peaceful.

Sleep claims him with ease.

The next morning, Mirdania finds the two of you again in the Forge, but this time you are both wearing intricately holly pins proudly on display against your chosen clothes for the day.

She grins to herself and continues to tend to her work.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“The Exoxins are very…” Coran purses his lips, searching for the word. “Particular, let’s say.”

Hunk cocks his head. “In what way?”

“They’re quite fixated on personal appearances. They have been known to refuse alliances in the past when diplomats don’t meet their… aesthetic expectations.”

Before Keith can make a slightly mean joke about keeping Shiro on the castle, then (it’s been too long since he has been humbled), Lance snorts. Without bothering to look up from his doodling, half slumped over his station on the bridge, he says, “Well, we better send Keefers. Only way we’ll get a guaranteed alliance.”

“Okay, asshole, real funn — wait.” Keith blinks. That’s not the insult he thought it was. “Did you just — are you flirting with me?”

Lance flicks brown eyes up to meet his, eyebrows raised, amused smirk on his face. “Have been for a year now, thanks for noticing.”

Keith’s jaw drops. He feels a blush climbing up his neck like he’s a fuckin’ kettle, boiling from the bottom up, because what.

“What.”

“Keith.” The rampant redness on Keith’s face must give Lance pause, because he finally turns his whole attention towards him, straightening up from his seat and facing him head on. “I thought you were just ignoring me. You’re telling me your dumb ass has just been — what, completely oblivious to it?”

“I’m not obvious,” Keith argues, strained. He’s well aware of the snickering behind him and chooses to ignore it. “Usually your flirting is horrible and obnoxious and gets you rightfully punched, so excuse me for not noticing.” He waits a beat, and then tacks on, “Or tied to a tree.”

He’s gratified to see Lance’s smug demeanour crack at the mention of the Nyma incident.

“That was four years ago, dipstick. I was seventeen. It doesn’t take away from the fact that you are so thick headed that you are incapable of taking a hint. Did you think I kept finding reasons to be shirtless around you for fun?”

Keith sputters. He had noticed that Lance was shirtless around him an awful lot, but in his defence he was putting his braincells more towards memorizing a broad back and a glittering belly piercing rather than, like, puzzling out why the fuck Lance wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I thought you were — hot, or something!”

Lance grins wolfishly. “You think I’m hot?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Is that what you want to see?”

Keith makes a hoarse screeching noise in the back of his throat. It is echoed behind him, by all of his friends, actually, but for entirely different reasons, and he hates them all and they are all written out of his will.

Lance slowly stands from his seat, soundlessly stalking over to where Keith stands, leaning against a wall. Keith considers braining himself against a hard surface so he does not half to deal with Lance stupid sexy leer and sparkling eyes et cetera.

“‘Cause if it is,” Lance murmurs, placing a hand next to Keith’s head and leaning in close, “all you had to do was ask, baby.”

“I am going to kill you with fire,” Keith croaks.

Lance chuckles. “Sure, caliente.” He kisses Keith’s cheek and saunters back to his chair. Keith considers asking his lions to help him change his bayard into an anvil and chucking it at Lance’s face. It does not help his situation.

“Well,” Coran says awkwardly, after what can only be several minutes of charged silence. “the good news is that if we send you both that alliance is as good as guaranteed.”

[knight-of-flowerss]

KINKTOBER

2024

MASTERLIST

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

READ THIS!

•8th 9th or 10th October 2024 -

MEMENTO MORI

Synopsis: Your relationship with the crown is wearing thin. You once lived in peace, being left alone by everyone, but the more King Viserys grows weak, the more hate is coming your way. You are stationed, imprisoned in the Red Keep until your execution but a certain Prince’s curiosity leads him to you.

[Sub!Jacaerys, witch!fem!reader, riding, fem receiving!oral, brief handjob, hair pulling, spitting, marking; biting, scratching, slapping.]

•16th October 2024 -

BLOOD SACRIFICE

Synopsis: Many say the church can protect you against evil, that’s a lie. You pray to the Seven for forgiveness and protection, but they do not grant it. The stranger himself gets invited into the church, what will you do when he bears his fangs and gives you the choice between death or lust?

[Vampire!Benjicot, Septa!reader, choking, biting, creampie, slight non-con, breeding!kink, doggy style, slight violence, slight praise!kink, spitting, desecration of a holy place.]

•24th October 2024 -

LADY OF THE MOON

Synopsis: You and Cregan were apart most of time but when that full moon came, you were one. Whole. You were free from the confinements of the moon and free to see your lover. A steamy session under the stars was something you looked forward to each year.

[Werewolf!Cregan, moon spirit!reader, body worship, riding, missionary, anvil/hook position, male receiving!oral, painting face, woods sex, praise!kink.]

•31st October 2024 -

AIN'T NO REST FOR THE WICKED

Synopsis: Cregan is nothing if not obsessive. You, you are his drug, his addiction. He'll do anything to get you, to keep you safe.

[Serial killer!blue collar!Cregan Stark, Jacaerys' sister!reader, corruption!kink, spitting, marking, choking, hair pulling, rough-fucking, spanking, doggy style, anvil/hook sex, public sex, face fucking, hand!kink, breeding!kink.]

Extra random stuff [if I write any]:

[solarkindred]

If the twins had a tiktok account, joint and separate ones, they would be absolutely hilarious.

Emmet constantly posts out of pocket memes while also giving really good advice and strategies for double battles. Ingo is the one that constantly info dumps about trains and tends to give mini lessons on subways/trains and their history. He occasionally posts memes too but its mostly trains and sharing funny videos of his pokemon(he has spectacular timing)

The joint/official account is called “gearBattle_subwayStation” where they strictly only use for schedule posts about the Battle Subway and just funny moments at the station/Anville. It’s accessible to everyone who works at the station(and for some reason Elesa?)