#how are blacksmiths that fucking strong
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sulphurdotpng · 1 year ago
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I hate to break it to you my lord that's been standard Firestarting practice for smiths for a thousand years
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atrwriting · 1 year ago
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trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader
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hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was
informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know
as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash
anyway.... here's trust me:
when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.
a lot of it.
and an old building.
the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.
the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.
within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.
until one day. that day.
you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.
mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?
that was dangerous. too dangerous.
even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.
on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?
you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.
when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.
you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.
“ma’am?”
you turned around.
a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.
but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.
you smiled. “another drink, sir?”
“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”
you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”
he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”
you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”
“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”
you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”
he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”
“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”
“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”
“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”
“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”
you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.
“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.
and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.
the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.
billy, on the other hand… did not agree.
one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.
“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”
“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”
you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”
“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.
you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”
the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.
as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.
“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”
“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”
“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”
“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”
“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”
“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”
you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.
the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.
you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.
“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”
you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.
“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”
“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”
you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”
“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”
“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.
through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”
“pay. the. tab.”
he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.
“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”
that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.
“time for you to leave, friend.”
the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”
“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.
the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.
you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.
but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”
you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”
“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”
“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”
“‘s my job.”
“i know… but still,” you spoke.
you were continuing to close before he spoke again.
“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.
“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”
“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”
you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”
“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“
“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”
from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.
he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.
you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.
but he kept that to himself.
however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.
“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.
you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”
to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.
but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.
“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”
“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.
there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”
“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”
you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.
“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.
“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.
if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...
that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.
the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.
“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.
billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.
“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”
a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.
“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”
there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.
you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.
it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.
“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”
jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.
“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”
you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.”
he tipped his hat to you.
“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”
without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.
you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“
“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”
a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”
“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.
you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.
“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.
“knocked,” he bit.
you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”
“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”
you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”
“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”
you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”
you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.
he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.
you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.
no. you couldn't.
you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.
“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”
“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”
“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”
“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.
“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.
billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.
“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”
“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”
“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.
he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”
you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”
he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.
he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.
“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.
“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.
“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.
“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.
you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.
you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.
“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.
you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.
“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”
“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”
“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“
“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”
that shut you right up.
billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.
…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.
“what — what —“ you stammered.
“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”
you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.
“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.
his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.
“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”
billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.
“look at me, sweetheart.”
your eyes glanced back up to him.
like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.
“y’trust me?” he asked.
you hummed in agreement, nodding.
“say it.”
you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”
instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.
that was when his fingers picked up speed.
and, god… did it feel damn good.
“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”
“still trust me?”
“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”
he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.
“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”
you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.
“something — feels —“
“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.
“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“
“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”
and that was it.
the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.
a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.
“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.
“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”
it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”
“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”
“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”
his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”
“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”
he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.
“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”
“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”
you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.
“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”
you nodded, half ignoring him.
but it didn’t hurt.
the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.
“you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“
“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”
“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.
you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.
billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.
that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.
“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”
“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.
“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”
you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”
his hips snapped against you. hard.
maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.
“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”
his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.
“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“
“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”
“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.
billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”
you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.
“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”
you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.
his touch. only his touch.
“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”
the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.
“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“
“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”
he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.
with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.
his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.
he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.
“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“
he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.
“billy — you didn’t —“
“s’alright, darlin’—“
“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”
“that... thing?”
“with my mouth.”
he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”
you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”
he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.
“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”
his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?
“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.
he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.
you tried to hide your smirk from him.
he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.
"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.
he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."
you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.
you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.
"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.
you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"
you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.
that shut him up.
a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.
you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.
but you did anyway.
you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.
"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."
you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.
you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.
from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.
tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.
you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.
both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.
above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?
he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.
"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"
"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.
the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.
"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."
you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.
"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."
you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.
"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"
he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.
"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."
you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."
"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."
you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.
"on one condition," you spoke.
his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.
"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."
"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."
---
what did we think?? xox
-L
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lazyneonrabbitt · 9 months ago
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Daryl Dixon x Reader
Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.
This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!
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When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.
Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.
But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.
He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.
"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.
You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.
"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.
"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.
"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.
Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.
It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.
It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."
As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.
The hunter.
"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.
Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.
"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."
Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."
You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.
"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."
You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?
"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"
You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.
"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.
Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.
~~
"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"
"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"
"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."
Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."
The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"
"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.
You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.
"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.
Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.
"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.
So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.
The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.
"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.
"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"
Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.
You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."
Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.
"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."
He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.
~~
You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.
"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."
You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."
Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.
Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"
You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."
You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.
"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.
"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.
"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.
With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.
"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.
"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"
~~
The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."
After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.
You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.
It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.
"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"
A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.
While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.
The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.
Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.
"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"
The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.
Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.
"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"
Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."
Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."
He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."
You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.
"S'gonna be fun."
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zarnzarn · 2 months ago
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About the Reverse Odyssey AU (love it btw), do you think any of the Ithacans start praying to Hephastus? Just in case they can't get Odysseus back to human form, at least they can ask the God of inventing how to build a new palace that's half underwater.
oh god I have to continue that.... i have 3000 wips that ive gotten inspo for all at once are descending on me guys plus I am actively getting a master's degree bear w me for a few days
also OMG fuck yes!!! Ithaka is much more involved in this than in canon since a. they r not down 600 people who are immensely loyal to odysseus b. their king made a direct sacrifice FOR THEM literally no one else would have done this no other king would ever let himself be cursed to save his kingdom c. it's been 10 years and they all find it unjust because they'd all seen him weep as he left and know he and Penelope missed each other like crazy.
(plus he was very young when he took the throne! imagine a 13 year old telling u what to do and then being right. the people of Ithaka must have been very fond of him and most would have seen him as son-adjacent)
so one person has this idea one day, and they take it to the architects, who take it to the blacksmiths, who take it to the ruler of Ithaka. She pursues her lips as she looks at it, teeth grinding at the assumption that they would succeed but not overcome the curse, but allows them to do it.
So they start.
It is harder than their initial ideas demanded. First there is the matter of structures that do not stay down long enough to stick together, then there is the matter of how to secure them. Their dreams of beautiful underwater sculptures fall through as they struggle to conjure up even a basic shelter, even in the summer calm of the waters.
So, desperate and frustrated, they pray to Hephastus.
Ithaka is famous for its dedication to the goddess Athena, most of its temples under the king's ten-year rule being lovingly dedicated to the wisdom goddess. A separate group of smaller temples honors the other gods in the main town; but the main palace and most houses are painted blue and owl feathers and trinkets and sculptures are sold in the main market- the most beautiful of artistry is reserved for Pallas Athene alone.
But the blacksmiths and architects work together to build a small shrine worthy of the inventor god; with hidden catches and rotating idols and the best of their tools and ideas burnt at the fire kept burning at the base of it.
And after a few weeks- Hephaestus blesses them.
(He cannot make up for what he tried to do to Athena in his drunkenness and on Posiedon's inescapable goading. He was young and stupid and hurt and proud and drugged- he thinks she knows this, and has long since let it pass enough to stand beside him without a second thought; but will never be able to get over his shame- so the least he can do is this.)
But Ithaka's artists wake up with the same idea in mind and rush to the shrine in the early hours of the morning to give their thanks. Then they start building- floating large stones down at the far end to mark the range, until they have raised the wall enough to drain out the waters for them to work inside. They work fast, laying down the walls within days, until it joins to where the courtyard of the main palace creeps down the side of the cliff. From the palace itself, a tunnel is dug in the main room, wrapping around the mountain through the softer rock deposits, then travelling down to the sea.
They have the blueprints Odysseus himself had commissioned for his palace, and try to add in the carvings and structures accordingly. They dare not risk more than the smallest of owls carved into the stone entrance, wary of Posiedon's wrath at his rival. They work hard, encouraged by the people, helped by the Trojan heroes themselves- and strangely, their hands never feel tired and the ideas never stop coming.
The first test comes at the start of the monsoons.
The storms roll in angry and strong, battering against the island of Ithaka as furiously as always. When it is done, the architects are dismayed to find their hard-made palace flooded and destroyed, stone displaced or missing, with one collapse of the outside barrier causing three more within.
Dejected, they burn their tools at the temple forge once more, and then go to bed.
That next morning, the youngest of them wakes up with the thought- what if we used metal to hold them together?
The royal family gives them funding once more, and they commission for marble pillars to be sent from the mainland in exchange for their raw materials; these they sink to the bottom and drain the water once more. These pillars are erected and melted into the shifting sand with hot liquid metal, until they fuse into the rock. The roofed ceiling is replaced with live kelp and seaweed, attached to the top of the pillars and bound together. The walls are rebuilt quicker- with more labour coming in when they look closer to success than before, men with guilty eyes and stubborn determination ready to do the back-breaking, risky work.
The whole island holds its breath this time, as the monsoon rolls in and the ships return. The storms roll in and-
The wall has fallen completely, leaving the surroundings unsuitable for them to put it back up, letting the water back in.
But the building stands.
The celebration lasts all day and night, with all the workers being given a place of honor at the palace table itself for dinner. Even the royal family themselves are happy, for all the disappointment of another year of failure, and are grateful in a way that satisfies them more than the money ever could.
Yet there is still the second test- the tunnel to connect to the palace.
The main digging is complete; but as they reach the end they realize they do not know how they will open it to the sea without losing men to the outburst of the sea pouring back in. The Queen twists her lips when they go to her with the problem, thinking.
"This is such a bad idea," One of the men whispers.
"Shh," Eurylochus says, striking another spear into the final barrier. Two men come forward with hammers and push it in further, and they wait until the call comes in from the surface far above from the diver outside that the spear has gone through. "Don't tempt fate."
"You are such a nice, sane man, Eurylochus," One of the men moans despairingly, and he smiles, small. "Why are our royals all mad?"
He laughs, remembering a similar conversation from many years ago. He slips the rope around the loop at the end of the spear, and feels the nostalgia twist into sorrow once more, missing his captain, his general, his brother, his king, his friend. If only he had never kept that cursed bag. If only he had the courage to step forward first, not frozen in fear and shouldered the cost instead like a soldier should for their king, for Odysseus. Had not made mistake after mistake further, ordering Odysseus out of their reach in his panic to get him to the water, not being prepared with a net to catch him both times they'd seen him after.
He kept one on his belt now, at all times.
But until the skies and seas cleared, there was nothing to do except make sure Ody had a home to return to; that he could reach.
"Let's go," Eurylochus exhales, and they all grab the ropes attached to the dozens of spears and make their way back up the winding tunnel as slowly as they can, careful not to step on even one rope or pull too hard, and risk spelling doom for them all. Hearts pounding as they walk in the eerily silent tunnel, the dark taunting them, urging them to run. But they hold their nerve and come out at the pool created inside the main court.
Eurylochus climbs out last from the pool, and smiles up at Ctimene. She looks beautiful in the Ithakan jewels once more, holding herself with more grace and confidence than much richer princesses ever had, anklets tinkling.
She nods and then turns to the rest. "PULL!"
As one, the ropes spring up tight, straining until the spears come loose and men go falling to the floor with shouts. For a second nothing happens.
Then they hear the roaring.
He knows it's water, Eurylochus knows it has to be water- but it still sounds like a hoard of monsters, the shouting of a battlefield, the cyclops when he stole the lives of their friends in his fury. He can't help grabbing his wife and pulling her back, shouting for a retreat as the water rushes through the tunnel and bursts out in a terrible din into the pool, filling it to the top and then overspilling off the sides immediately.
For a heart-stopping moment, Eurylochus watches the water catch onto the feet of the people around, rising and rising, and he remembers Poseidon's cruel smile as he crippled and cursed Eurylochus' brother and thinks it's going to drown us all-
And then the tide recedes, and the water crawls back with it.
The plan worked. The palace of Ithaka now creeps down into the sea, enticing their wayward king to find his way back home, swim back to them and be happy, even if they never solved his curse.
All they have to do now is wait.
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liliewrites · 30 days ago
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" LICK YOU LIKE A LOLLIPOP ! "
a/n : hi little loves, here u go, a nice healthy portion of raidick content hehehehe
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-warning/s ; (Consensual) SOMNOPHILIA, DEEPTHROAT. -pairing/s ; Transfem! Raiden Ei x Fem! Reader
(men and minors, please dni utc ! )
“Oh, my love..”
As you opened the shoji to your shared private chambers with your beloved archon after your nightly bath, to your surprise, your beloved was already there in the comfy silken sheets that you both share. 
You gently approach her and reach out to caress her cheek, only to be met with no response. If it were outside your private chambers, your hand wouldn’t have even come as close as 5 inches to her face and yet, your lover lay there peacefully. On one hand, you couldn’t help but smile knowing the level of trust your lover had put in you but on the other, you felt great worry knowing your beloved was also the great shogun of Inazuma. Despite possessing an artificial body, it’s still not easy on the mind to manage one whole empire on your shoulders.
However, as you admired your pretty shogun all bundled up and cozy.. your eyes found something else all bundled up under her pants too.
You couldn’t help but let out a fond chuckle. “Silly Ei, a sword remains a weapon even when unsheathed.. how reckless of you to leave such a lengthy and dangerous one in plain sight?”
You’re sure your lover wouldn’t mind it if you had a little fun now, did she? Besides, how could you deny yourself such a tasty treat?
You stripped yourself of your robes, and slowly crawled above your lover. You made sure not to stir her awake and as soon as you got yourself positioned atop her lap, you leaned down to gently pull down her pants. 
Lo and behold, a sword mightier than any other forged in Teyvat! Of course, wielded by the greatest blacksmith to ever live, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho. Long enough to ruin your insides, big enough to stretch you wide and gaping. In all your years of living, you were sure that nothing else was close to this caliber. 
Her excellency’s dick was already semi-erect, and it didn’t take more than a few gentle licks to the tip to get it hard and leaking. A satisfied smile settles on your lips as it comes to life, and your thumb swipes over the tip to smear the pre-cum leaking out of it around your hand. 
You give it a few strokes, before deciding to take the beast in your mouth. You hear a groan rumbling in your lover’s throat, but you don’t stop and start moving your head up and down. As you run your tongue along your beloved’s dick, you feel every single vein and bump and it makes you feel a throb. 
In the midst of your sucking and licking and slurping, you feel a hand unconsciously land on your head and then.. a little gasp. You look up at your lover, who’s stirred awake from your devious acts. You pull away for a bit, giving the tip a kiss. 
“My Excellency, don’t mind me.. I’m only making sure that I’ve provided my archon with adequate care and service.” You tease, giving her a sultry look as your hands start stroking her long- yes, hands - as both of your hands were wrapped around her dick. “M-my eternity, what are you..?” Ei’s not even given a chance to finish her sentence as you lean down to engulf the whole thing in your mouth again, pushing more to take it down your throat this time.
You feel her strong hands grasp your hair in a gentle grip, and she gently moves you a bit more lower to take the remaining inches. Before pulling you back up, and then down, and then up again. You loved it, loved that she was using you and setting the pace according to her needs and wants, as this was your intention in the first place - to please her.
However, the slow and gentle pace did not last long, and soon enough- filthy and wet gagging sounds were heard. You made sure to breathe through your nose as your beloved used your throat as she pleased, fucking it and grasping at your hair with two hands. Her hips were also moving along, making sure that she was thoroughly and fully burying herself with each thrust. 
“Mmhm, just a few more- m-my eternity-!” 
Her hips bucked and her legs trembled as her rhythm was ruined, and suddenly you could feel her thick and viscous cum spurting down your throat. You were a good girl, yes, you swallowed though difficult. As you were done, however, she immediately pulled away as you gagged and choked. Her hand immediately went to caress your cheek, her thumb grazing your lips. 
Oh you looked so delicious to her, that her dick immediately went hard at the sight of your cockdrunk gaze along with your lips glistening with her cum.
“My eternity, I apologize for being too rough.. but I just can’t help it when you keep pulling this.. trick on me.. again.” she sighs with a flustered expression, unable to meet your mischievous gaze.
“Hehe, oh hush, my excellency. You like it, don’t you? Now do the same to my pussy!” You exclaim, immediately leaning over to pepper her face with playful kisses.  
“M-my eternity-!”
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please do not copy/repost any of my works! i only post here on tumblr and not on any other site. thank you !!
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gumbootillustrations · 3 months ago
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laurance's ref sheet!! it only took me a month and two different versions to finish lol
but yeah. backstory, lore, closeups, etc under the cut :3
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laurance is the adopted son of hayden zvahl, a blacksmith, and joh zvahl, a jeweller, and grew up in meteli alongside his adoptive sister cadenza. cad's the reason why his hair is bright red when aph meets him en route to scaleswind - he's been dyeing it this colour since he was young so that he and cadenza could match and look more like siblings. as such, much of his colour scheme is based around soft reds and oranges, with some golds thrown in. additionally, his earrings (although u can't really see them here) were made by joh, alongside most of his other jewellery, before joh passed away a couple of years prior to aph showing up outside of phoenix drop. his armour is also a lot lighter than garroth and katelyn's due to his fighting style prioritising speed and mobility over strength and endurance - that, and the fact that he works around water a lot and can't let metal weigh him down too much.
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after ungrth drags him out of the nether, laurance's colour scheme undergoes a major change - instead of being based around reds and golds, it shifts to be focused around greens and browns. laurance also dyes his hair back to its natural colour (brown), and due to the trauma of being forced through the realm barrier (and having his eyes cut out multiple times by gene), his eyes fade to a pale, milky green. there are other physical changes that come with being turned as well - his nails turn into talons, his ears become pointed, and, due to his now-undead nature, his heart stops beating. he also loses the need to breathe, although he keeps doing so to keep up the facade of being human (he really doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that he's undead now). however, around the start of season three (right before the main cast makes the trip to tu'la), he decides to dye his hair red again and return to the reds and golds that he loves (something something "reclaiming his fire" something something). it also doesn't help that his hair has started growing in a bright copper ever since they returned from o'khasis and xavier's relic had gone missing. surely these events can't be connected
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not too many comments about laurance's out-of-armour/casual/tu'la arc outfit. his eyesight's dogshit now (due to the aforementioned events surrounding his turning n escape from the nether) so he technically needs glasses, but he never wears them unless someone (usually garroth) tells him to.
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with laurance's shadow knight form, i rlly wanted to showcase how unnatural it is to him. it's big, and bulky, and covered in spikes n shit - it's entirely antithetical to laurance and his fighting style. personally, i think that a shadow knight's armour adapts to their fighting style and personality over time, but because laurance like. never uses this form it doesn't get the chance to adapt to him, although i added in a doodle of what his form might've evolved to look like had he used it more often.
uhh shadow knight lore stuff. shad is a psychopomp - at least, the fragment of his soul/essence/whatever that didn't get totally fucked up by the void is. however, the shadow lord (aka the fragment of shads soul/essence/whatever that did) tends to snatch souls that either a) die in the nether (like laurance n sasha) or b) are deemed to be useful to his cause of destroying irene (like gene and vylad) to make into shadow knights. different things play into how powerful a shadow knight is - gene, being part-mer'ai, being a descendant of kul'zak, and having memory manipulation magicks, is pretty powerful already, but when he's made into a death knell (aka a general in the shadow lord's army) his power can pretty much rival a relic wielder. laurance mayyyybe could've become a death knell if he wanted to, but unfortunately he has a stupid strong sense of justice so uh. yeah.
all shadow knights do get a boon from the shadow lord - it usually reflects their personality, their soul, or their past, and it always centres around blood, fire, or shadows (or a mix of some or all of these - for example, zenix's boon is that his blood essentially acts like napalm). laurance's reflects his childhood in meteli, a town built in a saltmarsh/estuary - his blood is stupid acidic (like acidic enough to melt through flesh, bone, and metal if he's not careful). however, for a long time, he assumes that his boon is being able to alter the temperature of metal (as sasha has told him that all shadow knight's blood is poisonous on some level - he just doesn't know that his blood is particularly poisonous) until vylad tells him that it probably isn't metal related.
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uhh more lore stuff - this time regarding xavier, his relic, and plot stuff.
zane absorbs xavier's relic (sort of unwillingly?? like he wants power, and he wants to try and push back against his father's influence, but if he's being honest he would've preferred to take on esmund's relic (which is missing. weird.) but beggars can't be choosers so eh it's whatever), but because not everyone can wield a relic and not every relic can be wielded by every relic-wielder it sort of starts to eat away at his soul and fuck him up. this leads to the climactic battle of s1 in irene's cathedral dimension, which ends when garroth (who gets possessed by esmund's relic) kills zane by ripping xavier's relic out of him. when they get back to the overworld and realise what exactly that weird fuckoff hunk of metal that garroth yanked out of zane's chest is, they decide to give it to garroth for safe keeping - only for the relic to go missing when the main cast breaks into an occupied o'khasis to rescue zianna, although they don't realise it until they return home to phoenix drop. it's around this time that laurance travels to new meteli to catch up with cadenza and get her to dye his hair orange again, only for cadenza to discover that his hair is growing in a bright copper. they... sort of brush this off as a weird shadow knight biology thing until laurance gets into a fistfight with gene and transforms for the first time. it's a bit of a mess but hey we got there in the end.
but yeah i decided to tweak his design a lil bit from my lineup of the second war of the magi's divine warriors because i wasn't suuper happy w how his chestplate turned out n i wanted to tutu w it a bit.
anyway. laurance's ref sheet is fucking finally done. the next ref sheet will probs be either katelyns or an updated ref sheet for garroth since ive tinkered w his protector form a Lot and i probs need to add in a cold weather outfit (laurance doesnt need one bc shadow knights r weird n basically space heaters anyway) and his juror form.
as always, let me know if u have any questions!! :D
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brummiereader · 1 year ago
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PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST
Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Two/ Dark!Tommy)
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Summary: It's September 1923 and your first day working at Shelby Company Limited Offices. Hired by Ada Shelby after the unforseen departure of her brothers previous personal secretary you are yet to meet your new boss, the notorious gangster of Birmingham, Thomas Shelby. But with new beginnings comes new threats, one your colleagues warn you stalks the streets of Small Heath, his recently hushed prescenece still strong enough to keep the women of the towns fearful guard up. And fearful they should be, for he has set his sights on someone new.
Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, stalking, obsessive behaviour, supernatural themes, dark romance, manipulation of time, dark!tommy (This is a dark series with heavy potentially triggering undertones, please read the warnings before continuing)
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September 1923...
" Thank you for this opportunity Mr Shelby. Fuck, right...Thank you for giving me this position in your...your..." You huffed losing your words as you walked down the cobbled streets in the direction of Shelby Company Limited Offices reciting under your breath what exactly it was you was going to say to the man that had given you a position as a secretary in his offices, the same man you had yet to meet. You couldn't believe your luck when a Miss Ada Shelby entered your granddad's blacksmith a few weeks back in search of his expertise to fix a unusually dented cast iron kettle that she had savaged at an auction, in tow offering you a new leap at life and an opportunity to pave your own way in the world of work. Not only was Miss Ada delightfully charming she was as equally curiously minded as yourself, occupying you with a plethora of questions as to how it was you ended up in Small Heath, or as she lovingly referred to it, a muddied dump of misfits and degenerates. After three cups of tea and a slice of soggy Victoria sponge cake you had made the previous day with more eggs than essentially necessary you both sat in the corner of your grandfather's forge as you nattered the time away, delving into each others lives as she waited for the indenting of her newly cherished kettle. Your own life seemed a far cry to Ada's exciting escapades. Yours being one in search of escape from the unhappy memories of the past and a new meaning to life after the death of most of your family during the war. You knew of the Shelby's through your granddad of course, albeit through the briefest of rundowns of information anyone could have possibly received having lived the majority of their life away from the smoke and factories of Birmingham. The sweetest if not the greatest grandparent life could have bestowed upon you, always concerned for your wellbeing. But a notorious man of very few words. And when he did speak it was in unintelligible riddles, not exactly the most ideal informant in a town as reputable as Small Heath. His exact words in regard to the Shelby's..."They've avoided more time in his majesty's pleasure as far as anyone north of John o' groat's" The gist of it, they're possibly the most hardened criminals in the country well overdue a lengthy stay in the local prison. But they were not just any criminals, they had amassed a wealth and power well beyond what anyone would consider possible. A true embodiment of rags to riches, all at the hands of one mastermind conspirator, Thomas Shelby Ada's brother. The very same brother that happened to be in need of a new secretary for his growing empire. " Thank you for this position as secretary in your Offices Mr Shelby" you said as you looked in the reflection of the buildings window as you straightened your dress out when you felt two hands suddenly rest on your shoulders, shocking you out of the silent ramblings that had taken up space in your overcrowded thoughts.
" No need to rehearse a speech, you've already got the job" Ada said as she spun you around to face her, a friendly smile welcoming you along with a playful wink.
" Shit Ada, you scared me" you replied holding your hand to your chest as you stood before the elegantly dressed Shelby sister.
" Stop fretting would you. Like I said, the jobs all yours, all you have to do now is turn up" she added as she pushed your locks over your shoulder, a smile creasing the corner of her mouth as she took in the endearing effort you had made to look sophisticated yet professional as you entered what was for all intents and purposes a man's world. As Ada once said..." You need a pair of balls and tough skin to work in this field, that and turn blind eye on a daily if now hourly basis. So it's a good thing we have a pair of them just as much as men do, if not a bigger pair"
" I'm not fretting, I just...I don't want to mess this opportunity up, and god knows I've perfected the art of that" you replied turning back to your reflection in the glass window as you pinched your cheeks in attempts to give them a rosier glow and not the washed out colour of little sleep they were currently exhibiting.
" Enough of that" she said swatting your hands away. " Anymore pruning and my brothers well, they'll...well you dont want to know" she trailed off not wanting her new friend getting caught up in their shenanigans. She knew you was serious about the job, and she was intent on you keeping your focus solely on that before one of her three older brothers took it upon themselves to show you the "Good life". " Ready?" she nodded her head to the door as you turned to look at your reflection one last time when something or rather someone caught your eye. Squinting further into the glass your eyes focused in on a woman behind you on the opposite side of the street silently watching you as a man dressed in black stood behind her, his hand cupping her shoulder as he whispered into her ear, both faces blurred by the weathered glass but familiar, eerily familiar. " Y/N?" Ada questioned as you turned around to see that the couple had all but vanished.
" I..I swear I could have just..." you stopped as you turned back to look in the glass, void of anyone else but your own reflection, suddenly feeling like you had been seeing things. Had you been seeing things? "...never mind" you relented as you recomposed yourself, turning your back on whatever tricks your exhausted mind was attempting to deceive you with.
" Come on nervous Nelly" she said with a smile as she opened the door to the offices. "Tommy was quite impressed with your lengthy experience of accounts and single handedly turning your granddad's chaotic paperwork and list of jobs into something more manageable in all but a few weeks" she remarked as you walked ahead of her down the dimly lit corridor, the clicking of your heels on the brick floor resonating through the cramped passage before you suddenly came to a halt at the door.
" Wait, Ada. Tommy, I refer to him as Mr Shelby, right?" You clarified worried you'd become the bumbling newcomer miss naming people before what would be considered socially acceptable.
" Yes, and by god it stays that way" she replied as she pushed the door open and ushered you forward.
"Stays that way? What do you mea..." You replied when Ada scooted behind you, holding you by the arms as she presented you to the three people now staring back at you.
" Alright ladies, this is Y/N. Tommy, Mr Shelby's new secretary" she announced to the room gently nudging you forward into a lion's den of three pairs of beady eyes watching your every move. " Betsy and Ethel" Ada introduced you as you slowly took a step forward feeling like the new kid in school that had been dragged up to the blackboard to recite their whole life in front of a sea of students gawking at you like you were the latest exposition at the circus. " And this is Polly" Ada finished as she perched herself on the edge of her Aunt's desk.
" So you're the new girl " Polly stated looking up from the paperwork in her hand as her eyes bored into you, curiosity further picking her interest as to what it was that brought you to Small Heath, not that she didn't already know everything about you.
" Well I'm glad we found someone new. Lizzie the last girl just upped and left the selfish mare" Ethel huffed as Polly stood up and showed you to your desk, her insistent stare softening into one of pity at your fumbling nervousness and shaky hands. Nobody wants to be the new girl.
" Alright ladies let's not bore her with past office politics" Ada said as she flicked through the file on Polly's desk, her eyes rolling at the mountain of work that had to be done since Lizzie's impromptu departure.
" Just saying, she could have given us the courtesy of letting us know in a timely manner she was leaving before dumping the shit tonne of bloody work on us she hadn't bothered to effing finish"
" My Ethel, for a moment there I thought you'd turned a page and stopped using every profanity known to man each time you opened your mouth to speak" Polly said arching her brow with a small smirk of amusement on the corner of her lips when the door opened at what you could only assume was your boss came storming through with two men following behind, the youngest eyeing you up with a tooth pick in his mouth that looked dangerously close to making it's way down his throat.
" Ethel" the youngest winked in her direction, a cheeky grin dimpling his face as you abruptly bolted up from your seat expecting to go through the formalities of greeting your new boss.
" Sit down love. He's not the king of England, as much as he'd like to think he is" Polly said gently pushing on your shoulder as your slumped back down into your seat, your face filling with embarrassment at your blundering display of readiness.
" New secretary ay?" Arthur said quietly to his brother as he strode beside him, one hand causally sitting in his trouser pocket jostling his loose change around as the other smoothed down the edges of his moustache.
" Good luck getting any work done with that distraction" John commented under his breath their way as he walked ahead, his brothers words enough to lure Tommy's attention and finally look in your direction. Don't fuck this up Y/N, don't fuck this up... you mentally mumbled to yourself as his stare lingered on you for an uncustomary amount of time before a hushed comment to his brothers left his lips and a burst of sniggers and laughter ensued from within the office as he closed the door. Fuck sake, did you have something on your face? Did you look like a child trying to play with the big boys? It was when you stood for attention like a complete idiot wasn't it? Shit.
" Don't mind twiddle dee, twiddle dum and god knows whatever John is" the matriarch to family quickly put your mind to rest as she nodded her head to Tommy's office. A pretty face had captured their attention and they were no doubt doing what men do best, being dicks, or rather thinking with their dicks... Polly thought to herself as she mentally took note to remind her three nephews to refrain themselves from looking like complete immature prats the next time they were in the presence of the fairer sex.
It had been an hour since the start of the working day and Polly had busied you with the back log of work that needed to be done. An easy task of copying and correcting copious amounts of files onto the typewriter. A tiresome but welcome distraction from the impending meeting you was yet to have with your new boss. That was until a loud voice sounded through the building capturing your otherwise distracted attention.
"Ada, bring the new girl in" Tommy called out from behind his desk.
" Does he have to shout like that?" She commented with an irritated huff as she turned back to her Aunt. " He does possess the ability to get off his royal ass once in a while before summoning us" she grumbled ignoring her brother as she turned her attention back to signing the document in front of her.
" Ada!"
" Jesus bloody Christ!" she huffed once again as she stood up, throwing her pen on her desk as she turned back to face you with a sympathetic smile at the one of many joyous personality traits of her brother you had just witnessed and undoubtedly would encounter again. Straightening the creases out of your dress you stood up in a hurry as your two giggling colleagues, Ethel and Betsy eyes followed your flustered state. " Hey" Ada said holding you by your elbow before you both entered the office. " If I was to tell you that when he was a boy he'd make Arthur religiously check for ghosts in his wardrobe every night before going to sleep would that make you less nervous?" She asked with a mischievous smile on the corner of her lips as your own face that had been taut with anxiety finally relaxed after hearing that despite his intimidating presence your new boss was human after all.
" Miss Y/L/N" Tommy greeted you as he stubbed his cigarette out into the glass ash tray on his sprawling wooden desk. " It is Miss, no?" He clarified as you nodded your head in response, the rolling of Ada's eyes not going unmissed by her brother as he strode towards you.
" It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Shelby"
" Tommy, you can call me Tommy. First name basis seems appropriate since we'll be working so closely together. Wouldn't you agree Y/N?" He said with a soft smile that caught the corner of his lips as Ada stood behind you shaking her head in disapproval at her brother's inability to keep things professional with anyone he had suddenly taken a liking to." Thank you Ada, you can leave"
" Not even one full bloody day" she mumbled under her breath crossing her arms as she sauntered out the room, hoping to high heavens that you had your wits about you.
" Please, take a seat " Tommy gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he hitched his trousers up and sat down, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair as he watched you pull nervously at the ends of your sleeved dress. It may have only been a mere two minutes, but the silence was deafening one he seemed comfortable with whereas you could barely stand it. Was he waiting for you to speak?... you thought to yourself as you brain scrambled to come up with something to say. " I was..."
"I want to thank you for..." you replied wide-eyed realising you had cut him off, your cheeks going an embarrassing shade of your less than favourite root vegetable, beetroot. " I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt"
" Go on, you was saying " he replied gesturing with his hand as he lent back into his chair, watching as you rolled your thumb along the inside collar of your dress, easing the pressure of its tightness from your heated skin and the sweat that had gathered there from the nervousness enveloping you.
" I want to thank you for this opportunity, Mr Shelby...Tommy. I'm a hard worker and I will do my up most to fulfill your every expectation of what a secretary should be" you said as you looked up from your fidgeting hands.
" I don't doubt you will" he replied as another small silence descended on the room and you watched as he ran the side of his forefinger across his bottom lip back and forth, his eyes remaining locked on you as your own darted to anything but him. God, was he always this intense? This was a test, wasn't it? He was trying to see if you'd crack under pressure, under the pressure this job would undoubtedly demand, right? "I was quite impressed with your resume" he suddenly remarked shocking you out of the endless questions ticking in your brain as he picked up your file and came to sit on the edge of the desk next to you, his knee pressed against your outer thigh as he flicked though the folder. " Five years working as an accountant and assistant for Lembroch and Co in North London" he said closing the folder, dropping it In front of you on the mahogany wood. " Now that is some endurance. Anyone who has spent working half a decade for that grumpy old bastard has my sympathy" he smiled to you as you welcomed the ease in tension with a small laugh and smile of you own. " But enough of that, tell me about yourself Y/N' he asked as he reached into his pocket pulling out a silver case of cigarettes and offering you one.
" I'm afraid there's not much to say" you smiled as your hand reached to pull out a neatly coiled cylinder of tobacco from within the case, the tips of your fingers briefly grazing against his as you made your choice.
" I dunno about that" he replied as he leaned down igniting the lighter, watching as the orange glow cast a shadow on your plump lips as you cupped the flame. " Try me" he said as he flicked the lid of the lighter down in one single snap, watching as you inhaled the fumes and your eyes relaxed with satisfaction at the welcome relief.
" Well..." You said as you rubbed you thumb over the filter, clearing your throat as your eyes darted between him and the wall behind him, completely unprepared for his question. Did he not trust you? Surely he already knew everything about you considering his line of work and the importance of hiring workers he could rely on? And he did, all but the smaller things only you yourself could tell him, things he now wanted to know since having met you, seen you. "I've lived most of my life in London, down by..." You continued telling your life story up until the present day as Tommy impatiently smoked his way down to the end of his cigarette already knowing everything you had told him, everything but what he really wanted to know. Only one small matter he needed to clear up...for his own peace of mind of course.
" And what do you do in your spare time, you have friends here, a boyfriend?" he questioned his eyes darting down to your lips parting in surprise at the casual tone in question.
" Oh erm no, I've haven't been in Birmingham long enough" you replied taking one last drag of the cigarette between your fingers before resting it on the edge of the ash tray in front of you.
" Don't have a sweetheart waiting for you back in London then?"
" No. I don't need any distractions" you replied confidently, convinced he was trying to gauge how serious you was about the job in hand.
" Distractions eh? Is that what you ladies are calling us these days. I beg to differ, I'd be more inclined to say it's the other way around" he chuckled raising his brows as he watched the corners of your lips crinkle into a smile. "Well, you'll soon make friends here. My sisters already pretty fond of you, and I'm sure we'll all quickly follow in her sentiments" he said standing from the desk as you followed.
" I won't let you down Tommy" you said opening the door as he nodded in acknowledgement, watching the bottom of your dress sway back and forth with each step you took as you walked away.
" Now that I can believe" he quietly commented under his breath as he shut the door and walked over to his desk, his head tilting mischievously at your cigarette still burning in the glass tray. Resting it between his fingers Tommy sat down in his chair, slouching back as he rubbed his thumb over the stain your lipstick had left from your full lips. Raising it to his mouth Tommy took a long drag as he closed his eyes, his head resting on the back of his leather upholstered chair as he welcomed his own satisfaction. Satisfaction from what, or rather in finding what?
" Jesus fuck, it's getting cold and dark again" Ethel said as she wrapped her coat around her body as you and Betsy huddled next to her hopping from one foot to the other as you passed the cigarette around between the three of you, hoping it would warm you even if it was for the briefest of seconds as you stood outside the offices at the end of the day.
" Ethel Davis! Polly's right, you'd give any sailor a run for his money with your potty mouth" she reprimanded as a small giggle escaped your lips at their constant playful ribbing of eachother" And you're no better" she said turning to face you as Ethel grinned with amusement." You need a trip to confession following the string of profanities that left your mouth after your encounter with that typewriter" she laughed as she looked down at your hands and the black ink dotted all over them.
" I hate those bloody things" you huffed at the unfortunate event or fortunate to those in the office that burst into a fit of laughter at your flustered state as you wrangled with the ink that needed changing in your typewriter earlier that day.
" Ladies" Tommy said fixing his peak cap on as he walked out the door passing the three of you huddled together from the change in season. "Y/N" he added sending you a small smile that you eagerly mirrored before quickly catching your self and reigning in your overly friendly pleasantries before your own ribbing from your two colleagues began.
" Tommy already is it?" Ethel giggled as you turned around to face them.
" Don't you call him Tommy?" You asked scrunching your brow as you passed the cigarette to her.
" Not after one bloody day!" Ethel laughed taking a drag as she shuffled on her feet.
" Even now after two years of working for him he still corrects me" Betsy added as she rolled her eyes at the already fully smoked cigarette handed to her. " Ethel! I only had two puffs"
" Owh I'm sorry, I'm just so buggering cold!" she apologised dramatically as she put her arm around her friend. " Think he might already have a soft spot for you babe, you poor thing" she grinned as she hugged further into her friends fur coat, both of them now smiling at you like two annoying Cheshire cats.
" He's just being nice is all" you shrugged pushing a stone into the muddied ground with the tip of your shoe.
" If you do cosy up to him can you persuade him to spare us poor workers some extra time off?" Ethel teased as you shook your head, a friendly laugh of disbelief on your part as you turned to leave for home.
" Y/ n wait. Don't..don't you want us to walk with you?" Betsy said grabbing your arm as she suddenly scanned the area and anybody nearby.
" I'll be ok, I'll see you two tomorrow" you replied sending her smile when her grip on your arm tightened, restricting you from leaving without her.
" Y/N! It's not safe" Betsy insisted as you watched a sudden wave of panic wash over her face.
" It's alright Betsy, there's been no talk of it for a while now" Ethel gently reassured her friend as she removed her hand from you.
" Talk of what?" You questioned as you watched Ethel hush Betsy's worries and the tears now streaking her frightened face.
" Fuck, you don't know do you? You won't catch a single woman in Small Heath walking by herself when it's dark out" Ethel replied, realising you had no knowledge of the dealings the women of Small Heath had endured for the past six months.
" But why?"
" There's been a man following..."
" Say it right Betsy. Stalking. He's been fucking stalking" Ethel corrected her as your eyes widened at the unexpected information.
" Nothings happened yet so don't go and worry yourself on it too much" Betsy dispelled your fears in response to your sudden reaction.
" Other than that girl that ended up in the cut a few months back" Ethel commented under her breath as Betsy's head snapped to her.
" She fell Ethel. Stop telling tales!" Betsy said in attempts to reassure everyone only in the end realising she was trying to ease her own fears.
" Either way, he won't be getting me" Ethel said in a hushed voice as she lifted up her skirt pulling a small knife from within her boot.
" Please, let us walk with you" Betsy pleaded one last time as she reached for your hand.
" My place is only around the corner and my granddad waits by the window until I'm safely inside. I'll be ok, I promise" you assured her, not fully convinced her concerns were enough to even fret over. You was from London, encountering the unwanted happened on a weekly If not daily occurrence. You was street wise, or at least you thought you was.
" Ok...but you scream bloody murder if anyone even dares approach you, alright? There's enough police surveying this dump to hear you and come running" she said giving you a quick hug before she huddled up to Ethel from the cold again as they both watched you walk into the night.
Was this the plight of the women of Small Heath? Living in fear at the simple act of walking home. They were of strong stock, endured and lived through so many hardships with a fearless attitude. But this, this scared them.
Ok so your place wasn't just around the corner. But it was pretty close. You just didn't want them to worry...you thought to yourself as you headed for one of the bridges that hovered over the street , an uneasy feeling suddenly settling in your stomach as you stopped yourself from stepping another foot forward whilst you eyed up the overpass. You was thinking too much about it, Ethel and Betsy's worries had found their way into the very corner of your brain you had kept under lock and key since the war. You had passed under the same bridge countless times before, even later at night than it currently was...you reasoned with yourself as you started walking toward the bricked archway, your eyes solely fixed on the opposite side were the welcome dim hue of a street light ushered you forward into safety. Just a few more feet you reassured yourself as you clutched your hand bag into your side when you came to a halt and your eyes frantically widened at the dark shadow being cast on the wall inside the bridge. " I'll...I'll scream" you said aloud rather than the action itself Betsy had encouraged you to do into the night, silent to the empty street but you and whoever was lurking behind the wall. " Please, I don't want no trouble" you sobbed quietly as your bottom lip wobbled in response to the sudden surge of fear overtaking your body, feeling like at any moment your legs would buckle and give out when the large shadow grew two fold. How could you have been so brazen to think you could handle the treacherous darkness of Small Heath alone?...you cried to yourself as you took a step back when the heal of your shoe kicked a stone into the gutter beside you, the shadow now overtaking the entire wall in response as you lost your balance and fell backwards. "Fuck!" You breathed heavily, your heart rapidly pounding in your chest as you looked up at the starry sky shaking your head not only in relief but amusement. " You bloody scared me, you know that?" you said catching your breath as you stood up wiping the grit from your palms, picking out the minute stones that had managed to wedge their way into your skin as you eyed up the black cat in your path. " Not the luckiest thing to come across are you?" you said as you knelt down to stroke his head as he brushed up against your leg " But Luckier than whatever my brain was conjuring up" you said with a small smile as you stood up heading for home, mentally remembering to not let yourself be fooled again by silly gossip that for all you knew could be the result of the very black cat you had just encountered.
" Good evening Mr Shelby" a older man said tipping his hat in Tommy's direction as the black coated gangster blew a cloud of smoke into the crisp air, briefly acknowledging the gentleman's presence before returning his gaze back to what had been his sole focus for the past half hour. Stood across the street in the shadow of the brick wall he watched the golden glow from the upstairs window dance in front of his view as the woman he had been watching walked back and forth within her bedroom, finally coming to a stop in front of the small mirror sitting on the edge of the windowsill. Tommy watched intently as she gracefully collected her hair to one side into one large lock, brushing her fingers through the ends as she leaned in closer to her reflection. She was not like the others, he mused as he watched the sleeve from her nightgown fall from the curve of her shoulder, his lips parting at the enticing movement that only exposed more of her delicate skin that was beckoning him to her. Why would she leave her curtains open if she didn't want him to see he smirked as he stepped further into the darkness shielding his statue as a group of young men passing a bottle of whisky around walked by, their drunken boisterousness capturing both his and her attention and all but ruining the moment he has lost himself in. Throwing his cigarette to the ground Tommy turned on the heel of his boot into the dark of the alley way as his coat glided around the brick wall back into the cover of night.
" Alright up there?" Your granddad called down from the bottom of the stairs at the sudden noise of your mirror that was precariously leaning against your window came crashing down onto the wooden floors, shattering into hundreds of shards at the brisk movement of you closing your curtains.
" Yes, everything... everything's fine. Just being clumsy as usual" you said sitting on the edge of your bed, your hands either side of the plump mattress steadying yourself as a surge of panic rapidly scrambled up your throat at not only the seven years of bad luck you had just brought upon yourself but what you was sure you just saw. It was only for the briefest of seconds but you saw him, his face masked by the darkness of the night but the glint of his signet ring captured by the moonlight like the spark of a flame as he turned the corner making his presence known. He'd been watching you. An innocent bystander, or at worst just a peeping Tom...you quickly reassured yourself turning your bed stand light off as hurried to be under the comfort of your warm bed, your only true comfort for the night. Just a peeping Tom. Oh how those very words would come back to haunt you. An unchangeable string of a events had started, threatening not only your life but your very soul.
NEXT PART
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crisalidaseason · 2 months ago
Text
How to build a dragon saddle (Riorson, Durran et al)
Summary: In which we learn how Violet's saddle was made.
Tags: Set in fourth wing, sgaeyl being an icon, Tairn being a menace, xaden is stressed, Bodhi is here and tired, attempt at humor, xaden pov
****
This is a manual written by Xaden Riorson and Bodhi Durran, with the additional contributions of the war dragon Tairn and Basgiath’s blacksmith Hôrtencia Nahal. This pocket size codex aims to guide the ones who may be interested in building dragon saddles, from the very basic step of sketching the design until the actual production and assembly of the contraption. It is important to take into account that the advice given in this book is open to adjustments as the craft is widespread and alterations might be necessary.
____
It is highly advisable to enlist the help of competent people when making a dragon saddle. Be certain to choose crafters that have a solid grasp of calculations and design, who are able to find the perfect balance between lightweight and strong material. Once the crew is established, begin the journey.
Page 12 - HOW TO BUILD A DRAGON SADDLE (Riorson, Durran et al)
The knock on the door was merely a formality since Bodhi could simply barge through his room anytime - and Xaden was beginning to regret that decision. Though he tried not to bother his very exhausted cousin that often, the current task at hand could only be done with his help.
“So, why the summon?” Bodhi said, dropping on the desk chair.
Xaden neatly placed his boots inside the wardrobe and put his dirty uniform inside the laundry basket “I need your help making a saddle”
“Sure” he said, shrugging.
And that was exactly why he loved Bodhi. Garrick or Liam would have made an infinite amount of questions and most likely terrorized him once they finally put things together. Xaden did not have time for that. His cousin, on the other hand, was way less adamant on making his life harder.
“I made some sketches” Xaden said, pointing to his table “but you’re the talented one in the family, any thoughts?”
Bodhi stretched, yawning in the process, his exhaustion clearly showing through. He took the notepad and reviewed the ideas with a focused stare, most likely noticing every single mistake Xaden made while coming up with designs.
“Could use some refinement, but overall it’s great” Bodhi replied “I’ll make some adjustments and bring it to you”
“Do you think you can do this until tomorrow, I’m in a bit of a hurry”
“I can try” his cousin shrugged “though we’ll need Tairn’s measurement to make a final sketch”
Xaden chuckled “I never said who the saddle was for”
Bodhi lifted his eyes from the sketch, unimpressed “There is only one cadet within our wing that can’t keep her fucking seat”
“I could be making it for me” Xaden shrugged.
“You possess far too much pride for that” Sgaeyl interrupted.
“I highly doubt it” Bodhi laughed rather loudly, unknowingly agreeing with her “though I am curious as to why are you even bothering to do this”
Xaden knew Bodhi was not necessarily open to Violet, though he was never threatening towards her. His question was a genuine attempt at understanding what had changed over the last few months, understanding why Violet was suddenly all that Xaden could focus on.
“War games are in less than two weeks. I would like to stay alive and that will not happen if Sorrengail breaks her neck on a free fall”
Bodhi remained silent, clearly not buying the half truth. Both cousins stared at each other for a few minutes too long and Xaden felt his own mind spin at what was left unsaid. In all honesty, he was making that saddle because he was terrified. After the shit that went down at Montserrat, the middle Sorrengail’s words rattled in his mind.
“Find a way for her to keep her seat. We both know she’s dead if she doesn’t”
Despite his anger towards the woman, she was right. Xaden always worried about the fact Violet could not keep her seat and the near danger experience was enough to feed his nightmares with the imagery of her falling to her death. Once could say it was simply his self-preservation speaking - it was the reason he voiced to everyone - but the cold hard truth was that he felt his stomach twist at the thought of her in danger.
“I guess it would be inconvenient” Bodhi replied, standing up and walking towards the door “I’ll have something more substantial by tomorrow at breakfast”
Said and done, his cousin sat beside him on the breakfast table with too many sketches, to the point Xaden was going cross-eyed at the calculations and details. Bodhi was a pool of excitement while explaining each adjustment’s positive and negative aspects, a complete contrast to his usual apathy.
“I think this one might be better” Xaden decided, pointing at a specific drawing “I like the triangle chest plate, it seems more efficient to keep the straps in place. Though we should simplify the saddle”
Bodhi took his pencil and quickly scribbled the suggestions.
“What are you doing?” Garrick said, sitting down on the breakfast table with the usual monstrous amount of food on his plate.
“A saddle” Bodhi simply replied, waving a hand at Garrick as if he was bothering them “yeah, I was thinking about it too, it needs to be practical”
“A saddle?” Garrick questioned, but none of the cousins paid him much mind.
“All we need is the measurements and that is completely on you” Bodhi announced, already standing “find me when you have the numbers and I’ll finish this by the end of the day”
Xaden watched his cousin practically sprint outside of the mess hall - he had a very strong worry of being late.
“Care to explain why you’re making a saddle?” Garrick inquired, fork pointed at him.
“Reasons” he replied, peeling a tangerine “anything to report?”
Garrick narrowed his eyes at him and Xaden was sure he would not escape the interrogatory his best friend would put him through eventually.
“Nothing I can’t handle, but-”
Garrick’s voice disappeared from his hearing range as soon as the prickly sensation settled on the back of his head. Xaden turned just enough to widen his peripheral vision, noticing as Liam and Violet entered the room alongside their squad. She was smiling at something his brother was telling her - a contrasting sight compared to her miserable self after Montserrat. Her mesmerizing hair was braided over her shoulder instead of the coronet style, which made Xaden’s throat dry at the sight of the brown to silver fade.
Fuck. He wanted to unravel that braid and run his fingers through the strands so badly.
Unfortunately, she hated his guts at the moment, maybe always did but only circled around it due to their obvious tension. Regardless, that kiss - just like the first - was a huge mistake and it reminded him of how little he deserved her. The sight of Dain fucking Aetos comforting her a searing reminder that he would never hold her like that.
“Stop staring” Garrick pulled him out of the trance by kicking his shin “honestly, Xaden, this is bordering mental affliction”
“Cradh’s rider has a valid observation, you distract yourself with the general’s daughter. Quoting what you humans say: get a grip” Sgaeyl’s tone is indifferent.
“I am not staring” he simply replied.
Garrick snorted “just obsessively following little Sorrengail’s every step with your indirect vision”
Xaden did not dignify the accusation with an answer, turning his attention back to his fruit.
“Wait a minute” Garrick put his fork down, his shit eating grin already present “are you making a saddle for her?”
***
“Riorson” the middle aged woman pushed her goggles up, eyeing him suspiciously “it’s your second visit in such a short time”
He ducked just enough to avoid hitting his head on the door, entering the room fully. The heat was the first thing he registered before the sulfurous scent of the coal.
“Consider it your luck, Hortência” he replied.
The blacksmith rose to her full and considerable height, circling her working table and feeding the fire “More daggers?”
“No, not this time” he explained “I need to make a dragon saddle”
She sent him a surprised glance at first, but a grin soon painted her angular features “finally tired of smashing your balls riding that dragon of yours?”
He could hear Sgaeyl’s amusement through the bond and quickly reinforced his shields - he had heard enough of her commentary for a lifetime “No. Think you can do it?”
She took her gloves off and crossed her arms, narrowing her brown eyes at him “The disrespect of you to ask me if I can”
Xaden raised his hands in surrender, he knew better than to insult someone who walked around with incandescent poking sticks.
“Can you make it in about four days?”
“Do I look like a fucking whirlwind to you?” her voice raised to the usual scolding tone.
Xaden contained his frustrated sigh and unceremoniously dropped a bag very full of coins on her table “this is just the first half, I’ll pay the same amount when it’s done”
She eyed the bag with the usual interest whenever Xaden had a request “I can prioritize it, I suppose. How do you want it?”
“I’ll have my cousin drop you the final sketch. I have to measure the dragon first” he replied.
“When were you born?” she asked.
Xaden was very much confused with said question “I fail to see why this is important information”
Hortência laughed, putting her gloves back on “Just in case I have to make your death plate”
The only person who can measure a dragon safely is their rider.
Page 19 - HOW TO BUILD A DRAGON SADDLE (Riorson, Durran et al)
“Could you tell your mate-”
“Am I a pigeon? Tell him yourself” Sgaeyl’s voice was harsh.
Xaden gritted his teeth, but did as she said anyway because he knew better than to argue with his very temperamental dragon. Grounding on his hill, he seeked the onyx lines that curved just around the silver strands of Violet’s bond. He had to hold the urge to reach for her mind - the intimate sensation of lacing his conscience with hers unmatched - and connected with the dark colored line that connected him to Tairn.
“I’m making Violence a saddle”
For a moment he wondered if the black dragon had shielded him out. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“It seems you can be of use, Wingleader” the deep male voice rumbled through Xaden’s head.
Huh. Odd. He genuinely thought Tairn would put up a fight over using a saddle. He had this entire discourse ready to try and convince the dragon.
“I see no disadvantage in accommodating my rider”
That was strangely…kind. But Xaden made sure to hold that thought before Tairn decided to incinerate him for the audacity. Maybe that old grumpy thing was more lenient than he had originally thought.
“I’ll need to measure you” Xaden spilled before regret swallowed the words.
A growl erupted from that specific bond. Yeah. A saddle? No issue. Having Xaden around his vicinity without the Silver One? Absolutely not. At least for that he had prepared: use Tairn’s weakness - and his.
“I have no desire to be near you either, but we have to do this for her” Xaden argued “the sooner we do it, the faster it’s over”
Silence reigned over the bond for a few minutes and Xaden wondered if Tairn was privately speaking with Sgaeyl or had actually blocked him.
“He speaks with Andarna” she replied “he refrains from making decisions about the general’s daughter without speaking to her”
Xaden was never aware of how that bonded-to-two-dragon thing worked, but it did not surprise him that they included the small dragon in decisions. He secretly hoped Andarna could put some sense into her guardian’s head.
“I reluctantly accept to be measured”
It's not easy said, let alone done. First, there was no measuring tape large enough to circle around Tairn. They had to make do with unreasonable amounts of rope tied together - ropes Xaden had no idea how Bodhi acquired it. The easy step was measuring the expanse of the chest but when it came to measuring the distance for the straps, he could feel his left eye twitching.
“Would you stop moving for a fucking second?” he practically growled when Tairn shifted his front leg again.
Of course that fucking grumpy dragon would not make things easy for Xaden, it would not be Tairn otherwise. He had no fucking idea what Sgaeyl saw on him, honestly.
“I could ask the same about the general’s daughter” her voice echoed in amusement.
He tried not to scoff at her words. It was obvious what he saw on Violet. Her infuriatingly hot intelligence, her fucking perfect face, her fucking hair! That hair! Even her reckless streak was mesmerizing. Xaden was fucked when it came to Violet Sorrengail. Everything about the woman invited him in.
“See? You have your reasons and I have mine, now focus!”
Xaden reluctantly returned his attention to the giant black dragon making his life a living nightmare and managed to finally finish the measurement. He shouted the numbers for Bodhi - who was standing at a safe distance - to write down.
“Fucking finally” he said with more anger than prudent in front of a war dragon “I’ll have to test the fit on you once the saddle is done, so could you please not repeat today’s stunt?”
Saying please to Tairn was definitely bitter on his tongue. Not that he was against the word, but the only person he would ever say please to was five foot nothing and currently disliked him very much.
“Under one condition” the dragon replied “I do have requirements”
Xaden’s groan of frustration could be heard from miles away.
It is important to use high quality materials - specially the leather for the saddle belts and seat. It is also interesting to consider that the straps will have to be made of a blend of metals to ensure durability, it must be strong but lightweight.
Page 30 - HOW TO BUILD A DRAGON SADDLE (Riorson, Durran et al)
After the cousins handed the measurements, the blacksmith’s eyes shimmered at the sight of the final sketch and Xaden knew he had won her over. Nothing spoke louder than money and glory when it came to that particular blacksmith. Barely three days later, she sent a message for him to visit the forge as soon as possible and he did not hesitate.
“Neat work” he commented, gliding a finger on the metal’s surface.
Hortência had outdone herself again. The chest plate was sturdy but light enough that Xaden and Bodhi would be able to carry it without much trouble. The leather straps were as thick as they come - which cost more money than expected. In the middle, a discreet mechanism could be felt only by touch - one of Tairn’s many requirements that Xaden had to spend an entire night designing with Bodhi.
“You tell me if any alterations are needed, don’t you fucking dare look for another blacksmith”
Xaden fought a smile as he saw the distinct signature on the corner of the chestplate “would never dream of doing so”
Testing the saddle, though, proved to be unfruitful. Because of fucking course that monstrosity of a dragon disliked it. The weight of the chestplate was beginning to burn his arm muscles as Tairn refused to wear it.
“And to think I praised your usefulness” Train grumbled.
“What the fuck is wrong this time?” he sounded every bit exasperated as he felt.
Fucking Violet. If Xaden didn’t pathetically like her so much he would not be fucking dealing with her asshole of a dragon. Damn the day that beautiful woman crossed the parapet and turned his world upside down.
“The material of the straps will collapse under fire exposure, Wingleader. Change it”
With that ultimatum, Tairn dismissed him - flying to the vale with Andarna right behind him. Xaden sighed loudly, trying his best to support the chestplate on the ground before it toppled over. Sgaeyl was still there, though she made absolutely no move to aid him.
“Didn’t go well?” Bodhi said from a distance, almost invisible due to the waning moon night.
“The straps need to be metal” he shouted back “what do you think about a strong stolen liquor and another night of designing?”
Bodhi pulled a face that meant ‘absolutely not’
“Alright”
***
“I need your help” Xaden mumbled.
Garrick lifted a dark thick brow and a wicked smile spread through his face “look who decided to include me on their little art project”
If they were not in class, Xaden would absolutely have punched him right in the nose “The saddle is fucking heavy and I think Bodhi is avoiding me”
“He definitely is” Garrick kept scribbling nonsense in his notepad “something about you using his drop of free time”
“Are you going to help me or not?” Xaden commanded a shadow to steal his friend’s pen.
“Relax, shadow man. I will. I am at your service”
Two days later, a few hours into the early morning, both of them were on their way to the flight field. Train and Sgaeyl were already there, blue morning hue barely reflecting on their scales. Garrick grunted behind him as the weight of the newest version of the saddle was considerable. They stopped in the middle of the field, setting the chest plate on the ground and undoing the binds that kept the metal chains coiled.
“I can handle it” he said to Garrick “prepare for the meeting”
“You sure?”
“Tairn tolerates me, but I don’t think he’ll accept you around”
Garrick shrugged, retreating quickly to the citadel. Xaden unraveled the last chain and stood up, breathing deeply. He needed all the patience in the world to deal with Tairn and unfortunately he did not have any.
“Is it to your liking?” Xaden said in the fakest civil tone he could muster.
Train’s growl rumbled through the field “It seems acceptable this time”
“I’ll have to put it on you to test the fit”
“I thought I told you all of my requirements, including the one saying I have to be able to wear it on my own”
“All of your requirements were met, but I need to check where improvements may be needed, so would you please cooperate once?”
The dragon growled again, lowering his head to be eye level with Xaden “So be it, Wingleader”
Xaden should have known that Tairn’s compliance always came with a price. The dragon made sure to be out of reach just enough for him to struggle looping one of the straps around his foreleg - he had to jump! - The rumbling in Tairn’s chest seemed almost like a mocking laughter and Xaden was dreadfully remembering the fact he would share the rest of his miserable life bonded to that aggravating creature.
“I need to place the saddle, can I climb up there?”
“It will be your last deed before I eat your burnt carcass”
Vivid.
Of course Xaden would have to humiliate himself further by throwing the saddle around like a fucking lunatic, but at least he had good aim and was able to land it correctly the second time. Once the other strapped was looped around Tairn’s left foreleg, Xaden joined one pair of them at the belly and braced himself for the ultimate strength of connecting them to the triangular chest plate. It took all of his training and core strength to do it, but he managed.
Finally, fucking finally!…and then a second later he was staring at the dawning sky and the wind was knocked out of his lungs.
“Hold your breath” Sgaeyl’s voice commanded and he did not question it.
Seconds later, a small column of fire singed the air where Xaden had just been standing. He turned quickly, protecting his face from the heat until it passed.
“What the fuck, Tairn?” he shouted once the fire ceased.
“You pinched my chest scales!” he said, outraged.
Xaden stood up faster than ever, quickly retreating backwards and glaring at the black dragon “I could have died!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I aimed above your head” Train raised his neck and chuffed, a puff of steam reaching Xaden’s face.
“Your mate is insane” he growled down Sgaeyl’s bond “and how kind of you to defend your rider!”
“You brought this upon yourself when you took this quest” she said, unbothered “and I did defend you”
“By knocking me on the ground like a sack of grains!”
This saddle better fucking work because at this point Xaden could genuinely die of rage and it would be very embarrassing considering all the shit he survived so far.
“I was going to ask you for a test flight but I will refrain from losing my fucking life here”
“Wise decision” Tairn growled.
The seat must be as simple and practical as possible. Padded for comfort and with a raised edge for an easy grip. It should also be waxed regularly to ensure water resistance. Decorative designs are completely optional.
Page 43 - HOW TO BUILD A DRAGON SADDLE (Riorson, Durran et al)
Xaden hesitated for the third time and frustration was beginning to build in the pit of his stomach. Dropping the carving tool, he stood up and returned to his pacing. He was dreading asking him for help but there was no other choice. There was nobody more skilled in carving than Liam Mairi. Unfortunately, his brother was also a little shit that would tease Xaden the entire fucking time because of what he was requesting to be carved. The very intricate protective runes he sketched would be the biggest proof of his not-so-self-preservation reasoning.
“As if Deigh’s rider was not already aware of your affections towards the woman, cease this torturous hesitancy and be done with it” Sgaeyl grumbled.
He swallowed his pride and decided that it would be best to follow his dragon’s advice. He took the saddle seat and the carving tools he had purchased during the weekend and walked towards the first-years floor. His signet informed him who was asleep or not. Quietly, he knocked on Liam’s door and waited impatiently.
“Xaden?” his brother was still in uniform.
He motioned silently towards the room, to which Liam nodded and pulled him through the wards.
“So you really were making a saddle” his brother commented.
“Garrick can’t really shut his fucking mouth, huh?” Xaden complained
“Nah, it was Bodhi who told me” Liam shrugged, clasping his hands together “what’s my job then?”
Xaden felt really bad asking one more thing for Liam, he really did, but he was fucking desperate. War games would start in two days and he still had to wax the saddle.
“I need you to carve some runes for me” he spilled.
Liam took the saddle from his hands and walked to his table, pulling out a small, but full pack of tools - of course Liam already had the tools.
“What do you want me to carve?”
Xaden sighed quietly and handed his brother the small paper.
“Alright, this won’t take long” he concluded “might as well sit down and wait”
He had spent many nights in his foster home watching Liam carve. Specially on nights of insomnia - like the current one. His brother worked with agility, the sounds of the tools barely audible as it cut into the leather. Silence prevailed and Xaden was honestly surprised that no teasing comment made an appearance.
“That’s nice of you, by the way” Liam’s voice was quiet.
Xaden fought a scoff. He doubted any of his actions could be considered nice. He was doing it out of guilt and fear.
“I am sure she will protest using it” he bitterly replied “might as well hide it’s my doing and put all the glory on you”
“I highly disagree” Liam continued “she needs to know you did it. That you care”
At that point he was not sure if any of his actions could ever redeem him in her eyes. He was just an asshole that was tied to her by dragon bonds. A fucking asshole that kisses her for his own selfish reasons and still hopes she reciprocates any of his fucking feelings.
“I don’t think she wants me to care” Xaden admitted.
Liam smiled sadly and shook his head, returning his focus on the saddle.
“You’re so blind sometimes, Xaden”
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amazingmsme · 24 days ago
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Okay, image this, Ares being a smart mouth shit to Athena and Hephaestus, his older siblings, since he's the God of War and is very much egotistical.
Athena and Hephaestus wreck him at times to humble him a bit, sometimes just because he's having a sour attitude over something.
Athena is shown to be stronger than Ares, and if he overpower her, she'd probably be five steps ahead and have a way to turn the tables.
Hephaestus, being a blacksmith, is just already strong as hell, and he has the chain he used on Ares and Aphrodite. He can set up a tickle trap too
Also, I like the idea of Athena purposely going soft on tickle because she knows Ares can handle pain and a lot more rougher things, so her slowly tracing and wiggling her fingers on him would drive him literally insane (also because he probably hasn't got gentle touch in thousands of years he's been alive. Tocuhe-starved War God >:3)
KSGFRKBALCBSKS I’M HYPERVENTILATING FINALLY SOME ARES LOVE!!!!! Seriously, I love him so much & he is so severely misunderstood in media & really enjoy what we’ve seen of him in epic!
But he loves to piss off his older siblings & instigate petty quarrels between them, but it doesn’t always work out how he planned. He does have a bit of a superiority complex & acts like he’s invincible, & it’s exactly that kind of cocky behavior that gets him caught
You’d never expect it, but Ares is actually quite the talker when he wants to be. (He likes listening to himself) & it just so happens to annoy both of them, so why would he shut up? Athena & Hephaestus are constantly having to put him in his place & remind him who the baby brother is & it flusters pisses him off so bad!
If they notice he seems particularly upset, then they take a gentler approach, or at least try to. They’re all awkward af. Hephaestus gets uncharacteristically goofy when he tries to cheer up his siblings. Sure he starts out pretty sincere & asks why they’re upset, & if it’s not super heavy he’ll proceed with the plan. He asks if they can smile, & if they don’t or say they can’t he starts to act a lil sillier & asks if they’ll ever smile again. Ares knows this game by heart, but he always holds out til the last second, claiming that no, he really will never smile again, fuck off (he doesn’t mean it) & Hephaestus knows that he’s playing along, but doesn’t call him out on it. Instead he just tickles him until Ares assures him that yes he feels better & that is a real smile on his face, no he’s not faking it, you asshole!
If Athena notices that he’s upset, she just goes up to him & asks if he wants to spar. He always says yes, & it’s fairly common for them to still train together. But while fighting she’ll try to bring up fond memories from battles or training sessions. She waits until he’s in a bit of a better mood before completely switching tactics. She’ll wait until she has ahold of him or pinned him down & then yell “tickle fight!” & digs in before he even realizes what’s happening. She doesn’t care if she’s collateral damage, she just wants to have some fun like old times & take his mind off things. & she loves to bully him about it the whole time, so it’s a perfect excuse
Ares is a pretty even match with both of them, so he really does have to put up a fight if he wants a chance at escape. But if they’re working together? Yeah dude’s a goner
& you are SO right about light tickles being his weakness! Especially because when he thinks of tickling, he automatically thinks of the more rough, hysterical laughter kind rather than the light grazing, giggle your head off kind. & that lowkey makes him short circuit & go completely mad. He’s not used to any kind of soft touch, so he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He gets soooo squirmy & giggly, it’s definitely the easiest way to get him flustered
& ever since he’s been with Athena, he’s a lot less touch starved. So don’t worry about him, she made sure to make up for lost time & show him what he was missing
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frogchiro · 2 years ago
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That Skyrim au thing you did a while back made me cream. But also, what if the reader is like betrothed and the guy she’s betrothed to is awful so the guys like kill him or something to keep the reader forever.
Im sorry this is probably so confusing but Im having a brain rot and I can’t think straight lmaoooo
Oh my god😭 i really didn't expect for my silly Skyrim thot to be so popular but I'm so happy ;;
Also I'm sorry in advance but I went with Graves on this bc kinda obsessive Lord!Graves is scratching an itch and I have many thoughts about him and tavern maid reader ;;
also if you desire so, it can be the same Lord Graves as the one here
fem!reader, not really nsfw but general perviness, obsessive Philip Graves (he's a lil delusional ;;), reader is implied to be chubby, gore & mentions of murder but nothing graphic really, creepy guy but dw, philip deals with him <3
OKAY SO as you can probably imagine, your arranged marriage to the local blacksmith was....anything than out of love or even affection, it was purely out of convenience on the insistence of your father. Your parents were getting older but you were still young and so beautiful, many men in the village would court you but according to your father the blacksmith was the best match; the fact that they were old buddies and often shared a drink together and the 'arrangement' was probably created during one of their drunken get togethers was an unspoken fact.
Another thing that displeased you greatly was the fact that not only was the blacksmith, Halvar was his name, your father's age but he was known to not be a pleasant man to be around. He was loud, crass, hot-tempered and terribly ill-mannered, not to mention a raging drunk so much that you wonder how did such a man keep up his workshop for so long. You knew about his drunken escapades very well, every server girl at the tavern knew about him and how terrible he got while drunk, and you were to be his wife? You felt defeated at best and simply humiliated and hopeless at worst.
You were dreaming and wondering about your wedding day and future spouse since you were a girl, would they be strong and handsome? Beautiful? Kind and caring and would take you away from this life of barely getting by? All those dreams quickly faded to nothingness when you came to terms with whom you'll be spending the rest of your life with and it was...miserable.
Little did you know about a certain someone who has been keeping his eyes on you for quite some time now. Someone who send his men, his 'Shadows' to spy on you and report back to him just to be sure that you're safe and okay and the last reports worried him greatly.
Because you see, Lord Commander Philip Graves was in love. He was in love with you and he had it bad. To him, everything about you was perfect; your clear glowing skin that looked so soft to touch, your hair flowing in the wind, your full breasts almost spilling out of the barmaid dress as you were giggling and serving him wine and dinner while he regularly visited the tavern you worked at just so he'd be able to watch you, gods he wanted to pull that annoying dress down and suckle on you tits, grope your full and soft body until you were mewling for him...
He was in love with your bubbly nature, your smile and with your full, plump body; he wanted to devour you and keep you as his, make you his Lady Wife and breed you full of his children. You'd be such a good momma Philip thought, with your caring nature you'd nurture your babies and you two would watch them grow into perfect lords and ladies. And while your marriage would probably spark a few controversies given his status as a lord and you a 'simple' villager but let's be honest, he wouldn't give two fucks about it. Let those little lordlings whine to him that he didn't chose one of their snotty daughters to marry, nobody would even listen to them and Philip would end up with a perfect little wifey.
The only problem was you 'betrothed', that old drunk blacksmith.
Philip scowled even at the thought of someone like that getting with someone like you. You were perfect in every sense and that poor excuse of a man was nothing compared to you...to him, Lord Graves.
The blonde drank deeply from his goblet, the spiced wine leaving a pleasant taste on his tongue and briefly he wondered whether you'd taste sweeter on his tongue...before his mind returned to the more unpleasant thoughts.
He was very well aware that the betrothal was an arrangement between your father and that man but it didn't lessen the burning anger in his veins, if anything it made it even worse. That old drunken bastard could barely make a straight sword nowadays so what would make anyone believe that he'd be able to actually take care of you? With him you'd have everything you'd ever ask for and more, maids and servants waiting on your command and Philip himself would tour the world if you asked for a specific kind of material for your dress or jewel.
Yeaaah, the blacksmith had to go immediately and Philip being a lord commander, basically owning all the villages around his castle, knew exactly what to do and how it'd happen.
He smiled to himself and brought the goblet back against his lips as he leaned on the windowsill to continue watching you take a bath in the lake, his keen blue eyes darkening with desire as he watched your naked body swimming in the body of water and giggling as some ducks swam by you. The blonde could already envision it; you, naked and flushed and panting, all warm and cozy among the luxurious furs and blankets of his bed with Philip panting above you getting down from his high and passionately kissing your swollen lips, growling and hugging you close to him and making sure to mark you up with lovebites and hickeys, rubbing his musky scent off on you to make sure everyone knows that you're his.
And while you'd be all smiley and cozy, drunk on your love and the warm glow from the hearth illuminating your skin, your ex-betrothed would be...less fortunate, rotting away in the deeper parts of the surrounding forest, half eaten away by nature, forgotten and completely eradicated from your mind.
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crazylittlejester · 6 months ago
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Warriors in Twilight would 100% not take any shit from Edward. Especially after Cia. He would find a sword or make a sword or anything then use it on Edward and when that doesn't work he'll try again with a different sword.
No for real, and that’s exactly how I will be writing this
Warriors has some serious trauma regarding how he was objectified and treated during the War of Eras, and even a bit after. He will not be too happy with someone else being creepy toward him, and he’s certainly not going to just sit there and let it happen when Edward just starts showing up In His Fucking Room. He may not have swords in this world, but he’s a trained fighter and though he may not look it, he’s incredibly strong and would absolutely try to fight a vampire at 3 am
And you can bet he’s going to try to tell people about what a creep Edward is being (regardless of if they listen to him or not), and once he figures out how computers work he’s doing his research on how to kill vampires in case that’s something he needs to know. He would for sure try to build a sword, even if it wouldn’t work, he’s no blacksmith but what he lacks in skill he more than makes up for in sheer determination
If Edward gets his shit together and stops sucking they COULD be friends (at some point maybe) but there’s definitely no romance here, Warriors takes shit from no one alsjlksj
When he gets back the chain is gonna have so many fucking questions when he tells them about how he attempted to make a sword while attending american high school to fight off a creepy vampire in between shopping trips at the mall to destress
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fairmerthefarmer · 8 months ago
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More character designs except this time they’re fantasy dwarves and whenever I draw fantasy dwarves they legally all need to have facial hair regardless of gender cause I think that’s cool.
Also these guys are all secretly Narnian and are also on the crew of the Dawn Treader cause I’m forever building out the crew in my mind, and it’s practicing doing my own designs. Here is some more of the crew.
The slightest amount of lore for them is down here if you care, along with general Narnia headcanons and waffling.
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The dwarf on the far left is a river dwarf I’ve decided. I don’t know fully that is other than I think it’d be cool if there was a tribe of dwarves that were close to the water nymphs, and generally have great knowledge and skills that are an asset on a sailing crew.
The river dwarves are one of the reasons telmarines were scared of the water (along with the niads, however the bridge of beruna imprisoned the river god, who otherwise was also responsible for many folk tales told to young telmarine children. Their fear of water is ironic to me cause I believe there’s evidence of them coming from the Caribbean as pirates? I imagine the humans on caspians crew are like, either rediscovering their roots or the few who held on to that seafaring background. Mostly younger telmarines in the same generation as caspian, they questioned the leadership and were very happy when old narnia overthrew Miraz.)
the river dwarves are generally peaceful and most lived in hiding during telmars reign. They’re temperament is very stable and they do well under pressure. River dwarves are incredibly stealthy and only attack in necessity as self defense. In terms of stealth think like lotr hobbits, and this is a great contrast to most other dwarves in Narnia (strong strength and combat, low stealth) A lot of them abstained from fighting against telmar alltogether due to their peaceful values. They are disconnected from some other dwarf cultures which can cause some tension.
The two in the middle come from a tribe of dwarves that are blacksmiths, and also they’re siblings. The brother in particular is a toy maker by trade specifically, and loves kids. His wife (far right) has a background in carpentry. Him and his wife don’t have any but virtually adopt any child they see. The sister is always having a good time, and seafaring comes more naturally to her than smithywork ever did.
The carpentry/forest dwarves generally have a history of closeness with dryads similarly to how the river dwarves are with the water spirits. Some of that connection has been severed due to how deeply the dryads retreated and were removed when Caspian the Conqueror (not our caspian) and his descendants over-deforested. It takes time to restore that connection.
The two on the left may or may not have a situationship and the two on the right have been married for years.
Regardless of trade they’re all on the ship because they’re loyal as fuck to Caspian, the married couple kind of see themselves in a parental role to him but it’s debatable on how that actually plays out.
Also no one has a name cause I’m so bad at coming up with names.
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My thinking in general is that Narnian dwarves make up a lot of the trades, other races do contribute as well, (I’d imagine some marshwiggles work in stuff related to ships/seafaring but perhaps not travelling themselves) most fauns are more into the arts/spirituality, but some do take up trades (a couple of my designs from this post are tradespeople, one of them is a bard.)
I haven’t done many centaur designs, but my vague thoughts is that there are those who are more spiritual and practice prophecy, stargazing, advising, and those who are more into combat, and are protectors, or messengers.
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Gender and the ideas around sexuality I’d also imagine would be a lot more fluid and most Narnians are a lot more open than some of the more human civilizations. (Like it’s a country made of sentient trees, talking animals and mythical beings, and the human countries kind of canonically are like “what the heck is going on over there???” Or they’re afraid of them and try to colonize them, like the telmarines)
These are all half baked ideas but I’ve been fixated on Narnia since I was five and it’s lowkey the reason I spent so much time and passion into drawing and now have a career in graphic design and illustration, so. This is mostly all for me, so don’t mind how long this post has gotten. 🤠
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productofaritual · 1 month ago
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waiting for class bored af so imagine this with me
reincarnation beeduo post reveal (as in, post them getting their heads out of their asses and realizing they are, in fact, the same tubbo and ranboo they each remember) who keep up being rivals at school bc its funny as fuck
imagine then that one of ranboos mums is a jeweller and that he, strong of his memories as a blacksmith in the past, goes under her wing. Imagine this sappy fuck learning how to make rings, just so he can propose to his boyfriend each month with a different one
(tubbo thinks its wonderful and ridiculous. Ranboo tried to claim it was just "for practice", and everyone stopped believing them after rhe fifth proposal. Tommy ate one once)
this all boils down to clingyduo's normal human friends (eryn deo ans crumb) being confused As Fuck about their friend, supposedly single, showing up woth different, clearly expensive looking golden rings every single month. Tubbos like, president of school administration, so theres an institute wide betting circle about it for a long while.
Tubbo participates, obviously, and hes made like a hundred bucks off it by now.
(they reveal it at a party, when tubbo brings by his "misterious pkus one". Deo tries to throw a can of cola at ranboo when he sees them by the door, and then one at tubbo when they reveal the whole reincarnation thing. Crumb and eryn are mostly just excited about the nukes to be honest
HSJHDJDHX YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I NEED THIS LIKE. BIBLICALLY.
Also the rivals buildup because I can never resist some good old homoerotically charged rivalry okay /hj
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operationslipperypuppet · 1 year ago
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Top 5 Emily Axfords characters?
i mean let's be realistic and ask ourselves when has she ever missed. the answer is never. but to narrow down....
Moonshine Cybin. (I mean come on. She's beautiful and strong and will kill you but only if she thinks you deserve it. She'll save your life if you let her. And even if you won't. If I dwell too long on her saving Deadeye or trying to save Marabelle or redeeming Pendergreens I'll lose my shit. And that doesn't even touch on how she helps Hardwon and Bev.)
Fia Boginya. (She's a haunted introvert whose best friend is a book and who is in love with her girlhood friend. She'd do anything for her friends who she made a fairy promise to. She's running to the ocean. She waited 8 years for her mentor because she knew she'd come back. She will save someone on the scales without knowing what they did to return the favor done to her.)
Calliope Petrichor. (While we've had her longer than Fia, which feels insane, her story not being complete makes her rank slightly lower. She screwed over her sister to save a serpent. She is on a quest for the Beastlands so her world isn't taken apart. She's taking down Mothership, and she was ready to kill a god to save Calder. She helped Hardwon get his groove back, and she's so fucking crazy. I love her.)
Sofie (Bicicleta) Lee. (There's something about how Sof was willing to die at the end of TUC1 to be with Dale. There's something else about how she worked so hard to bring him back. She wingmaned Ricky and Esther so hard for two seasons. Her best friend was a rat. She got sober. She's incredible.)
Brimstone Billie. (She's a blacksmith. She's embedded so she can't get bedded and is therefore incredibly horny. She immediately starts negotiating a threesome during a fight when she's reunited with two of her best friends. She uses a spell so that the evil ruler of her home can't turn invisible and run away, completely whomping him. She fucks a piss drinker through a bag.)
ask me my top 5 anything
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loderlied · 1 year ago
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more gortash thoughts. today i bring you the (physical) fight edition!
so, first and foremost, 90% of fights with gortash are already lost before they even start. this man rarely ever is in a situation where a trap or another mechanism of his wouldn’t immediately blow your brains out as soon as he sees you even think about laying a hand on him. the image of him sitting high and mighty on his throne while everyone daring to go against him falls to their knees without him needing to move a single muscle.
of course, sometimes there are fights that he instigates/prepares to have (arms dealer days especially early on must’ve been dangerous, crown of karsus heist, etc) even if i don’t think it’s his preferred method of solving things. but classic gortash “willing to make the hard choices” shebang you get the idea. he’ll do it without hesitation if he knows it’s the best option for the plan. anyways. mentioned this before, but prepares is the right word here because this man prepares like crazy for any fight (or really anything) if he gets the chance. learning about his enemies, the terrain, etc. 5 backup and/or contingency plans at the very least. building a gazillion little gadgets fitting for the situation. will show up in half a mech suit and whatever leather armor there is left is covered with pockets for his shit.
now, some thoughts on how he actually fights. we all know he should’ve had a gun, but. anyways. ranged fighter whose aim with the crossbow is scarily accurate—i believe his strategy in any fight is going for the weak points/vitals immediately, which makes this an absolutely awful combination to go against. uses his inventions to keep his opponents at a distance if he’s alone. if he’s not, which is most times, he’s directing the whole group anyway. treating most of them as disposable meat shields probably. should one get too close and/or against his expectations be completely immune to any of his bullshit, despite his age or the fact that he prefers range and schemes, he’s still no opponent to take lightly in hand to hand combat. it somewhat depends on the point in the timeline (i imagine in the days in which he mainly acted as an arms dealer he’d be a lot more muscular compared to now; more of a pudgy old man build) but he is still an inventor, a mechanic and a fucking blacksmith. his arms and especially hands are stupidly strong. he hammers and shapes steel. again, not his favored modus operandi, but will and can absolutely break your jaw in one clean and precise hit if he feels like he has to.
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bestworstcase · 1 year ago
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I find it silly that people take the idea that Salem ultimately turning out to not be the bad guy and that she'll end up helping the heroes against the gods as being the same as "SHE'S THE BIG GOOD WHICH IS BAD WRITING".
Did we just forget the concept of enemies working together against a common foe or something? Or the fact that the characters would realistically be incredibly uncomfortable around her and be rightfully distrustful of her even as they recognize that she's as much a victim as she is a villain in this whole clusterfuck? That given that Ozpin has absolutely no idea of what to do against the gods, that they NEED someone who clearly has a plan?
It's like, storytelling 101.
there’s i think a few factors at play here:
#1 - lots of people take what is said about salem by other characters at face value if those characters are in the “salem wants to destroy the world” camp (ozpin, tyrian, raven), because jinn’s framing of the story is presumed to be the whole and absolute truth. characters in the “salem wants to change the world” camp, consequently, are interpreted as either deceived pawns (hazel, mercury), lying (salem), or just memetically transposed into the “destroy” camp (ruby, qrow). 
in part this happens because the people doing this don’t pay any attention to how rwby thematically positions salem relative to ozma in regards to the truth, but it’s also because the (deliberately shocking but also vague and out-of-context) statement she makes in the lost fable—why redeem these humans when we can replace them with what they could never be—sounds damning if you don’t, like, stop to think about it for two seconds in context with the part where salem has been wanting humanity to replace The Gods Who Demand Redemption From These Humans for two hundred million years. i wonder who she meant by “them!”
#2 - this is compounded by the very christianized lens that a lot of the fandom applies to rwby; it’s not even tapered off since 9.10 dropped the hammer on the nonsense about light being the “benevolent” brother, the fandom has largely just pivoted to the blacksmith as the benevolent capital-G “God” (which she’s not) and the idea that what’s wrong with salem is she Hasn’t Learned Her Lesson and Needs To Repent persists as a load-bearing pillar in the standard fanon reading. 
the possibility that salem is right about anything is untenable if salem is read as evil because she is wrong. suggesting that salem is both right and evil makes people extremely uncomfortable, as does the implied corollary that the heroes are wrong even though they’re good, because the fandom’s moral reading of the story depends on salem being wrong. 
#3 - the (countertextual) fanon that has grown out of these two intertwined readings—that salem 1. hates humanity, 2. thinks modern humans are pitiful imitations of real humans because they lack magic, 3. sees only herself and ozma as really human, 4. believes magical power is the only true determinant of worth, 5. views ozma as her possession, and 6. is motivated primarily by spite and obsessive rage because he rejected her so she wants to burn the world down to punish him—is deeply entrenched and, for obvious reasons, makes it very difficult for anyone who buys into it to wrap their heads around how in the fuck salem could ever be persuaded to AGREE to work with the heroes.
because she thinks they’re ants, you know. 
and even if you point out that, like, salem is ready and willing and able to pivot or change tactics if something doesn’t work or a new opportunity presents itself, or that salem in fact states quite clearly that she thinks reliance on strength is ozpin’s downfall, the fanon is too strong to budge. she’s just throwing a tantrum and lashing out in blind rage, actually. or she’s just tightening the leash on cinder even more before turning cinder into another hound, actually. or she’s a hypocrite who’s going to be made to eat her own words, actually. one time i saw someone misattribute “there will be no victory in strength” TO OZMA and i would not be remotely surprised if a lot of the fandom turned out to be misremembering that line as something he said to her. 
if you read salem in this way—as someone who is fundamentally unreasonable and too egotistical to even see other people as people—of course the obvious endgame of the heroes reaching out to her or (as i think is more likely) salem reaching out to them sounds wildly out of character. 
#4 - for some unfathomable reason most of the fandom still hasn’t put two and two together to get Summer Joined Salem and that means they are missing the obvious and crucially important bridge between salem and the heroes. if you say “summer is salem’s general” the average rwby fan is going to hear “summer is one of the bad guys and ruby and yang will have too fight her, ooh so dark and edgy” but the actual point is that salem has someone in her corner who can give ruby and yang a really compelling reason to think that truce might be possible AND that trying to negotiate with salem is a risk worth taking. 
it is infinitely easier to get everyone in this mess to the table if summer is willingly on salem’s side. it’s infinitely harder if salem killed her or broke her into a monster. at this point i am sure the wider fandom is just not going to let go of the latter assumption until they see summer and salem, like, catching up in front of summer’s memorial or what the fuck ever; at which point i’m convinced the fanon is going to pivot immediately to 1. placing bets on when summer will kill cinder and 2. expecting summer to stab salem in the back and redemptively sacrifice her life to save ruby and/or yang because the salem fanon is not going to fucking budge until the peace talk starts. 
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