#but i don't think assuming you have rights and will continue to have them in safe states will be the right move

[oh-no-its-bird]

I love any excuse to write for this au actually, thank you for your vote! (Also very cool jacket, I like the cloth)

Itama poked at the lump of man laying prone on the floor of his brothers lab with his pipe. Izuna, still smoking lightly from the misfired seal that had set him and nearly Tobirama on fire, groaned. "So." Itama began, his tone even and cheerful. Across from him, Tobirama averted his eyes. "I notice a new addition to your lab that wasn't here before." "You'll have to be more specific." "Bibi-chan," Itama continued, voice soft and sweet and positively lethal because of it. "Beloved brother of mine. Genius of the clan, our big strong smart clan heir. Did you kidnap the Uchiha clan heir?" Tobirama made a noncommittal noise, and Itama sighed, ceasing his poking of Izuna's still thoroughly passed out body. "His brother is probably going insane right now, looking for him." "I wasn't noticed." "Because you didn't mean to kidnap him?" "It's an advantage for us." Tobirama replied, avoiding the question altogether. "Oh, very. Of that, I won't argue." Itama sighed, pipe fitting back between his lips as he turned their little dilemma over. "Assuming, of course, we get the upper hand on... informing Madara on the status of his beloved baby brother." "I'm sure Anija will know how to spin it." Tobirama nodded, and Itama continued, leaning back. "And assuming that your seal hasn't charred him past the point of being useful. I don't think Madara will be very open to talking if we injure him too badly." "I don't think we'll have to worry too much about that." Tobirama argued, prodding Izuna with a foot, and the prone man let out another pained grunt. "I don't appreciate being talked about like some piece of meat." Izuna groaned, apparently not as asleep as Itama had assumed. "Oho, he's awake?" "He proves to be annoyingly resilient in more ways than one." Tobirama grumbled. "All the better for us!" Itama cheered, and reached out to grasp Izuna's face. The Uchiha snapped his teeth at his fingers in an attempt to bite them off, panic flashing in his eyes momentarily before he could bury it. But the seals that had brought him here also rendered him semi-paralyzed and kept his chakra sealed, so there wasn't much he could do as Itama angled his head towards him, smiling down at Izuna's guarded expression. "Ne, Izuna-chan," Izuna growled at the overly familiar name, glare growing even hotter as he no doubt tried and failed to activate his sharingan. "how do you feel about being our little helper with a teeny little project of ours?"

Poor, poor Izuna. Don't worry, you'll be treated very nicely here! Probably. If you behave.

If you live in America and vote tommorow, send me a photo of your "I voted" sticker and I will write a 200-500 word snippet for whatever fandom and prompt of ur choosing

I can reliably write for the following fandoms; Naruto, starwars, alien stage, mouthwashing, bnha, svsss, and batman/dcu. I'll do my best to write for other fandoms if requested but can make no promises on their quality

PLEASE VOTE !!!!!!

[genderqueerdykes]

i just wanted to take some time to let americans know that while it's okay to be bummed about the results of the presidential election, the entire reason elections are so publicized and televised like this is to try to keep you wrapped up in this bullshit so you will ignore and forget about reality. yes trump being elected sucks but the entire point of this is to keep your attention off of real issues that are happening in the real world

they WANT you to get sad and defeated whenever a bad candidate wins so that you become complacent. they want you to lose hope and give up and accept what is happening. they want you to get wrapped up in debates and other he-said-she-said nonsense that's all conjecture and spitballing so you'll ignore what's actually happening in the real world. trump can say he wants to do this, and say he wants to do that, but the real world is way more complicated than that. our government sucks but he's going to have to fight with the senate and house just like he did the last time he was elected. he's going to have to fight tooth and nail to try to get his unrealistic plans set into action, and it's not going to be any easier for him this time around than it was last time.

we don't know what will happen until we get there. the best we can do is continue to survive, and thrive, until we see change. all we can do is continue to care for and love each other until we see things in our environment genuinely changing. don't listen to what this man says he wants to do. he wants to scare you and make you think that he's almighty and unstoppable, but he's not. he's a human who is subject to the rules of the government machine he willingly walked into. you can't give up hope right now and abandon your friends and family and assume you should move or die to escape it.

most people's first reaction is to move when the candidate they don't like wins. which is fair, but it's also really important to stick with your friends and family. abandoning the people you love during a hard time will not make it any easier for you or them. sticking together during adversity is what makes it easier to overcome. and if and when it comes down to a revolution, we need your help to set that in motion. we can't start a revolution to make a change if there's no one left to try. we have to stay in order to be the change we want to see. stick by your friends and family. stick together. don't abandon each other- now more than ever we need to stick together.

this wasn't the "most important election of our lifetime." all of the ones before that were framed exactly that way, too. what this IS is the most important time to stick together and stand up for one another. there will never be a more important time like the present to stand together, stick up for each other, defend each other, and to be there for one another. marginalized groups will only get weaker if we abandon each other. we have to stick together to fight like hell for each other.

it's not all doom and gloom. nothing is over. we survived a prior 4 years under this man's presidency and we will survive another 4. it sucked before, and it'll suck again, but we will persist through this. the world will keep turning. the sun will keep rising. please remember that we are stronger together, and that a revolution cannot happen unless there are people to partake in it. if we want to make change, we can't run- we have to stand and face the adversity we wish to overcome.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 34:

He pulled the first card, looking at it before he turned it so Agatha could see it too. "The Horse Drawn Carri..."

"The Chariot?" Agatha interrupted him, clearly wanting to get this over with. Plus, it was clear that Billy was not as knowledgeable about it as he claimed to be. "It's literally written on the card."

You looked at your lover. "Let him do it, Agatha. Unless you want to give it a try, " you scolded, knowing fully well how she looked down upon the tarot cards and tarot reading in general.

She would often call it lesser magic or circus tricks.

"Fine," she mumbled and motioned for Billy to continue.

Billy cleared his throst. "Right. So, obviously, you're

leaving somewhere behind, and you have these sphinxes with you, and they represent your... your... mysteriousness."

Agatha placed her elbows on the table and interlocked her fingers before resting her chin on them. "You have a real gift."

"This card hasn't really come up much for me." He confessed and placed the card on one of the carved empty spaces.

Immediately, the sound of metallic objects clanging with one another made you all look up; only then noticing the dozens upon dozens of hanged swords; attached to the ceiling by some sort of string?

You were not sure.

You could not see any details from that distance, but you were quite sure they were not props or fake. Something was telling you that they were real and very sharp swords, positioned in a way that would finish off any one of you.

Billy shallowed hard. "I'll try another one." He drew the next card. "Seven of Swords."

You could not help but scoff faintly. "At least you're on theme." You commented and earned a look from him, clearly not happy with your words. "Sorry," you apologised and gently lifted your hands up as a sign of surrender.

"I know this one. It's about deception and betrayal." He started to explain. "But it's reversed.

So that means the opposite. Are you being truthful?" He questioned and looked at Agatha.

He clearly did not believe her to be saying the truth cause well... she was Agatha Harkness. She won nothing by being honest, and Billy doubted she had ever been, at least with him.

He wasn't sure about you, but considering how you did not expect her visit back then, when they were gathering coven members, and this odd tension existing between the two of you... it was wise of him to assume that you hadn't talked in a while.

And he did wonder if you were even together or had this strange former romantic bond; like how Agatha seemed to have with Rio.

Agatha grew bored of this, not liking be judged or having cards trying to expose her in any way. She had been trying hard to keep that mask, that facade of a tough woman that cared for nothing other than herself.

She couldn't let a few stupid cards ruin that, and she wasn't going to let it happen.

"You know what, I think I will do it instead. My turn." She grabbed the card stack from Billy.

He tried to hold it back, but he was too slowly, and he quickly lost possession of it.

"Agatha," you started, feeling that this was about to turn into a really bad idea.

"Oh, don't you worry now. Tarot is a con like any other, remember?" She asked rhetorically, clearly not sharing your worries or caring about the rules. She never did. "There's no magic to it. There's no skill."

"That's not true." Billy argued. "It's about intuition.

Knowing which card to pull. And it's about interpretation, divining their meaning."

She paid him no mind as she grabbed one random card and placed it on top of the Chariot that he had pulled before.

Suddenly, one of the swords that was hanging from the ceiling was let loose. It pinned itself into the wooden floor, little too close to Billy for his liking.

You looked up with fearful eyes, losing count on how many swords were up there. Worse was the fact that they were so evently spread that it would be impossible to find a spot and be safe.

Agatha placed another card down and then another, clearly just doing it like that and not using any magic or intuition as one should.

She even cackled like a true evil witch as more and more swords started to fall, some closer and some further away from you.

"Agatha!" You called out her name as one sword landed too close to you, making your heart increase in beat at the fact that had you been stabbing one step to the left; you would not be alive and breathing right now.

Your shout made her stop, seeing you eyeing the sword with fear in your eyes. A quick check made her realize you were unharmed, and that was enough.

"Slow down! What is your problem?" Billy shouted, having moved from his chair to avoid a sword that almost hit him.

Agatha looked at the fearful duo. "This is a numbers game. We keep at it until we get the right cards in the right spots or the ceiling runs out of swords."

"This won't work, Ags," you said, shaking your head faintly to emphasise your disagreement.

"I'm not sure how much math you did back in Salem, but that will take forever." Billy argued.

"We still have some time."

"I wish Lilia was here."

And as if the Road had heard him, once again, it happened. The bookcase behind you was pulled open, and Jen with Lilia entered the room; their outfits also changed to fit the trial's theme and mood.

Jen had been affected the most with her evil queen hag outfit, coming along with grey big eyebrows and a nose; an enjoyable sight for you after all the times Jen's attitude had tested your pat

Lilia, on the other hand, seemed to be some sort of good witch based on her outfit; though you could not tell for sure.

What you could tell for sure was the fact that something was going on because Lilia was switching moods.

For example, how, at first, she said she was okay with Billy; holding no grudges, and then... she flipped.

She pointed a finger, harshly pressed against his chest. By instinct alone, Billy started to walk backwards, and Lilia simply kept advancing.

"Whoa! Ow! I thought we were cool!" He exclaimed, eyes daring to glance at you and Agatha for help.

"We are not cool, Teenager." Lilia said, surprising both Jen and Yoi.

"Damn, using his full name." Jen commented, and you nodded silently.

"She is definitely angry, " you commented next.

Lilia was always the calmest, even her threats being of a low tone; which was what was so unique about her.

This time, though, you could see the fire behind her eyes, and even you would not dare to stand in her way.

After all, one would be wise to fear the calm people when they stopped being calm. It was always them that held the most destructive rage.

Ironic, for the same had been told about you; at least until people realized you were never calm. You simply expressed your worry differently or passed phases when you were indiffirent to everything; the world around you sliding off your body and nothing capable of sticking on you.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. You didn't deserve..." Billy started to apologize. "I wasn't hiding my power from you. I didn't know that I could... I'm not lying to you.

It was a surprise to me, too... if I'd have known, I would've..." he paused for a moment as his telepathic abilities started to work. "Yes, of course, I would have used it to save Alice."

Lilia looked at him, trying to study him behind her aged but expeencd eyes. "You're reading my mind." She picked up.

"Only because it's so loud. No offence." Billy offered a weak small smile to show he had no ill intentions.

And as Lilia started to remember how she had met Billy before, as William; you chose to interfere.

"I don't want to ruin any reunions, but we need you, Lilia," you said, moving to stand close and use your hands to separate them faintly. "This is your trial, and either we do it right, or we can kiss our lives goodbye."

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[love-lightning-forethought]

Lore drop: The bite that damn near kills you

"M!" She got shook, getting pulled out the nightmare "M!"

"Wha- huh- what happened?" She jolted up.

Dorothea was next to her. M assumed that she was the one shaking her.

The other girls were there too, all watching her with concern.

Brook came closer. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

They all looked at each other.

'You were kinda screaming..." Finley said quietly.

SHIT

"W-what was I screaming?" She swallowed nervously.

"Someone called Willa."

"And?" M asked.

"You were muttering about someone biting you?"

"Oh god..."

"Um, do you want to share something with us?" Anastasia asked gently.

"You'll hate me." She shook her head, her hand subconsciously hiding her very first scar. "I'm a monster."

Brook sat down next to her. "Have you killed someone on purpose?"

"What?"

"Have you killed someone on purpose?" She repeated.

"No..."

"Have you assaulted someone?"

"No."

"Have you purposely cause someone harm?"

She shook her head.

"Great! You're not a monster!"

"If you haven't done those things, it's gonna to be pretty hard to scare us off."

She couldn't help the smile creep onto her face, but the little goblin in her head kept talking.

They'll still think you're a monster once you tell them

You'll scare them off

You're going to be alone again

Her smile flattered.

"M? Hellooo? Earth to M." Dorothea grabbed her attention again.

"Sorry." She said quickly.

"You were going to tell us something." Brook urged her to continue.

"Uh..."

"We're not going to judge you."

"Yeah, it's okay."

"No pressure tho."

All four of them were trying to be support, but it was coming out so rapidly that they were pretty much talking all at once.

It was overwhelming. It felt like M's hearing had been turned up to 10.

"I'm a werewolf!" She spat out, causing everyone to fall silent.

"...that's it?" Finley asked. "Dude, there's literal demons here. Demons. Plural."

"Yeah. You're a normal person like 98% of the time. It's like what, 12 hours a month you turn into a wolf? that's basically your period personified." Anastasia pointed out.

She just stared at them in shock.

They don't care... they really don't care.

Her eyes stung with tears.

"W-what?"

"Did you ask to get bit? Like, why would we care?"

"I don't know." She admitted.

"If anyone give you shit, we'll-" The next words out Anastasia's mouth would get someone banned from YouTube.

"That was graphic." Finley blinked.

"damn right."

M chuckled. "I'm glad we met."

"Us too, M. Us too."

boom bam reveal number one is out

not the exciting reveal but it's a reveal nonetheless

also like lore drop

@arisdaughter @childofthewargod @dianedantedominic @theorphicforest

@that-girl-cupid @ithacas-prince @daonedaonlyskh @hispanic-child-of-hermes @aria-pane @unhinged-waterlilly

@chaos-pers0nified @ariathemortal @i-was-never-sane @gaygirldoodles @smileyalater

@if-i-could-cry-i-wouldnt @startswithahell

If you want to be added, removed or if I forgot to tag you, let me know :)

[sugology]

PART II: SOMETHING MORE

Part I Here

synopsis: college!au. suguru geto x afab!reader. In which the once casual hookups they shared turn into something much more.

warnings: a bit of angst, penetration (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), a little dirty talk, no condom again (sorry), teasing

MDNI 18+ ONLY

"I want you to stay the night."

Your eyes widened at that. Sex was one thing, but spending the night with him felt much more intimate. You were used to the quick sex, then watching his car pull off from your dorm window, an almost stabbing pain in your chest. You craved intimacy from him, but now he was offering it, and you were terrified.

"What?" You breathed out.

"Stay the night with me." There was a small smile on his face as he tucked a loose, sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing your flushed skin.

"Why?" You questioned suspiciously.

"Are you really going to make me beg?" He leaned over to press a kiss to your bare shoulder.

"Why the sudden change, Suguru?"

"What do you mean?" He mumbled, his breath tickling your skin.

"Just a few days ago, you were still fucking me in your car then kicking me out thirty minutes later. Now you're inviting me to your apartment, introducing me to your friend, asking me to spend the night." You listed off, your voice small and vulnerable.

Suguru perked his head up, an indecipherable look in his eye. He appeared almost guilty, maybe even shameful. You had felt used for months, although he assumed your intentions had been the same. Just sex. Nothing else.

However as the months went by and the meetups became more frequent, he became attached. Suguru was never good when it came to his feelings. He didn't like becoming attached to people. Everyone always just left.

But being around you made him feel sane, at peace even. The only times he felt all his melancholic thoughts fly away were when you were skin-to-skin, tangled up in each other in the back of his car. The after-sex conversations were always short, but he hung onto them, unbeknownst to you.

He whispered something so softly that you couldn't even hear.

"What?" You asked, turning yourself on your side so you could see him straight on.

Suguru finally rose his head up, looking you directly in the eye. There was sadness there, one that he had been afraid to let you see. "I'm sorry."

You pursed your lips, at a loss for words.

"I shouldn't have treated you like that. You have every right to slap me in the face and leave. I wouldn't fault you for it. But if you're willing, I'd like for you to give me a chance."

"A chance?"

"A chance to treat you right." He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple and you felt a hot blush spread across your cheeks. "I like you. I have for a while. I was being a pussy."

"And why should I trust you?"

"You have no reason to. That's why I'm asking for a chance." He rolled on top of you, trapping you underneath his large frame. "I can make it up to you. Buy you flowers, take you to an expensive dinner... amongst other things. I'm open to suggestions." He placed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, lightly sucking on the sensitive skin. You could feel his cock prodding against your thigh.

"Dinner would be nice." You teased as you ran your hands through his messy hair.

"Nothing else on your mind?" He hinted, taking your earlobe in between his teeth and giving a light tug.

"I don't think so." You yelped out, voice betraying you.

"You're so cute when you lie." His hands trailed down until he reached between your legs. He ran two fingers against your slit, gathering your wetness, before bringing it up to your clit and rubbing circles into it softly. It was still sensitive from round one only a mere ten minutes ago. "Already so wet for me again." He chuckled softly.

You whined, bucking your hips for more friction.

"None of that, yeah? Good girls don't whine. They ask for what they want." He pressed light kisses to your neck as he continued to tease your clit.

"I want you," You murmured, almost inaudible as you shoved your head into his neck, embarrassed.

"You want me, huh? I'm right here, pretty." He placed a kiss on your cheek as he sunk a finger inside your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out.

You mumbled into his neck and although he had heard you perfectly clear, he wanted you to say it again. Louder. Your cheeks burned a bright red as you kept shifting your hips, trying to get more friction on your clit and his finger deeper inside. You wanted more. You needed more.

"I want your cock." You moaned loudly as he inserted a second finger into you, pumping them faster and faster as you gasped for air.

"Again?" He teased, a cocky look on his face.

"Yes!" You pleaded, too needy to even think about being embarrassed.

"Atta girl." He pressed his lips to yours firmly. It was a mess of teeth and tongue as you both fought for dominance in the kiss. He added a third finger into you, causing your mouth to drop open in pleasure, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you still lingered on his soft tongue.

You let out a petulant whine as his fingers left you empty.

"Give me a second, baby," Suguru smirked as he used your juices to jerk off his cock until it got fully erect.

As soon as he slid it into your entrance, he bottomed out, making you take every inch. The familiar stretch made you let out a loud moan.

All the air sucked out of your lungs as he started a fast pace, his tip abusing your gummy g-spot. You braced yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders, biting down on the skin. He groaned at the contact.

"You look so pretty like this." He grunted out as he kissed the side of your mouth. "All fucked out. So beautiful. So, so beautiful."

The praise made you clench down on him hard, a strangled gasp spilling from your lips. His speed increased, which you hadn't thought possible. The bed frame was creaking and you could only pray that the walls weren't thin and no one could hear how much of a slut you were being right now.

"Such a nice fucking pussy too, yeah?" His one hand reached up to tug on your hard, sensitive nipples. You cried out at the sensation, feeling the familiar bubble expand in your lower tummy.

"'m close." You whimpered.

"Me too, baby. Hold off for a second. Don't cum until I say." He stopped the tugging on your nipples to grab your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together.

You nodded, trying to hold back your orgasm that was fast approaching. His cock continued its assault on your g-spot as his lower tummy was rubbing deliciously against your clit. You wanted to cum so so bad.

"Keep your eyes on me. I want you to look at me while you come." He granted you that sweet permission that made you teeter off the edge. You clamped down on his cock as the orgasm smacked into you. Wave after wave of bliss sent your nerve endings alight. Your toes curled as your body spasmed with pleasure.

"Fuck, baby." He cursed as he spilled into you, filling your pussy with his hot cum for the second time that night. "So pretty f'me"

Suguru placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as you gasped for breath, still reeling in a post-sex haze. He rolled off you, allowing for more air to fill your desperate lungs. There was a kind, gentle smile on his face as he looked at you.

"Are you staying the night or not?"

[uncanny-tranny]

The idea that trans people in "safe states" shouldn't still fight for their rights isn't the right thing to do, I think. In fact, I'd caution against complacency. We have to ensure that safe states stay safe states. You cannot assume your rights when they are being taken away in many other states

[naivety]

reading comprehension is dead and the unnuanced horrors are everlasting

[ladiesandwitches]

"Well, now you always know where to find one," she told him. "And I won't charge a fee," she added, flashing him a warm smile.

"But it's impressive you found as much as you did," she continued, coming back to the seats with her own cup of tea now. "It mustn't have been easy. Finding the information you needed, learning the magics required..." Lilia looked at him in consideration, mulling over everything she had learned and seen since they first met. "Personally, I think that's more impressive than creating The Road."

The Road had been a subconscious magic, creative and chaotic, an inherited ability from his mother. It hadn't require study or focus or discipline, only desire. Finding and releasing Agatha had taken hard work and skill.

Taking a sip of her tea, Lilia wasn't blind to the look of horror that crossed his face. As much he tried to hide it, how it passed in an instant, it was impossible to miss.

"No you don't, but you think you do," Lilia said knowingly.

"I don't have to read minds to know yours is in the gutter right now." With a roll of her eyes, Lilia gave him the explanation he sorely needed. "A fetish tool, usually a doll, is used in spell work, Teen. Voodoo dolls?" She prompted, assuming that in all his eager research he had at least come across them, perhaps even written them down in his little spellbook.

"They're vessels for energy," she explained further. "Perfect for emotional practice."

"I needed answers," Billy shrugged at that, not thinking too much about it. Wanda Maximoff and the Vision were long gone, it's not like they would be able to tell him anything. But he found the man who lived in that house, and managed, too, to find the woman who might just be able to tell him everything. "Not like I'd be able to find a divination witch on my own.

"I'll work on that too," He quickly rushed in. Right. Controlling his emotions - that would have to be such a big part of this, wouldn't it? Maybe if he hadn't been so desperate, none of this would have happened anyway. "I just want to be good enough that I never do it on accident again. I shouldn't have done that to you, I want to know I won't ever again."

His face twisted in slight horror, the last of his expectations being that Lilia... would use the f word. What the fuck. "I... I don't know what that means."

[foone]

Your posts are in an AI model

and then Tumblr decided to sell them to AI models.

Now, don't get me wrong, tumblr selling out the users to AI companies is bad, yes, they shouldn't do that. It sucks.

but don't lets get this confused: your posts were already in there. Tumblr selling them is about tumblr making some money and about the AI models having more exhaustive post collections. It's not about your posts being in an AI model, vs not being in one. That battle has already been lost.

Can you find your post on google? Then it's almost certainly in an AI model already. Think about it: These AI sites showed up before all the sites were making deals to sell their users' content, right? How do you think they built them in the first place?

They scraped the posts. Just like google and bing and such do when they build their search indexes.

It's a fundamental part of how the open web works: you want your posts on tumblr to be visible to users, right? You want them to be readable?* Like, look how much stuff broke when twitter changed their whole read-while-not-logged-in policy, ruining a bunch of thread links/NSFW links. And if it's visible, it's scrapable. That's what the AI models were built on.

I've done website scraping before (not for AI models, of course. I was doing search engines and website archival), this is just how it works. You hire a few relatively smart CS graduates and tell them "build me a scraper that'll give us a bunch of tumblr posts" and they go off for a month or two and come back with a database of a few billion posts, and you stuff that into your AI model. That's how they got all the deviantart and flickr and twitter and pinterest and so on posts. They didn't pay for them: they just took them.

They only ever pay for this shit because either:

they fucked up in such a way that the site might be able to sue them for taking rather than paying

They can buy them cheaper than they can finish taking them. Maybe they'd need to pay the CS grads for an extra month? well, that might be more expensive than just throwing the site a couple hundred thousand bucks.

ANYWAY: my point is, don't treat this "oh no tumblr is selling our posts to AI" like it's a big thing that might happen and it would be bad to happen. Yes, it's bad, tumblr shouldn't do this, this'll let AI models get continual updates of content for far easier than just scraping them would be, tumblr betrayed user trust, and so on...

but realistically, this is not a black and white matter of "if only tumblr didn't do this, then we'd be safe from AI models!"

Nope. We already lost that battle. I'm sorry, and it does suck, but that's just how it is. The avalanche has already started, it's too late for the pebbles to vote. * I'm assuming here that you don't run a private blog that's set to only followers or something. You'd be safer then, of course, but you're not really my target audience for this rant

[halalchampagnesocialist]

How to spot Liberal Zionist Propaganda 101

This post is by no means exhaustive at all. There are many Liberal Zionist talking points but these are just some of the most common ones. While on the surface they seem a little naive and hopeful at best, they are very much harmful. If you claim to be an ally to Palestinians, this post is primarily for you!

For starters, liberal Zionists will often try to both-sides the issue of Palestine, talk about how it's complicated, they'll claim that the conflict hurts both Israelis and Palestinians, how the only way forward is one where Jews and Arabs "just need to get along," amongst other things. They also often like to centre themselves, even when acknowledging Palestinians as the victims of Israel or this "conflict." From time to time, they also like to engage in tokenising certain Palestinians whose views tend to more or less align with theirs. Here are some common arguments you may hear from them:

1. Any form of justifying Israel's existence or claiming that the only solution is two states

It does not really need to be said why justifying Israel's existence is harmful but justifying its continued existence also means legitimising Israel's land theft, its expulsions of Palestinians, and its ongoing harm to Palestinians and other populations. Reducing any sorts of “solutions” into a binary is unhelpful. Needless to say, a 2ss would not even address any legitimate concerns Palestinian have, such as the right of return, and would only legitimise Israel’s colonialism. Talking about a two-state solution also implies that the root of the conflict lies in Palestinians not having their own state rather than being an occupied people. It is very much also possible to construct a paradigm where Jews and Palestinians both live together on the same land as equal citizens that doesn't involve two separate states, much less an ethnostate.

2. Security for Israel could only come through peace

This is a similar talking point to the one above. Not only does it centre Israeli safety and security above Palestinian liberation but it mistakenly assumes that once Israel makes peace with Palestinians, it'll achieve security. The reality, however, is that Israel's imagined security has quite often come at the expense of peace. In fact, "peace" has just acted as nothing more than a smoke-screen for Israel to carry out its expansionist policies, particularly in the West Bank. When liberal Zionists talk about peace juxtaposed with Israeli security, they're talking about attaining a negative peace rather than a positive one.

3. Israelis are not their government.

This point does nothing to actually help Palestinians. It is also an incredibly tone-deaf thing to say when Israel has targeted many Palestinian civilians by having alleged proximity to Hamas, such as being family members of militants or leaders (inc. children!), civil servants in a Hamas-led government, or even any male above the age of 15 they consider to be a potential combatant! It also deliberately erases Israeli civilians' support of and culpability in Israel's actions towards Palestinians.

4. Netanyahu and/or the Israeli right are the source of conflict.

While it is true that things have gotten inadvertently worse under Israel's various right-wing governments, they are not the source of conflict, but rather a product of extremist nationalism and Jewish supremacy perpetuated by the system. Both the 1967 occupations and settlements were undertaken under centre-left governments in Israel, and Israeli policy under non-right wing governments has been just as harmful towards Palestinians and has paved the way for where we are today. Blaming Netanyahu just also obscures the violent nature of Israel's military occupation over Palestinians which long precede him coming into power.

5. Netanyahu and Hamas are two sides of the same coin

I don't think I've seen any allies give validity to this claim but it's an extremely reductionist claim and is sort of similar to the one above. Groups like Hamas are merely a response to the Israeli occupation while Netanyahu is a byproduct of it. While some Israelis may see Hamas or their actions as an "obstacle to peace," Israel's actions and policies long pre-date Hamas and how Israel is currently responding to Hamas is no different to how Israel has engaged with Palestinian militant groups in the past, regardless of political affiliations or political goals. It is also important to note that Hamas has agreed to the establishment of a state along 1967 borders while Netanyahu aims to prolong the occupation and empower the settler movement (some of whom are part of his coalition government) as much as possible.

6. Israel is not a settler-colonial state.

While it is indisputable that Jews have historical connections to Palestine, that doesn’t automatically make you Indigenous or negate Israeli settler-colonialism. Colonialism in particular describes a relationship of exploitation. There are many cases of this, but we most clearly see this in the West Bank where Israel exploits natural resources on occupied Palestinian territory for its own political and economic gains. In terms of settler-colonialism, it is widely known that Israel expelled hundreds of thousands of Palestinians to make way for Jewish refugees and migrants to the new state of Israel, and is still actively facilitating Jewish migration to Israel today while denying Palestinians their right of return.

7. (X) doesn't help Palestinians.

It is not up to anyone to determine whether certain tactics or strategies are helpful or not. This point only seeks to discredit pro-Palestine organising. Only Palestinians get to decide what is actually helpful for the cause or not.

8. Any sort of Hamas-blaming.

On the surface it may seem like there’s nothing wrong with this, but this point is often harmful and usually lends itself to right-wing talking points because its objective is to deflect blame away from Israel. Certain arguments blaming Hamas also aim to minimise Palestinian suffering perpetuated by Israel. It also paints Israeli violence as retaliatory to Palestinian violence which only obfuscates Israel’s (and by extension, the US’) role in its state military apparatus and the differing power dynamics between Israelis and Palestinians. In other contexts, this point seeks to also legitimise certain opposition, such as the Palestinian Authority. Hamas-blaming also tends to sometimes lead to racist diatribes about Palestinians and their culture.

9. Al-Jazeera is not a credible news source.

Al Jazeera is a news source like any other. It has varying editorial policies and therefore will have equally good reporting on certain issues while having terrible reporting on others. The difference is that Al-Jazeera's news on Palestine is credible because it comes directly from their Palestinian reporters on the ground and first-hand eyewitness accounts. Western news sources are no more or less credible than al-Jazeera. Compare this to CNN, NYT, and any other Western news sources where Palestinian voices are often entirely missing from the narrative.

10. Overemphasis of antisemitism on the left

Antisemitism is a real issue and has the potential to fester in left circles if not directly addressed head on. Combatting antisemitism is extremely important, however, it is not an issue exclusive to the left. There is also a double standard in that no one expects Zionists to call out Islamophobia and anti-Palestinian racism. Certain accusations of "antisemitism" also seek to distract from what's going on in Palestine by making it about Jewish comfort and feelings. Combatting antisemitism, Islamophobia, anti-Arab racism etc is always important as the basis of good politics.

Last but not least, be wary of native collaborators or any sort of normalisers! They are Palestinians or Arabs who try very hard to appeal to Western liberal consensus and can end up perpetuating a lot of harm to the cause and/or other activists. You will know them when you see them.

[pathologicalreid]

wavelength | s.r.

in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: child in hospital with unnamed illness, seizures, pregnant!reader, boy dad!spencer, MRIs, head injury word count: 1.96k a/n: this is my little reid family from three's a family, but as usual, you don't have to read that one to understand this one. (it's one of the cryptic pregnancy ones so maybe keep that in mind lmao) - welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda, i missed it

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thumbs enough to press the call button, tapping the green icon, you press your phone to your ear, listening to the rings as you keep your other hand on the bed in front of you.

Sniffling, Leo holds your hand in his much smaller one, “Mama?” His voice is little more than a whine, and you find yourself wishing he’d fall asleep while you wait for his turn in radiology.

“Yeah, lovey?” You whisper, squeezing his fingers gently as he looks at you with sad eyes.

His eyes were sad in a way that only a three-year-old’s could be, not quite understanding why he had to stay in the hospital, and continuously asking for his parents. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, his voice soft as he shifts on his side in the hospital bed.

Your shoulders slouch ever so slightly, trying not to show him how much of his displeasure you shared, “I know. I’m so sorry.” They were holding off on giving him more medication, but it just made him miserable.

Starting to wonder if they could just give him something to help him rest, you distantly hear your name being called, taking a moment to be confused before you remember that you called Spencer.

“Hey,” you greet a little breathlessly, “Are you working?” You move your hand, smoothing back Leo’s hair in an attempt to coax him to sleep.

You hear a shuffling of papers on the other end of the call, answering your question well enough before he responds verbally, “We’re just trying to finish a few things up before calling it a night.”

Bowing your head, you sigh, “Right, you have that senate review next week.”

Spencer groans at the reminder of the meeting, “And finding some of these files is proving to be difficult. I think Garcia’s just about had it, but we’re all starting to get to that point. Why the call? Not that I’m unhappy to hear your voice,” he clarifies. “Did Leo get to sleep alright?”

You falter slightly knowing that Spencer is already stressing about work, “Honey,” you start softly, “Leo’s alright, but I had to call an ambulance for him about an hour ago.”

“What happened? You said he’s alright?” He asks, fear changing the pitch of his voice.

Swallowing thickly, you watch Leo continue to fight sleep, his brown eyes watching you while you’re on the phone. “They think he had a seizure,” you whisper, keeping your voice down so that your son doesn’t catch onto your anxiety.

There’s a shuffle of papers on the other end, “Is he sick? Was it a febrile seizure?”

“Uh, no, hold on,” you flip through the pamphlet, “They called it a drop seizure when we were in the emergency room, and they did an EEG.” You explain, reading over the papers in front of you for the nth time.

Spencer talks to someone else in the room, hopefully letting them know that he has to leave, “What happened?”

Tears prick your eyes, and you look up into the fluorescent light to will them away, “I was just getting him ready for bed, and he went to go potty, and he just fell. He hit his head on the tub and I just… I panicked,” you admit the last part. “I was not very collected, and the 911 operator knew that,” you tell him, watching Leo’s eyes finally fall shut.

“I wouldn’t have been either,” Spencer assures you, “What hospital did they bring you to?”

Rattling off the name of the hospital, you risk assuming that Leo’s asleep enough for you to step back, enabling you to speak at a higher volume, “Can you leave work?” You weren’t even thinking about how busy the BAU was when you called, you were just thinking about getting Leo his dad. “They want to do an MRI, and he’s allowed to have someone in there with him, so he doesn’t get scared,” you explain.

“But you can’t,” Spencer needlessly reminds you.

A huff of frustration escapes your lips as you look down, eyes focusing on where your shirt catches on the soft swell of your lower belly. “No, I can’t,” you say miserably.

A nurse walks through the door, sparing a pitying glance at you, the pregnant mom whose toddler was in the PICU, before checking on Leo’s vitals. Spencer clears his throat, “I’m already on my way.”

You lose track of time, sitting in the reclining chair that lives in the corner of the PICU room, and memories of Leo’s first month of life start to flash in front of your eyes. He was a thirty-two-weeker, and he spent twenty-nine days in the NICU before coming home for the first time.

You felt like a failure then, and you feel like a failure now.

Tapping your fingers on your belly, you watch Leo sleep, his body curled up on the hospital bed and collodion stuck to his forehead. You remember finding out you were pregnant again, the overwhelming joy that mixed with the stunned fear like oil and water—Spencer had to remind you to breathe.

Something caught your attention, a small, high-pitched beep from one of Leo’s monitors sent a group of people flying into the room, standing around your son and listing off things that your fear-addled brain couldn’t comprehend.

He’s there when you stand up, Spencer stays at your side for all twenty-one seconds of Leo’s second seizure, watching as strength returns to his tiny body and his eyes open, “Mama?” His small voice calls out for you, afraid of being surrounded by doctors and nurses that he doesn’t know.

Slipping away from Spencer, you make your way back to the hospital bed, hovering over your son as you cup his cheeks affectionately, “I’m here, baby.” Hiding your face to wipe tears away, your fear that he still feels ill is only exacerbated by the fact that he doesn’t insist that he’s not a baby—he’ll always be yours, though.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let him see past you, the way his eyes light up at the sight of his father, “Daddy!” He chirps, trying to reach out for Spencer.

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer says, his voice tight while he crouches in front of Leo, “Mama says you don’t feel good.”

Leo shakes his head, “I hit my head,” he recounts mournfully, “then we had to go in the loud car.”

Your husband frowns for a moment before he realizes Leo’s talking about the ambulance, “Did they tell you I get to go with you to get your tests done?” He warps the narrative to make the MRI seem like a fun activity—something they get to do.

“Can mama go?” Leo asks, tilting his head to the side slightly, leaning into you as he does so.

Gently, you wrap an arm around him, dressed in a pediatric hospital gown with all kinds of wires and electrodes attached to him. “Mama has to stay up here,” Spencer breaks the news to him, sparing you a sympathetic glance, “but she’ll be here when we get back. Then, we can tell her and the baby all about it.”

The baby won’t be able to hear outside voices until you’re much further along, but when Spencer tried to explain that to your toddler, the only response he’d gotten was Why?

As it turns out, even Spencer Reid has a limit to the number of questions he can answer, so you let Leo talk to the baby. “I’ll be right here when you get back,” you reassure Leo, taking a shaky breath when he wraps his arms around you.

He’s in tears by the time they come to get him, only willing to go to radiology if they let his daddy carry him there.

You’ve let go of the hope that this was all just a freak incident, but the looks that the nurses have started exchanging squashed that optimism immediately. Taking the opportunity to lie on the hospital bed, you try to reassure yourself—if Spencer didn’t seem worried, you shouldn’t be worried.

Though Spencer wouldn’t show his concern to you, he certainly wouldn’t do it with Leo in the room.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by something being set on your side, your eyes cracking open just enough to watch Spencer lay Leo down on the bed next to you. “Hey,” Spencer whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I was trying not to wake you up.”

Cringing at the brightness of the room, you watch Leo as he curls into your side, “How did he do?”

“He was great,” Spencer says, gently ruffling the sleeping boy’s hair. “He fell asleep about halfway through,” he informs you, carefully pulling a chair up to the bedside.

You hum, making sure Leo is snug in his blanket before turning back to Spencer, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

Spencer shakes his head dismissively, “It’s okay,” he whispers, mindful of the hour—it’s nearing midnight now.

Reaching a hand up to cover your mouth, you hiccup a sob, “I’m a bad mom.”

“You are not a bad mom,” Spencer responds quickly, peeling your hand from your mouth and taking it in his hand.

Your lower lip quivers, “This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been born so early.”

Spencer’s face softens, squeezing your hand comfortingly, “That wasn’t your fault. That was a situation that you didn’t have any control over.”

Deep down, you know he’s right, but your mom guilt that was on the surface level made the truth hard to see. “I couldn’t even hold his hand while he got an MRI,” you cry, small tears falling from your eyes.

“Honey,” Spencer murmurs, carefully wiping the tears from your cheeks, “You’re pregnant. Even more, you’re high risk,” Spencer reminds you as if it’s something you’re soon to forget. “There’s no way I would’ve let you in that room. You can blame that on me if you’d like.”

Leo shifts next to you, garnering your attention for just a moment before you turn back to Spencer, “I thought an MRI was better for pregnant women.”

Sighing, Spencer looks at you fondly, “Compared to a CT, an MRI is the better option if it’s medically necessary. Logically, I’m well aware of this, but I do find myself more protective over you these days,” he admits, eyes flickering down to your bump.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I should’ve been watching him before he hit his head.”

Your husband dismisses your concern immediately, “We’ve been teaching him privacy, he’s proud that he gets to go potty on his own.”

“Why won’t you let me feel guilty?” You ask, frowning at him.

He hums in response, “Because you aren’t guilty. Your baby is in the hospital, and you might have some unresolved issues from when he was in the NICU.” He takes a deep breath, “and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re tired, and you have a lot of conflicting emotions and hormones that you’re struggling with.”

Leaning your head back on the pillow, you sigh loudly, “You know me too well.”

“I also know that our son loves you, and what happened tonight was not your fault,” he reiterates. “Whatever is going on with him, we’ll figure it out, okay? The four of us are going to be just fine.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod in understanding and listen to the soft whistle of Leo’s nose as he exhales. “We’ll be just fine,” you echo, intertwining your fingers with Spencer’s and preparing yourself for what’s bound to be a long night.

[lensman-arms-race]

I did the thing! (I actually wanted to do something with this prompt when I first saw it, but the stars weren't in alignment or something for my brain to produce the correct writing juice.) Kindle meets my character Phaeton - the sole human engineer working on Titan TV's crew.

'Too late, fucko,' the other entity thought - but didn't say. "I think this one's mine," the stranger - a human! - said, picking up one of their own spilled papers.

Kindle had never seen this human before, but knew this could only be Phaeton. (How many other humans in TV Base could there be, after all?) Wait - Phaeton the Titan engineer? Oh no, oh no, oh no, Kindle really did not want Phaeton to see these! Surely the human would mock its obsession-

"You are studying technical drawing?" asked Phaeton. "Sorry - I know you said don't look, but it was right in my foveas. It's pretty good," Phaeton continued as they handed one of the papers - a drawing of the TV Titan with doodled hearts in the margins - back to Kindle. "You remembered to include the freikugel couplings on the core array. Most people don't notice them and leave them out. Plus you properly added the asymmetry in the crown heatsink. A lot of people assume it's meant to be symmetrical and draw it as such on plans."

Kindle uttered a flustered squeak, and jumped at the realisation that it hadn't actually taken the paper off Phaeton. Nor had it answered Phaeton - Kindle quickly got its shit together and thought of something to say. "It's - it's like that to prevent resonance buildup - isn't it? The heatsink, I mean."

"Yeah, that's the bastard," said Phaeton. "Same kind of reason most humans have one bollock or one tit lower than the other one, I guess - prevents them banging together when we run."

"Oh! I... didn't know that," said Kindle.

Phaeton suspected that Kindle was embarrassed by the fact that many of its papers were all covered in hearts. "Honestly," said Phaeton, "I believe that to be a successful Titan engineer, you kind of have to be a bit obsessed with your Titan. And I know I'm not the only engineer who thinks that." Phaeton handed back some more heart-speckled papers to Kindle. "Oh, that one's mine," said Phaeton, taking one back. (It had doodles of farting bumholes and spunking dongs in the margins.) "I didn't introduce myself, did I? I am a Titan engineer - on your own Titan's crew, in fact. My name is Phaeton." Phaeton was intrigued by the short stature of this TV-unit. All other TVs could loom over Phaeton, but Phaeton could have used this one as a chin-rest.

"...You really think so?" said Kindle. "About the bit about obsession, I mean. Obviously you know your name is Phaeton." Kindle emitted a static-squeak of frustrated embarrassment at how incoherent it was being, and stalled for time by picking up the last few dropped papers. "Oh! I'm Kindle," said Kindle. There - that was a sensible response to someone telling their name.

"Well met," said Phaeton. They were picking up on Kindle's flusteredness but trying not to draw attention to it. "You know... if you'd like to meet the Titan, I could arrange that. I can't do anything about the other two factions' Titans; I don't have that much pull."

"Eek!" squeaked Kindle, almost dropping its papers again. "I mean... I don't want to take up your time or get in the way - I know you're a busy engineer!"

"Not that busy," conceded Phaeton, pulling out a paper from their own stack to show Kindle. Framing the the printed text were doodles of panicked skibidi toilets being pursued by angry bees and geese. "I don't remember this meeting but clearly I was bored out of my skull. Right now the Titan is between upgrade cycles so it's being kept in a state of T15." This state meant the Titan was being kept ready to deploy for battle with a maximum of 15 minutes' notice. "I could probably let you stick your head in and say hello- wow, are you okay?"

Kindle was so nervous at the prospect of actually encountering the Titan, it wanted to port away - an unkind thought flashed into its head of command-beaming Phaeton to forget this conversation even happened. But at the same time, it couldn't possibly pass this opportunity up! "Yes - I'm okay," Kindle made itself say. "I just... don't want to bother the Titan. Are you really sure it's okay for me to visit?"

"I am," said Phaeton. "Come, let's walk." They set off towards the hangar, and Kindle quickly followed. "I'm a Titan engineer, as I said," continued Phaeton as the pair walked, "and if I say it's okay for you to visit, then it is. And I know the Titan won't be bothered. The rest of the crew and I are hoping that things will quieten down enough at some point that we can start having scheduled visiting hours for the hangar, so anyone can drop in."

"Does the Titan approve of that plan?" asked Kindle, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"It was the Titan's suggestion," said Phaeton. "Oh, perhaps you don't know? The Titan loves every TV. Nobody planned it that way, but it turns out if you select a Titan from a pool of candidates the most loyal and devoted to the faction, and put it in a body designed to be the faction's ultimate guardian, with an intellect sized to match - well, the way its mind unfolds, it'll grow to love the whole faction. In retrospect, knowing what we know now, it was probably inevitable."

Kindle seemed stunned. Phaeton let it process that information, lest it drop its folder of papers again.

"You know," said Phaeton, "I was kind of a Titan groupie myself, before I got to join the engineering team. I first met it because I got voluntold for maintenance on its core. There's lots of disadvantages to being a squishy organic in a techfolk world, but it turns out being immune to magnetic fields is pretty handy. And from there I was smitten! The Titan really is as glorious and terrifying and beautiful as you're expecting - but it noticed me and was gentle to me and spoke kindly to me. And it always has. I just couldn't not meet it again! ...And you've probably heard about what came next. I became enough of a hanger-on that Engineer Zenith ended up giving me a position on the engineering team. They said it was because of my skill, but I suspect it was partly because I wasn't going to go away, so I might as well be useful. So, not a recommended method for getting a job, but it happened to work in my case."

Kindle's screen lit up a little brighter from having to take in all this information. 'Titan groupie'? Was that what it was? Kindle couldn't really deny it... "When you said the Titan loves everyone..." began Kindle, partly to show it was keeping up with the conversation, "It hasn't met me. So how can it?"

"You're about to find out," said Phaeton, as the pair rounded a corner.

Oh, they were here already- no, it was too early for Kindle! It wasn't ready yet... but it knew it would regret it forever if it didn't seize this opportunity!

Phaeton was already talking to the security guards at the hangar entrance, Kindle realised as it snapped itself out of its daze. One of the guards gave Kindle a visitor's pass to clip to its lapel (and gave Kindle a smiling emoticon).

Phaeton and Kindle entered. This was happening, this was really happening... Phaeton could tell how anxious-yet-delighted Kindle felt, and knew just how the TV was feeling.

Kindle felt more nervous still as its teleport-circuit prickled in the presence of the hangar's void-webbing. TVs could port themselves around within the hangar, but no-one except the most high-ranking individuals could port directly in or out - Kindle wouldn't be able to leave except the same way it came in. It was very tempting to do just that, and teleport back to the hangar bulkhead doors before noping out down the corridor... but Kindle endured. This was terrifying, but it was also just what Kindle wanted.

Phaeton thought of asking Kindle to port the pair right over to the Titan. The human often got around the hangar that way, hitching a lift with whichever TV was going in the same direction. Phaeton decided against it - it might make Kindle more nervous at having to not fuck up the teleport on top of everything else. Plus, the Titan deserved to be beheld properly, and the approach on foot would help Kindle do just that.

The Titan turned its head to find the owner of the unfamiliar yes-I-live signal. "Phaeton, you've brought a visitor," said the Titan. At this range... it was like the voice of the night sky, of the power in the storm. The Titan faced Kindle screen-on, that vast pane of static bearing down and transfixing Kindle with terror and delight. The Titan rippled its magnificent back-spikes with curiosity. "Eighteen-Ninety-Seven," said the Titan. It displayed a smiling emoticon on its screen and buzzed its speakers gently. "Well met."

Kindle was paralysed by sheer awe. It had seen every broadcast with the Titans, most of them multiple times, but that couldn't prepare it for the scale and magnificence of the entity before it... It was so frightening that it actually made Kindle feel calm from the sheer inevitability of the Titan. It was like a force of nature, only it had been shaped not by nature but by the greatest minds of the TV faction. The calmness Kindle felt was starting to feel more like serenity. 'This...' thought Kindle, 'This is my Titan.'

The last of the Titans, and the most powerful and perfect.

"Do not fear me," said the Titan softly, bringing its colossal screen closer to the walkway. "Dear Eighteen-Ninety-Seven," whispered the Titan, its voice a wave breaking on a stony shore in the dead of night. "Do not fear me. I couldn't bear that. I love you, dear one."

"...Truly?" Kindle said as it clutched its folder of papers.

"How can I not?" asked the pride of the faction. "I am your Titan."

Hey, Skibidi Tumblr! Let's do a writing exercise!

The last one I did was... a bit too complicated, I think. I got too excited; sorry about that. 😅 This next one is a lot more simple - and it's pretty dang cute too, in my opinion! <3

In case you missed it, here's the gist!:

Under the cut, I've written a little scene with dialogue involving some of my OCs (in this case, Kindle!). Anyone that wants to participate can reblog this post with their own characters, reacting and responding to the provided scenario!

If you aren't all that good at writing but still want to participate, then that's alright. Bullet points describing your character's thoughts or actions, or even drawing your OC's response are perfectly fine as well!

Have fun, everyone! Can't wait to see your responses! <333

Too engrossed in the art on the page, the short little TV unit in a black peacoat dress wasn't paying any attention to what was in front of it. As it walked down the corridor and rounded a corner, it bumped directly into someone and was thrown off-balance, stumbling this way and that. With a short staticy squeak!, it toppled to the floor, dropping its books and papers and scattering them everywhere.

As the TV sat up and regained its bearings, it realized what had happened. With another frightened, much louder SQUEAK!, it scrambled to gather all of its things off of the floor. As it did so, the stranger the TV bumped into couldn't help but notice the contents of the papers it had dropped: various pencil-and-pen drawings of all three of the Alliance Titans, all in incredible detail. Huh... a lot of these had hearts on them-

"EEEEK-!" The TV suddenly squeaked out, an embarrassed and flustered emotion plastered on its screen. "Oh my Titans, t-this is so embarrassing! N-nobody was supposed to see these! DON'T LOOK-!!! (⁄⁠⁄⁠>⁄⁠⁠⁄⁠⁄<⁄⁠⁄)"

[sagelasters]

barbados is a mindset

“Yes. You are now in Barbados. And so… you see Barbados, and you see America from Barbados, and you can smell the tropical land of Barbados, see only the little homes of Barbados, and that’s all you do. You just simply sleep this night in Barbados.” - Abdullah tells Neville.

Before Neville Goddard knew of the law and practiced it, his country was plunged in a state of instability. Poverty runs rampant as the global stock market crashes, sparking panic and leaving many penniless. Neville explained the vivid details of homeless people scattered all over tunnels and city square, eyes void of hope for the future. He was unemployed just like millions of others, his career as a dancer wasn’t enough to support his living. Neville lived in a basement for years with little to no income until one day, he met his friend, Abdullah. 

Abdullah was well-off and is the son of the US secretary of the Treasury, who served under the 32nd president. The differences between them were large and Neville was aware of it. He confided in his friend and told him that he has this haunting desire to visit Barbados again. The only thing that was stopping Neville though, was the lack of money. In which Abdullah says, 

“You are in Barbados.”

Of course, Neville thought he was nuts but the man decided to try and assume that he was in Barbados. That night, he went to sleep thinking that he would wake up in Barbados, only to be disappointed that he woke up in the cold basement he called his home. Neville would come back and tell Abdullah that it didn’t work, only for the latter to ignore him. Despite that Neville kept persisting and on the morning of December, he got a letter from his older brother asking him to visit his family in Barbados – his brother had paid a third class ticket. Excited, Neville told Abdullah that he is going to Barbados however, his friend was unimpressed. Abdullah told Neville that he wasn’t boarding a third class ticket, he was going to go there with a first class ticket. 

And guess what? When Neville gave his ticket to the clerk by the desk as they’re checking in passengers, they told him that someone canceled their first class ticket, therefore a spot was available for him. 

Abdullah ignored Neville when he said ‘it didn’t work’ because it did work, if Neville was assuming that he was in Barbados, they wouldn’t be having this discussion about him not being there. What can you take from this story? I would say that unfortunate circumstances don't matter, especially when we see how bad and dire Neville’s financial situation was. Come on, he was in a country torn apart by war and poverty, yet he was still able to visit Barbados. Neville didn’t think of how he’d get there, he just simply assumed that he was there, and his 3D reality follows right after. 

Barbados is a mindset. If you can imagine yourself having it and then accept that it is yours, you’re at the end. Your assumption is the fetus, continue nourishing it with beliefs and affirmations – let that child grow and become. If you drop your assumption that basically means you’re neglecting the fetus, and it will eventually die from starvation. 

It doesn't matter if you have no money, it doesn't matter if you're in an abusive situation, it doesn't matter that you barely have a roof over your head. You are already in Barbados, tune into your inner man and bask in that.

EDIT: My apologies for getting the information mixed up. Abdullah is not the son of US secretary, rather he lived in a house that was rented by the latter. Sorry for the confusion!

[alice-everafter]

"Were you aware that you talk in your sleep?"

Through the haze of tiredness, Vil's voice rings clear, as it so often does. It takes a few too many blinks to will the grogginess away. But when it does, you turn on your side towards him. He's in a position mirroring your own, his form highlighted by the early morning rays of sunlight leaking in through the window behind him. Swathed in blankets that have clearly seen better days, as was typical of Ramshackle grade furnishing.

"...Good morning to you too, Vil."

He doesn't reply with any words, merely a hum of acknowledgement.

It's unfair how perfect he can look so soon after waking. Cause you know for a fact your hair is in tangles under your head. Makes you feel like a true potato, as he so calls you.

You're reminded of the circumstances behind this current arrangement as he eyes your drowsy self calmly. Turns out, even after renovations, Ramshackle is still ramshackle. It only took one flop onto your bed for the legs holding up the bedframe to give out entirely. The sound had attracted the whole VDC squad, so they got to bare witness to probably one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Well, Ace made certain that it was, at least.

Originally content to sleep on a slightly shorter than usual bed, Vil had been quite adamant on not letting you. Something about bugs and possibilities of them infesting the mattress. It didn't really matter to you, but somehow you found yourself in his room. Rather, one of your guest rooms. And that was where you still were, letting him eye you down like a product on display.

"...Something on my face?"

"Yes, drool."

Nice to know that Vil's charm was present every hour of the day.

"...What was this about me talking in my sleep?" You try to nonchalantly swipe a hand over your mouth, but it fails spectacularly. Nothing gets past this man.

"You mumble all sorts of nonsense." He looks like a Renaissance painting as he brushes a stray lock from his eyes, tucking it elegantly behind his ear. "I nearly thought you were awake at first, talking to yourself."

"Yes, cause that's totally what one does first thing in the morning. Talk to themself."

The sleepiness has clearly made you overly confident. If the glare he levels you is anything to go by.

"Notice how I said 'nearly.' Meaning I didn't actually think you were. Does the morning dim your wit more than normal?"

"...For someone so insistent on getting me in their bed, you're rather snappy."

"Why I never." That comment gets him riled enough to sit up. You feel tiny as he stares daggers down at you where you continue to lie. In your puddle of disarray, while he's somehow runway ready at the ass crack of dawn.

"How can you look like a Greek god first thing in the morning?" Oh, so you've decided to voice your thoughts out loud. Ok, cool, that's totally what you wanted to do. Totally.

You watch as his anger morphs into confusion. "Greek god?"

"Oh," that's right. That's a 'your world' thing, isn't it. "A reference from back home, don't worry about it."

"Hmph," he grunts. Well, you'd hardly call it a grunt. Vil wouldn't do something as barbaric as grunt. It was more like a delicate, posh scoff. But, he no longer looks as mad as he did before, so you guess it was a good thing you decided to voice your inner musings aloud. "Does this 'Greek god' happen to have flawless skin, gorgeous hair, and impeccable taste?"

You don't want to answer him, cause you know where this is going. But, again, nothing escapes the notice of this man. You're forced to watch his lips curl up into an infuriatingly hot smug grin.

"From your face, I assume so. It's kind of you to notice the obvious."

You're very well awake by now, but you still roll your eyes. You may lowkey highkey fear this man, but nothing could've held that reaction back.

"Yeah, well, they're also incredibly abnormal. Cause the rest of the population doesn't typically wake up looking like a supermodel."

"If you think I'm a supermodel now, then you must think I'm ethereal on a day to day."

You do nothing but grumble as you shuffle to sit up, rubbing leftover sleep from your eyes while pointedly ignoring how he practically preens next to you. When you instinctually card a hand through your hair, instead of it catching on knots like you expect, it goes right through.

"It's the pillow case."

Again, the bastard reads your expression like a book and promptly comments on it.

"Satin is good for both the skin and the hair."

You're tempted to call him extra, cause who brings their own pillow case to someone else's house? But the way your hair feels, how it's free from a majority of its typical morning tangles, shuts you up.

You chance a glance up at him. Head turned towards you, knees bent below the covers, an elbow rested over top, chin held primly in the palm of his hand, still haloed by the rising sun like it’s a paid actor. With an elegant quirk to his brow and an expression equal parts amused and sickly fond.

There is... something running laps in your chest. Begging to be acknowledged. To be known.

"...If you're fishing for another compliment, you'll find that I've reached my daily quota."

You swing your legs over the side of the bed as you hear him click his tongue. And no, it's not running away, but it sort of feels like it is.

"I'll go and make myself presentable before starting on breakfast. You said we needed more protein, right? I was thinking I could make omelets━"

"A shame, really."

You have no clue how he moved so silently, but he was suddenly next to you and unapologetically in your space. Brushing hair behind your ear like he was born to do it. Walking the small distance around to your front so you could see the pleased smile upon his lips and knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Damn him, you can't help but internally curse as goosebumps form where his fingers had barely even grazed. Nothing gets past him, and especially not you.

"I was so hoping for a few more compliments, because I certainly haven't reached my needed quota."

[nickfowlerrr]

sit me on your throne.

pairing: geralt of rivia x curvy!reader

warnings: i don't know what i'm writing about but if you're here for smut, there's smut. 18+ only. probably ooc - i've only seen season one. if i'm missing something that needs to be tagged please let me know.

words: 4.3k

notes: i really truly do not know. forgive me not.

thank you in advance for reading! any thoughts, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. let me know what you think. (unless its mean then pls don't).

"You kneel before me?"

Your question is born of nothing but pure confusion as you tilt your head in bemusement at the bulking behemoth of a man before you.

He hadn’t done as much when he first arrived, not to your displeasure, so it was odd to see him do it now - especially after the battle he has just fought.

He is at your feet, his long white hair darker and dingier now, dirty as his clothes and skin; marred with caked mud and what you can only assume is the blood and guts of the beast he has defeated.

The stench he carries with him is pungent, nothing but putrid, and yet that somehow doesn't take from his striking good looks; those paired with his brevity and bluntness have held your attention from the moment he stepped foot in your kingdom.

He is a man of little words, this Geralt of Rivia. His jester of a companion having done much of the speaking - perhaps too much - for him since they arrived.

Geralt says nothing still, only meets your gaze as he takes steady breaths. His yellow eyes, feline and harsh, cut through you in a number of ways - none of which you'd care to share aloud. You have a feeling he knows, however, just how affected you are by him no matter how well you think you hide it.

You are alone together, no guards at the ready, no advisors by your side. Most of your kingdom is now quiet and abandoned, including the halls of your once flourishing and lively home. The halls of this castle have been eerily silent since the night your men went on their mission to save their homestead. You had already sent word for The Witcher, you implored them to keep safe indoors until his arrival. They did not listen. Most of them still having seen you as the young princess you once were, the others simply following the orders of their leaders. You may have been their "Queen", but their faith in their commanders was stronger.

Those commanders who led them to their deaths... You still sigh at the loss.

Those who were not taken, slain, by the beast have long since fled for their lives. You cannot blame them. But you certainly could not join them. Your castle once held many souls, but now it is only you and a handful of others. Titles of servants, but you really never were one for titles.

"Your friend?" you wonder.

"Somewhere," he answers shortly, his voice low and deep as he speaks.

You quirk a brow, "Safe?"

"For as long as he keeps himself from trouble."

You hum, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Their relationship amuses you, you must admit.

"You needn't kneel, Witcher," you implore as you sit back on the throne. It is yours in name alone. It has never felt right to sit in. He seems to sense your unease, but he doesn't speak it. You continue, "You have done what you said you would, I will do the same."

Still, he doesn't stand. Not until you flick your eyes and move to stand yourself. He rises easily as he stands before you still. There is not much distance between you, and the stench of him stings your eyes and threatens to gag you. Your face scrunches in disgust as you turn it away from him, grimacing.

"I've had a bath readied for you, and new clothes set aside," you inform him, moving to pass around. He follows you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as his eyes cling to you. "Your meals will be served as soon as you're done. I don't imagine anyone would be able to stomach a bite with that smell coming off of you."

He says nothing but lets out an amused "hm" at your words, still following as you lead him to the bathing room.

You thank Amaleah as you enter and she leaves with a nod to you, her breath catching when she smells Geralt enter behind you. It's as fast an exit as you've ever seen.

You move toward the bath and wade a hand in the water. It's a bit hot for your preferences but it should get him clean. You ensure the soap Amaleah brought in is fragrant enough and still look for some nicer oils to add to the water; when you turn around to ask your guest his want, you find yourself stunned silent as you're met with the sight of his broad, bare chest. His muscles flex under his pale and scarred skin as he moves, his solid chest is covered in dark hair, trailing down his torso. His arms are strong and big and a thought at the back of your mind wonders how comfortable he must be to lie with.

You blink, mouth parted slightly as you take a breath. You watch his clothing fall as he discards them and your gaze follows his hand as he begins to strip himself of the rest of his garments.

He is completely shameless as he watches you watch him. You feel as if you are in a trance, you cannot bring yourself to look away despite the heavy weight of his gaze assuring you he sees you staring.

It’s not an act of brazenness, truly you would look away and leave him at once…if you could.

“I’ve slain your monster,” he speaks and your eyes rise back to his chest, trying to ignore the heaviness of his thick cock as it hangs so temptingly before you. No, not temptingly…Shamelessly. He has put himself entirely on display before you, without an ounce of shame or concern, and you are still frozen to your spot. “Was there something else you required of me, Your Highness?”

The title gets your attention, the breath caught in your chest finally flows and your eyes flick up to meet his. You can't tell entirely if he meant it as an insult or if he thought you'd prefer it to Queen.

You remain quiet for a moment as you try to gather a response. Either way...

“I told you that wasn’t necessary, Witcher.”

“Geralt.”

You swallow hard as he takes a small step forward, and you will yourself to not break his intense gaze.

"Geralt. I thank you, for saving what was left of this ruined kingdom, but I consider myself not princess, nor Queen, any longer."

"Did you ever?" he asks, staring into your eyes a moment longer before he steps closer still, looking you up and down then nudging you aside, eliciting goosebumps along your skin, rising under his touch.

You glance over your shoulder as he continues past you, lowering himself into the tub.

You think.

You know your answer, but you won't say it aloud. Clearly he knows it, too.

You can hear the water sloshing with his movements as he begins to clean himself.

You take a deep breath.

"The clothes will be brought in shortly. You might tell Jaskier when you're done that the food is ready."

"Ah," he says amid his washing, "so you do know his name."

"Of course I do. I've grown quite fond of the bard in the week since you've arrived."

"I couldn't tell," he says plainly, yet still biting - his words sharp with sarcasm.

You furrow your brow at his meaning and then there's a laugh at the door and you look to see Jaskier as he leans on it. "You sound jealous, there, Geralt," he taunts, holding folded clothing in his hands as he pushes off the door to saunter in. "I wouldn't worry. I don't believe I'm the one who's caught her eye." He looks to you with a smirk, bowing before you, "Your Majesty."

"I am no longer queen," you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

"My Queen, none the less," he simpers before standing to his full height.

You smile tightly, eyes narrowed playfully at him before you finally move to exit, leaving them to their inevitable quarreling. And trying not to focus on the tingling still affecting you between your legs.

--

You eat with the women in the kitchen; the dining hall one of your least favorite places to be.

There is a calm yet solemn energy around you all. A peace in the slaying of the monster who took your kingdom, and still the grief from the loss of it all, your people, their families, friends...

Calliope readies the plates for your guests as you bid them all a goodnight, kissing Amaleah's son on his head on your way out with a 'sweet dreams'. Since his father was killed, the poor thing has nightmares recurringly. You only hope with the monster's demise, they might ease for him some. He is far too young to be in such pain...

You think to pass by the dining hall on your way to bed to thank Geralt once more and wish them both a goodnight as well but think better of it.

You will see them in the morning before they set off. You still owe him his coin and you know he won't be leaving without it.

--

You open the heavy door of your chamber and once you are inside, begin to undress.

Slipping into your shift, you swiftly make your way into bed. You thought you'd fall asleep quickly, but as you lay there, your mind wanders to thoughts of only one.

You have one hand on your lower belly, the other resting on the soft skin right above it.

You sigh and close your eyes, but all you see when you do is his built form. His dark, firelight stare set on you. His clothes left on the ground as he stands strong in his glory.

You breathe deeply, your hand starting to slowly drift down your stomach as you tickle yourself. You're so tempted to touch where you want it most, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Not just yet.

You slip your hand between your spread thighs, softly running your fingers across the sensitive skin you find there.

It'd been a week of torment, having Geralt so close and not being able to act on your most base feelings. You know he knows what you think when you look at him, if Jaskier can see it, surely, he can too.

You might feel embarrassed but with the way he's managed to get closer and closer to you with each passing day as he awaited the beasts' return, you would wager he feels similarly.

It feels like an age that you lie awake. All the noises about the castle, not that there were many, have settled and it assures you everyone has retired for the night.

Sleep begins to nip at you but the stronger pull is to the dissatisfaction that weighs on you. The emptiness that echos through your body and soul.

Your fingers twitch, and you begin to glide closer to your uncovered core, the need to be touch too much to be ignored for much longer. Your eyes are closed and you imagine it isn't your hand running over your skin, but rather his large, rough palm feeling you, teasing you just so...

Just as you inch closer, your eyes snap open in the dark as a heartbreaking scream cuts through the night air. You sit up, pulling your hands off of yourself. You know immediately where the sound comes from and who it belongs to.

You get out of bed, intent to make sure Hartley and Amaleah both are okay.

You open your door just as the one across the wide hall does the same. You frighten at the unexpected movement but are then unsurprised to be across Geralt.

He is shirtless again, and his eyes are wide as his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice hard.

"Yes, I'm fine. It was the boy, Hartley. He has nightmares," you explain, keeping your voice quiet as to not disturb the renewed peace of the night.

The flick of the flame that lights the hallway allows you both to see one another. You say nothing for a moment as your eyes fall to his bare torso.

"Did the clothes not fit?"

He looks down at himself briefly, then back to you. He shakes his head, "I prefer to sleep naked."

You burn at his words, swallowing hard. "Oh. Well, I- I'm going to check on them, make sure they're fine."

"I'll go with you."

It's not a question, it's a statement. You stop in your start, turning to look at him. You say nothing, just blink and quickly carry on as you were.

You make your way down the stairs and down the hall until you see the flames licking at the end of the hallway.

You follow the glow to Amaleah's room and knock gently as you look in the open door.

She turns and looks to you, her eyes tired and cheeks damp as she rocks her toddler in her arms. He is sleeping again as she rubs his back gently, more to soothe herself than anything.

She sniffles, "Your High-" she stops herself, "sorry, forgive me," she whispers.

"Don't apologize. Please," you implore her. "I know it's habit."

"Are you two alright?" Geralt asks from right at your back.

"We are, thank you. Just another nightmare," her voice gets thick at the explanation. You know it hurts her that there isn't anything she can do but be there to comfort him when they come.

You smile sadly and nod. "We'll let you be, then. Do try to get some rest. He'll be okay," you reassure her.

You pull the door nearly closed and wind up with Geralt firmly at your back.

You turn into him but he doesn't seem to mind as he just looks down at you nearly pressed against his chest. You try to budge him to turn and move back down the hall but he doesn't waver. After a second, he relents and steps to the side, allowing you to go back down the hallway first.

It isn't until you come up on the throne room that Geralt speaks again.

"Might I have a word with you?" he asks.

You stop and turn to eye him as he stands at the entryway of the door.

"Now?" you question.

He nods once, "Now."

You approach him trepidatiously, and as you near, he gestures you in the room before him, extending his arm, "Princess."

Your eyes narrow again. And you turn on him, watching as he enters the room behind you. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"What am I doing?"

"Princess? Your Highness?" you quote him.

"I assumed you preferred it to your true title," he tilts his head at you.

"True title," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "I prefer no title at all."

"And what shall I call you then?"

You remind him your name, not that he really needs to be reminded. You know he knows it full well.

He considers you, then closes in on where you stand in front of the throne.

You don't move back, no, you quite like the closeness when he doesn't reek of death and innards.

Geralt seems to appreciate your resolve, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile as he studies your face.

"It's a beautiful name," he speaks lowly, taking another step into your space and raising his hand to gently caress your cheek before he leans in to speak against your ear. Your hands touch his solid stomach in an attempt to keep yourself upright, you can feel the muscles as they flex under your delicate graze. "I think I might prefer princess," he husks.

He slips away from you, turning to take a seat on the throne instead. You follow his movements and turn yourself to face him. You're stunned and completely set ablaze all at once.

"Well I don't."

"No," he smirks, agreeing with you, one large hand settling on his thick thigh as he spreads his legs, "you don't."

"It's too bad," he tsks, his voice a smooth rumbling. "No title, no throne."

"I don't want any throne."

Your eyes are glued to his thighs as he brings attention to his lap by rubbing the muscle there.

"None?" he asks before his gaze shifts directly on you, his mesmerizing stare burning into you. His voice lowers deeper than you've ever heard as a desperate longing shoots through you once again, resounding deep in your core. "Not even mine?"

Your mouth goes dry and your brain fuzzy as you take in his meaning.

Unthinking, you step toward him closer.

"You mean to defile the very one you sit on?"

"You don't seem to care for it much anyway."

Another step.

You are nearly stood between his spread legs, carefully you reach out a hand, your fingers light on his thigh. You feel his muscle then, flicking your eyes up. His gaze is dark and heated.

"That's true enough," you say, your voice breathy in a near whisper.

You gasp as your suddenly pulled closer by Geralt's rough hands around your waist. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your shift and its only then you realize how much of your figure he has seen thanks to your nightwear.

"Truer still," he speaks, "I don't mean to defile this throne." He squeezes your plush waist, groping you through your shift as your hands latch onto his solid shoulders. "I mean to defile you."

He manages to pull you onto his lap with little effort, leaning in to crash his lips into yours.

You kiss him back hungrily, chasing his lips as you settle on his lap. Your fingers wind in his hair and you can feel his cock growing beneath you through the material of his pants.

His hands slide down your waist and over your wide hips, reaching for the hem of your shift and pulling it up. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan, shifting your hips atop him.

You pull away, reaching for your dress and pulling it over your head, discarding it behind your back.

Geralt holds you closer, letting his lips explore your heavy breasts as you allow your head to fall back in pleasure, your hands returning to his hair.

"Geralt," you breathe, pulling him off you after a moment.

"Mm," he hums, kissing the swell of your breast once more before he moves to free himself from the restraint of his pants. He knows what you’ve both been wanting for days. What you need.

One heavy hand returns to your back, holding you by your waist while his other grips his red, throbbing cock.

He moves his tip up and down your slick center, making you whimper as he teases you - his cockhead rubbing delightfully against your sensitive clit.

He watches your face scrunch in rapture and holds you tighter to stop your wiggling about as you whimper.

He smiles smugly to himself and when you're just about to open your mouth to protest his teasing, he finally pulls you down on top of him. The sound that escapes you is music to his ears as you grasp onto him, your nails digging into the muscle of his back as your walls squeeze and stretch to accommodate his thick length, the size of him almost too much for you to take.

"Fuck," he groans as your walls tighten around him. He gives you a moment before he begins to urge you to move. He guides your hips, slow and sensually. The feeling of his hands on you motivates you to try and ride him yourself. And you do try, but you cry out again at how big he is, how fully he is stuffing you. You can barely move.

Geralt kisses you as he holds you closer, taking pity on your tight cunt and instead he moves his hands to your soft hips again. He holds you on top of him securely before he begins to fuck up into you.

You mewl as he jostles you, bouncing you up and down his cock, your breasts moving in time.

You pull on his hair, forcing him to look up from where his gaze was fixed, watching his own cock as he stretched you out for him, watching as your cunt took as much of him in as she could, up to your hooded lust filled gaze. You lean into him, chest to chest as you kiss him fervently. His lips follow yours as you taste one another. You nip at his lip and he growls, his hands gripping the ample flesh of your ass, "Keep that up," he snarls.

"And you'll what?" you breathe heavily, eyes screwed shut, jaw tight as you deadbrain on the pleasure coursing through you.

Your answer is a harsh thrust of his cock inside of you, stealing your breath while he slaps your ass, your flesh stinging from the force.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper debauchedly, your velvety walls squeezing him ever tighter as you feel yourself growing closer with every bounce. The tip of him hitting exactly where you need it to. Your body is on fire and you are loving every second of it. The feeling of him inside of you, of his hands squeezing and caressing you everywhere he can, of his lips demanding yours for more.

His grunts are growing louder and his thrusts more powerful, you kiss him hard in an effort to quiet him some, but you can feel what is coming.

Geralt is near slamming you down on top of him, the sound of your ass slapping against his thick thighs mix with the salacious sounds coming from you both and of your slick wetness as you're worked up and down his shaft, your cunt taking him better and better with each thrust.

Your hands move to hold his face, your noses brush as you breathe each other's air, lips touching just slightly.

"Geralt, I'm,"

"I know," he pants harshly, concentrated before taking your lips in his. You whimper pathetically as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. He keeps you moving a top him, your clit being stimulated with every brush of your hips over his, and then with another deep thrust it snaps before you can speak. Your voice is an empty high then silent squeak as your legs tremble and your eyes roll back. Are you even breathing? Your walls clench down on Geralt's cock and he finally allows himself to reach his own high as your tight walls flutter around him, squeezing him perfectly. You ride the waves of ecstasy as his come spills inside of you. You feel him shudder beneath you and it only adds to your feeling of weightlessness, stars in your eyes as you feel, think, breathe nothing but him.

You part from his lips and your bodies are slick with sweat as you both pant heavily. Geralt holds you to him as he softens inside of you, his forehead pressed to yours as your hand comes behind his neck, holding him to you in kind.

Your lips mimic a kiss but neither of you lean in close enough to actually do it. You work to catch your breath and settle for a minute before you finally break the quiet.

"Do I still owe you your coin?" you breathe, smiling when Geralt laughs in your face. You reach to move a stray strand of hair from his face, holding his cheek gently once you do.

Your stare into one another's eyes for a long moment, just breathing and being close.

"Where will you be off to in the morning?" you ask, hoping your solemn tone isn't as audible as it sounded to you.

"Don't know," he shakes his head, eyes straying to your lips.

You take a breath and pull his face closer to kiss him softly.

"I envy you, you know."

"Don't."

You huff a humorless laugh, readjusting yourself on his lap. "Not because you're a witcher. You may not have the most enviable life, but at least you have one. I've never made it past the most exterior gates," you smile sadly, playing with the hairs on his chest as you avoid his eye now.

"I suppose I'll have the chance, now, though. Thanks to you."

"And where will you go?" he asks.

Your gaze floats up to his and you repeat his previous answer. "I don't know. But I won't stay here. This kingdom is..." you shake your head. "I don't belong here. Never felt like I did. But I made a promise to my mother when I was young, and another to my father before he passed. I know I've let them down," you swallow the rise of emotion threatening to overcome you, "but alas, the fall of a kingdom is ever inevitable. Especially under such rule as my own."

"I've heard word of your rule from many. You're known to be kind. Caring. Protective, even. I don't believe you've failed. I think you were exactly the kind of ruler you should have been, who you needed to be. But perhaps it's a good thing you won't be forced any longer into holding power you don't desire. You're now free to do as you wish."

"I am," you nod lightly in agreement. "If only I knew where to start,” you muse with an uneasy laugh.

His hand runs up your back comfortingly; he's pensive, deep in thought for a long moment before he speaks.

"If you ready your things, I don't think Roach would mind a travel companion of her own. She seems to have taken to Belfast… I'm not sure she'd be ready to part with him so soon, anyway."

"Is that so?" you ask him, faux curiosity playing in your voice.

"And Jaskier is easier to take when I'm not the only one he has around to bother."

"Right," you nod, fighting your soft smile.

"And of course your coin would be useful as well."

"Of course," you exaggerate your agreement. "…Geralt, are you getting at something here?"

"Just that, if you want to join us…you might."

You lean into him again, thumb rubbing along his stubble lining his cheek, and this time he kisses you first. More gently than you expect. You can’t help your smile now.

You part lightly and breathe,

"I hope you mean that, Witcher. Because I just might."