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heliads · 4 years ago

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If I Can’t Have You

Based on this request: “one shot of Wanda and the reader are married and Agatha likes the reader and creates problem in their relationship. one day the reader and Wanda were fighting, the reader leaves to find Agatha who controls the reader to fall in love with her. Wanda finds the reader and removes the mind control.”

masterlist

Agnes walks down the sun-bleached sidewalk, arms full of a stack of hardbacks that most certainly were not transformed spellbooks. Of course they weren’t- she is Agnes now, not Agatha, and even nosy neighbours would never be caught dead studying incantations. She has to keep up the illusion of innocence, and that is final.

Agnes’ cheerful grin slips when her eye catches on something in the bushes. They should be drab shades of gray (they’re still stuck in the 50s, no matter how much Agnes wishes they would just change decades already), but there’s a flash of color inside them. Agnes groans. Is Wanda’s control disintegrating so quickly? Agnes gestures towards the bush ever so slightly, and the color fades back to black and white in a second, with only a flash of purple dancing around Agnes’ fingertips to show that anything had changed.

However, in the split second that Agnes’ focus had been diverted away, her tall stack of books had begun to slide out of her arms. Agnes reaches out to steady the pile once more, but it’s too late- the books cascade to the ground, spilling out over the pale concrete. Agnes kneels, ignoring the spike of heat slicing up her knees from the sunburned sidewalk, and begins to gather up the books. To her surprise, a second figure leans down beside her, picking up the scattered hardbacks as well.

When Agnes looks up, her breath catches slightly in her throat. There’s someone standing over them, sun shining out in a halo over their head. A smile flashes across their face as they hold out the remaining books. “I’m Y/N. I don’t think we’ve been able to meet before.” Agnes shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I would have remembered you, hon. The name’s Agnes.” Y/N grins, teeth flashing in the sun. “It’s nice to meet you, Agnes. I think we’re neighbours- I live down the block with my wife, Wanda. Great to make some new friends.”

Agnes clears her throat. “Well, thank you for your help.” Y/N tilts their head in acknowledgement. “Well, I figured I might as well do something quickly. Wanda’s right down the block, and I don’t think you would have wanted her to see you summon up some purple sparks to retrieve the books.” Agnes stares. “You-” Y/N waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to say anything. I saw you fix that hedge, so clearly you’re here to help. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s keep a secret for a friend. See you around, Agnes.”

With that, Y/N heads back down the sidewalk, footsteps echoing down the concrete path. Agnes is left staring. Y/N knew about the magic and Y/N is married to Wanda, yet they aren’t going to say anything? As Agnes walks back to her house, she realizes there’s a new feeling of rage bubbling up in her stomach against the red-haired witch. It’s not just envy of Wanda’s chaos magic. No, this is something different. It takes Agatha a while to realize what it is, and then it occurs to her. She’s jealous that Wanda has Y/N in her life every day.

Agatha can’t take this feeling of envy for much longer. She begins small spells targeting Wanda and Y/N’s marriage, ones that will sow seeds of discontent that will draw Y/N to Agatha instead. At first, they’re barely noticeable- traffic is bad so Y/N arrives home later and later each day, Wanda keeps forgetting to keep a space out for Y/N at the dinner table. Then, it’s time for Agatha’s magnum opus- one thunderous rain storm that forces Y/N to dash into Agatha’s house to escape the torrential showers.

Y/N only has to knock a couple of times before Agatha opens her door, quickly ushering the drenched neighbour into her house. Y/N apologizes profusely, but Agatha just shakes her head. “It’s fine, trust me. I’d rather you stay in here for a while and dry up than have to run home in this sort of weather.” She hands Y/N a blanket, which they accept gratefully, wrapping around their shoulders.

Y/N gets distracted by a bookcase in the corner of the room, a deep mahogany number with intricate carvings detailing the sides. “You have a good collection of books here. Rivals even my own.” A faint smile slips across their face as they examine the titles, a warmth in their eyes as if greeting dozens of old friends. At last, Y/N’s finger stops over one book in particular, and they carefully draw it out from amongst the others.

Agatha leans over to Y/N, curious. “Which book is that?” Y/N delicately opens the cover, poring over the detailed illustrations and long swoops of text. “Greek mythology. I’ve always been a fan.” Y/N flips through the pages, stopping before one particularly beautiful depiction of a myth. In the drawing, a goddess lies desolate over the body of a lover, roses beginning to form where blood pools from their body.

“Aphrodite and Adonis. That’s a classic. The goddess of love and the queen of the underworld both fell in love with this one mortal hero, Adonis, and they fought over him for a long time.” Agatha furrows her brow. “What happened?” Y/N shakes their head sadly. “Adonis ended up dead, killed by a boar. The stories differ over the killing- some versions say it was Ares, Aphrodite’s husband, or it could have been Persephone herself, jealous that Adonis was falling in love with her rival. Either way, he ended up dead and they both ended up unhappy.”

Y/N sighs. “There are a lot of myths like that, actually. Two gods fall for one lover and in the resulting fight, the world seems to be torn apart. Something similar happened with Hercules and the river god Achelous over Deianeira, actually. Every time, two fall in love with one, and every time, violence always follows. If one god couldn’t have their lover, then nobody could. It never made sense to me. Why tear apart the world over love? Besides, it always hurt the lover, who never had any choice in the matter. A waste, honestly.”

Y/N closes the book and glances outside the window. “Look, it stopped raining. I will stop intruding on your hospitality with my sad Greek myths and leave you to your afternoon.” Agatha starts to raise her voice to protest, to say that Y/N could never be a waste of time, but Y/N is already donning her coat and slipping out the door with a raised hand and a final declaration of gratitude.

Wanda waits for Y/N when they get home. She stands in the middle of the living room, just waiting for when her spouse walks through the door. Y/N has barely closed the door behind them when they see their wife, and their smile fades. “What’s wrong, Wanda? You look upset.” Wanda’s gaze remains steady, bordering on harsh. “I wonder why that would be. I wonder why my spouse would show up late again, especially when I asked them to be here early for dinner.”

Y/N gestures loosely at the door behind them. “I couldn’t go anywhere! It was raining so hard I could barely see two feet in front of me. Here, you can see my jacket, my hair, they’re wet-” Y/N’s voice breaks off as they reach for their coat and find it perfectly dry. They rush to the window, but there is no sign of rain. No puddles, no clouds, nothing. Y/N turns back to Wanda, a look of bewilderment fogging up their eyes.

“I have no idea what happened. I swear, it was raining, but now there’s nothing there at all.” Wanda raises an eyebrow. “Yes, that’s very convincing, isn’t it? A magically disappearing rainstorm apparent only to you.” Y/N tilts their head, irritation beginning to show. “Don’t use that tone. I would never lie to you. This is just strange. Something is happening and I can’t understand it.” They throw their arms up in frustration, but just as they raise their hands, Wanda flinches. It’s a small movement, barely there at all, but it’s enough for Y/N to notice. Instantly, all annoyance fades from their face, replaced by swift betrayal.

“You flinched- you thought I would-” Y/N’s voice is quiet, barely there at all. Wanda shakes her head fervently. “I didn’t mean that. It was an accident.” Y/N looks back at their wife, expression bleak. “It wasn’t an accident, though. You thought I would hit you? You truly think so little of me?” Y/N turns around, grabbing their coat from the door once more. “I think I should go. I think that would be best for both of us.”

Wanda reaches out to stop Y/N from leaving, but her spouse has already disappeared through the front door. A quiet gasp comes from the stairs behind Wanda, and she turns to see Billy and Tommy clustered together on the stairs, twin looks of horror on their faces. Billy is the first to speak. “Are they leaving us?” Wanda rushes over to them, hurrying in her apologies. “Of course not. Everyone has disagreements, you know? It’s impossible to be perfectly happy forever. Y/N is going to come back very soon, and we’re going to talk things out again. That’s what makes us love each other, you know. We always come back to each other in the end.”

Wanda’s voice is light and untroubled, but her children still don’t look entirely convinced. In fact, Wanda doesn’t even look convinced herself. After Billy and Tommy retreat back upstairs to their rooms, Wanda walks slowly to the kitchen and sits down at the table, placing her head in her hands. What has she done? What if Y/N really doesn’t come back?

Y/N regrets storming out of the house as soon as the front door closes behind them. They want nothing more than to go back inside and apologize, but they’ve always had too much pride to swallow. So, they walk out of their house, heading out into the street. Maybe they’ll go into town for a while, shoot the breeze and cool down, and then come back home and make things right. Y/N has never been able to stay away from Wanda for too long, especially during an argument. That’s what made them work so well together- they always returned to each other.

However, Y/N hasn’t gone more than a couple of feet down the road when someone walks up to them. Y/N glances over, recognizing Agnes. “Look, I’m sorry but I don’t really want to talk right now. I’ve already messed things up with Wanda, I think it’s best that I stay by myself for a while.” Agatha’s smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Of course you want to come with me, hon. You love me.”

Y/N frowns, but with a wave of Agatha’s hand a violet streak flashes across Y/N’s eyes and a relaxed smile spreads across their face. “I do love you.” Agatha holds out her hand, and Y/N takes it without a second’s hesitation. Agatha glances over at Y/N, considering them. “Actually, I think we need one more spell. I can’t have Wanda recognizing you, after all.” Agatha murmurs a spell under her breath, and Y/N’s features ripple and change into an entirely different face. Even if Wanda happened to see Y/N walking with Agatha, she would have no idea who they were.

Wanda is growing more uneasy as the hours pass by. Y/N should have returned by now, they should have made up by now. The fact that they aren’t here tells Wanda that something is wrong. Wanda knows it must be the aftereffects of the argument, but yet there’s something in the back of her head telling Wanda that there might be some foul play. After a while, Tommy slips into the room, pausing as he walks by Wanda.

“Are you still looking for Y/N?” Wanda nods, then frowns at Tommy’s tone. “What do you mean, still? Do you know where she is?” Tommy shakes his head, but he hesitates slightly. Wanda jumps on this uncertainty like a lion. “Tommy, love, I need you to tell me where Y/N is. We both know something isn’t right, don’t we? This is really important.”

Tommy still deliberates, but after frantic glances from Wanda he finally relents. “I was running past Agnes’ house and I saw someone in there. I had never seen them before, and Billy says that nobody new has come into town. It didn’t look like Y/N, but it was still strange.” Wanda swoops forward, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “Thank you so much for telling me. I’ll go look into that right away. Stay here with Billy, alright? I’ll be back in a second.”

The methodical rhythm of Wanda’s boots echoes down the street as she heads purposefully to Agnes’ house. She knocks a couple of times before the door opens, and Wanda is face to face with an utterly unfamiliar person. Wanda blinks in confusion. “Hi, I’m Wanda. I was looking for someone.” The stranger in Agnes’ house smiles. “Well, come on inside. Maybe you’ll find them here.”

Wanda nods, following the stranger inside. “What’s your name, by the way?” Wanda asks, and the stranger just looks at her. “I wasn’t given a name.” There’s a moment of tension, like the stranger is almost begging Wanda to realize something, but then their face smooths over and everything returns to normal. Wanda is shown to a seat in the living room, and she stares around Agnes’ house. She reaches out with her mind, searching for Y/N, but nothing happens.

The stranger bustles back into the room. “Agnes is out, but she’ll be back in a little bit. Is there anything I can do for you right now?” Wanda shakes her head, standing up. “Actually, I don’t think so. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Wanda starts to head to the door, but the stranger quickly walks in front of her, blocking her path. “Are you sure? I thought you were looking for someone.” The stranger is staring at them with a look so full of pain and hope that Wanda almost has to look away. What would the stranger want Wanda to know? What would they know, except-

Then Wanda realizes, and she reaches out a tentative hand to the stranger’s temples. Wanda concentrates for a second, searching, and then she feels the spell masking the stranger’s thoughts and pulls it away like she’s removing a blindfold. Instantly, the stranger straightens up, and they shudder for a second as their face changes into a more familiar countenance. Wanda cries out in relief, wrapping her arms around Y/N, for of course it is they who stand before her.

“I thought you were missing- I thought you hated me-” Y/N holds tight to Wanda. “No. No, I could never. I tried to go back, but then the spell hit and I couldn’t do anything.” Y/N leans back, cupping Wanda’s face gently in her palm. “I’m so glad you found me. I was so scared that you wouldn’t know it was me.” Wanda smiles bittersweetly. “I will always come back to you. Every single time.”

Wanda and Y/N leave Agatha’s house, heading quickly back to their own home, back to their twin boys who look up excitedly when they see Y/N return. Wanda and Y/N do not notice Agatha, who just arrives at her house in time to see the married couple disappear back through their own front door. Agatha glares, storming into her house to see the hated truth- Y/N is indeed gone, the spell broken. In a moment of utter rage, Agatha lets her power flow through her, murky indigo smoke pouring over the room as walls crack and glasses break.

When Agatha is at last able to control herself, she stands panting in the middle of the room. Her eyes catch on a book that had been yanked from its shelf, a book that now lies open on the ground. Agatha’s eyes widen as she takes in that familiar drawing of the goddess and the lover, from the story Y/N had been talking about earlier. Aphrodite and Adonis, forced to repeat their pain once more.

But Agatha understands it now, understands it as Y/N had never been able to fully comprehend. Why shouldn’t the gods tear apart the world? This feeling in Agatha’s chest, this empty broken rage, will never be able to subside. Y/N loves Wanda, and Wanda loves Y/N. There is no room for Agatha in that story.

A twisted, fractured smile begins to wend its way across Agatha’s lips. Before, she had been hesitant about messing too much with Wanda’s reality, but now, all rules are gone with Y/N. If Agatha can’t have Y/N, no one else will. Wanda doesn’t stand a chance.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mycosmicparadise @mionemymind @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff oneshot #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagines #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #mcu #marvel #mcu oneshot #mcu imagines #wandavision #wandavision imagines #wandavision oneshot

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onp4012 · 4 years ago

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Romanian monsters and myths

I’ve seen that some of you want to hear more about those monsters and myths, so I am ready to spoil them.

Moroi

As popular as the Strigoi is the Moroi, an evil entity that comes from the spirit of an unbaptized dead child. In most parts of the country, Strigoi’s and Moroi’s are considered separate entities, but in Oltenia they are confused. The Moroi is the dead who have to return from the pit to bring trouble to family and friends. According to folk tales, an unbaptized dead child is sure to turn into a Moroi. Unlike Strigoi’s, where the transformation came almost immediately after death, the Moroi’s waited seven years to rise from the pit. When seven years have passed since his death(because number 7 is considered a magic number), the soul asks to be received in the kingdom of heaven and cries out "Baptism, Baptism!" or according to other sources "Cross, cross!". If anyone hears him then he can save him by giving him baptism: "The son or daughter of God, John or Mary, is baptized in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen!". The ritual is completed by a piece of cloth that is thrown on the grave of the unbaptized baby. If this ritual is not performed, the soul does not find peace and turns into an evil spirit, known as a Moroi. The Moroi haunts the owners of the land where he was buried. It makes the owner's animals and children sick, who eventually have to leave the land to avoid a tragedy. It is a nocturnal creature that manifests itself especially on New Year's Eve. It is said that it can leave its native land by metamorphosing into a dog. If it receives food, the dog-mule does not cause damage and does not scare those who cut it off. Encounters with the Moroi in the middle of the night are usually fatal. The victim either falls in bed for a long time or finds an end until dawn.

Pricolici

Is a werewolf/vampire fusion in the Romanian folklore. Pricolici, similar to Strigoi, are undead souls that have risen from the grave to harm living people. While a Strigoi possesses anthropomorphic qualities similar to the ones it had before death, a pricolici always resembles a wolf. Malicious, violent men are often said to become Pricolici after death, in order to continue harming other humans. Even as recently as modern times, many people living in rural areas of Romania have claimed to have been viciously attacked by abnormally large and fierce wolves. Apparently, these wolves attack silently, unexpectedly and only solitary targets. Victims of such attacks often claim that their aggressor wasn't an ordinary wolf, but a Pricolici who has come back to life to continue wreaking havoc.

Samca

Samca is a female, grotesque, horror and demonic spirit that ruins underage children and pregnant women’s health. She allegedly has long, disheveled hair, crooked fingers that end with sharp nails, fire-spitting mouth and hands made of iron. Legend has it, she’ll turn up at the end of each month in front of a young child or a pregnant woman and either kill the poor soul or leave him/ her crippled for life. According to the myth, the spirit has not one, but nine different names. Samca enjoys torturing women in labor, sometimes killing them. She also either kills their their children, or blesses them with a disease bearing her name. A children suffering from Samca will have seizures, cry all the time, sigh a lot and eventually die. If one writes all of her names inside his house, Samca will not be allowed to enter. She is thought to be the wing of Satan, and she is said to have tried to kill baby Jesus, but was stopped by Michael ( the archangel, not Jackson). She can also change appearance, in order to deceive mortals.

Pâca (Pafa)

Pâca, also known as Pafa, is, according to Romanian mythology, the spirit of tobacco and smoking. Romanians have imagined her as a woman as old at the world itself, ugly and black, having horns on her head and a big, long nose, swollen eyes, tusks and talons, a tail and a pipe in her mouth. Flames and black smoke come out of her throat and she reeks of tobacco. When Pâca came out from the depths of Hell, death spreading smoke came out with her. Then her sons, the demons (dracii), gave birth to a seed which they sowed. The plant sprung from that seed is called buruiana dracului ( the Devil’s weed) or tămâia dracului (the Devil’s incense). As you may have guessed, this plant is what we call tobacco. Then some other demons invented the pipe, for people to worship Pafa by inhaling the smoke made by the plant the devils had sowed in her name. Pâca‘s children also invented snuff tobacco. The funny part is that God, upon seeing what the people were doing, took their tobacco leaves and instead of destroying them (since he’s almighty according to christians, right?), mixed them with basil (so they could smell nicer?) and gave them back to people, teaching them how to use the new product. (Good job, God)

Crasnicul

Crasnicul, or Crâsnicul, is the child born out of a woman’s union with a demon. Apparently, he looks like a cross between a piglet and a normal kid. However, as opposed to the latter, the first thing this demon spawn does after birth is not crying, but running around the house screaming. I bet it sounds similar to Dani Filth’s work with Cradle. Somehow, my intuition tells me their similarities go beyond sound, and we could also link the two aesthetically. In some areas, people thought you should trap the thing in a stove and burn it alive. Other believe that the Crasnic is born after an eleven months gestation period. It is also said that the Crasnic has a hellish desire to bite and kill the people around, immediately after birth. After he’s done with them, he (it?) will try to go back to where he came from. To prevent all this, the midwife will wrap him in a cloth and call the mother’s relatives to bludgeon him to death. Imagine how many malformed children have been bludgeoned to death just because people thought they were the result of the mother’s union with the Devil. Sad. But a great Horror image, nonetheless. ;-; (Ain’t very proud).

Muma Pădurii (Mother Forest)

Is an ugly and mischievous or mad old woman living in the forest (in the heart of the virgin forests, in a hut/cabin or an old tree). She is the opposite of fairies such as a "Fairy" Zână. She is also the protector of the animals and plants, brewing potions and helping injured animals. She cures the forest if it's dying, and she keeps the unwanted trespassers away driving them mad and scaring them to flee. She can be associated with witches (like the witch from the story of "Hansel and Gretel"), but she's a neutral "creature", harming only those who harm the forest. (She’s my favorite “horror one”, I really respect her.)

Iele

Ieles, evil fairies in Romanian mythology are the most mysterious and fascinating creatures that Romanian legends have been talking about for hundreds of years. Sources of inspiration for poets and writers, who turned them into literary characters, the ieles are also the subject of folk studies in which the authors tried to explain both the origin and the meaning of the creatures. Supernatural female creatures appearing in groups on the plains or in the woods, singing and dancing in steamy or undressed clothes, leaving behind signs of circles of fire. It’s said that they are the result of an incestuous relationship between the Sun and the Moon, so they were cursed to send their daughters on earth. This is the portrait of the ieleles, described by folklorists and folk tales over time. Legends about iele, which differ from region to region, say that the creatures appear in groups of three, five or seven. The stories depict the evil fairies in Romanian mythology as very beautiful, dressed in steamy clothes or simply naked. In the story they appear at night, in the fields and in the forests, far from the eyes of the world. Legends also say that the iels burn crazy and cheerful choruses that the eyes of ordinary mortals should not see. Behind them are signs of circles of fire in the burning grass. (In my region, it’s said that they are wives of unfaithful husbands that cheated on them, at which, the woman committed suicide in a river or was simply killed by her husband.)

#romania #myths #legends #monsters #transylvania #romanianmythicalcreatures #romanianmyths #pricolici #Samca #strigoi #iele #para #crasnicul

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wingwaver · 1 year ago

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Sorry I neglected this poll it's been a hell of a work week.

Here's the lie:

Megatron has Skywarp kill a human child in front of Optimus Prime!

In the victory manga, The Emperor of Destruction Deathsaurus is shown to be afraid of caterpillars

While I don't have the manga translations myself you can find them online with some digging.

In Robots in Disguise 2001 Megatron uses an unformed Autobot Pod to scan tanker truck that also scans Optimus Prime, who is holding the truck to keep it from tipping over and exploding, to create Scourge. Megatron notes to Scourge that he is infused with Megatron's spark, but also of Optimus. It is later revealed that Scourge is 1/3rd human as well, as the scanning process also scanned Kelly, the human woman driving the truck. Family reunions must be intense, and don't even get them started over who pays the child support.

If you'd like to check the series out here are the links to the sub and dub on YouTube!

In Super God Masterforce Episode 5 (aka the episode that absolutely blindsided my nephew and me) the junior team is trying to rescue survivors and stop the Destron's rampage through a city. Minerva saves a little girl and her puppy, but upon seeing Shuta and Cab getting beaten up the puppy leaps from the girl's arms to go bark at Wilder, who, in response, kicks the dog and sends it flying before falling unto the pavement with whimpers. The dog then dies in the little girl's arms while she begs him to wake up.

This is where I put the link up for the place for you to watch this show but man if you don't like animal death just skip episode 5 I promise no more puppies are harmed after episode five. Also I don't care if he's 16, fuck Wilder! All my homies hate Wilder!

As edited in the main post I fucked up the wording here, Rattrap and Arcee are related. Rattrap mentions Arcee being his great aunt, which begs the question of who her sibling was in G1 🤔?

You ever wanted to experience that dashing rat above in 4K? Here you go! The entirety of Beast Wars in 4K on YouTube!

Meet Heinrad from Beast Wars Neo!

He turns into a tanuki!

The big golden thing on his torso is actually a stop watch that he can use to stop time with! Though it's only for a few seconds. Still, he's used his time powers to help his team escape death quite a few times. If you'd like to see him in action (or inaction more like it as he prefers to nap and cook than to fight) then you can find Beast Wars Neo here on YouTube!

In the IDW1 comics, Shockwave ends up face to face with Onyx Prime, one of the 13 original Cybertronians and God of beastformers, and immediately kills him and takes his place by using the God's corpse to disguise himself (making Shockwave the first ever cybertronian to own a fursuit).

He proceeds to sow discord throughout the other 13 and rewrite the timeline's history and religion to his whim. Here is a YouTube video that goes into a brief summary of IDW Shockwave's history, or , if you'd like to read IDW for yourself here is the reading order and all comics can be found online! Or you can browse his wiki page here!

This is Megaempress!

She was built from parts of Megatron's construction and leads an all female team with her 4 bodyguards in Unite Warriors! She has the special ability to seduce any male transformer (yes you are reading that right) and considers Megatron to be her husband (even though she has to use her powers on him to sway him, not a very healthy relationship there). I'm unsure where to find any translated scans of Unite Warriors at them moment but you read about Megaempress here, here, and here!

Meet DJ! He's a part of team of brothers called the Jointrons!

He turns into a cicada, and sometimes upon flight, he will "leak oil" during take off. He has used it as an attack to get Megastorm's attention before. While DJ is probably the most tolerable of the Jointrons he still has his problems, because, since this show was made in the 90s and like many old cartoons and animes, there's some insensitive racial stereotypes. He and his brothers can unfortunately be considered offensive Mexican stereotypes as they are often seen partying with mariachi music in the background and speaking in broken spanish randomly with heavy stereotypical accents. Thankfully they do not play as huge a part in the show as other characters and only show up in a few episodes so you aren't constantly bombarded with the racial insensitivities. Despite being blindsided with the sudden uncomfortableness of the Jointrons I still recommend Beast Wars II (you're free to skip Jointron eps without missing too much story if you want), you can watch it here on YouTube.

In Transformers Victory, a Destron named Leozack leads a team called the Breastforce, which is made up of Drillhorn, Killbison, Hellbat, Jaruga, and Guyhawk (who takes the place of Deathcobra).

The team can combine into Liokaiser and they're called the Breastforce because their breast plates pop off and turn into animals, which can also turn into their weapons. Each member has their own special animal, Leozack has a lion named Lionbreast, Guyhawk has a hawk named Hawkbreast, Drillhorn has a rhino named Hornbreast, Killbison has a bison named Bisonbreast, Jaruga has a jaguar named Jaguarbreast, and Hellbat has a bat named Kōmoribreast. Deathsaurus also has breast animals, an eagle named Eaglebreast and a tiger named Tigerbreast. If you'd like watch Victory you can find it here on YouTube!

Screw it here's another

Ok I'm gonna admit I kind fucked this one up bc I forgot descendant meant like.... direct offspring so mark that off the list actually.

I forgot it wasn't a catch all like ancestor.

So yes there is rat that is related to Arcee.

#transformers #polls #poll

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softranswolves · 3 years ago

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Mournful Monkshood

LAURA HALE APPRECIATION WEEK - DAY ONE THEME: LAURA DIDN’T DIE

Rating: T

Words: 1151

On AO3 here

Sitting on the steps of what once was Hale House, Laura glances over at the sparring teens, amusement playing at her lips. It's been a solid year since everything happened, and she sees the grove of monkshood in the distance, far enough to not tamper with her pack's senses but close enough to still see. Deaton planted it this past spring as a surprise, and Laura couldn't be prouder.

As Scott, Stiles, and Derek throw down in the treeline, honing their werewolf senses now that the fight with Peter and Kate is over, Laura feels a small bit of peace. Being called back to Beacon Hills amid the pain and horror of losing Cora so violently and unexpectedly tore her world apart. Derek's too, but he wasn't the Alpha. He wasn't the one responsible for their baby sister.

It had all started with Peter regaining his powers enough to go hunting. At first, he was simply drawn to the moon's bidding and killed without consciousness, but he came back to himself much quicker than he admitted to anyone, even his now-dead nurse. He hatched a plan during those months of isolation, free from his coma but enjoying the freedom of being presumed brain dead. He wanted to draw Laura in, kill her to take the family's spark that he felt rightfully belonged to him. Cora found out. She had already been tracking him, distrustful of him even as a child before everything happened. Apparently it wasn't just the Alpha he was willing to kill in his quest for power.

"Laura!" She hears Derek's voice, loud and alert but without true danger. "Laura! Get your betas off me!" Scott and Stiles have crushed him underneath their bodies, giving up on the actual training only to puppy-pile and force him to cuddle.

He was still warming up to them, though helping his big sister get justice was even more of a motivator. She'd asked his thoughts on building the pack back when they first returned, seeing how inquisitive the boys were as they searched outside of Stiles' father's purview for the body. It started as a simple way to start their sophomore school year with excitement, but quickly morphed into wanting to do the right thing.

After she and Derek talked it over, she explained the option of the bite to them, what it would give them as well as what it would cost. She didn't try to convince them, merely gave the facts, but they accepted without too much hesitation. They trusted her, and she had to learn how to cope with that, after losing one of the only other people she had already been given the responsibility of.The others were changed shortly after, though not originally out of a desire to build the pack. As the teens investigated at school, particularly the guidance counselor that seemed to know a little too much, Scott's connection to the Argent daughter bloomed into something deeper. Her aunt, the woman responsible for Laura losing her family to begin with, had returned to town. Laura implored Scott to not trust Allison, but as teens are wont to do, he didn't listen.

When Allison inevitably found out about him and Stiles being werewolves, she was fearful, but her mind hadn't been warped by the Argent legacy and forbears yet, and she came to accept him. On a routine hunt, her aunt accidentally shot her instead of Scott, and her father was the one to ask Laura for help. He'd been connected to her mother, a genuinely peaceful treaty drawn between them before hell broke loose. He knew what the Hales were here for from generations back, and he swore he wanted to uphold that tradition. As she lay dying in his arms, he offered to join her pack; when told he could stay human and still be pack, he practically snarled, saying he needed to show they were still human. Laura thought he meant the Argent family, but she was wrong. Chris was a good man, and he only became stronger and more focused after the bite.

Laura is broken out of her reflection when she hears the sound of a car pulling up, though it takes longer to actually see it on the trail. Standing, she listens for who it is, relief washing over her when she hears. The car finally parks, and out comes Laura's favorite redhead and deputy, the former running to jump into Laura's arms for a hug. They hold tight for a few moments after Laura spins them around and places Lydia back on the ground, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning to Jordan for a kiss on the cheek."

You made it," Laura breathes out.

"Of course we did," Lydia says, gentle smile on her face. "She was important to you, so she's important to us." She squeezes Laura's hand and follows as they walk back to the house, skirting around to the back instead of inside.

Allison and Chris already stand at the grave, Chris' arm wrapped around Allison's shoulders. Victoria stands on the other side, still somewhat prickling with discomfort but willing to not only be there, but stay as well.

"Thank you for coming," Laura says to the Argents, two of whom are more officially a part of the pack. They have continued to hunt with Allison's new code, to protect those cannot, and Victoria's love for her husband and daughter encouraged her to stay with them and adapt to the changes. She didn't have as much of a stake in events as Chris, considering it was his sister who started the entire mess, but she still took responsibility for not seeing the threads of manipulation sowed by Gerard sooner.

"It's our honor," Victoria says, meeting Laura's eyes. "I can't imagine what it must have been like to lose your sister, especially when she was pack. I know my world changed when I almost lost Allison." She shifts her gaze to her daughter and gives her a tight smile.

Derek, Scott, and Stiles join the group, their panting breaths breaking the tension. Derek goes straight to the headstone and sits next to it, leaning his forehead against the side as he used to do with Cora when she was alive. Laura steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight.

"She'd be proud of you," Stiles says. When offered the bite, Stiles was the first to accept, remembering playing with Cora as a child when Laura would babysit him. Scott was sometimes a part of those memories, but that was before his dad left, when his home wasn't filled with emptiness and loss like Stiles'.

Laura turns to Stiles then, tears in her eyes, and pulls him in for a hug, not wanting to let go. She savors the knowledge that she has a pack again, and they'll do anything to protect her.

#tw fics #laura hale #LHAW2021 #*fics

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ginazmemeoir · 4 years ago

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ok so i realized i haven’t made a mythology post in a loooooooooooooooooong time, so here you go with a comparative analysis of the representation of Shurpanakha in modern Indian literature.

Now, Shurpanakha (lit. She who is as sharp as nails) was the sister of the Emperor of Lanka, Ravan. Originally born as the beautiful Meenakshi (lit. She with eyes shaped like fish), there have been many speculations as to why her named was thus changed. For this analysis, I will be comparing her character in four books : Asura by Ananda Neelkanthan, Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane, Forest of Enchantments by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni and Raavan : Enemy of Aryavarta by Amish Tripathi.

We will first be approaching Asura, which was the first one released. The book is controversial enough on its own for portraying the villains of the epic Ramayana as the actual good guys (this is actually the author’s writing style). Now, the Shurpanakha here is shown as Meenakshi : the book describes how she flirted with Rama, but was instead raped by both Rama and Lakshamana. The metaphor of “having one’s nose cut” has been taken both literally and figuratively, as Lakshamana then proposes to disfigure Shurpanakha by cutting off her nose and ears. This Shurpanakha, is polar to the one we know - innocent and “pure”, and thus much less believable.

The Shurpanakha in Forest of Enchantments is portayed as Kamarupini - she with a lustful form. Shurpanakha is shown as a free roaming forest spirit, who originally interacts with Sita frankly as a woman. Later she flirts with both the princes. When she realizes that they are toying with her by telling her to go to the other repeatedly, she rushes to kill Sita and is then disfigured by Lakshamana by having her nose and ears chopped off. This Shurpanakha, later, ridicules Sita in Lanka. Although she is scarcely mentioned, this Shurpanakha is much more relatable, however not entirely.

Amish in his book has portrayed Shurpanakha entirely as the monster the Ramayana depicts her as. This Shurpanakha however : IS A GREEK PRINCESS. That’s right, in this narrative Shurpanakha is the child Raavana’s father has with the Queen of Knossos along with Vibhishana. Both are originally Greek royalty. This Shurpanakha fits the physical appearance of the Ramayana : overtly sexualized and accentuated features. She is an active part of Ravana’s political ambitions, but craves power for herself too. An entirely different character, this Shurpanakha is intriguing, and relatable.

However, the Shurpanakha in Kane’s book, is human. Maybe because the book revolves entirely around her, Kane shows her transition : from Meenakshi to Shurpanakha. She is described as having a neglected, abusive childhood, wherein she learns to fend for herself at quite an early age with Ravana as her brother. The only two characters who she actually considers family are her brother Kumbhakarna and her maternal grandmother, the yaksha princess Taraka. As Meenakshi grows older, she finds herself more and more aloof from her family. She finds love and acceptance in her husband Vidyutjihva, the king of the Kalakeyas. She wilfully ignores all the rumours about her husband which actually turn out to be true : he was partly using her to gain access to his enemy Ravan, and he was also a notorious man whore. Shurpanakha refuses to believe all this, and gets insane after Ravan kills her husband. Kane here uses the version wherein Shurpanakha starts the war for her own revenge - and that’s what precisely happens. The narrative of the original Ramayana is followed with an additional element : Shurpanakha here sows a seed of doubt in Sita’s mind, stating that both her husband and her brother were attracted to her and were thus infuriated at themselves and at her. Shurpanakha is unable to let go of her revenge and then further reaches Ayodhya to ruin Sita’s life. It is only after she envisions her happily married life in Lakshamana and Urmila that she goes calm, and then commits suicide by drowning in the Lankan sea.

Overall, I prefer the representation given to Shurpanakha in Lanka’s Princess. Her character has completely been justified, and given the space that this complex character of one of the grandest epics of the world truly deserved.

P.S. - if you haven’t read any of these books : THEN GO READ THEM BITCH WHAT ARE YOU DOING??

tagging : @amandaanubis @wannabe-santiago @aadya-said-chal-be @psycho-mocha @kuuhakublank00 @dragonfairy1231

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“...Because if we want to ask “What was life as a woman like in Sparta?” we really need to ask “What was life like as a helot woman?” because they represent c. 85% of all of our women and c. 42.5% of all of our humans. And I want to stress the importance of this question, because there are more helot women in Sparta than there are free humans in Sparta (as from last time, around 15% of Sparta is free – men and women both included – but 42.5% of Sparta consists of enslaved helot women). If we want to say absolutely anything about the condition of life in Sparta, we simply cannot ignore such a large group of human beings living in Sparta.

...The primary economic occupation of helot women was probably in food preparation and textile production. And if I know my students, I know that the moment I start talking about the economic role of women in ancient households, a very specific half of the class dozes off. Wake Up. There is an awful tendency to see this ‘women’s work’ as somehow lesser or optional. These tasks I just listed are not economically marginal, they are not unimportant. Yes, our ancient sources devalue them, but we should not.

First: let’s be clear – women in ancient households (or early modern households, or modern households) were not idle. They had important jobs every bit as important as the farming, which had to get done for the family to survive. I’ve estimated elsewhere that it probably takes a minimum of something like 2,220 hours per year to produce the minimum necessary textile goods for a household of five (that’s 42 hours a week spinning and weaving, every week). Most of that time is spent spinning raw fibers (either plant fibers from flax to make linen, or animal fibers from sheep to make wool). The next step after that is weaving those threads into fabric. Both weaving and spinning are slow, careful and painstaking exercises.

Food preparation is similarly essential, as you might imagine. As late as 1900, food preparation and cleanup consumed some 44 hours per week on average in American households, plus another 14 hours dedicated to laundry and cleaning (Lebergott, Pursuing Happiness (1993)). So even without child rearing – and ask any parent, there is a TON of work in that – a small peasant household (again, five members) is going to require something like 100 hours per week of ‘woman’s work’ merely to sustain itself.

Now, in a normal peasant household, that work will get split up between the women of the house at all ages. Girls will typically learn to spin and weave at very young ages, at first helping out with the simpler tasks before becoming fully proficient (but of course, now add ‘training time’ as a job requirement for their mothers). But at the same time (see Erdkamp, The Grain Market in the Roman Empire (2005) on this) women often also had to engage in agricultural labor during peak demand – sowing, harvesting, etc. That’s a lot of work to go around. Remember, we’re positing a roughly 5 individual household, so those 100 hours may well be split between only two people (one of whom may be either quite old or quite young and thus not as productive).

...Let’s start textiles. Spartiate women do not engage in textile manufacture (Xen. Lac. 1.4) as noted previously, nor do they seem (though the evidence here is weaker) to engage in food preparation. In the syssitia, at least, the meals are cooked and catered by helot slaves (Plut. Lyc. 12.5, 12.7). In the former case, we are told explicitly by Xenophon that it is slave labor (he uses the word doule, “female slave,” which clearly here must mean helot women) which does this.

So helot women now have an additional demand on their time and energy: not only the 2,200 hours for clothing their own household, but even more clothing the spartiate household they are forced to serve. If we want to throw numbers at this, we might idly suppose something like five helot households serving one spartiate household, suggesting something like a 20% increase in the amount of textile work. We are not told, but it seems a safe bet that they were also forced to serve as ‘domestics’ in spartiate households. That’s actually a fairly heavy and onerous imposition of additional labor on these helot women who already have their hands full.

We also know – as discussed last time – that helot households were forced to turn over a significant portion of their produce, perhaps as high as half. I won’t drag you all through the details now – I love agricultural modeling precisely because it lets us peak into the lives of folks who don’t make it into our sources – but I know of no model of ancient agriculture which can tolerate that kind of extraction without bad consequences. And I hear the retort already coming: well, of course it couldn’t have been that bad, because there were still helots, right? Not quite, because that’s not how poor farming populations work. It can be very bad and still leave you with a stable – but miserable – population.

Let’s talk about seasonal mortality. As the primary food-preparers in the helot household, helot women are going to have the job of managing a constrained but variable flow of food through an extended family that may include their husband, children, older relatives, etc. Given the low productivity of ancient farming, this is a tricky operation in systems where rents are extracting 10% or 20% of the farming yield every year, but given the demands of supporting an entirely unproductive class of elites, it becomes even harder. The key task here is stretching one harvest through the next planting to the next harvest, every year. That means carefully measuring out the food consumption of the household against the available reserves, making sure there is enough to last over the winter. If too much food is extracted by the elites, or the harvest fails or (likely) some combination, the family will run into shortage.

Now, the clever helot woman knows this – peasants, male and female, are canny survivors, not idiots, and they plan for these things (seriously, far too many of my students seem to instinctively fall into the trap of assuming serfs, peasants, etc. are idiots who don’t know what they are doing. These people have survived for generations with very few resources, often in situations of significant volatility and violence; they’re not stupid, they’re poor, and there is a difference!) – so she will have strategies to stretch out that food to try to keep herself and her family alive.

But that in turn often means inflicting a degree of malnutrition on the family unit, in order to avoid outright starvation – stretching the food out. It also probably means a lot of related strategies too: keeping up horizontal ties with other farming households so that there is someone to help you out in a shortage, for instance. Canny survivors. That said – especially in a situation where shortages hit everyone at once – a shortfall in food is often unavoidable.

But, we need to note two things here: first: humans of different ages and conditions react to malnutrition differently. Robust adults can tolerate and recover from periods of malnutrition relatively easily. For pregnant women, malnutrition increases all sorts of bad complications which will probably kill the child and may kill the mother. For the elderly and very young children, malnutrition dramatically increases mortality (read: lots of dead children and grandparents), as compromised immune systems (weakened by malnutrition) lead to diseases that the less robust old and young cannot fight off.

Second – and this is the sad and brutal part – feeding the agricultural workers, meaning the adult males (and to a lesser extent, adult females), has to come first, because they need to make it to the planting with sufficient strength to manage the backbreaking labor of the next crop. If it’s a choice between the survival of the family unit, and taking a chance that you lose Tiny Tim, our helot mother knows she has to risk Tiny Tim.

So in a good year, there is food enough for the entire household. Families expand, children grow up, the elderly part of the family makes it through another winter, imparting wisdom and comfort. But the bad years carry off the very young and the very old (and the as-yet unborn). For children who make it out of infancy, a series of bad years in early childhood – quite a common thing – are likely to leave them physically stunted. It was very likely that most helots were actually physically smaller and weaker than their better nourished spartiate masters for this reason (this is a pattern visible archaeologically over a wide range of pre-modern societies).

The population doesn’t contract, because the mortality isn’t hitting adults of child-bearing age nearly as hard, meaning that in future good years, there will be new children. In fact, societies stuck in this sad equilibrium tend to ‘bounce back’ demographically fairly quickly, because massive external mortality (say from war or plague) frees up land and agricultural surplus which leads to better nutrition which leads to less infant mortality which leads to rapid recovery.

...And so helot women must have spent a lot of time worrying about food scarcity, worrying if their sick and malnourished children or parents would make it through winter. Grieving for the lost child, the lost pregnancy, the parent taken too quickly. Probably all while being forced to do domestic labor for the spartiates, who were both the cause of her misery and at the same time did no labor at all themselves and yet were better fed than her family would ever be. Because peasant labor of any kind is so precariously balanced, we can really say that every garment woven for the spartiates, every bushel turned over, represented in some real sense an increase in that grief. Subsistence farming is always hard – but the Spartan system seems tailor made to push these subsistence farmers deeper and deeper into misery.

The instances of brutality against the helots – the murders and humiliations – which our sources preserve are directed at helot men, but it seems an unavoidable assumption that helot women were also treated poorly. Spartiate women were, after all, products of the same society which trained young men to ambush and murder helot men at night for no reason at all – it strikes me as an enormous and unsubstantiated leap to assume they were, for some reason, kind to their own female domestic servants.

In fact, the one thing we do know about spartiates – men and women alike – is that they seem to have held all manual laborers in contempt, regarding farming, weaving and crafting as tasks unbefitting of free people. I keep returning to it, but I want to again mention the spartiate woman who attempts to shame an Ionian woman because the latter is good at weaving, which in the mind of the spartiate, was labor unbecoming of a free person (Plut. Mor. 241d, note Xen. Lac. 1.4). The same attitude comes out of a spartiate man who, on seeing an Athenian convicted for idleness in court, praised the man, saying he had only been convicted of being free (Plut. Mor. 221c). This is a society that actively despises anyone who has to work for a living – even free people. Why wouldn’t that extend to its treatment of helot women?

To this, of course, we must add now the krypteia and incidents like the 2,000 murdered helots recounted by Thucydides (Thuc. 4.80). While the murdered are men, we need to also think of the survivors: the widowed wives, orphaned daughters, grieving mothers. This must have been part of the pattern of life for helot women as well – the husband or brother or cousin or father or son who went out to the fields one day and didn’t come back. The beautiful boy who was too beautiful and was thus murdered by the spartiates because – as we are told – they expressly targeted the fittest seeming helots in an effort at reverse-eugenics (Plut. Lyc. 28.3).

Finally, we need to talk about the rape. We are not told that spartiate men rape helot women, but it takes wilful ignorance to deny that this happened. First of all, this is a society which sends armed men at night into the unarmed and defenseless countryside (Hdt. 4.146.2; Plut. Lyc. 28.2; Plato, Laws 633). These young men were almost certainly under the normal age of marriage and even if they weren’t, their sexual access to their actual spouse was restricted.

Moreover (as we’ll see in a moment) there were clearly no rules against the sexual exploitation of helot women, just like there were no laws of any kind against the murder of helot men. To believe that these young men – under no direction, constrained by no military law, facing no social censure – did not engage in sexual violence requires disbelieving functionally the entire body of evidence about sexual violence in combat zones from all of human history. Anthropologically speaking, we can be absolutely sure this happened and we can be quite confident (and ought to be more than quite horrified) that it happened frequently.

But we don’t need to guess or rely on comparative evidence, because this rape was happening frequently enough that it produced an identifiable social class. The one secure passage we have to this effect is from Xenophon, who notes that the Spartan army marching to war included a group he calls the nothoi – the bastards (Xen. Hell. 5.3.9). The phrase typically means – and here clearly means – boys born to slave mothers. There is a strong reason to believe that these are the same as the mothakes or mothones which begin appearing with greater frequently in our sources. Several of these mothakes end up being fairly significant figures, most notably Lysander (note Plut. Lys. 2.1-4, where Plutarch politely sidesteps the question of why Lysander was raised in poverty and seemed unusually subservient and also the question of who his mother was).”

- Bret Devereaux, “This. Isn’t. Sparta. Part III: Spartan Women.”

#spartan #greek #ancient #bret devereaux #history #cw: rape #weaving

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i-shall-never-repent · 4 years ago

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If you love a femme fatale in MDZS, here is a canon one for you.

This going to be long post with pictures, please remind yourself that skim reading or read just half of a post and then kick a fuss is unbecoming of an intellectual being humans suppose to be. Any discussion after finished reading the whole post is welcome. Also I’m not an expert on Chinese culture, just amateur with passion, and English is not my first language, if any grammar, spelling, or context error have been detected, please let me know, politely. I’m always willing to learn and improve.

From my observation, there is not a small part of this fandom salivating for a gorgeous seductive manipulative duplicitous bitch. Please believe me that we already have one in the canon, even with a fan. Though the correct term would be a Homme Fatal, a male equivalent of Femme Fatale.

Some of you may think of this man [Pic Source: Manhua]

No, not him. Not Nie Huaisang. This is a plot device for shock value.

You may have ask, then it must be this man right, but he doesn’t hold a fan? [Pic source: audio drama]

Also sadly no, not Jin Guangyao either. This man need to a kick and ‘son of a whore’ commentary from Nie Mingjue to motivate himself enough to kill him, too masochistic sentimental and not enough of ‘seducing’ evidence.

Homme Fatal, by the definition from Wikitionary, is “An ultimately seductive and dangerous man; a womanizer.”

Who fit this description most in MDZS? It’s this man, Jin Guangshan.

Let me introduce you to the real sexy manipulative scheming duplicitous mastermind of MDZS. With a fan. [Pic source: Donghua]

Now you might want to scream, this piece of trash, a man whore, slimy power hungry scumbag of the cultivation society Jin Guangshan? Are we talking about the same man? Yes, we are. And now I will elaborate.

First, look at his face, even though it might be universal agreement that he is not a good man, his appearance and his mannerism are indeed a seductive handsome man. Let me remind you again that these are his children.

From left to right: Jin Zixuan, Jin Guangyao, Qin Su, Mo Xuanyu [All pics are from Manhua]

They are undeniably, gorgeous. Jin Zixuan was rank 3rd in the young master list, that’s enough evidence of his good look. Jin guangyao may get most of his look from his mother - according to Guanyin statue that model after his mother’s face but people still thought it was his - but he still has his father’s charm. Qin Su is a beauty, even though we know nearly nothing about her, and Mo xuanyu’s face is definitely not shabby. Jin Guangshan’s gene is indeed worthy of a Jin’s name.

Second, Jin Guanshan is a dangerous man, might have been the most dangerous one on par with Wen Ruohan, even he was the weaker one in term of cultivation, at least you will have a gist if Wen Ruohan want you dead, you mostly still in the dark and not even wondering on your dead bed that did Jin Guangshan had a hand in your downfall.

People like to forget that this man was Lanling Jin sect leader, sit on the throne in the viper pit call Jinlin Tower. That sect full of backstabbing people, gossips, and a lot of maneuvering in the dark. I’m still curious how in the heavens Jin Zixuan grow up to be the man he was in that kind of environment to be honest.

I can’t remember that Jin Guangshan was the oldest one in his generation or not, but we could assume that he surely at least had a sibling of main family line, because we have Jin Zixun, a man in ‘Zi’ generation who close enough to main family to share the ‘Zi’ character in his courtesy name, raise next to the clan heir as a spare one, and he call Jin Guangshan “uncle” (Can’t remember which one between Bó Fù/older paternal uncle or Shū Fù/younger paternal uncle).

Which mean he already a winner of his generation, when the story start, Lanling Jin was his domain, he was the highest authority over there with no contest, we never see anyone from Jin sect disobey him. Madam Jin can only voice out her displeasure, but can’t do anything regarding of her husband conduct. Their marriage, arranged as they were, is what tied Jin clan and her family together, which mean her maternal clan also on a good term with Jin, she cannot kick a fuss, as a marriage in ancient time never a matter of two people, it’s a matter of two families.

And he was in process of securing his legitimated son place too. He raise his nephew as a ‘second best’, making sure that Jin Zixun will not have any ambition to ‘go above his station’ as we can see in the novel that Jin Zixun is Jin Zixuan’s fanboy or his lackey, he always praising or cheering Jin Zixuan, behave obediently toward his uncle, like that was his job. Jin Guangshan definitely win this one over already.

Now, one did not become a sect leader of a Great Sect and stay in power by being an incompetent moron. His habits of sleeping around may disgust people, but here me out, this is not unusual for a man of his status. His affairs with prostitutes [i.e Meng Shi] are easiest to take care, by the contract of transection, therefore he is blameless in the eyes of gentry class, they could only scold him for being ‘overindulgent’ or ‘lustful’, and he always go for the best one around, so some people might even praise him for his taste. Commoners and gentry class ladies [i.e. Second Lady Mo] are different, sleeping with those gentry class young miss not only a pleasure for him, it also could be a great way of getting information and blackmailing people too. Because if he let the public know which young lady he had already ‘conquered’, his reputation suffer nothing, but the lady in question will be ruined beyond saving, that’s one of the reason madam Qin decide to keep her raped quiet. And the lady’s reputation is link to her family, they will do many things just to keep Jin Guangshan happy and not to be shamed in public. Or if anyone want to have a problem with him, they still need to look at the social standing he had, both from his position as Sect Leader Jin and his extensive connections from all parties he threw. And if you think he would care about non-cultivators’ opinions, you have mistaken, to quote Tywin Lannister, "A Lion Doesn't Concern Himself With The Opinions Of The Sheep". Unlink Jin Guagyao who need his reputation to be spotless or else he’ll get a canon ending, the only ones he need to at least pretend to care are his cultivator peers of the same gentry class.

Sadly, him kicking Meng Yao down the stairs also ‘acceptable’ by the society standard of that era, because it’s Meng Yao who ‘trying to reach where he didn’t belong’ in the eyes of gentry, illegitimate children, if not acknowledged, have nothing to do with their father’s family. Cruel? Yes. But nobody care, this even become a famous joke, enough that people like Nie Mingjue know.

This prove that even he was a handsome man with a bad bitch vibes, many ladies still want to sleep with him, society still on his side, what a skill to have in one arsenal.

He was the only sect leader - in the Great sects categories - to get along with Wen Ruohan or play his card right, compare to Nie sect that lost the previous sect leader to a blatant assassination plot, but could only endure, the Lan’s Gusu was burned, Qingheng-Jun’s death, Lan Xichen need to flee for his life and his clan’s legacy, the Jiang’s Lotus pier suffer a massacre, and then you have Lanling Jin who sit on the fence with no damage.

Then Sunshot campaign happen, he let his heir lead the Jin force while stay at Jinlin Tower, he feigned ignorance over Nie Mingjue’s letter concerning Meng Yao, if Meng Yao die, he would have one less problem in his life, if he survive then Jin clan still get a soldier to be used, no big deal. And when Meng Yao become a spy, this also benefit him greatly, if the Wen wins, he could say that he sent Wen Ruohan a good tool and was force to join the Sunshot side, pulling “Look at how unwilling I was, the Jin not even try that hard you see”.

We already witness he jump in full force to reap the benefit after the Wen lost, Jin Guangshan is smart and skill enough to wait for the clear victory, legitimize Jin Guangyao to take the war credits, with a ‘Guang’ name to exclude him from succession line, with a connection to Lan and Nie clans via Sworn Brotherhood. The best of all is no one can publicly complain anything, Jin clan is the most intact great clan after war, Lan need money for their rebuild their home, Jiang need to be rebuild from scratch, Nie Mingjue lack seniority to scold a man of his father generation, Lan Qiren who is in the same generation lack a position to do so, smaller sects also need his backing to rebuild, want to be on his good side or risking annihilation when no one can help them. He rope in the Jiang clan by Jiang Yanli’s marriage, for the society, he is the benevolent man who honors the promise of two clans even when the Jiang is still in ruin, he is a kind man who help the younger generation, what a good father-in-law to be. Now do you feel that this man is scary? He come out of war, lying in his own house but still emerge with enough political power to maneuvering society, that’s an achievement on its own.

Then he look at Yiling Patriarch, his next goal. If he cannot control this dangerous man then let him be destroy and let him create the one that will belong to Jin clan. Not dissimilar to the opinion in Cold War related to nuclear weapon. First he sow a discord between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, play the insecurities of young sect leader who has no family backing, pressure him with society, even though losing his heir was out of the plan. He used his ‘spare son’, who has a great work resume for shady business, to do all his dirty work and supervise demonic cultivation experiment that if society found out he could have a perfect scapegoat, after all, it’s not surprise for ‘a son of a whore’ with ‘dirty blood and upbringing’ to be like that. Daggling his ‘love and legitimize’ over Jin guangyao’s head to ensure loyalty and obedience. Getting Mo Xuanyu into the clan also sent a message that ‘I can always replace you with any of my spare’. He let Xue Yang have fun with the Chang clan, a revenge massacre while tasting demonic cultivation experiment, win-win for then both, Nie Mingjue went to talk with Jin Guangshan on this matter but Jin Guangyao end up taking all the blame of his father’s conduct, wow. Correct me if I’m wrong here, Jin Guangshan was the one who order Nie Mingjue’s death wasn’t he. If yes, then his plan to establish Jin sect as the main power after the war is really clean cut, ‘get rid of the one I can’t control’.

Let’s be real, Jin Guangshan must be the best politician of his own generation, Wen Ruohan is too strong for this skill to be essential, but doesn’t mean he isn’t good (may be next essay then), Jiang Fengmian wasn’t a bad sect leader, but he just too mild for that political climate, late Nie sect leader was too careless in whatever spat he had with Wen Ruohan, and Qingheng-jun was a fail sect leader. Yes, marry for love must be so romantic, but then he just throw all his responsibility onto Lan Qiren’s shoulder, poor man, what a disaster older brother to have, madam Lan debacle must be a political nightmare.

Jin Guangshan’s mistake was he overvalue himself in Jin Guangyao’s eyes, and underestimated how low his bastard son willing to sink to before rise up, but need to give it up to him though, poetic justice of his death is so iconic. Not many people can claim they die while doing what they love aren’t they.

#mdzs #femme fatale #With a fan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #jin zixuan #mo xuanyu #qin su #jin guangshan #nie mingjue #my analysis #Real bad bitch of MDZS

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

Text

Before You Go, Was I Someone You Loved? PT. 1

A Shay Cormac x Reader Story

Word Count: 2,042 Warnings: Mentions of Death, Explicit Language, Violence

Author’s Note: Holy shit this is the first time I’ve written something this long in a while that wasn’t for a class! Admire the growth I’ve made! Y’all take Fiction Writing in school if y’all can! THE GROWTH! AND ANGST! ENJOY! -Thorne

“Shay?”

He looked up from the aimless lines he’d been drawing in the snow to see her standing before him, a frown etched onto her face. He blinked in shock, surprised to see her. “(Y/N)?”

She took a step towards him and sat down on the log next to him, closer than she’d been in the past few months. “I heard,” she started, but lowered her voice, “about Lisbon…and about this evening.”

Shay swallowed the sigh and looked back down at his feet. “Come to tell me that I’m a murderer?”

He didn’t need to see her face to know that there was disappointment written across it. “If that’s what you think I’m here to do, then the few nights we spent together taught you nothing about me.”

Glancing up, he caught her eyes. “I figured you’d never talk to me again after threatening to shoot me.”

(Y/N) nudged her elbow into his ribs. “I still could if you want.” It did the work, and she watched a small smile cross his lips. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, curling her right arm around his left bicep. Her fingers felt cold against the bare side of his wrist. “I’m so sorry about Lisbon, Shay.”

This time, he let the sigh leave him and he allowed himself to feel her comfort, resting his head on hers. “It wasn’t your fault, (Y/N).”

She nodded. “I know…but neither was it yours.”

The thorn that had stuck itself in his heart since he left Portugal dug a little deeper and he countered, “But it was. I moved the piece…I caused the earthquake.”

He knew she had no idea about the Precursor artifacts, but she still tried to understand. “You may have moved it, but it wasn’t your fault. You were merely the instrument used by the Brotherhood. The fault lies with them.”

Shay looked off into the distance. “Misplacing the blame won’t bring the dead back.”

“No,” she murmured, “no it won’t.”

They fell into a silence for some time, watching the snow fall around them, their breaths coming out in pale, airy wisps. “Shay?”

“Hmm?”

“What…what are you going to do?”

He looked down at her, confusion swimming with suspicion. “Why?”

(Y/N) met his gaze. “I know you well enough Shay Cormac. You’re going to do something about all this.”

Shay knew it was useless to hide from her when her eyes saw straight through him; he sighed. “I can’t let them keep going. They’ll kill millions if I don’t stop them.”

She was quiet, then she reached into her pocket and pulled out an old iron key. (Y/N) held it out for him. “Achilles has the items stowed in the desk upstairs. You’ll need this to get into the house and second bedroom.”

He stared in shock at the key and then at her. “Why would you do this for me?”

(Y/N) smiled. “What you considered a few nights of fun, I considered it to be something deeper.” She folded the key into his palm then rose, standing before him. “You know my feelings for you, Shay. And I know that you wouldn’t go against the Brotherhood if you didn’t think it was the right thing to do.” (Y/N) bent down and pressed a chilled kiss to his lips, whispering, “I’ll always be on your side, Shay. No matter the cost.” She pulled back and smiled sadly, then turned to leave.

He stood and called out, “(Y/N)?” She spun on her heel and waited. Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, but he simply said, “Thank you.”

She nodded with a small smile. “Please be careful, Shay.”

***

(Y/N) held the hem of her skirt in one hand, the other pressed to her chest, fear dripping down her spine at the sight of Shay standing but a few feet from the cliff edge. She watched Hope take a step forward.

“Give back the manuscript, Shay!” The assassin shouted. “I’m sure Achilles—”

Shay shoved a hand out towards them, voice cracking as he countered, “I cannot. I will not let this happen again.” He shook his head. “All those souls lost…” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and she mouthed his name in terror. Shay lowered his head and declared, “One more hardly matters.”

***

She didn’t know who fired the shot, but it felt all the same in her heart as she sprinted after him. “Shay!” Her scream tore through her throat and before she could get to the edge, someone’s arms wrapped around her waist. She thrashed wildly like a mountain lion caught in a steel trap. “Let go of me! Shay!”

“Enough (Y/N)! He’s gone!” She realized it was Liam who had her by the waist.

(Y/N) spun on him, pounding her fists to his chest, borderline hysteric. “How could you?! He was your best friend!” Liam let her hit him. “Answer me!”

He grabbed her hands, but before he could speak, Chevalier snorted, “The cabbage farmer betrayed the Brotherhood. He’s better off at Davy Jones Locker.”

Her eyes drifted to the smoke clearing from his gun and as if another shot had gone off, she was throwing herself at him, and had Liam not had her, she’d have clawed the Frenchman’s eyes out. “You arrogant bastard!” Fury mingled with her pain. “That man was more of an assassin than you’ll ever hope to be!” She spat at him. “You will reap what you sow!” Her eyes drifted to Hope and Achilles, to all of the assassins standing behind them. “You all will! You all—” Finally, (Y/N)’s legs gave out beneath her and she hit the ground, sobs ripping through her chest.

Liam sighed behind her. “Easy (Y/N).”

She sucked in a breath, grabbing his hands as if anchoring herself would take it all away. “How could you?” Her voice was quieter, but certainly harsher. “How could you let this happen to him?”

He frowned and clenched his jaw. “I don’t know (Y/N)…I…don’t know.”

***Two Years Later***

She barely kept the tears at bay as she stumbled through the New York streets. Mid-afternoon, but it felt so much busier than it usually was, and she felt as though everyone’s eyes were on her, watching her with pity. Another failed attempt at earning a job. She frowned and drifted into the garden of a home, collapsing onto the bench just outside it. She vaguely hoped that whoever owned the property wouldn’t chase her off in her apparent moment of breakdown. She brought a hand up to her face, wiping the tears from her face before sucking in a breath, then she heard, “Dear?” Her head shot up and she saw an older woman standing with a basket of clothes under her hip.

Quickly, she stood to her feet and the words poured from her mouth before she could stop them. “I’m so sorry ma’am.” She thrust a hand back at the house. “You own this home, don’t you?” She brought her hand to her middle and bowed her head. “Forgive me, I’ll leave.”

The woman huffed and shook her head. “Nonsense dear. I’d be a wretched woman to leave a young lady like yourself to cry your heart out.” She stepped forward and curled an arm around her. “Come now, inside for some tea and we’ll see what’s wrong.” The older woman smiled. “My name is Cassidy Finnegan. What’s yours?”

She offered a wobbly smile to Cassidy—It’d been some time since someone had showed her such kindness—she hoped it would last a bit longer. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” Cassidy ushered her inside and she couldn’t help but marvel at the interior. “Your home is beautiful, Miss Finnegan.”

“Oh, call me Cassidy, (Y/N).”

“Okay then, Cassidy.” The two smiled at one another and the woman set the basket of clothes down on the desk, ushering her to follow. (Y/N) found herself in the kitchen, sitting on a stool as Cassidy handed her a cold, wet rag.

“Here,” she said. “Wipe those tears away. They don’t suit a face as pretty as yours.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm and she did so, feeling as if a years’ worth of dirt and grime had come off. “Thank you, Cassidy.”

The older woman shuffled across from her towards the open fire pit, hanging a tea kettle on the rack. “Want to tell me why you were crying outside?”

“I—” (Y/N) started, but faltered, afraid to offer all her knowledge. Eventually, she settled for, “I used to work for a man as a maid, but some of the things he was doing got the man I cared for killed.” She thought of Shay’s smiling face, then to that night when the pain, but determination was written across it. “I refused to work for the man anymore but…well, he has connections all over the colonies.” (Y/N) met Cassidy’s gaze. “I’ve essentially been blacklisted from any workplace I could go.”

“Oh no.” Cassidy’s voice was full of sympathy. “You’ve been on your own for all this time?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I’ve been fortunate to work in some places before they figured out who I was. I’ve been working at taverns here and there.” She looked away. “I’ve been lucky to not end up in a brothel yet. But…I fear I’m beginning to lose options.”

“I’ll not have you working in a place like that!” Her head shot up at Cassidy, who had her hands placed on her hips. “You’ll stay here and look for a job!”

Before (Y/N) could get a word in, a man stepped through the doorway, griping, “What are you screamin’ at Cass?” He looked between his wife and (Y/N) then sighed. “Another one?”

Cassidy shushed him. “Hush, Barry.” She gestured between them. “Barry, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is my husband, Barry.”

(Y/N) waved and smiled as best she could despite the man’s frown. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister Finnegan.”

He harrumphed. “At least this one has decent manners.” Cass scowled at her husband and he turned, waving them off. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“Oaf,” Cassidy hissed, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle.

“He seems like a good man, Cassidy.”

“He is,” she agreed. “When he’s not being rude.” She turned. “You wouldn’t mind helping with dinner, would you? I’ll need to go ready your room.”

“Oh, please, let me do it! You can go sit and relax!” Cassidy was about to counter, but (Y/N) begged, “Please, if you’re going to let me stay here for free, you’ll have to let me pull my weight.”

Cassidy watched her then offered, “How about you go fold the clothes in that basket and start dinner, and I’ll take care of the room.”

(Y/N) nodded and after grabbing the basket of clothes, she found herself standing in the master bedroom, quietly folding the clothes as to not wake Barry. A warm smile spread across her face as a sense of security filled her veins. She’d certainly not been the assassin’s target, but her fleeing was obviously an offense against them either way. She had no doubts that Hope had been the one to spread the rumors of terrible work ethic throughout the elite in New York—the assassin had the power and connections to do so. (Y/N) shook her head and put away the clothes then headed towards the door but stopped when she felt something in her pocket. She pulled out a coin and flipped it over, seeing the Celtic shield of luck imprinted into it. A sad smile crossed her lips as she ran her thumb in a routine manner. His words came back to her.

“Here (Y/N).” She looked up from his chest to see him handing something to her.

Her brows furrowed as she stared at it. “What is that?”

Shay brought his free hand up behind his head, resting on it. “A Celtic shield of luck.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but snort. “I think you need this more than I, Shay Cormac.”

He chuckled and pressed the coin into her hand. “What are you talking about, lass? I make my own luck.”

(Y/N) inhaled deeply and shoved the coin back in her pocket, gazing out the window. The sun was beginning to set, but for the first time in two years, she felt hopeful. “I make my own luck.” She whispered and descended the stairs to start dinner.

#shay cormac imagine #shay cormac imagines #shay cormac x reader #shay cormac x reader imagine #shay cormac x reader imagines #shay cormac #assassins creed #assassins creed rogue #assassins creed rogue imagine #assassins creed rogue imagines #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines

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aegor-bamfsteel · 4 years ago

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Hello! I was hoping to add a bit to your thoughts on Bloodraven. I agree wholeheartedly with you that Bloodraven is a terrible person and made terrible decisions. But I disagree with you that he’s rewarded for it. The novels do quite a but to frame him as an evil person. Yes he’s a magical greenseer and has a lot of magical power, but he’s also a scary tree person with roots growing in him. He lives in a dark cave he can never leave with creepy elves that have probably killed Bran’s friend. There’s also a lot of theories that Bloodraven drove Euron crazy when testing Euron for magical abilities like he tested Bran. GRRM looks to be setting him up as a dark twist to the wise mentor trope while the show treated him like Gandalf.

Hello, Anon! Bl00draven as a villain is actually a very controversial opinion/theory in tumblr fandom, (which is why I misspell his name and use his anti tag) with at least some considering him a straight-up hero trying to save the world, or an anti-hero who commits atrocities to achieve “noble goals” (including, if I remember correctly, the same person who wrote at least part of the theory that Euron is Bl00draven’s ex-student). I believe Bl00draven is “a terrible person [who] made terrible decisions”, but I’m probably in the minority, (you’d probably find a better discussion with people who think he’s a hero in your analysis of how his character is framed), but you haven’t indicated why you don’t think he’s rewarded for his actions.

I have written about how the narrative protects Bl00draven from the consequences of his actions in the post you’re responding to, in a response to warsofasoiaf, and a response to godihatethisfreakingcat. In summary:

The two times BR suffers any setback (losing an eye; being sent to the Wall for high treason), it ends up working out for him in the end (not being affected by monocular vision at all if he held his own in a second duel against Aegor Rivers, getting a “scary” reputation and possibly greenseeing powers; having 200 of his personal guard and Prince Aemon accompany him, getting to keep the only Targaryen ancestral sword when he’s supposed to be punished, getting elected Lord Commander despite his horrible tenure as Hand, and deserting the Night’s Watch to become an immortal greenseer despite desertion being a death sentence)

When it looks like BR is going to suffer other setbacks, they magically go away (he and Baelor have a dispute over how to treat the defeated Blackfyre rebels, but Baelor dies before he can become king; he mocks Maekar in front of his own son and unsubtly threatens to kidnap Egg, but is said to have become Maekar’s Hand; his spy network fails to capture Aegor Rivers multiple times and couldn’t keep an eye on his ship as it made way for the Wall, but he isn’t punished for failing to do the one job he promised to do)

BR never had to work to gain anyone’s trust or his positions of authority, despite being terrible at his job (his mother was a friend of Da3ron II’s from birth; he was granted an ancestral Valyrian sword as a teenager despite not being the best swordsman; he gets his first Small Council position by age 20; Da3ron II trusts him enough to start a war on his say-so; Aerys makes him his Hand over his more competent brother Maekar; Maekar keeps him as Hand despite resenting him for decades; he’s made Night’s Watch Lord Commander). Maintaining so much power either undermines your claim that the narrative frames him as a villain (if he’s so untrustworthy, why do the supposed protagonists keep giving him jobs?), or it makes the characters who’ve granted him this power into idiots (at least 2 of whom are lauded as intelligent or clever).

Other villainous characters have done less harm than Bl00draven, but are punished for it while he gets to keep his power:

The infamously corrupt High Septon was torn apart by starving King’s Landing smallfolk during the bread riots of 299

The corrupt Rego Draz, who levied high taxes and tolls on the smallfolk (abuse of the smallfolk amidst a humanitarian crisis? sounds familiar), was stoned to death by a starving mob during the harsh winter and plague of 59

Rhaenyra was believed to have murdered Helaena Targaryen, and her husband did arrange for the murder of Helaena’s son (a parent and two young sons murdered in cold blood? sounds familiar). Thousands of smallfolk rioted out of desire for justice for the three, which caused the death of 5 dragons, Rhaenyra’s remaining son Joffrey, and Rhaenyra’s own flight from the capital. She never regained the throne again

Mysaria of Lys, explicitly compared to Bl00draven as Mistress of Whispers, also arranged for the murder of Helaena’s son Jaehaerys, informed on Nettles to Rhaenyra resulting in a warrant for her death (informing on someone to a monarch baseless rumors resulting in a warrant for their arrest? sounds familiar), and may have contributed to Helaena’s suicide that the riots were about. When King’s Landing fell, she was stripped naked and whipped to death as she was forced to walk out of the city.

Tyanna of Pentos, similarly mistress of whispers like Mysaria, tortured the king’s nephew to death (after having him imprisoned? sounds familiar), tortured dozens of men and women including rumored lover Alys Harroway, kidnapped children to ensure their mother’s good behavior while being repeatedly raped, and allegedly poisoned her fellow queens in order to be Maegor’s true wife. She was brutally murdered by the man she sought to influence, her heart thrown to the dogs

Bl00draven deliberately shot 2 unarmed 12-year-olds in front of their father to win a war, ordered the smallfolk back to their lands during the midst of a drought and after the Great Spring Sickness, caused the death of a young man under suspicious circumstances, threatened to keep the son of his rival a hostage, killed a man he promised safe passage to, denied critical aid to the crown’s vassals during ironborn raids, and created a reign of fear and paranoia that resulted in the deaths of innocent smallfolk. Bafflingly, while there are apparently riots and violence and rebellion, he makes routine trips into Flea Bottom to keep the people in line (yes, the smallfolk in King’s Landing are so complacent to authoritarian rulers as I just mentioned) and survives all of them (relatively) unscathed. Not only does he keep his position as Hand, or gained a new position as Lord Commander, but he lives to a ripe old age before running away to the cave to be an immortal greenseer with infinite knowledge. My point in comparing the actions and consequences of characters similar to Bl00draven is that if the smallfolk or the Targaryens were written consistently, he would’ve been horribly murdered for corruption or insubordination long before he ever met Bran. I understand he would have to live into canon era to be Bran’s mentor; but GRRM broke the rules of his own universe by letting Bl00draven get away with too much to be believable while giving him even more power. It is inconsistent writing that makes his survival due to authorial fiat than any skill or allies. That’s why I consider him possibly the worst-written character in the series.

Bl00draven has not committed enough good deeds to be a hero (in my opinion; other people consider keeping Da3ron’s progeny on the throne for a few generations longer to be heroic). But neither has he suffered for the consequences of his actions like a villain. We know that the Freys and Boltons will face comeuppance for their atrocities in the Red Wedding and at Winterfell because it’s already clear they have sown the seeds of their own destruction; the Freys’ violation of guest right contributed to the breakdown of the rule of law that made honorable parley impossible, and their murder of Catelyn Stark led to Lady Stoneheart in the Riverlands killing Freys with the Brotherhood, and their murder of Wendel Manderly led to his father Wyman orchestrating some of their deaths; the Boltons’ role in the Red Wedding led to nearly universal hatred among the northern lords, and caused the mountain clans to ally with Stannis to get them out, and Ramsay’s rape of who they think is Arya Stark just gives them further cause to resent their traitorous overlords. I don’t have to explain how Tywin’s cult of Lannister supremacy doesn’t survive his death as he’s offed in the most humiliating manner by the son he despised, since Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion are either imprisoned, enslaved, or in a trial for their life by book 5. Contrast Bl00draven, because the family he most wronged (the Blackfyres) are either no longer around or are uninterested in seeing him brought to justice; he certainly sowed the seeds of destruction, but he never reaped them himself (if anything, he got more powerful); instead the Targaryens did. I don’t see how he will be getting any personal comeuppance in the future, unless he is somehow unplugged from the weirwood network and executed as a deserter to the Night’s Watch (the Starks do have a pattern of executing those guys, so maybe it will be Bran’s turn). Until then, I don’t foresee him being a good asoiaf villain either.

#ask #asoiaf #anti bloodraven #grrm criticism #Asoiaf predictions #valyrianscrolls #villains

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phoebehalliwell · 3 years ago

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Hello, I just wanted to say I'm a major Charmed fan and love all four sisters! That being said, as much as I love Paige, I've still always hated that Prue had to die (even though it's been over 20 years, I'm still not over it), and I hate even more that Prue and Phoebe's relationship never had a chance to truly recover from her lie about Cole. Also , I think could see why you shipped Prue/Jack, there relationship certainly had a Moonlighting like dynamic to it, didn't it?

yeah wait we did just clear the twenty year anniversary of prue dying in may huh crazy how time works but like. like okay because ik the whole the way the story goes was ~they didn't know if they were killing off shannen or alyssa~ they left it ~open ended bc they didn't know which sister would die~ but like. they knew. oh bro they so knew. like dude. phoebe got a hot new steamy love interest filled w drama and intrigue who was like integral to the plot after basically two seasons of being love-interest-less prue got what? justin?? prue got an episode coming to terms w the fact she will die. like. they knew okay. and like. what breaks my heart is prue as a character like deserved So Much More like she deserved to break free of this narrative of matriarchal sacrifice that she had been locked into like prue practically had to sacrifice her childhood to raise us yeah yeah but like bro there are genuinely so few places where she got to like actually experience life outside of protecting her sisters and then she died protecting her sisters like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. like bro u knew u were going to kill her and you end her & phoebe on that. even if we're sticking with the narrative they didn't know which sister would die there was the very conscious choice to end the narrative on that. so like. 🤬

of course like. tbh. i don't think prue & phoebe's relationship needs to like fully like "recover" from cole i don't think this is nearly as big of a rift as say roger bc i think between the past three years like they've really grown as people and have a new respect for one another that really had yet to be unearthed in it pilot but it's still like. like phoebe was in the underworld trying to save cole when prue died (& piper almost died!!) and we never do see her grapple with that. like even when we're sowing seeds of doom by making cole the source and have phoebe go full dark side like even in the midst of tanking phole we never bother to get some good old fashioned anger self hatred and making the wrong choice like. like that good have been really fun.

but then!! circling over 2 prue/jack bc i do really love prue/jack i think like my favorite thing about it is like. just like how fun and stupid it is. like. like okay so for starters i will say i love the idea of jack as the one to be prue's first real love interest after andy because with andy like you really did have this whole childhood friends to lovers this deep mutual understanding and trust and love and passion like definitely set up to vibe like soulmatism and then he fuckin bites the dust. but like. it's 1999. it's shannen doherty. she can't be an shw forever like you need your female characters to have love interests that's just kind of the way the world works but how do you top andy? how do you beat like the love of her life her perfect man? do you try to go well here's her perfect-er man,, this one's even better than before!! that we did so many countless times with phoebe no because that shit's fucking stupid instead they said here's jack sheridan & he fuckin sucks. & i love it i really do for starters excellent representation for women who are into lame ass guys like i know it's easy to say like haha i'm into guys and aren't they all lame but i'm talking specifically a man being lame is what makes him unreasonably sexy it's a mental condition i know i suffer from it it's bad but it's also like. really funny. but it's also bad. but that's not the point. the point is prue/jack was always supposed to be something kind of stupid something with an imminent expiration date you know? this is not andy. i mean from the moment we met andy we're like hearing wedding bells right from the moment we meet jack we're like ew wtf lol??? like both prue And jack know goddamn well entering this relationship that this is pointless. this is only here to end. and yet!! in spite of that!!! genuine love blossoms!!!! like. whether or not prue was ever in love with jack is definitely debatable i don't think she ever was like in love with him per se mainly because she didn't like. she didn't want to be. she didn't want to do love again that wasn't the point of this relationship so she's not gonna do it. and then for jack theoretically it should be the same thing because like he does constantly play it so nonchalant like he's not head over heels fucking in love with her but he is!!!! he took this relationship that was meant to be casual and stupid and over in a month and he fuckin blew it man he fell So So In Love With Her. like. drives me crazy it does i love that dynamic. and there was something there from prue's side too like. like over and over again she's telling him like you're not the guy for me you're not the guy i'm going to end up with But right now you're the one i want. like. like she has this vision definitely this andy-like figure someone who will you know be the stable father to her kids and her steady husband for many many years to come and her brain's going yeah no way that's jack but at the same time she doesn't care??? like, she likes him right now? she wants to spend time with him right now??? like fuck that potential future mr. right because he's not the one prue wants to spend time with right now she'd rather spend the night with jack like!!!!!! there are some vastly underrated dynamics going on with pruejack that definitely make me start munching on drywall every time i talk about them but like Oh My God. them <3. lol.

#charmed #prue x phoebe #prue x jack #💌

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museswithinx · 3 years ago

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❛ you have to go somewhere safe . ❜ { Ellie for Meredith bc protecc }

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬'𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑨 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 .

After running errands all day long, Meredith ordered some take-out for dinner and sat down to a quiet evening at home. Sifting through her Netflix library, she was deciding what to watch while she waited for a her food. That was when her doorbell rang and she checked the time. "That was quick," she mumbled to herself as she stood to answer the door.

"You're not my pizza." She states finding Ellie instead of a delivery person. However, she wasn't the least bit upset about the unexpected company. It got lonely in this apartment sometimes. "Well since you're here, do you want to come in? I have a pepperoni pizza on the way if you're hungry and I was just about to watch a movie..." She trails off as she notices the look Ellie wore. It was evident that something wasn't quite right. "Is everything alright?"

❛ you have to go somewhere safe . ❜

Now she was even more concerned. "What? Where would I go? I live here, I have nowhere else to go." She states before shaking her head. "El, what's wrong? Why are you telling me this?" As Ellie steps inside, shuts the door, and does a quick sound proofing spell, that did very little to unnerve her. When she did launch into an explanation, that didn’t really help put her at ease either.

“Hades? Like... King of the Underworld, Persephone’s ex-husband, tried to kill Adrian? That Hades?” Ellie confirmed that was correct. This was the man Todd was in cahoots with. The levels he wouldn’t stoop to in his hatred. That idiot sadist was in way over his head. “Wow.” She breathes out in surprise. Feeling a bit weak in her knees, Meredith took a seat as she processed that. “I don’t understand. I thought he was dead.”

Apparently everyone had also thought that, but that wasn’t the case. His energy had just been absorbed into the veil and now he'd worked his way back out. As she took another moment to process this information, Ellie again pleaded for her to leave for somewhere safe.

“No.” Meredith insists as she turns toward Ellie. “I can’t do that. Todd has put Cait directly in harm’s way whether she realizes that or not. He’s stupid if he thinks Hades will honor any deal they’ve come to. If what I’ve heard is true, then Persephone’s wish is his command and Todd has put himself on the complete wrong side of her. And honestly? I could care less. He reaps what he sows, but I need to make sure she doesn’t go down with him.”

“There’s Erin and her family too. I can’t let anything happen to them, they’ve suffered so much already.” A brief pause as she looks down to her hands before looking back up again. “And you. There’s you too. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and that’s helped me so much more than you know in my healing. You’ve been there for me more than anyone, and I won’t let anything happen to you. So I can’t leave, El.”

This could potentially end very badly but she’d fight the good fight. Just like they were. “I’m here to help, so tell me how I can.”

#ofstrengthisms #( meredith saunders ; )#( meredith & ellie tag ; )#theres always a downside meme #answered #//THE PROTECC #SHE PROTECC BACK #ugh their relationship is so preciousssssss

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gauntie-o-dimm · 4 years ago

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Gaetan | An Alternative Payment

Requested by Shadowwright

Summary: After losing your husband to a monster still terrorizing the homestead of you and your young baby every single night, your desperation is worse than your fear. When seeking for help in the local village, you stumble into a witcher from the cat school. Ironically enough living up to his name, he wants something you have, and that does not mean coin.

Word count: 4300+ Relationship: Strangers Tags: Breastfeeding, lactation kink, angst

For the fourth time tonight, you found yourself at her crib, concerning yourself over your daughter’s crying form. A desperate sigh left your lips, and when you scooped her up, her wails somewhat lessened. She cuddled into you, holding onto your familiar scent, and though her eyes were still shut, she knew that she was safe.

Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Ever since your husband passed away and an unknown creature roamed around your farm at night, sleeping was not part of your schedule any more. It was a monster you did not know the name of, yet what it had taken from you was irreplaceable.

For whenever you managed to lay down into the bed once warmed by the man you loved, you became overwhelmed by the sights you had seen that fateful morning. Torn up, shredded to pieces, beyond recognition. Only because he was out to find some firewood.

It cost him dearly, but it had cost you more. Whatever was left to bury, you took far away from the farm to prevent any corpse-eaters to sow even more dismay.

When your stomach had swollen to the point of utmost discomfort, you knew that you couldn’t give up, that you had to live for your little one. Though you had thought of it, you never dared to truly leave the farm. It was all you had left of him. A somewhat painful reminder, albeit bittersweet. It wasn’t like you were welcome elsewhere, either.

But when your daughter finally came, you found yourself back in your sorrows. You truly wanted to keep on fighting, but it was difficult. Especially when no one was around to help you out with a three-month-old baby.

“Sssh… You’re okay.” you whispered in her ear, kissing the side of her head. You held onto the light of the flickering flame of the candle on the table, hoping it would take the noise from outside away.

It didn’t. It never did. What did the beast need at your farm, anyway? It wasn’t like you had corpses laying around, and your farm was a bit away from the outside world.

You were never one to ask for help, and the people around the village a little away always cast weird glances your way whenever you were in town. After all, you were quite on your own, and when you and your husband settled here, you sometimes heard rumours that you were a witch practising her unholy craft in seclusion.

Those whispers only increased when your husband passed and your stomach kept on growing. It left you wary of everyone close and if anyone knew about the monster terrorizing you, they would most certainly put the blame on yourself.

Punishment for your sins. And even though you weren’t a witch, you almost started to believe that the gods were indeed chastising you, for whatever faults you did not know.

And so your heart was constantly struck by fear and shame, even though there was nothing you could do.

In your arms, your daughter began to stir. She was hungry, finding herself looking for the comfort of your breast. A soft sigh left you, almost relieved. The breastmilk you produced for your child was enough to feed triplets, and even though your daughter was quite a greedy baby, it was barely enough to take the pressure away.

Another punishment, perhaps.

The connection you felt to your daughter through feeding her while she took large gulps from you, the sound outside was blocked out by the trance you entered. It was just you and the little one, forever connected. It was the only cause worth living for, and whatever you had to go through, you would survive for her.

And when she finally fell asleep, you could see sunlight through the cracks in your shutters.

Carefully, you put her down in her crib, tucking her in underneath the worn sheepskin. Stepping outside, you found the footsteps of the beast, large and ever fear-inducing.

Nothing was broken, nothing was missing and the orchard laid extremely peaceful, as if nothing ever happened, apart from disturbed earth near the door. The sunrays stroking your face were calming and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Even though you hadn’t slept, you lived to see another day.

Looking back at your house, you knew that you had to do something about it all, because you couldn’t just keep on living like this. It had been going on for at least a year now, and you feared many more if you didn’t take any action.

So you tucked your slumbering child into a basket and hung it around your arm, able to see her sleep as if there was no evil in the world. With a note in hand, hastily scribbled that you were being terrorized by an unknown beast at night, you made your way to the village.

Of course, you immediately got dirty glares from the citizens, some of them not even bothering to look you in the eye. You made your way to the notice board, pinning the note to the wood.

“What’s that?” A stranger behind you said. You looked behind you, seeing an old woman looking at you in disgust. “I’m just putting up a contract for someone to help me out.” “No, that.” She pointed at the basket around my arm.

“That’s my daughter.” “Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The woman rolled her eyes, as if it was obvious. “You should give that child away before bad things happen to you. A witch shouldn’t have a child. You’re going to eat it, aren’t you?”

Your mouth fell open and you shook your head, barely any sound coming out.

“I’m not—” “Don’t try to hide it!” Someone else spat, an elderly man with just one eye. “Been some time since your husband’s been around, huh? You ate him too, I'm sure of it!”

Tears sprang into your eyes and you were on the verge of crying, your voice breaking as you muttered: “Stop that nonsense! I’m not a witch! My husband has been killed by the beast mentioned in the note!”

Another stranger decided to meddle in the conversation. “They should take your innocent child away and get you to Novigrad to burn you at the stake!”

A teenager nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Yeah, there is no way that she could survive—” he closed his mouth, seemingly flustered by something before turning away.

“What did you say?” you pressed, but the boy rushed off.

You turned to the few villagers who had gathered around you, one looking at the notice board. “Huh, the person who’s going to help you will probably never return either. You will capture and kill him and put his limbs in your potions!”

Threateningly, they started to close in on you. Instinctively, you put your arm over your daughter, who had awoken and started crying. “No, please! Stop!”

“We won’t back down from you, you mongrel. There is no one going to help you now!”

“Help, please!” you cried out, but no one came to aid.

“We should attach a stone to her legs and throw her in the lake. If she floats, she’s a witch!” “Good idea, Bartholomew. I can get the stone, if you fetch the rope!”

One of them grabbed your arm, your baby only wailing louder. “Come on, tramp!” A woman tried to grab the basket with your baby, but you held onto it for dear life.

After all, she was all you had. An older man lifted his fist, ready to strike.

“Why won’t you listen, you fucking—” “Stop!” The man who was about to hit you let his hand hover in the air, awkwardly standing there whilst a loud voice boomed everything to a halt.

“I’ll help her. Get away from her.”

From somewhere within the crowd, people started to mutter among each other. A few stepped aside, revealing the man who had offered his aid.

Cat-like eyes drilled in yours and he narrowed his eyes at you, your arm wrapped around your baby, halfway lifted from the basket in an attempt to comfort her. “Bring me to the place where the monster appears and I can see what I can do.”

“But she is a witch, sir.” a woman said. “And I’m a witcher.” “Are you going to kill her? You must, if she truly is a witch.”

He turned to the woman, gritting his teeth. “Listen, missy. I’m not one to judge one’s actions, and you aren’t one either. If this woman truly is a witch, it’s none of your business.”

“But she killed her husband!”

The witcher looked at you again, something with reassurance in his eyes. “I’ll find that out for myself. If that is indeed the case, I will kill her.” But you could already read on his face that he didn’t suspect you of anything.

You nodded meekly, lifting your babe to rest her on your chest, trying to calm her down.

“Follow me, master witcher.” you said, turning on your heel to head back to your home.

“They don’t like you much, do they?” You let out a scoff and shook your head. “Well, they think I’m a witch. Just because my husband and I preferred living in seclusion.”

He grunted. “Why don’t you leave?”

“I have nowhere to go.”

Another grunt. The rest of the walk was in silence, apart from your daughter sucking on your finger.

“May I ask your name, sir?”

“Gaetan.”

“Nice to meet you, Gaetan. My name is (Y/n). Ah, here we are.”

You took your key from your apron and unlocked the door, pushing it open. But other than entering, like you had gestured for the witcher to do, his gaze was already fixated upon the large claw marks littering the place.

“Quite the beast.” he said. “I can tell. It widowed me.”

“How long ago?”

Your gaze shot up to find his, confusion in your eyes. Why would he care about that?

“I don’t see why that would be necessary to know…” “So I can know for how long the monster has been prowling about.” Gaetan stated.

Of course. You blinked a few times before replying: “A month or two before I fell pregnant. So a little over a year right now.”

He silently nodded. “You may enter.” you encouraged.

Gaetan let out a huff and shook his head. “Not yet. I need to look around a bit more.”

Not thinking much of it, you entered your house, sighing deeply when you could finally sit down. Your daughter had started to fuss and you were glad that she did; when your walk home began together with the witcher, you had started to feel pressure on your breasts, nipples tingling in discomfort.

Easing your dress off one shoulder to reveal the heavy flesh of your breast, you wasted no time putting your child onto it. She greedily drank from it and the pressure somewhat lessened, causing you to sigh in relief.

Your eyes fixated on your baby, for a moment your problems washed away.

“What in the—” Your head shot up to look at the door, where the witcher had entered, shielding his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were…”

“It’s alright.” you said, “There is nothing to be seen anyway.”

Gaetan slowly took his hands away from his face when he noticed you weren’t abashed at all. Your daughter made a few content sounds, tiny hands grasping on your shirt.

“Well, are you just going to stand there? You can take a seat, master witcher. And uh… I’d offer you a drink, but I’m kind of busy. There is ale in the cupboard right over there, if you want.” You nodded towards said cabinet, but Gaetan sat down instead.

He tried keeping his gaze away from the exposed skin of your breast – it wouldn’t be appropriate. And you were right – there was nothing to be seen, because your nipple was concealed by the body of your daughter.

“Have you found anything on the monster?” you quizzed, rubbing some hairs from the baby’s face. Her fingers were still tight on the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t mind.

“I believe so. I feel like it’s as werewolf, and for some reason, it seems oddly fixated upon this place. Scratches, small holes around the house, as if it tried to enter in different ways.”

You nodded, eyes slightly widening. “A werewolf, you say? Could I be cursed?”

Gaetan shrugged, swallowing thickly when your areola became momentarily visible when you readjusted your child on your breast. A small amount of milk seeped down over your skin into your dress, causing the witcher to bite his lip.

“Who knows. I should stay at least until nightfall so I can slay the beast.”

“Okay,” you said, undoing your dress on the other side and haphazardly hoisting it back up on the breast your daughter already drank from, hoping to relieve some of the pressure inside that one as well, “You can have some food, if you’d like. I can cook something.”

He shrugged. “That won’t be necessary. What will be needed, though, is discussion of payment. What do you offer me?”

Your gaze fell to your lap, not even daring to look at your child in shame. “I… I don’t have any gold, master witcher. I have nothing I can give you…”

“What about that?” the witcher pointed at your exposed neck.

Your hand immediately shifted to the necklace you wore – your husbands wedding band on a string. “I… It’s my husband’s ring, I…” You gently took your child away from your breast, not minding covering it up when you laid her back into the basket still placed at your feet. Reaching out behind your neck to undo the knot, you felt your painful nipples leak at the sudden movement of your arms upwards.

Gaetan’s eyes rested upon them for a moment, he thickly swallowed and forced himself to look up at your face again. You were a beautiful woman, that was certain. He had heard stories of sorceresses going as far as killing innocents in order to conceive a child, since they had lost their fertility.

Could you be a sorceress, or a witch as the inhabitants of the village claimed? His medallion must've trembled if you were. He had found no evidence of any magical items around your home, and no lead as to why you were tortured by a werewolf alike.

As you held out your hand holding the ring to the witcher, gesturing for him to take it, you covered your exposed breasts with your free arm. “Here. I hope it will fetch you the price you ask.”

Gaetan looked at it. It wasn’t shimmering or too clean – a modest wedding ring that vaguely resembled gold, even though it was obviously crafted from a cheaper metal.

When he gazed back up at your teary gaze, he shook his head. “I can’t take it.”

“I have nothing else.” you whispered.

He wasn’t sure why he had said it, or why he felt remorse. To take such a precious item from you would be wrong. You had started to put your dress back on, though obviously in discomfort. Not only because you just gave away of your most precious items in the world, but also because your own body was hurting you.

As soon as you had your dress back on again, dark circles appeared at where your nipples were. “I’m so sorry…” you said, ashamed. “I need to redress. This happens all the time and it’s just…”

You felt a tear roll over your cheek, and as soon as you realized you were crying, there was no holding back anymore. Burying your face in your hands, you sniffled. Luckily, your daughter was starting to fall asleep, giving you some time to gather yourself.

“Are you alright?” Gaetan asked, surprised by his own gentleness. This was unlike him… Why did he care? Why did he feel attracted? Was it because you were beautiful, or distressed, or truly a witch?

You shook your head, sighing deeply, calming yourself down. “It hurts, you know. Having no one to hold you, help you soothe your pain. I’m sorry for acting so emotional, but I feel like even my own body is turning against me.”

The witcher scooted closer, placing a hand on your leg, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. “I don’t have anything against you.”

You looked up at him with a tearful gaze, brokenness visible in your eyes.

The witcher swallowed, overthinking what he could possibly do for you. A thought briefly crossed his mind whilst he drew comforting circles on your knee, shaking it off immediately. You would never agree and it would be inappropriate, even though Gaetan didn’t remember any time he asked someone for permission to do something.

“What is it?” you said, seeing the puzzlement on his face? “Oh, nothing. I thought of payment, but it’s not appropriate.”

You frowned, rubbing at your eyes, taking a deep breath. “No, no, go ahead. I’d do anything to get rid of that monster terrorizing me.”

Gaetan grimaced, shaking his head. “You’d never agree, so it would be best if I didn’t share it.”

When you laid your hand upon his, he dared to look up at you. “It’s fine. Tell it.”

The witcher shifted, leaning a bit closer to your face. You felt your cheeks heat up, realizing how handsome the man truly was. His eyes were captivating, taking your breath away.

“I could… Help you out… With the pressure on your…” he gestured at your chest, where the circles had only grown.

You slightly tilted your head in confusion. “I’m not following… I’d appreciate any help, but how would you do that?”

“I mean, as a payment, would you… Would you let me suckle them?”

First, you thought your ears were deceiving you, but after a second, you realized he had really requested that. Your face paled, and then flamed. The idea was odd, and immediately your mind was on your husband… Who had been dead for almost a year now.

What other way was there? If you declined, the witcher would walk right out, because you didn’t have anything else. And if you agreed, you’d get something out of it too – finally some relief from the overproduction of breast milk.

Gazing upon your daughter, you saw that she was fast asleep, thumb stuffed into her mouth. Silently, you stood up, undoing the laces on the front of your dress again, pulling it down. The underside of your breasts were damp and glistening with milk, nipples puffy and pink.

“Okay, Gaetan.” you said, referring to him by his first name now, “But nothing more than that.”

The witcher couldn’t help but smirk at your approval. “Agreed.” he said, standing up as well. You walked towards the bed with him in tow. You sat down on the creaky cot, waiting for him to join you. He took off his boots, awkwardly sitting down next to you.

You turned towards him as he sat down, now facing each other.

“So uh…” he mumbled, “Do you want to kiss first?”

You shook your head, uncertain of what you wanted. “No, you can just… Start, I suppose.”

He leaned down, giving an experimental lick against one of your nipples. Something lustful within you kindled, his feline eyes sending shivers down your spine.

You sighed at the feeling as he circled your areolae with his thumbs, his hand coming to rest on your other mound of flesh starting to massage it. He smirked when your face flushed, enjoying the way your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Throwing your head back, you tried your best not to moan, not wanting to both awake your baby and give him the intention that you wanted more.

Because you didn’t want more… Right?

Slowly, his lips closed around your nipple, scruff of his beard roughing against your skin. One of his arms snaked around your waist, and within a second you were upon his lap, blushing and suppressing sounds of pleasure.

It was different than anything you had ever felt when Gaetan started to suck, slowly at first but not wasting time to intensify his actions. He groaned against your breast, enjoying the taste of the rich creamy milk flowing from you. Like a hungry animal, he switched sides to feast upon your other tit, making them even more sore than they already were.

You cradled your hand around his neck, not unlike the loving way you usually held your child, as if Gaetan, too, had to be supported. He took the breast he was sucking in his hand, his other arm holding you tightly against him.

Of course, you couldn’t help but moan when his large fingers squeezed your breast, more milk dripping out. He flicked his tongue against your perky bud, revealing the slight white hue that was visible upon it. A small amount trickled from the corner of his mouth, pupils wide blown with lust.

Pressing a hand over your mouth, you tried to fight the moan that threatened to spill from you. Oh, you were enjoying this way more than you should. Casting your eyes over to your daughter, she was still sound asleep, unbeknownst to the scene unfolding.

Upon feeling a hard lump underneath you, you knew exactly what was going on. The witcher was liking this more than he’d ever admit, too.

In a wave of lust and confusion, you cupped his face in your hands, tearing his mouth from your nipple and pressing yours against it instead. The sudden desire to kiss him, to be with him, it was too overwhelming.

Gaetan melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up. He gently laid you down onto the bed, not breaking the kiss. His lips soon moved to your neck, sucking upon all sweet spots he could find.

As lustful as you were, you knew that you couldn’t let him take you right then and there. It would be too soon, and it wouldn’t be fair to your husband—you shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought about him.

The witcher pulled back, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “Are you okay (Y/n)?” You wryly smiled, rubbing some hair from your face. “Yes, it’s just… I don’t want things to go too fast.”

Gaetan nodded, “Of course,” and kissed you again on the collarbone, moving down to kiss your breasts again. You smiled, relieved that the pressure had lessened and the man helping you out enjoyed it so much. “I would never get enough of those.” he confessed.

Reaching for his belt, you unbuckled it without looking. Pulling back from your nipple with a pop, the witcher above you watched you confused.

“If you like them so much, master witcher…” you muttered, smiling. “Why don’t you cum on them?”

A groan left him at the idea and he momentarily left your body to take off his trousers and underwear. You laughed lightly and swallowed thickly at the sight of his glistening cock, which was standing at full-mast already.

He straddled you once again, weight of his length resting in his hand, the other coming on the duvet to support him. He wasted no time in starting to jerk himself off, his foreskin rolling over the tip and revealing the precum building at the slit.

You licked your lips, starting to massage your breasts, kneading them together. You tried mimicking their bounce as if he was fucking you, though differently.

“Come on, master witcher… Put your cock in between, they’re getting cold!”

Where your sudden lewd behaviour had come from, it was a mystery to you. But the sight of his massive member slipping in between the warm expanse of your breasts caused you to softly moan.

Slowly, he started to fuck your breasts, and you knew that with the swell of his penis and the slight throbbing of the veins running towards the head, his orgasm couldn’t be far off. Lifting one of your breasts a bit higher, you managed to ease your own nipple into your mouth, causing the witcher to grunt in delight.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful…” You blushed despite already exposing yourself to him so much; he meant his words. “(Y/n), you have no idea how you look right now…”

How then, you wanted to ask, but a groan overshadowed every thought in your head. Hot stripes of semen landed on the skin of your breasts, mixing with the saliva already covering it. Gaetan rubbed himself through his high, gritting his teeth before gasping for air. Lifting your breasts up to your face, you tried licking off most of his seed, enjoying the slightly bitter taste which you had honestly missed. After all, it had been so long since you had been with someone.

“That’s payment if I’ve ever heard of it…” You smiled, beckoning him for a kiss. He gave it to you, playfully nipping your bottom lip.

“It’s the first retainer, if the master witcher wishes more…”

He looked at you with a smirk. “After you slay the beast, of course.” you added, “Then we can… Negotiate further.”

He stepped off of you, reaching for his underwear. “That’s fine with me,” he said, “Absolutely perfect, honestly.”

You arose from your bed, taking a cloth off the nightstand to wipe yourself clean with.

In the basket, your daughter started to stir, fussing a little when she noticed her mother not at her side. With a soft sigh, you lifted her up, knowing that she would be hungry again.

You watched as Gaetan started making some potions, meanwhile feeding your baby against the sore flesh of your nipple. “I hope you don’t mind that the kind master witcher had a little taste on his own, but it wasn’t like you would’ve been able to finish it on your own, after all.” you told her, already looking forward to your next encounter with the witcher.

For the first time, you were actually looking forward to the beast showing up, just so you could give yourself to Gaetan.

#gaetan x reader #the witcher x reader #the witcher #smut #fanfic #witcher x reader #moans from temeria

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